Monday, October 31, 2016

So, I got motorboated in public

Oh, yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. A guy completely put his face in my boobs. Like, a guy that isn't my husband or like, Paul Rudd. 


Like, what in God's name would give a person that I'm barely an acquaintance with, the impression that I was all like, come hither and mash your face in my boobs? While I am standing at a bar next to my daughter and brother-in-law, basically looking at your wife across the room. That actually happened, guys.

Am I missing something? Maybe that's normal nowadays... I really don't get out much..

So obviously I was appalled and like, completely taken by surprise. As one would be in that situation, I imagine. And then I was like, OMG get away from me, haha. Haha.

Like, I was embarrassed or something for being appalled. In that instant I totally got what it felt like to be a girl who was just groped, but I was the one worried about looking like a jerk, so I laughed it off.

How many women do that? Like, we are so conditioned to be polite or something, that we allow shit like that to happen? That's fucking ridiculous. Come to think of it, I've absolutely been in similar situations many times over the years, unfortunately. What gives someone the idea that that's even a little bit ok?

I mean really, in no uncertain terms was I giving this guy vibes that I would be into that. I barely even noticed his presence, except you know, vaguely taking note of who was around. I was just standing there innocently chatting with friends. I was definitely not eyeballing randoms and mentally inviting them into my personal space.

By no means am I making any excuses for this dude, but he was super drunk. He had just done a few shots (bought me and my husband one, actually) after a long day of drinking, and apparently he thought it was cool to grab the butts of several women at the bar, and get up close and personal with my private body without my permission. AND he actually looked down my shirt. AND I didn't even have a nice bra on! AND I really, really don't like people in my space. What a totally inappropriate, loser jack-ass thing to do. 

About the bra thing, listen. I wasn't planning on going out to a bar and being all sexy. I was being a good citizen and I went to pick up my husband, sisters and brothers-in-law because they had all been drinking. They called me and I just threw something on quick, not expecting to want to hang out. Then of course I got there and actually had fun, so I stuck around a little bit. In my non-sexy bra.

So anyway, I'm mad at my reaction to something so uncool.

And also, to the people who give me a hard time because I don't go out much? THAT.  That right there is one really good reason.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

When does it become appropriate to smoke pot with your kid?

I'd like to think never.

I mean, whenever if I ever were to smoke pot, I'd be laughing at dumb things and swearing like a sailor and staring off into space thinking about weird existential things for extended periods of time. Like time and space. Not that that ever happened before.

But the question is, do I really want my kids to see me like that?

Well. Other than all of the times they regularly see me laughing at dumb stuff and staring off into space, I mean.

I ask this question because recently a kid I know came in and told me a story about how they went home with a buddy on a lunch break, and smoked a little pot in the garage. The kid was all freaked out when his buddy's father came in, because that is an appropriate response when a parent snags you mid-toke, wouldn't you think?

But no. The buddy's dad just joined right on in there and was like, "pass me the bowl, dude." And to make matters MORE strange, the step-mom and young sibling came rolling in just hanging out like it was a normal, every day thing.


That was a bit of a shocker. It never occurred to me that regular people would do such a thing.

For the record, I am pro-marijuana.

Yes, yes I am. Sorry if that changes your opinion of me. I think it's much less worse and addictive than alcohol, and it bugs me that it's not legal. I've read so much about people who have been helped with medicinal marijuana, and like, why can't I decide if I want to smoke pot or not? I also am fairly fine with recreational marijuana. I just think there should be rules, much like the rules of alcohol consumption. Age requirements, being under the influence and driving, etc.

What do you guys think?

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Trust Me Trump, Nobody Wants to Have a Late Term Abortion

*Heads up: this is a long and sad post*

As Trump so callously tossed around the comment that doctors could casually and unemotionally “rip the baby from your womb literally days before its due date,” during the final presidential debate, I couldn’t help but feel my blood boil. The same way I feel every time I scroll past various misleading posts, pictures and articles online.

Trust me Trump, nobody wants to have a late term abortion. Contrary to what Trump and his supporters would want you to believe, most women who are faced with this choice are actually making one of the first and only selfless decisions as mothers that they’ll ever get to make for their baby, and it is excruciatingly painful and sad.

First of all, it is extremely uncommon for a woman to have a late-term abortion. Approximately 1% of abortions performed in the US are done after 20 weeks gestation. Many radical pro-lifers would lead a person to believe that late term abortions are gruesome “partial birth abortions,” however Federal law has prohibited partial birth abortion at any point of pregnancy since the law was passed in 2003.

Trump and his supporters make it seem like the week before a baby is due, the mother can just waltz into a doctors office and get herself an abortion just because. This is just simply not true. Besides being very difficult to obtain and being more expensive than the average person can afford, late term abortion is a difficult and invasive surgical procedure deeply affecting the mother both physically and emotionally. Most, if not all women faced with this dilemma are in the position because their baby is not viable outside of the womb, or the mother’s life is in significant danger.

In light of an enormous amount of misleading information online, I’d like to share the very personal story of my grandson Christopher, to give you an idea of exactly what it’s like to have a late term abortion, and how very heartbreaking it is for women to have to make that decision. 

My daughter Kara and her husband Frank waited the traditional 12 weeks before they told their friends and family that they were expecting their first baby, just to be on the safe side. Bursting with excitement, they made the big Facebook announcement with an adorable picture of the both of them holding a tiny Christmas stocking.

Everything was going so smoothly. Their appointments were normal and uneventful, the baby’s growth was on track. In the excitement of wanting to find out the sex of the baby before the traditional 20 week ultrasound, Kara and Frank decided at 18.5 weeks to go to an independent ultrasonographer, in which an elective 3D or 4D ultrasound is performed outside of the doctor's office.  Apparently, it's the new thing, a way to get a sneak peek, if you will, and potentially find out the baby's gender. They went on a Friday. They found out they were having a boy!

They were given a recording of their baby boy's strong heartbeat, a blue teddy bear, and several rather fuzzy ultrasound pictures.

Kara went straight home and made a Facebook gender reveal post. A boy! They wanted to share their news with everyone they knew. They bought a "coming home" outfit for their son, joyfully perusing the racks of the newborn section, registering for all of the things they imagined their son would get to use. They settled on a name. They started planning a nursery.

Monday morning, Kara received an unexpected call from her OB/GYN. The doctor’s office had been contacted by the independent ultrasound tech, who noticed that their baby's amniotic fluid seemed low. The doctor wanted her to come in for another ultrasound right away, they wanted to see for themselves what was going on. Kara started feeling the flutters of nervousness, along with the flutters of her baby boy actively moving around inside her, he was about the size of a mango at that point. They had been looking up and equating his size to fruit the entire pregnancy. A raspberry, a lemon, a mango..

She immediately googled low amniotic fluid, and she immediately regretted that decision. It didn't sound good. The majority of articles regarding low amniotic fluid at her stage of pregnancy were very grim. The amniotic fluid is very important for many reasons, it helps to cushion hard blows and jolts to your belly to protect the baby and allows your baby the freedom to move and develop. It maintains an even temperature, so even if you are very hot or very cold, your baby's temperature remains even.

Amniotic fluid also helps your baby develop lungs. While in the womb, your baby practices breathing by breathing in and out the fluid. The baby swallows and inhales the fluid and replaces the volume by urinating and exhaling.

Without the amniotic fluid, the baby's lungs would not develop properly, or at all. The doctor doing the ultrasound looked sad. He explained to Kara and Frank that their son's bladder was enlarged. They could see his kidneys, but were unable to determine why the bladder wasn't completely releasing fluid. His growth seemed to be on target otherwise. There was some amniotic fluid, in fact it looked like there was more fluid than there had been on the ultrasound pictures taken a few days earlier.  He referred them to a neonatal specialist in the area, where they would perform a more in-depth ultrasound.

They went home, defeated, but trying to hold on to a shred of hope. They thought that maybe if the fluid was at least getting out a little bit, he might be ok. Their appointment with the neonatal specialist would be in a few days. A few more days of feeling their baby boy moving, growing.

The appointment with the specialist was very thorough, and though there was very little amniotic fluid, they were able to perform an Amniocentesis test for further testing. The doctor confirmed that the baby wasn't releasing fluid, that there was likely a blockage in his urethra. The doctor called the condition LUTO or, Lower Urinary Tract Obstruction, a pretty rare birth defect that only occurs in 5-7,000 births, most commonly in males. It ultimately causes severe kidney damage and underdevelopment of the lungs.

Kara and Frank asked what the chances were to make it to a point where the baby could live outside of the womb. The doctor's opinion was that there was very little chance that the baby would survive pregnancy, but suggested they contact CHOP, the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. If anyone could give them some hope, CHOP could. CHOP is one of the few hospitals in the country that specializes in fetal diagnoses and treatments. If there was a chance that the pregnancy was viable, that too much irreversible damage hadn't already been done, that there was a possibility for fetal corrective surgery, CHOP would accept their case.

CHOP reviewed their file, going over the tests that had been performed, and accepted their case for further review. Finally a bit of hope! And how lucky that the hospital was located within a few hours of their home. Maybe things were falling into place! How many people are lucky enough to live so close to a hospital that specializes in the specific defect that their baby had? They were mere hours from a multidisciplinary team of doctors who possessed the world's greatest collective experience treating fetuses and infants with congenital anomalies. A silver lining..

They set Kara up for more testing. Based on everything they reviewed, they agreed with the diagnoses of LUTO. The experts on LUTO were going to determine a course of action. Kara had to wait a few more days before her appointment at CHOP. She had officially reached 19.5 weeks, her baby was now about the size of a banana. As she lay in bed, feeling her son's movement, she imagined what life would be like for him. He would likely die within minutes of birth, suffocating from lack of air in his poorly formed lungs. She thought of the last ultrasound picture she saw of him, all folded up, hardly any space to move freely, his bladder as large as his head. She cried as she wondered if he was in pain. She was his mother, her job was to protect him from pain, and there was nothing she could do but wait.

But there were success stories. Stories where fetal surgery was performed, where specially trained surgeons would insert a shunt to drain the fluid from his bladder and repair the obstruction. Those stories were very few and far between, but Kara and Frank were willing to try anything to save their baby. He was already so loved.

The appointment at CHOP was mostly a lengthy, in depth ultrasound. It took hours. Kara and Frank were exhausted, physically and mentally. The past week and a half had been a nightmare. They just wanted answers. They just wanted an expert to tell them what to do, how to proceed. They were led to a room where they met with a Clinical Coordinator and a doctor specializing in fetal genetic disorders. 

The doctor was very matter of fact, but also, warm and kind. She said that in no uncertain terms would the baby live outside of the womb. He was already in renal failure, his lungs were underdeveloped and he was developing contractures in his limbs. Contractures happen when muscles, tendons and other tissues shorten and harden due to the inability to move, among other things. The doctor explained that Kara and Frank had two options; they could let the pregnancy progress and let nature take its course (a still birth, or immediate death upon delivery if the pregnancy went to term), or they could terminate the pregnancy.

The doctor spent a lot of time with them, going over the diagnosis, answering question, explaining things, she drew diagrams to help them understand. She assured them that their son wasn't in pain. They weren't rushed out, they were given the time that they needed. They thanked the doctor, and quietly left the hospital, making their way to their car. They didn't talk very much, both quietly processing what had just happened.

They had just been told that their baby boy was going to die, but it was up to them to decide when.

On the drive home, they called their OB/GYN to set up the appointment for termination. They decided that to carry the baby to term would be selfish of them, unfair to him. They made their first major decision together as parents, to let their baby go.

The procedure for terminating a pregnancy at this stage is called a D&E, or Dilation and Evacuation. It's the most common procedure used in second trimester abortions, or after second trimester miscarriages.

Kara's OB/GYN explained that they would inject the baby with a drug that would stop his heart, then they would insert medication to dilate her cervix at the office. After, she would go home to rest, returning early the next morning for the surgery in the hospital. Kara felt so grateful that her own doctor would be able to safely deliver her baby in a clean and sterile environment. She would be given general anesthesia and the baby would then be delivered vaginally. At no point would the baby suffer. It was very important to them that he would feel no pain. 

Kara and Frank were devastated that they had to make this decision. They wanted their baby. They wanted their baby whether he was sick or healthy. He was so very loved. But in gathering all of the information, they knew that their baby wouldn't just be sick, he'd die in pain, unable to breathe. As his parents, they made the selfless choice to spare him pain. 

The procedure went as planned, taking about 30 minutes. During the recovery period in the hospital, Kara’s doctor came to check on her, tearing up as he assured them, once again, that their baby didn’t feel any pain, he had passed away prior to the surgery, safe and warm and loved. They were released from the hospital, and Kara had to live the horrifying nightmare that all mothers have - she was wheeled out of the hospital without her baby in her arms. They drove home, exhausted, devastated, defeated... empty. They carried with them an envelope with their baby’s footprints. Kara didn't open the envelope, it was too painful to look at prints of his perfect, tiny feet.

There was a lot of crying, there were some, "why me?" moments. In a cruel twist, as is often the case, Kara's milk came in, a painful reminder that she was a mother, but she wasn't ever going to get to hold her baby, to look into his eyes as she lovingly fed him. 

As the days went by, friends and family quietly left messages of love and support, they sent gifts and flowers. It got a little easier to get up every day. Frank picked up their baby's remains. They cried as they realized that the first time they were holding their baby, they were holding him in a paper bag from the funeral home. They tucked his ashes in a special box that they keep on their dresser with the envelope of his footprints.

Small things remind them every day that they don't have their baby. A friend's pregnancy announcement, a co-worker's insensitive questions, seeing their niece taking her first steps... 

Kara and Frank didn't want to terminate their pregnancy, but they were lucky enough to have the option of doing so, of being able to make the best decision for their family. They were fortunate enough to live in a state where obtaining a second term abortion was possible. The thought of being forced to continue a pregnancy that would never result in the birth of a viable baby, or result in a baby born to quickly die from suffocation, was horrifying. 

Should they have been denied the right to allow their son a painless death?

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

A brief and slightly snotty English lesson

I've (mostly) stopped being such a grammar policewoman. 

Mostly, with some good meds, I've learned to let a lot of annoying shit slide right off my back. For the most part, I maybe only inwardly cringe a little bit when I hear someone say something that makes them look and sound like a non-English speaking moron.

To be clear, I never vocally call someone out on their dumb grammatical or punctuational error. (I think I just made up the word punctuational. But I'm sticking with it because I like it) 

One time, someone looked at me like I was a moron when I pronounced "Quinoa" wrong. Well!! It was the first time I had ever heard of that shit! It was right at the height of the quinoa craze! How was I to know??

Jeez. What a little pretentious jerk.

I was like, "Excuse me, where do you keep the KEE-NO-A?"

And that smug asshole was all, "I've never heard of it."

So I was genuinely puzzled, because it was a health food place, so I was like, "Really? I think it's like rice or something?"

And he goes, with a jerky smirk, "Ohhh... you mean KEEN-WA."

"Well OBVIOUSLY, ASSHOLE. Just tell me where that shitty stuff is and never talk to me again!" OK, I didn't actually say that. I just conveyed it with my eye daggers and followed the asshole to the KEEN-WA.

I'd like to think my eye daggers penetrated.

Once, before I had really heard much of them, someone corrected the way I wrongly pronounced Bon Iver. Which made we want to punch their stupid smug face. (In case you didn't know, it's pronounced BON E VARE)

Why do people have to be all jerky like that?

So anyway, I really only feel my teeth clench in a few instances now, grammatically speaking.Because I actively try not to sweat the small stuff.

It truly, TRULY bothers the shit out of me when people say, "Joe and I," wrong. Let's be clear, it's not ALWAYS Joe, It can be Bob, or Tim, or you know, Raphael. My point is guys, you're saying it WRONG. And holy crap I might be silently judging you if you speak like this. And if you're my kid, I am VERBALLY judging you. 

For example: "Me and Joe went to the store today." Would you think this is correct, or not correct?

It is NOT correct, dummy. It is a very simple thing, and I will teach you right now. All you have to do is break down the sentence. Just go ahead and break that shit down.

"Me went to the store. And Joe went to the store." 


No, no it does not. Because "Me" cannot go to the store. Because "me" is a dumbbell. The correct way to say it would be, "Joe and I went to the store."

Because, let's break it down here: "Joe went to the store. And I went to the store." And see that?? It makes sense! See?! I taught you something. I could be a god damned English teacher.

Another horrible, horrible offense, which is directly related, would be something like, "Are you coming to the store with Joe and I?" Would you think this is correct? I can see where you might be a little confused, but it is the same concept guys. Just go ahead and BREAK THE SENTENCE DOWN.

Are you coming to the store with Joe? Are you coming to the store with I? NO, no you are not. Because that makes no sense. Right? Right???

The question would be: "Are you coming to the store with me and Joe?" Because I want to know if you are coming with ME, and if you are coming with JOE.  Not I and JOE. ME and JOE.

Omg I have a little tension headache. I have to take a break from our little English lesson before I have an aneurysm. 

I always wanted to be an English teacher, but maybe it would have been the wrong profession. I'm sure it would be frowned upon if you called your students "dummy."

Sorry. not sorry. SORRY.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

silently judgey vegans and vegetarians and Whole Foods

Usually I only go to Whole Foods for a specific thing. Because really, who does their regular grocery shopping there? Pale vegans who are silently judging me for forgetting to bring recyclable bags? Snooty vegetarians who are eyeballing me with disgust for having chicken wing grease on my earlobe?

Definitely rich, pale vegans and snooty vegetarians who drive Volvos. Because lets face it, it really is so expensive there!

Unfortunately going in for one specific obscenely expensive healthy thing pretty much always ends up with more than one obscenely expensive and healthy thing, and me walking longingly through the salad bar/deli/bakery area. Because guys, there really is so much there that looks great.

Sometimes I will cave and get some ready to eat food, like pistachio shortbread cookies or something. That's ready to eat, right? Maybe they don't exactly fall into the healthy category, but you say tomato.

So anyway, despite the fact that I just slightly made fun of vegans and vegetarians, I've been shockingly and strongly considering going vegetarian.

I've been reading about how much healthier it is, and I've got to do something to get healthier. Plus, you know, it does make me feel shitty knowing how the animals that we eat are generally treated. I try not to think about it it too much, but really. I will say that I actually do make a pretty big effort to get free range meat and wild caught fish and stuff.

Megan went vegetarian for a year, then took a little break. She was having relentless cravings for some chicken wings, so she fell off the wagon. She recently started up again. It's kind of a pain, worrying about making different meals, or adjusting things, but I do admire her dedication, and also, she actually makes her own stuff a lot.

The problem is, Alex has been on a no carb kick for a few months. So like, wtf am I supposed to make for dinner that everyone can eat?? No meat, because Megan, but no pasta, because Alex. I'm pretty much effed. I've been like a short order cook and that is my nightmare.

I still think I'm going to try. I wonder if I'll turn into one of those judgey vegetarians if I eliminate meat. Will I give the side-eye if Alex brings home a big fat drippy steak or something? 

Eh, probably not. I'm not a judgey kind of person. I do my own thing, and really feel like more power to you for doing yours. 

Anyway, maybe I will start tomorrow because I have some fantastic looking chicken salad that I was planning on eating for lunch. That might not be the right attitude, but sorry. That chicken salad keeps looking at me every time I open the fridge. I have terrible will power.

Monday, October 3, 2016

october and picking apples and hiking, empty nest style

How can your average person tell that it's October?


Those little cuties are by far the best shaped peanut butter cups. Let's all just face it, they definitely have the best peanut butter to chocolate ratio. Mmmm

Also pumpkins! And mums! And an abundance of city people slumming it upstate to go apple picking for cute fall-ish Instagram posts to ooh and aah over.

That was rather cynical sounding of me wasn't it?  Sorry. No offense.

But really.

I live near so many great farms and orchards.  Right now I have overflowing bags of fresh apples in my kitchen. I can't get enough of them. I've actually got some crockpot applesauce cooking right now. Not sure if anything could smell any better than that.

Last weekend Alex and I went off apple picking like weird little empty nesters. Like, it was so strange not having any kids with us. Both of the girls were off doing their own things with their friends, and of course Alex is away at college, so we went for it. Just the two of us. We took a nice ride in the country to this awesome orchard that has corn mazes and tractor rides and hay slides and stuff. We definitely felt like the minority because most people there had little kids with them.

We also felt kind of free and nice, doing our own thing. My favorite thing about the orchard that we went to is the fresh, hot cider donuts. All cinnamon-y and warm... SO GOOD, not even kidding. Besides a huge bag of apples, we picked raspberries and strawberries and got some fresh pressed apple cider and mini pumpkins. Not much better than that! It was pretty fun.

After hitting the farm, we went to a really cool spot for a picnic lunch and a good hard hike. It was such a gorgeous day. The place has all of these awesome rock faces and cool trails, but on a really nice day, it can get a little crowded. As nice as it was with just us, I definitely missed having the kids there. I like my kids, they really are pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. 

Maybe we'll take them there next weekend. I'll definitely need another bag of those donuts..

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

fall and a/c and childhood fantasies gone awry

Isn't fall the most pleasant season of the year?

Well, even if you disagree, I still think so. FYI: My kids often tell me that I really am always right.

Because pumpkins! apples! leaves! oh my.

See what I did right there?  Also, pumpkin spicy flavored things... yeah... so good. But I refuse to get on the pumpkin spice bandwagon because too many people are already on that thing. It's very crowded on that bandwagon. I'll be on my own little bandwagon over here, just like, sniffing your latte from afar.

Also, doesn't it just seem like the start of something new? It just smells good out there, in the fresh air.  Finally I can open a few windows and turn off the stupid, stupid limping-along-for-one-final-season crappy A/C. (can you tell I have some strong feelings about my stupid a/c?)

Speaking of A/C, I may or may not have recently said, "I could definitely live off the grid, as long as there was some way to have A/C and music." Because really, who likes to be sweaty? And also, I need to have my music. 

So I definitely think I could figure out a "live off the grid" scenario involving A/C as needed and daily music. Generator?  Maybe solar panels?  Haha, imagine using SOLAR panels for cold air... like, you are using heat to generate cold..  Weird.  I'm weird. Fine. We already know that. But really, am I the only person who has ever considered that?

On another note, I so want to call someone an EFFING ASSHOLE, but I am restraining myself and hoping to get over it.

Also, isn't it so stupid when you go into the self checkout lane at the grocery store, and no matter what happens or how many items you try to scan, something always goes wrong where the lady has to come over and punch in a code, or insert a key and fix it for you?  Like, I freaking swear to God I am not trying to sneak a gallon of milk in the baggage area without scanning it. Stop telling me that something is in the baggage area that doesn't belong, asshole computerized checkout lady voice! Just, let me live out my childhood fantasy of being a checkout girl and fucking get through this!  God!

Anyway, how's your Wednesday going?

Monday, September 26, 2016

Is it just me or did it suddenly become popular to be an introvert?

Man. Lately it feels like every grown up person you know or meet claims to be an introvert.

I don't know about you, but like, when did it become so popular to be one of those?

All of a sudden, there are internet quizzes galore, and opportunities to stake your claim in the introvert family. Maybe it's cool now?

I don't know exactly if I like being an introvert, because I legitimately am one. I just know that I've never been anything else.

I can't remember a time when I didn't feel like I needed to have considerable time alone to feel ok. I don't know what it feels like to not be overly consumed with my own thoughts and feelings, to not be shy, to hate to be the center of attention, or even on the edges of attention.

I think it's pretty cool that the term introvert, as related to people, was introduced by Carl Jung, who is definitely one of my favorite psychologists to read about. He described introverts as people whose motives and actions are primarily directed inward, people who tend to be preoccupied with their own thoughts and feelings and often minimize their contact with other people.

So yeah. A lot of that describes me.

Though I do hate that it kind of sounds like introverts are selfish. Because I don't think I'm selfish. Or like, maybe I am a little, but I also think I am kind and giving. Selfish is a shitty characteristic, I know a few narcissistic and egotistical people, and I don't think I am anything like them. I sure hope that I'm not.

Whoa. I just looked up the word "selfish," and these are some of the synonyms: narcissistic, egotistical, ungenerous, mean, stingy, self centered. OMG, I know someone exactly like that. I can't believe I ever thought I liked them. Maybe of those characteristics I would consider myself self-centered, but only in the sense that I am often in my own head, focusing so much on my own thoughts and feelings, not in the sense that I think I'm all that. Because I definitely don't think I'm all that.

It's funny that I married an extrovert. It's actually probably the best thing, because it forces me out of my own little shell sometimes. Alex is the exact opposite of me - he loves to be the center of attention, it's where he feels the most comfy. I don't think anyone would ever use the words "shy" or "quiet" to describe him. He's the guy who is always in the middle of the room, making new friends wherever he goes, and pretty much everyone likes him. And also, he hates to be alone.

In fact, the reason Alex and I met was because of how much he hates to be alone. His parents had moved away, and like, after class and work, the thought of going home to an empty house was like his worst nightmare. So he used to go to my sister's house a lot, she'd make him dinner and he'd stick around to watch TV for a while, he was good friends and soccer buddies with my brother-in-law. So of course, I was at my sisters a lot as well, and both being single, we often ended up kind of thrown together. I liked his confidence. He wasn't wimpy. 

I'd say it worked out pretty well. I guess opposites do attract.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

have you ever hated someone?

WTF, all of a sudden this blog seems to be all intense and like, opposite of what it originally was. Originally, I think the goal was to just write lightheartedly about my boring, average, every day life.

Nobody wants to get all deep and personal, right?

So anyway, have you ever hated somebody?

I have.

In high school I hated this girl who, without fail, tried to get with every guy that I liked. And don't ask me why but whoever it was that I liked at the time would get with her (minus one dude who thank God never went there because I would have been devastated). I say don't ask me why because she had such an RBF (resting bitch face). Like, she was definitely pretty, I'll give her that. Super short (possibly even abnormally short, but maybe I am just being bitter) but pretty.  And also she had a square resting bitch face, but I suppose that's beside the point. Besides the RBF, she also actually was a nasty, unpleasant, bitchy little short girl.

Why do guys like people like that?  The challenge? Maybe the same reason why girls will gravitate towards the dick-ish guys.. probably that. I'd like to think they learn some kind of lesson, getting with a bitchy/dick-sh person. Hopefully the lesson is something like, Don't get with people like that because they're mean and they're jerks.

But you know, in high school I was a pretty low-key, fly under the radar kind of person. Like, I would never have purposely done anything to draw attention to myself. Drawing attention to myself was like, my worst nightmare. So whenever we clashed, me and the girl, it was always like, just to the point where I would throw mental 'I hate you with every ounce of my being' daggers at her. Because, God forbid, I would never have confronted her. Because I was definitely way too chicken to go there.

I know she felt the mental daggers. 

That little jerk.

I still feel a little hateful. Isn't that terrible of me? It has pretty much been THIRTY YEARS now. Whoa. That's a damn long time to hang on to something so dumb. It's definitely time to get over it. Fine, I'm so over it, it's not even funny.  When I actually just searched my brain for any semblance of real hate towards her, I only felt a twinge.

In other news, I'm going to try not to feel hateful towards someone I feel hateful about today. But the truth is, some people deserve it, don't they?

Thursday, September 8, 2016

blah blah blah...

I used to write in a journal. Like good old fashioned pencil (or pen) on paper writing.

I kind of packed them up one day and never did it again. I'm not sure what made me quit. Maybe the fact that I felt like I wasn't being totally honest, that the "feelings" I was writing about were minimized or just not even addressed.

So what's the point even, if you're not being honest, or even if you are omitting certain significant things because maybe you just don't want to see it written out loud. As if not seeing it makes it not true.

I think that's kind of why I mostly quit blogging when I did. When I got the vibe that people I knew might actually be reading what I wrote, I pretty much panicked. It felt a little bit like someone I knew found my diary and read every last word.

It's funny, writing a public blog when you feel like in general, you're a pretty private person.  Like, the me that I typically put out there in the world is definitely a censored, less mentally unstable version of myself. Because let's face it, I'm slightly mental. Or, what's the opposite of slightly? Considerably?  Completely? Maybe somewhere in that realm of crazy.

I'm pretty much ok with that. I mean, I've lived with myself for my whole life, so, you know, I get me. But I don't think anyone else really gets me, and that's my own fault. Like, when you censor yourself to appear "normal" or to fit in, you're really presenting a different version of you. And if someone likes the you that you are most often presenting, they don't even know who they like.

Well that just got confusing right there.

I have no idea what the point of this post is. I'll go out on a limb and suggest that there really is no point, I'm just rambling away for no apparent reason.

I'll leave it at that.

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Lesson learned the hard way; on friend break-ups

I really think that friend break-ups can be just as traumatic as couple break-ups can be.

One time I had a friend break-up, and it literally broke my heart. Shattered. Tiny little pieces. Like, stupid crying every single day out of nowhere. I do understand what 'literally' means, I honestly felt like my heart was broken. It hurt. You know that thickness in your chest, where it feels like you can't fully breathe? All of the time. It was so much worse than any "real boyfriend" breakup that I ever had. It was brutal and I was devastated.

When you pretty much spend time almost every day with someone for years, getting to know them, connecting deeply and profoundly caring about them, it's pretty much one of the hardest things you could imagine experiencing when it's callously ripped away from you. Especially if you're anything like me, and struggle to let people get close to you in the first place. Especially if you know they are pushing you away and replacing you with someone newer and shinier, someone that they suddenly think they like better. After everything, they are replacing you. 

Without trying to sound dramatic, when I was in the thick of it, I really didn't think I would ever be okay again. It didn't help that my friend kept kind of meanly reeling me back in at whim, then throwing me away. Over and over, and over again. Confusing me with mixed messages. Jerking me around like a rag doll. Using me when it was convenient, or when they were bored. It's the definition of cruel.

And idiot that I was, I let it happen because I couldn't let it go, I just couldn't do it. Somehow my identity was so wrapped up and entwined in this other world, I don't know if I knew who I was without the friendship. And more than anything, I didn't want it to end. I really didn't. I think I was willing to put up with everything, anything, because at least they were in my life in some capacity.

Even though it doesn't sting quite so badly anymore, and thinking about everything doesn't make it so hard to breathe anymore, I still feel like it affects me and the way I manage friendships and my life. I suppose it probably always will. I don't think I will ever recover fully from that. Like, why would I get so close to someone again? I learned that it's not worth it. It'll never be worth it.

After a long, long while, I was surprised when I felt a real smile happen again. I was surprised when I felt the sun warm the back of my legs and it felt good, not wrong. It shocked me when one day I realized that I swallowed something and didn't feel a lump in my throat, one day I listened to music and didn't feel the familiar tears filling my eyes. One day I just forgot to think about everything, forgot to think about that horrible feeling of betrayal and jealousy and my friend who threw me away. I guess it just took time.

I hope one day I can find the guts to truly not care anymore. I vacillate between feeling hateful, and feeling something a little less than hateful, and deep, deep in the back of everything, feeling a tiny sliver of hope. Maybe it'll never get much better than that. And I suppose that's ok, because I think I'm ok now. I think. 

People can be fragile, and they can break. If you want to be a good person, don't use people who love you. Don't make them think that their sole purpose is to be there for you to stomp on whenever you're in the mood for stomping. Because if you think you can make it through this life unscathed, you're probably mistaken. I imagine when the person who smugly decided I didn't matter enough gets a taste of what they have given (and they will... karma and all) they might finally get it.

Or maybe they won't. Sometimes people like that will never get it, and they'll go through their life cowardly and aloof and thoughtless and always searching for something better, newer and shinier. 

I have a funny feeling people like that won't ever find what they are looking for. And you know what? Maybe they don't even deserve it.

Monday, August 1, 2016

Arianna Huffington and a mini meltdown

I really better get some interesting content on here or I might lose all one reader that I have. (Hi mom!)

I have been so sporadic with posting. Let's be frank.  I know this.  You know this.  We all know this.

(Before I continue I have to say that I love saying, 'Lets be Frank.' It's such a funny sounding thing to me for no good reason. I just thought you should know that.) I guess I don't think it's too unusual to go through a kind of writing slump.  Sometimes you might feel like you just don't have anything interesting to talk about.  Sometimes you might just feel like nobody is interested anyway.  Sometimes, you need to re-evaluate your purpose.

That sounds very life-altering. 

Speaking of writing, such a super cool thing happened, that didn't actually end up happening.  OK, that sounds weird, let me explain.

So I submitted something to Huffington Post on a whim, and ARIANNA HUFFINGTON emailed me and said that she wanted to print it!!  Can you believe that??  Maybe I am being a little googly-eyed, but I thought it was so awesome.

But then I pretty much freaked out. I asked her if I could post anonymously, because what I wrote is kind of sensitive and I guess I'm not really prepared to attach my name to it at this point. But I know it was relevant, and should probably be heard.

She responded and said that Huffington Post doesn't post anonymously. So that stinks because I really couldn't go ahead and post it because I am mental, among other things.

But anyway, now you know that you can't post anonymously on Huffington Post, in case you were wondering.

But guys! She liked what I wrote!

So at least that was good, and kind of validating.  So maybe I will submit some other non-panic-inducing writing at some point, because HuffPo! I did get invited to their contributor platform, so I'm a little bit proud of that too.

So even though this is a lowly little blog, and pretty much nobody even notices that it exists, I might be able to write sort of OK, and maybe I don't suck. Maybe. 

Friday, July 1, 2016

Hey! I have some good news about cheese!

Hey, good news guys! Apparently cheese is good for people with high blood pressure! And guess what? I love cheese! And I have high blood pressure!  WooHOO!

Did you know that, about the cheese thing? If not, consider this a PSA.

My mom gave me a news clipping all about it.  She does that sometimes, isn't that kind of a cute mom-thing to do?  

My blood pressure has been pretty off the wall lately. I've taken a medicine for it for years, but lately it's been really kind of dangerously high. So clearly the regular medicine isn't doing its job anymore. I started monitoring at home because I was having these headaches, and wouldn't you know, it is definitely super high.

So that sucks. Because that meant that I had to make a doctors appointment.  I hate making a doctor's appointment. It's one of my worst things. Partly because of the weighing you on the cattle scale in front of every last person in the office anxiety thing, but also because lately I don't even know who my doctor is. I kind of hot-headedly switched doctors after a super annoying incident at my regular doctor's. So it's like, I'm a new girl at the doctors and I know no one. Apparently, this new office has a group of docs and you kind of get who you get. I actually really do like the group, but I don't really enjoy that I never get to know someone and I am constantly repeating myself to various doctor people. (And also, the cattle scale thing)

So I had to get a new medicine to help control the blood pressure so I wouldn't have a stroke and just like, fucking die in my sleep. That wouldn't be so great for Alex, to wake up next to a cold, dead wife.

Well, maybe it would be great financially, because I have good life insurance. Then he could finally pay off his school loans and maybe he'd be rich and be able to do all sorts of rich people things. Like drink that fancy champagne that rich people drink and wear a leisure suit.

But I do think Alex would miss me. He likes me. Good thing, because we are kind of married. I think its about 60/40 if he would take me over the life insurance. Could be worse.

But back to the dumb medicine. The doctor put me on this new medicine and she told me about a few improbable side affects, like a dry cough. "But don't worry, only about 10% of the population is affected by that," She said.

So guess who is part of the lucky 10%?


So I effing suffered with an annoying misc dry cough, along with the dry mouth that my regular BP medicine already gives me. Seriously guys, super annoying.  I suppose it could be worse, but the doctor switched me to something different. It's seems to be working, so that's kind of good.

So now that you know all about my blood pressure, I'll close with this thought: getting old kind of isn't the most fun.  When does it get fun? When is the part when you can be a cranky a-hole whenever you want because you already put your time in?

When is the part where you can stand on your porch yelling, "GET OFF MY LAWN!" while shaking your cane at all of the bratty young'uns?  

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Speaking of sarcasm...

Did you know that there is an actual little punctuation mark that represents sarcasm??  You guys!  I think this will make my entire life easier!  It will really help misc people that I text see that I'm just being sarcastic, not an asshole! Yes!

I actually was trying to invent a sarcasm font, but so far so bad on that one.  Truthfully, I mostly was inventing it in my head and I didn't exactly get much further than that, but ANYway.

The punctuation mark!  Sarcasm! Here it is:

"The SarcMark (short for "sarcasm mark") was invented, copyrighted and trademarked by Paul Sak, and while it hasn't seen widespread use, Sak markets it as "The official, easy-to-use punctuation mark to emphasize a sarcastic phrase, sentence or message." Because half the fun of sarcasm is pointing it out [SarcMark]."

So apparently, you'd use it at the end of a sarcastic sentence in place of a period or something? I can't seem to find it on my keyboard.  Maybe I'm missing something. I think it's a real thing.. I mean, I read it on the internet (insert SarcMark here)

Do you think it's real?  And if so, why isn't that cutie little character anywhere to be found?

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Spitty close talkers, allergy attacks & that time I was basically Meredith Grey

I've perfected the tap out method, and I use it often enough. I had to tap my husband out of a conversation this weekend. I can be nice like that sometimes.  He has a terrible habit of allowing himself to be sucked into a stupid conversation with some boob for an hour. But I just can't do it.

Life is too short to be cornered by spitty close talkers.

That's my personal motto.

Because really, isn't it?

This weekend we went to this local event that was pretty cool. It was this thing where a bunch of food and wine vendors and restaurants come and set up tables with samples of their stuff. It was a benefit that benefited the town I live in, so I was (somewhat) into it.  Plus I love food so there was that. Plus I said I'd go when I was feeling not mental, so even if I changed my mind I still pretty much had to go because I said I'd be the driver.

The event was held in this barn in the country. I love that barn. Kara had her wedding there and it was pretty much the best wedding I ever went to, if I do say so myself. 

The place was cool and there were a bunch of people there, as one would expect.  I have a little issue with introversion though, so things like this always send me into a little inner hysteria. It's inner, so nobody would really know. I know how to keep my shit to myself and slap a smile on my face and be nice.  I've been doing it for pretty much my whole life, so.

My sister and her husband went with us, and Kara and her husband too, so I had some of my people there for a buffer. We saw some people there that I genuinely like, so that was good. The food was pretty great. I filled my plate and I wasn't even halfway through the place. I was positive that I would go back for another plate but then I got full. Damn it.  I hate when I get full when I'm not ready to be done eating.

So Alex was in this conversation with this jerk that I can't stand. I so wasn't planning on going anywhere near that trainwreck because I really can't stand the guy, but a stupid amount of time passed, and eventually I was like, WTF.

So Alex and I had eye contact, and then we had a conversation without speaking.  It went something like this,

Me: WTF.

Him: I know! Sorry! I got cornered and I can't tap out! MAYDAY, MAYDAY!

Me: Fine, I'll rescue you. 

So I went up and expertly tapped him out like the kind wife that I am.  Then Alex had a legit allergy attack so we had to get the hell out of dodge, quickly.

Thankfully I had the opportunity to eat all of the great stuff on my plate AND some cupcakes, because if the allergy attack happened sooner it would have been much harder to leave. I mean, I'd have been standing there looking longingly at my plate, then looking at him with his red swelling face, back and forth a few times. I'm sure I would have chosen him over the food, but it might have been begrudgingly.

Anyway, I was basically Meredith Grey with my doctoring skills, and I was a god damned hero. Of course everything turned out fine because I probably should have been a surgeon but instead I decided to fulfill my destiny on an office couch. The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch, and here we are. One step closer to summer vacation. WooHOO. 

I'll let you decide if the woohoo is in the sarcasm font or not.

Monday, May 16, 2016

All over the place, and also: Do peanut butter cups have expiration dates?

Don't you just hate when you buy a stale peanut butter cup?

Like, it takes a lot for me to actually buy a peanut butter cup in the first place, because obviously if I've made the leap to buy it, I'm going to eat it. And lets face it, if I bought everything I wanted to eat, I'd be in big(ger) trouble (than I already am). My point is, if I get to the point where I really, really feel the need to eat a peanut butter cup, I want it to be worth it. A shitty, dry peanut butter cup is so not worth the calories. Right?

Do you think they have expiration dates?

Because if not, they should!! I just ate a cup that sucked, and it was so disappointing. I actually considered not finishing the piece that I had in my mouth. Like, who would do such a thing? I tossed the second cup, because what's the point? What a shocking turn of events. I just wanted a piece of chocolatey, peanut buttery candy! Jeez.

On a similar note, who in the world would ever mix candies that should never be mixed, like, Skittles and m&m's, in the same candy bowl?  There really should be a rule about such trickery.  It's almost sacrilegious. Imagine happily reaching into a bowl of what you think is chocolate, tossing a handful of those candies in your mouth, then having your poor taste buds assaulted by tastes that just don't go together. I strongly believe in the separation of candy.

Does that make me a bad person? A candy racist, if you will.

On a more serious note, last night I clenched my teeth so hard in my sleep my jaw is killing me. So a handful of candy is kind of out of the question for me right now. 

I've been in such a cranky mood, I think it's making its way into my dreams. I better get my shit together or I'm going to have to go to see the dentist, and we all know that the dentist is one of my least favorite guys to visit.

I actually really like my dentist. I always sort of had a crush on him. Plus, when the other jerky dentist in the office fired me for missing so many dentist appointments, my good cute dentist let me come back because he is so nice and cute.

I know missing appointments is so not cool, but I have a phobia! My original dentist fired me twice. And I don't really care because he duped me once and scarred me for life.

I'll discuss that story at a later date, because I have to go get a warm pack for my jaw. Wah. And also, this morning has gotten away from me and I have done nothing productive.

Thursday, May 12, 2016

Facebook unfriending and a generic letter of intent

Don't you think if someone is going to unfriend you on Facebook, they should put out a generic letter of intent or something?

I mean, lets be real. When you unfriend someone for no apparent reason, you're sending a pretty harsh message to that person. Deleting people from social media is the modern way to tell people that you don't want them in your life. In my opinion, the cost of maintaining a Facebook friendship is pretty low and if you make a conscious decision to push a button to get rid of someone, it can be pretty puzzling to a person who always assumed you were on a friendly basis. I have to wonder, why wouldn't you just "unfriend" me to my face? Too awkward?

The other day, my sister came stomping in the house and was all like, "Do you know (this person we know) Jen unfriended us on Facebook?"

I was like, "Huh?"

And she was like, "Yup!  She unfriended me and you and Ty and Alex! Can you believe that??  That is SO RUDE."

And I was like, "Well maybe she deactivated her account or something."  Because really, this person is a local Mom who grew up with my husband, someone whose daughter is friends with mine and my sister Ali's kids. I literally speak to her every time I have to call the place that she works.  I'm friendly. I mean, clearly we aren't BFF's or anything.  But in my defense, I'm not BFF's with anyone.  We all know that I'm socially uncool. But its like, did we do something?  Did we mass-offend her with something we did or said?  How could she hate us all in one fell swoop?

I'm pretty low key.  I'm not a Facebook over-sharer.  In fact, I'm not a big Facebook person in general. I pretty rarely post, maybe hop on every day or two to see what's happening, comment here and there and maybe wish people a happy birthday. I don't have political rants or aggressively comment on people's posts. I'm a pretty private person, so constantly posting updates and pictures about my life is something that I don't do. I definitely don't take Facebook too seriously. Obviously, different people have different reasons for using Facebook- and obviously her Facebook is HER Facebook to be friends with whomever she chooses to be friends with, but seriously, deleting someone from your social media is definitely sending a strong message. And the message "I don't want to be your friend," comes through pretty loud and clear.

Then Ali was like, "No, I saw she changed her name on Facebook, like she was being all incognito or something."

So huh.  That's pretty lame.

What sucks is, I really do see this person enough for it to be freaking awkward.  I can't help it, I'm offended! Maybe before unfriending someone, you should post a generic letter of intent, so you don't take anyone by surprise and unnecessarily hurt feelings. You have to know that you're guaranteed to run into them on the sidelines of your kid's field hockey game or something and have one of those awkward "I unfriended you because you're annoying and I know that you know you've been unfriended, but we just won't mention it and we'll continue to pretend that we're friendly" types of uncomfortable run-ins.  And let's face it, nobody like those kind of run-ins.

Way back in the beginning of Facebook, it was like you friended everyone from the person who takes your order at the pizza place, to that one guy you hung out with at a college rager once, 25 years ago. I get that these days people might be all like, "I just want to be friends with people that I actually know and like."  That definitely makes sense.  And chances are, the random that you accepted as a friend two years ago probably wont even notice if you unfriend them.  

But as far as local people that you don't necessarily dislike and are bound to run into often enough to make it uncomfortable?  Like, why not just put them in a category of like, "people that I'm not tight with." In doing that, you can keep most things private from them, you can set it so they don't see your posts, or whatever. If you do that, they're none the wiser, and they're not all offended and confused.

ANYway, it really isn't worth getting bent out of shape about. It's Facebook. But next time I see her, I suppose I'll keep my distance.

Have you ever been randomly unfriended by someone you thought you were cool with?