January 2013

Miss Communication

January 22, 2013

I’m about to completely contradict myself.

And I feel sick just thinking about what you’re about to read.

I might vomit.

I really might.

In any event…

It’s no secret I never want children.

Because I never want children.

I literally feel nauseous typing the words “want” and “children” in the same sentence. Like the sentence could actually impregnate me.



Today, for a half of a half of a half of a second, I considered having a child.

I considered having a child for two reasons.

The first reason stays between me and Jay-Z.

And the second reason…

Because I hate grown ups.

Granted, the child would grow up to be the very thing I currently loathe. But it would take some time. Until that point in time, I would simply enjoy the not-yet-jaded little guy (it would have to be a boy, or I would give it straight back to the stork).

The bottom line…

Grown ups really muck things up (I am not excluding myself from this statement). I don’t have children, but it seems to me like they aren’t really capable of making the same kinds of messes that we “grown ups” make.

Kids say what they want, when they want, to whomever they want. They can’t help themselves. They open their little unfiltered mouths and speak their little honest minds. They don’t do passive aggressive. Or hold grudges. Right? Do they even know how? Do they talk about their friends behind their backs? Probably not…yet. When they get mad, they just hit each other with @#$% in the sandbox. They handle business. Hard and fast. They express themselves without the walls, or the boundaries, or the baggage. Then they grow up. And they suck. They shut down. They break hearts. They have daddy issues. Mommy issues too. They aren’t honest with other people. Or themselves. They text when they should call. Or they don’t call at all. They let things get unnecessarily awkward. They ruin relationships by poorly communicating with the people they love. Or even worse, they don’t communicate at all. That’s what grown ups do. Grown ups are so @#$%ing stupid.

So, I considered having a child.

I quickly snapped back to my child-free senses.

Instead of torturing my uterus and the universe (let’s be honest, we can barely deal with me, no one wants to deal with my offspring) – I will just hang out with children that I don’t have to change or support and/or continue to act like a child myself (insert your catty comments here).

Ovary jokes aside…

I’m disappointed in me, and grown ups. The last few weeks have been riddled with unfortunate, and preventable situations…all related to poor communication…with people I love. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I know I can be a real piece of work. But I’ve got feelings too y’all. And maybe this time, you’ve hurt mine. I’m not taking this laying down, whether you think that’s what I deserve, or not. I’m not saying that’s what you deserve. I’m just saying.

P.S. I’m SUCH a good babysitter…



January 18, 2013

These are, by far, the most profound things that have crossed my mind since the start of the new year…

  • All tights should be crotchless. Every single pair. I’ve got some Spanx (I’m not ashamed to admit it) with an amazing adjustable crotch – so once you get the mother@#$%ers on – you DON’T have to take them off…until you actually want to take them off. If you’ve never worn tights, you won’t appreciate this crotchless sentiment. Just know that tights are one of the best and worst things ever manufactured for women. The individual that finally opened up the crotch is a genius. Nothing is worse than trying to get them to fit like they did the first time you put them on. I’ll say it one more time. All crotchless everything. I mean, all crotchless tights.
  • You don’t need to pay for collagen. You just need a terrible cold. I recently rubbed my lips so raw, while repeatedly blowing my nose, that they blew up like big, red balloons. They were dry. And they hurt. But they were superstar beautiful (I swear). I slapped a little lip gloss on those bad boys, and they were good as new. They were also the only thing you could see on my face, aside from my dry, red nose. Ridiculously hot. I know.
  • Speaking of having a terrible cold…I don’t understand where snot comes from. I don’t know where it’s made. I just know it’s disgusting. I don’t want little snot gnomes creating congestion and pressure in my head. Ever again.
  • I read something (a long time ago) that said…

If it’s not ok, it’s not the end.

For some reason, that sentiment keeps coming back to me. It reminds me how much the people I love, and I, deserve a better 2013.

  • My sister from another mister (that’s you Peg) says “emotions are like opinions, they’re not right or wrong.” She says we’re all entitled to feel however we want whenever we want…to feel that way (whatever way that is). She says things like this to me all the time. But this one really stuck. It reminds me how hard it can be not to judge others. And it reminds me how devastating it can feel to be judged. It also reminds me how important it is to allow not only yourself, but the people you care about, to feel anything and everything there is to feel. Because if it’s not felt, if you hold back, if you just bottle it all up inside…it will eventually…shut you down.
  • I have a really unhealthy relationship with Pitbull. Not the dog. The man. The rapper (is he technically a rapper?). I love him. You can laugh now. Unless you love him (and Bud Light Platinum) too (insert fist pump here).
  • I want to be the person who writes the messages on/in greeting cards. It would save me so much money on…greeting cards. And, I am so inspired by the people and unique occasions in my life. In fact, some of you have already inspired entire collections. I might have to change the names of the collections to protect you. And to protect me from you. But you’ve still seriously inspired me. I know I could make cards that somebody as demented as I would want to buy. So, how do I do this? Where do I start?
  • THE FIRST LADY CUT BANGS. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. This means, not only could I be the head of a Mexican drug cartel, I could also be The First Lady. Needless to say, my future is SO bright right now.
  • I really want triceps. I wonder if you can buy them.
  • Few things are as difficult as forgiveness. It’s hard to ask for forgiveness. It’s hard to believe you deserve to be forgiven. It’s hard to forgive others. It’s just as hard to forgive yourself. And it’s hard to move forward, even when you’ve told yourself, or somebody else, you forgave.
  • On that note, I am surrounded by people who forgive. They constantly teach and impress me. I have so much to learn from them. And so much to be thankful for. I am so thankful for them.
  • I need someone who has had laser hair removal, a Brazilian bikini wax and given birth – to compare the three types of pain for me. I need to know if they are at all similar or related, in any way. And no, I am not considering giving birth.
  • Having the ability to read lips is both a blessing and a curse. It made me a great bartender. I could have your drink in hand before you actually told me what you wanted, because I could see you tell your friends what you wanted from across the room. But this gift has also made me a cranky biatch. I have watched women talk @#$% about my weight, my outfit, how they felt about the man I was with (AWESOME) or even worse, I’ve watched some of my best friends talk about me behind…err…in front of my back. I’m not saying I’m not guilty of doing the very same thing. I’m just saying, you start thinking twice about doing things like this when you can read lips. You (also meaning I) shouldn’t do it anyway. But when you know how it feels, when you can actually see it happening to you, when you can actually read every catty word coming out of a person’s mouth…and it’s all about you…it sincerely makes you want to try to be the nicest version of yourself. It makes you want to be a better human being, even if you mess up from time to time.
  •  All condiments should be served in a little glass jar, with a little wooden spoon. Next to fried chicken and a waffle. On top of bacon. Thank you Oliver Ridgeway.



Silver Linings

January 5, 2013

2012 was epic.

It might have been was my worst year. Ever.

I really wanted to bash 2012 in a blog post.

I wanted to throttle 2012 in the worst way.

But 2012 didn’t do anything to me.

I annihilated 2012 all by myself.

I take that back. I had a little help (you know who/what you are).

I’ve spent the last few days thinking about 2012…and what I wanted to say about it.

I decided, at this point, I don’t want to say a @#$%ing word about it. I just want to move on (forward, actually).

Rather than reflect on all that 2012 could AND should have been, I’m just going to say this…

I obviously don’t learn lessons. I live them.

As painful as I made 2012 for myself (and a lot of other people), this was the only way it was going to happen. The hard way.

That being said, I carefully combed through 2012. And, despite my unparalleled knack for self-destruction, I managed to find the silver linings.

There were so many more than I remembered. And so many more than I could share (without boring the bangs off all of us).

I’d like to dedicate the following happy thoughts to the handful of people who shared the “real” highs and lows of the past year with me. These memories, the ones that put a sincere smile on my face, are for you. They’re for every cup of coffee, every bottle of wine, every sleepless night, every tear, every unreciprocated favor, every ounce of patience and every moment of understanding…even when you didn’t understand.

They’re even for the times you raised your voices. At me.

I know thank you doesn’t quite cut it (after all the trouble you’ve gone to for me), but it will have to do for now. I’ve still got a little lot of hard work to do.

Thank you for making these silver linings possible, amidst the perfect storm…

My business partner and I had the sincere pleasure of working with one of the most beautiful brides I have ever met, inside…and out.

 I started amusing myself by changing my friend’s names in my cell phone. It still gets me, every time.

Meet Judy. The neighborhood blow-up doll. She was arguably one of the best additions to this summer…until some dude deflated her.

I realized there really is no limit to a mother’s love. My mom even has an 8×10 of me in her bathroom. WTF.

 My friends humored me (at the ripe age of 33), not once, but twice…at the best birthday party on the planet…and a week later…in Sin City.

 I rocked a bikini, in public, for the first time in years. And much to Allison’s dismay, I danced like a damn fool in said bikini. Because I could/can. I plan on doing it again (for Allison, of course). I know, deep down, it’s her favorite thing. Right after Maren’s one piece swimsuits (that NO ONE else on the planet can wear) and Katie’s pearly white teeth and shimmering blonde hair. Katie sucks.

Somebody finally talked me into getting back in the water. Thank you… 

 I was sent the best school picture. Ever. Courtesy of the Schantz family.

 My best friends let me kick their kids out of their beds. Then they let me encourage them to make faces for my iPhone (while I told them what kind of moves their mom had on the dance floor, in her tube tops, when we were “kids”).

I added whiskey to my arsenal. Thanks for nothing Hook & Ladder

My friends at 3fold made me a blunt-banged business card. 

My ridiculously good looking cousins let me live vicariously through them. 

I laughed…so hard…and sang…so loud…and danced…so much…in Arizona.

I continued making out with cardboard cutouts of Justin Bieber at parties. But this party was special. There was a unicorn cake. And it was in New York. Near Times Square. Eat your heart out Selena Gomez.

 Speaking of 3fold, I watched my best friends learn, grow and succeed. Truly succeed. And they – I mean Gordon – looked SO good doing it.

 I watched my business partner create this.

I battled burgers in Denver AND Sacramento (THANK YOU Rodney). 

 We FINALLY planned a weekend…together.

 I went all Britney on this biatch.

I did not panic when a slimmer, hotter, silkier, more exotic version of my outfit showed up for dinner. Whatever Leslie. 

 And this happened.

Maren reminded me just how far a funny face will go…in the bathroom, in the shower, at the gym, at a bar, in the car…you get the point. And Katie showed me the importance of Vegas hair. I even let her talk me into side bangs (GASP!). We decided they were more complimentary to the volume she created at the crown (because that matters at a Vegas pool party, right?). 

“J. My” tried to kill these bangs in Seattle. With margaritas. She meant well. 

 Meghan put my face on my a$$. That’s real friendship.

 My friend, Jeff Jarwin, did my makeup for me the same day I cut all my hair off. I felt photo shoot fresh (I sort of acted like it too, if you couldn’t tell). Coincidentally, my perpetually pensive 2012 face was caught on camera. I like to call it “Locked Jaw.”

This photo reminds me…to let go.

I’m not smug enough to believe the worst is behind me.

It’s probably not.

I’ll never be perfect.

I don’t ever expect to be.

I can’t completely clean my slate.

That’s fine.


I got this.