The Notebook

There are many quirks that I harbor in order to stand out from the rest of the crowd. I have a fear of ketchup. It smells terrible and looks horrendous. Place it near me and I am bound to cower and shriek until it is removed from my presence. I hate baths. I only shower. The drain in the bathtub is disgusting. I can never ever ever touch it. You know what goes down there? All your filth. When I think of a drain being close to me because I am unfamiliar with the shower I am in, the song from Halloween plays when I realize I am a toe away from grazing it. There is a list but I would like to save it for other posts so let's focus on why this was brought about. On my break today I decided to be prepared for school by purchasing a notebook. No, not an Apple notebook, a spiral bound notebook with actual paper in it. I am old school and stay true to taking notes in class by hand. I, unlike everyone in my classes, will avoid computer tan from the constant glow. Plus I know what I would do on a laptop, not take notes, hell no - I am stalking people on face book checking to see what child the high school quarterback is on and what ambitious career the slut who slept with the gym teacher decided to take on. So as I walk through Target there is one, and only one, notebook that I can have. It has a black cover and there are 4 subjects within divided by different colors on the edges of the paper. As I shift through Hello Kitty, Batman, and various dots and glitter, I spot the last one. I sigh with relief and return to the check stand.

"Your total is $8.61."

For a friggin notebook?? I mean it is the coolest one alive and the only thing I will use but it is PAPER. Last time I checked you can buy a spiral bound notebook for $.89. Or wait, am I just getting old? Omg man, now I am just depressed.

Final Words: All the people at Target this evening were actually super helpful and nice. Shocking.

The Spot

There is a new concept I would like to introduce to people who visit or live at apartment complexes. There are white lines that separate the black tar into little boxes for parking conveniances. You place the car between these two lines so that there is order and stability within this crazy mess of a world. More importantly, at many complexes they have metal roofs that cover some of these white lines. This is referred to as COVERED PARKING. It is like a garage for a house but not as nice and definitely not private (found that out when I needed to change my shirt in the car and a seven year old walks out with his three year old sister...nice I just became a creeper). The point of this covered parking is that because I pay the complex money, I deserve to have my vehicle protected from sun, rain, and snow. To know which spot is yours they paint little numbers on it. Numbers signify ownership here in America. Kinda like that 10 digit number that you dial when calling Grandma. That 10 digit number will only dial Grandma. It is not like one day you will dial that 10 digit number and George Clooney will pick up the phone (unless your Grandma is a hot piece of meat). So when you go to these complexes and you see 39 in between the two white lines with a tin roof over it, it is NOT yours. You did not earn a parking space in between the time you left your parent's basement to the time you arrived at your internet date's apartment. So unless you pay $600+ to live here, please know that you only get the white lines with no number and no tin roof.
And if you are paying to live here, you should know the rules so don't even pretend like you are just running in to change the kitty litter for Princess Fluffy.
Final Words: Maybe Charleston's should invest in flair. And damn it feels good to be a gangster.

The Run

It occurred to me today that I am out of shape. I don't mean I am 500 pounds but I definitely cannot handle chasing after the ice cream man for my triple scoop chocolate cookie dough ice cream cone without taking a few breathers. How did this happen to an all star high school athlete? College. That's what happened. I met boys, new friends, and in particular, alcohol. Alcohol and I became close when I turned 19. He became a close associate of mine that I regretted, but just like a bad one night stand that keeps repeating itself, I returned again and again. Therefore, alcohol has predetermined the kind of athlete I am. You think I don't do exercises? Let me give you a break down of an exercise routine for me:
Beer weighs about 16 to 20 oz. Every time I lift that to my lips I am doing arm curls.
When I lay down on the bar and then sit up to do a shot between my legs, I am doing crunches.
When I chase after the bartender because I need another drink, I just completed another rep in short distance running.
And then when I run after my car because it is being towed away, I am practicing my endurance.

All kidding aside, I didn't drink and drive tonight because I value my life outside of the slammer. I want to lose weight but I would rather do it in a safe environment instead of one where I feel like the water is unsanitary. Is there a pun to this unfunny story? No, I am drunk, all of this is funny to me.
Final Words: Taking your best friend motorcycle shopping is only acceptable when the salesman is good looking...check.

The Pedicure

Being a girl I indulge in luxury items like fake nails and pedicures. There is nothing quite like paying to get your toes picked at and being amazed at all the fuzzies you can hide in the cracks of your nail beds. Today I decided it was time to return to this glorious festivity and as I entered the salon I sighed with relief that it was practically empty. No five year old screaming at her mom that she wanted purple GLITTER toes not green and pink flowers; No 35 year old single woman who decided to focus on her career instead of popping out 8 babies screaming into her cell phone at her mother who wishes her daughter would find a "nice man" (not because she wants grandkids as much as she wants her daughter to stop bitching at HER.) Ahhh life would be good and quiet today at the salon. Fear not lovely readers, I have good news for you: this relaxing spa day was not to be. The two girls that were there decided to put on a spin off show from Alice in Wonderland featuring Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. Dee was 20 years old and Dumb was 18. Both worked at an Italian restaurant as servers and Dee also was a licensed hairdresser. Dumb was telling Dee all about her latest boyfriend.

Dumb: Besides his pot smoking, he is the most perfect boyfriend ever.
Dee: Does he take you out?
Silence. (ahh 5 seconds of bliss!)
Dumb: Well no...but he just gets me ya know? He just listens to me and tells me I am pretty. I don't care if he spends money on me, ya know?
Dee: Silence. Oh.
Some worthless chatter ensues, but wait pot smoking loser boyfriend reappears!
Dumb: When he is high he pays so much attention to me. He tells me he loves me all the time and how pretty I am. He always wants to kiss me. He is exactly how I want him to be but I can't tell him that ya know?
Dee: Yeah probably not.

Apparently a pothead IS a good boyfriend to have. If only I had known that...Needless to say the talking never ceased except when Dee couldn't comprehend her friends' obsession with a boy that does NOT spend money on her. When they left the ringing in my ears prevented me from having to listen to any other useless chatter the rest of the day so maybe there was an upside.
Last Words: I can do most of my own plumbing in the bathroom and kitchen. I can haul Christmas trees by myself. I will do all the cleaning in my house and I know how to detail a car. But don't fucking ask me to kill a scorpion. There are lots of men in this world, they must be useful for something.

The Coupon

Working in any industry that involves interaction with other human beings usually leads to a lot of stupid questions that one must deal with. At the restaurant industry it is common for us to expect that once guests enter the building, they usually have left their brains in the car (if they even had them in the first place). So I guess tonight should not have surprised me, but alas a fellow earthling of mine proves me wrong.
As I take a couple's order this evening, the man suddenly dons a face of excitement and quickly shuffles through his wallet. As I await for him to announce to his woman friend that he actually DID bring a condom tonight, he instead pulls out a Charleston's coupon for a free appetizer. He looks at me and says, "ever seen one of these before?" with a bemused look on his face as if he was showing me a rare diamond. "Well sir, it IS a Charleston's coupon and I just happen to work at Charleston's. So yes, I have seen these coupons for 2 damn years. So keep in mind that when I take the $10 off your check that I still had to bring it to you which means it needs to be accounted for in the tip." Of course none of this happened and I got 15% on the final bill. Next time I will bring you the free spinach dip and you don't even need a coupon for it...it comes in a bowl but you can't see it. Just imagine it is there like I imagine putting a rope around your neck because I made $7 in one shift.
Final Words: When a couple breaks up it should be noted that the separate parties are to go to their original bars and stay away from the ex's. You can start dating a Victoria's Secret Supermodel or Mother Theresa but don't hang out in MY bar. I drank many a night to earn my status there so don't ruin all those nights I blacked out to prove you can get another girlfriend. I get it, I am proud of you, now go drink somewhere else.

The Nap

When I take a nap, I expect perfect conditions so that I can maximize the short amount of time I have to catch up from lack of sleep from the previous night (me and Bed sometimes take too long talking about our days). What are these perfect conditions you ask?
1. The temperature must be just right so that I can use a blanket still. I don't like laying out there without a blanket, it reminds me of what a person looks like in an open casket.
2. I need the right blanket. I don't want a freaking down comforter but I want more than a sheet. Sheets are for dressing up for toga parties, not for napping.
3. I need one big fluffy pillow or two medium size pillows. My head needs support. Enough said.
So needless to say when I decided to visit my parents today, I expected to pack in a quick nap on their amazing comfy, worn in leather couch. But my very kind (but pestering) mother supplied me with THREE blankets so I would be "comfortable." I didn't have the heart to tell her I was sweating like a 500 pound man after he walks across the living room. Then they put the fireplace on to make it "cozy." I don't get this. Fire, in case you are not aware, is not cozy. You want to cuddle fire? Be my guest, I on the other hand enjoy the bliss of electric heat because it won't burn through my skin sending me to the hospital looking like a naked mole rat. So for an hour I tossed and turned in my own sweat leaving me restless, soaked, and unsatisfied. Hey kinda sounds like...never mind.
Final Words: Arriba's Mexican food has the most delightful pancakes. Who would have though Mexicans knew how to make fluffy pancakes?

The Game

I have a secret for you Eagles players - the fucking goal is to get the football in the end zone. When the other team has the football, you FUCKING TACKLE them. Not trip them, not touch them, bring them down to the ground. When you are losing 27-7 at the half, you are beyond terrible. I could fly down there and play the last quarter and complete more passes than Donovan McNabb. Hell I will play for $100,000, I do not even need millions. And one last thing when I picture the Devil tempting me in my daily life I picture Jerry Jones sitting on my shoulder telling me I need to curse at the little old lady at work who is on her 180th iced tea refill.
Final Words: When I have a heart attack, guaranteed it will be during an Eagles game.

The Application

What is it with new computers and not having Microsoft Office already installed? I mean you shell out hundreds of dollars to have a calculator and a notepad. I have those two things already thank you (non computer style which is okay by me because who wants to log on to a laptop to use a calculator?). Tackling my future has therefore become extremely difficult. I can only upload my resumes and personal statements but cannot edit them. Hey thanks you tease! Let me see my document but then gray out all the tools so all I can do is bang wildly on my keyboard praying for the "key" to unlock Word.
Instead I have taken to wandering around my 400 square foot apartment admiring the items and furniture I have collected or received. I LOVE my apartment and am not ashamed to admit it. I have a friend who, every time he sees me, asks if I like living by myself because he just HATES it. He has actually started driving 20 minutes to his parents' house to spend the night there because he finds it lonely. I have other friends that swear they could never live by themselves. I, on the other hand, have spent hours and hours relishing in the fact that this 400 square feet is mine and I like not sharing it. Apparently a 3 year old attitude still dwells within me. Live on childish spirit! Without you I could never rationalize the amount of rent I pay every month.
Final Words: A pet peeve I have is when people say they "could never do xyz." Actually physically and emotionally you CAN do it, you just chose not to. The correct wording is "I would never want to do xyz." (I hear this a lot when I mention I am a vegetarian.)

The Burial

A crowning moment of my adult life occurred today. I put white sheets and a white blanket on my bed. This is compared to my preferred black satin sheets with black blanket. I never thought I could pull off the all white but it looks pretty good. Fear not mounds of black clothes, I am not ready to trade you in. The wardrobe stays dark. I will attempt to keep these sheets white even though I refuse to separate whites and colors in the laundry. I may be an adult but I still cling to college aged methods of washing the laundry.
But what inspired this change? The death of King Richard I (my late Christmas tree) spurred me into a cleaning frenzy. Plus I know he wouldn't want me to mourn, so hello bright white room!
Last words: Putting away Christmas gifts and cleaning made me appreciate the following three things: keurig's one cup coffee maker (greatest invention for coffee addicts yet), a dishwasher that works well so i don't have to wrinkle my fingers, and a bed that I think I am starting to develop a cute crush on. He stood in my room for so long unnoticed like the boy next door and just recently I began to appreciate his ever constant attention and loyalty to me. Thanks Bed, tonight we will cuddle.