tank top boys

I discovered a new phenomenon today. Skateboarding, tank top wearing dudes. I don't know if other guys were wearing tank tops but for sure every single one riding a skateboard on the college campus I was at today wore one loud and proud. I'm not sure what I think of tank tops on guys. On one hand I try to be an equal opertunist. If I want to be able to play sports as well as guys I have to accept the men that want to wear women's clothing. Tank tops outside of working out (and even then that's pushing it) creep me out for some reason. I'd rather they go for some semblence of a sleeve or no shirt at all. No shirt at all would actually be most preferable!

the man who lives at my work

Or rather outside of my office, next to the trash bin. This appears to be his bedroom since he's usually sleeping. When he's awake he never asks for anything. He never talks at all. He never even seems to notice that there's anyone else around. He's just always there. Yesterday, every time we went into or out of our office he was standing and staring off into the distance moving his right hand in a round and then out motion. If he'd have incorporated other movements I would've thought he'd taken up tai chi. And so it's another day and he's asleep and I have no idea what he was doing.

people o.d. part two

It is possible. To O.D. on people. I never used to be this way but am finding myself overdosing more often in the last year or so. Or maybe I've always been this way and am now just realizing the cause. There were definitely times in the past that I've felt crabby after spending too much time with too many people. Guess I just didn't realize I was O.D.ing until recently. This would be something that'd be pretty easy for me to do being that I've always had jobs where I interact with bunches of folks and have a million friends and family members.

In the last month or so I've had one of my best friends visit from the motherland, my mother visit from the motherland, gone to a music festival with at least 70,000 hipsters, druggies, teeny boppers and old people like myself, taken 100 kids on a field trip to a crowded university, facilitated a discussion forum with hundreds of high school participants in a fairly small setting, and assisted an Earth Day event for a large group of K-8th graders. Oh and both visits included multiple trips to tourist packed locales, including Disneyland. I would guesstimate I've encountered half a billion peeps in the last month. This necessitates the removal of myself from society for at least the next month.

I actually thought I was cured after I spent several nights this past week doing my own thing. I read. I took baths. I ate delicious food. I ran. I surfed. Usually I only need a night or two of alone time to get back on track. So when Saturday night came and the bf invited me to meet up with him and some of his friends I thought I was ready. Not so much. It was fine but I definitely wasn't back to my old self. I realized I'd still rather be laying on the couch watching Valentine's Day (okay, slight exaggeration as that's the world's worst movie) than socially engage with anyone, even really fun and friendly people I would normally make my new bestest friends. I hope the recovery period doesn't last much longer cuz I'd really like the old me back.

forgetful people

I don't normally forget people I meet. I might not remember everyone's names but as far as faces go I'm pretty good. I'm that person who'll remind someone we've met before and they stare at me with their blank expression. That is until yesterday. I was facilitating some group discussions at a conference and a guy approached me and said, "Hey! How are you doing?" like he knew me. Thinking he just might be really friendly I said the same thing back. Then, he told me how he'd ran into a friend of mine (he named her by name) the night before. We made some more small talk all the while I wondered how the hell I knew him because it was now obvious we'd met before. I didn't find out until later that night when I saw the friend he'd mentioned and asked her about it. It turned out to be my old roommate's new roommate who I'd hung out with enough times that I should've remembered his face. Hopefully he didn't catch on to my nonrecognition.

parking ticket men

Not sure why I assume they're all men. Maybe because I've only seen men giving out the parking tickets. At any rate I have this ongoing debate inside my head (and sometimes out of it) as to whether or not I could ever be friends with someone who gave out parking tickets. Bonuses of the friendship: maybe he could pull some strings and I could get out of future parking tickets. Negatives of the friendship: I don't know if I could get past the fact that all he does is ruin people's days (sometimes weeks, months, years, entire lifes...). I currently have a vendetta against parking ticket men and am trying to work through this but until they build a small park in my honor (with a dedication plaque) I don't know if I can be the bigger person. And if push came to shove and I had to become a parking meter man to make ends meet I think I'd almost rather be a stripper or prostitute.

music fest peeps

It had been some time since I'd been to a major music festival so when I embarked on my virgin experience of Coachella over the weekend I didn't have a lot of expectations other than hot weather, not showering, mass quantities of peeps, and drinking heavily. The hot weather, not showering, and mass quantities of peeps turned out to be accurate. Drinking heavily was a challenge, though, due to the heat and so I only managed a bit of that. One surprise or I guess not even surprise since I hadn't given it much thought were the types of people I encountered there.

There was an inordinate amount of people who would fit in the hipster category. As I may have mentioned elsewhere in this blog (or if not I often think about doing so in my mind) this is a designation of peeps that fascinates me to no end. When I mentioned to someone the mass quantities of hipsters at this music fest she said, "Well, think about the type of music there." Since I don't know much about the music tastes of hipsters I just pretended to understand. And made a mental note to include that in the unofficial hipster ethnography I'm currently researching.

The hipsters were especially fascinating because the common sense in me packed light sundresses, flip flogs, hats to keep the sun off my face, jeans and sweatshirts. My thinking behind this attire was that it was going to be hot during the day and cool down at night (check), I didn't want to burn in the barely shaded venue (check), and even if I'd been able to shower every day I would've been dirty in five minutes due to being in the desert (check). Somehow I missed the memo that I should've come prepared for a fashion show. I've never seen so many people in one place dressed to impress. I've also never seen so many Halloween costumes in April (or maybe even in October). I wish someone had told me to pack for a costume contest cuz I could've rocked it. I also saw (in 80 plus degree weather) fur boots, fur coats, one too many pairs of uggs, one too many pairs of butt cheeks peaking out of thongs, and my absolute favorite a gold sequined leotard with "Hova" on the butt. At least Jay-Z performed there.

Aside from the hipsters (or probably more accurately in conjunction with the hipsters) were the druggies. I'd also never been somewhere I encountered so much illicit drug use. People were strung out on everything from coke to LSD to Kool-Aid packets. And I could've tried anything I wanted if I'd really wanted to. I was offered party favors by two dudes but am still not sure what party favors are. By no means am I saying I was a saint (Muse was blur thanks to one too many drinks of almost straight rum) but I don't know how they did it for three straight days (or maybe longer). Come Monday morning I wanted to die (and I really only drank the one day) so I can't imagine how the mass quantities of hard core drug users were feeling.

Perhaps the most surprising group there were the teeny boppers. I hadn't expected to feel like the old folks home with our group of twelve mid twenty to early thirty year olds (Might explain why I couldn't hang with the druggies). I know all ages were welcome at the concert venuse but where we were camping it was 18 and up. Yet, I guarantee at least every other spot had at least one under 18 year old there. There's no way my parents would have ever let me go to something like that while I still lived under their roof ('Course my parents probably would've gone to the event in their younger years-had it existed-and known exactly what went on there.). Unfortunately we didn't captitalize on the opportunity to create a small business of selling our booze to our neighbors.

While the bands that performed there were all absolutely amazing I'd say the people watching comes in at a close second in a list of reasons to go to Coachella. And if I ever go back again I'm for sure bringing a notebook to record more specifics since it'd make great writing material. Wonder

overheard randomness part quatro

As I left the grocery store I walked past two middle aged men. One moved to get out of my way even though he wasn't technically in my way. I said, "Thank you," to him. His reply, "You're a much better looking version of Barbie" I didn't even have a response to that one.

baby i got yo number

I used to be the queen of handing out my phone number to anyone (typically dudes) who asked for it. When I was drinking. When I was sober I had a little more sense. As I've gotten older and thoroughly realized the quality of men who ask for phone numbers from highly intoxicated ladies I got better at saying no. Having a boyfriend also helps with this (It also helps that now it isn't a lie when I tell the dudes asking for my number that I have one. It must sound more convincing).

So despite not having given out my phone number to any randoms this year I still occaisionally get text messages or have missed calls from numbers I don't recognize. I'm never sure if it's from a long past random or someone completely unrelated to this but either way I typically ignore it if they don't leave a message or some kind of identifying information. This didn't work with a text I got today from someone who wrote, "Who is this?" Seeing as I hadn't texted or called this number EVER far as I could remember I wanted to text back, "Well, since you're the one texting me shouldn't you know? And who is this?" But I refrained since smart ass ness doesn't always communicate effectively through text. And what if it was someone I know professionally? Against my better judgement I texted back my name and politely asked who it was. Some dude named Nick. That was when I realized more than likely it was probably a long time ago random cleaning out his phone but I couldn't remember a Nick. And I have a cousin named Nick. Although he wouldn't have a California area code. Then, the dude proceeded to send me a picture message of himself that resembles a male glamour shot. That's when I realized why I have my no response unless I know the person's number rule and continuing to text the dude would be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. That didn't stop Mr. Nick from continuing to text me like he might get a date out of this random person he couldn't even remember meeting (not that I was any better off since even the picture didn't ring a bell). Since I haven't received a text in the last couple hours I think he finally got the hint.

getting picked up on the freeway

One of my BFFs since freshman year of college came out to visit and celebrate one of her heading toward 30 birthdays. We had the best time ever. The weather was gorgeaus (which she was most appreciative of since she'd ventured from the near arctic cold). We hit every major tourist to-do in the LA area. We went out every night. It was pure exhaustion after four days of this but totally worth it. Which was what I wanted to give her for this birthday she wasn't entirely looking forward to having.

I think, though, the best present she got occurred during a tour of LA rush hour traffic. Since the normally half hour trip took over 2 hours it gave everyone plenty of time to scope out their neighbors. And in this process we were hit on by no less than 8(I didn't actually count but that sounds like a good estimate) males under the age of 21 (or else looking real good for their age). A car full of definite teenagers even offered us tickets to some concert thing that night. Thirty's not looking so bad all of a sudden!

the man who lives on our bench

If there is an actual concept of hell I'm probably going to it. For many reasons. Amongst them assuming someone is homeless without any proof. Case in point, I came home after being away for much of a weekend to find a random stranger sitting on one of the benches on my apartment building's front porch. He looked... well, disheveled to say the least. Definitely hadn't showered in awhile. And dazed and confused is an accurate description of his mentality at that moment. Upon seeing him I jumped back startled as it was early in the morning on a Sunday and I had never seen this man before. When he saw me he said, "Are any of the guys who live here home? I have a pack of cigarettes." A number of thoughts ran through my mind: Is he friends with my neighbors, have they given him cigarettes before, and dude, it's 8 o'clock in the morning so even if they do know you they probably aren't wanting to be awake to share a cigarette yet! All I said, though, was, "I don't think so," and went inside to lock my door. He continued to sit on our bench looking dazed and confused. Then, a couple days later I was inside my apartment already when he opened our entrance and made his way to sit down on our bench again. And so I still think he's homeless but is trying to be our new occupant that doesn't pay rent.

weddings

I went to a wedding this weekend. In a professional baseball stadium. Not sure which is cooler. On one hand I really enjoy weddings for the hope they represent. On the other hand I really love baseball stadiums. I suppose for the same reason. I hadn't been to a wedding in years (despite having a large family and number of friends few seem to be tying the knot) so it made me think a little. About people. And weddings. And marriage. And how sometimes even though those things are supposed to go hand in hand that's not always the case.

I didn't know until I went to college that a lot of little girls had their weddings planned out by their late teens (the lessons of college that really stick were rarely learned in class). Well before they should be thinking about marriage. Well before there's a groom (in most cases). I had roommates who'd religiously watch a show on TV called The Wedding Story. I'll admit I got roped into viewing it a couple of times and it was cute but not cute enough that I would give up watching SportsCenter for the fifth time in one day (Probably the reason my roommates blocked all the sports channel on our TV my senior year.)

I mean it's good to know what you want but shouldn't the wedding part be secondary anyway? (As a sidenote this isn't directed at any of those roommates since I know the actual marriage is more of a priority for them than the wedding.) I mean, I can see why people would want a wedding. I'm down for any kind of party (particularly one with an open bar) so I could easily hop on that train; however, that, the proposal, the honeymoon, all that should be the icing on the cake compared to marrying your best friend, lover, and hopefully soulmate.

I've always been kind of on the fence about marriage (or at least since I realized I was old enough to do such a thing). My parents weren't legally married until I was in high school. I mostly see it as a manmade institution designed to preserve a religious tradition that was likely introduced to restrict women (I don't actually know if this is the case but it seems that in most countries marriage does restrict women.). I think if you're with the right person who has the same beliefs, morals, and values as you and you both decide you want to spend the rest of your life together you don't necessarily need a religious or legal document to prove that. Corny as it sounds the love in your hearts should be enough. 'Course I do really like cake...

That being said what I seriously like about marriage is the public declaration of your love and devotion to one another and the enlistment of your other loved ones in supporting that. One person can never be another person's all. And so having a solid support system around you who believe in what you believe in can only make a union stronger. Not to mention the added tax benefits!

Therefore, it makes me sad to see people who seem to be getting married solely for the wedding or because they think that's what they should be doing at that point in their lives or their relationships. The ones whose first words out of their mouths are, "Check out this ring," rather than, "I can't wait to vow to spend the rest of my life with this person." I don't know if I've ever actually seen this in real life but I've heard and read about it and even at happy weddings (not that I've ever been to a sad one) I can't help but think, "Are they doing this because they truly want to spend the rest of their lives together or because of societal pressures?"

There's an amazingly awful show called Bridezillas on some channel on cable that I've witnessed a couple times. And it was like a bad train wreck. The brides were so horrible I had to keep watching because it was so unbelievable. These are certainly the extreme example but there are certainly a lot more hidden ones out there (and probably groomzillas as well but showing that would demolish the gender steretypes a lot of TV has worked so hard at preserving). I suppose it's good to have that contrast, though as it's a reminder to me that if I choose to get married that it will only be if I have thoughts along the lines of, "I can't wait to wake up next to this person every morning even with all their stanky breath" rather than, "If it rains on my wedding day it's all going to be ruined!" 'Course if I get married my first plan will be to have the wedding somewhere it never really rains. Like my backyard.

indivduals i want to be friends with

As a follow up to famous people who creep me out I also have a list of those famous people I think would love to have me as their friend:

Justin Timberlake: While most gals probably want to do him I simply want to be his friend. Certainly he's cute. And he has curly hair. Is fit. The dude can sing, rap, dance, collaborates with Timbaland and other hip hop genuises on a regular basis. He's freaking funny as hell (I give him credit for reviving SNL.). And seems totally down to earth. I can see why he's popular with the ladies but think it'll work out better for us if we just remain friends.

Tina Fey: Now this is someone I do have a crush on. But not being a lesbian would have to keep platonic as well. She's cute, funny, a great writer, and seems like she's be super fun to hang with in real life. And a legit role model for females (and males). I've had this fantasy of writing and appearing on SNL since the age of 10 and this is one woman who's done it. I'm often told I look like Amy Poehler (oh, I want to be friends with her too) so maybe it would be easy to sneak one past her...

Chad Ochocinco: This might seem like a surprise pick since many people think he's an egotistical maniac. Egotistical maniacs are probably some of my least favorite people. However, I don't think this title applies to Mr. Ochocinco. I think he's just a childlike guy who is trying to have a bit of fun in his life and not take his job too seriously and the uptight peeps of the NFL (and rest of the world) are trying to hold the man down. I think we'd have a lot of fun together and we could all learn a lesson from him.

st. patrick's day

We've established that I love holidays and celebrations of all kinds but yesterday (aka March 17th) I was the St. Patrick's grinch. The thought of carousing about with green beer in hand, consuming it along with shots of whiskey and Irish car bombs (okay, that's something I never participate in), made me want to curl up on the couch in sweatpants and a mindnumbing chick flick. Maybe some popcorn too. Okay, for sure some popcorn too.

I was partied out. It's been nonstop birthdays since 2001 and with more birthdays, weddings, out of town guests and a large music festival looming in the near future donning green and dancing a jig on a Wednesday evening was almost as appealing as a trip to the dentist (hard core exaggeration since I hate the dentist). Plus I made the mistake of partaking in Taco Tuesday the night before. I was tired. And still am since I manned up and went for it. My pep talk went something like this, "Manda, you wussed out last year and lasted maybe 20 minutes at a bar (in my defense I had just returned from a very strange weekend in Vegas). St. Paddy's Day only happens once a year. Everyone else is doing it. You can get all the sleep you need when you're dead." Okay, convinced but still tired I did it. I didn't consume much beer (and none of it was green) but I did witness Mexicans making Irish music and a pseudo moshpit with some fun folks so I know once I catch up on sleep it'll be worth it.

Being out sober caused me to reflect upon the types of people who really get into this holiday because there are distinct groups. The first group consists of the peeps like me who just love to celebrate anything. They'll pretend to be Irish on March 17th, Mexican on May 5th, a zombie on Oct. 31st. Although I own up to my mutt heritage (which includes none of the above groups).

The next group consists of former frat guys. That by itself isn't a problem. I've dated a number of former frat guys post college graduation and it went all right. The problem is with those who've graduated and still think they're in the frat. I realize that it's seen as some kind of lifelong bond but I always thought that was more in theory than actual behavior. An offshoot of this group are the current frat boys. I find their behavior slightly more excuseable cuz hey, they're still in college and grown upness is at least a year away. And actually alone most of these guys are fine. But in large groups all of the cavemen behavior that can exist exists. While this behavior can often be encountered any night of the week it's amped up on St. Patrick's Day. And really another offshoot of this group are large gatherings of college males (and really females too) in general. Perhaps not those majoring in gender studies of some sort.

The last group consists of legit alcoholics. The rest of us might be partiers but we still maintain some sense (I might be in denial. That's the first step, right?). This group takes it to a whole other level of not being able to speak in a coherent sentence by noon (you don't fit into this group if you're still in college). They're the ones who are in their fifties and stumbling around spilling beer on you while trying to regal you with stories of St. Paddy's Day celebrations back in the '30s. They often get the rowdiest and are potential injury concerns so I'd advise you to steer clear if they're swaying too much.

St. Patrick's Day is certainly good people watching if nothing else. And so I advise myself next year not to go to Vegas the weekend before, don't drink for at least a week prior, and get plenty of rest and hydration so as to be entirely prepared. And I advise St. Patrick to move the holiday to a fixed Saturday in the month of March so I don't have to worry about working the next morning.

online dating

I'm not currently online dating nor will I ever do it again. But I'm not ashamed to admit I've tried it. Mostly because I believe in the ol' don't knock it 'til you've tried it adage. But partly because I thought, why not see how else I can meet guys aside from the assistance of a shot glass and bartenders or running down the street (story for another time). It was this short lived experience that I've realized online dating is not the way to go. At least for me. And I don't think for most others either. No matter how many times Eharmony claims they have a great marriage success rate. Well, you combine enough desparate twosomes a decent amount will probably get married.

Okay, so maybe it isn't fair to classify all online daters as being desparate since I certainly wasn't desparate when I tried it (that's what I keep telling myself) but there are definite distinctine groups of men on these sites (or at least the one I ventured onto). The largest batch of guys I nicknamed the "no way in hell" guys. Obviously they weren't anyone I would have even considered dating and if they’d read my profile with the slightest bit of common sense they'd have realized that and never messaged me. In their defense, I recognize there might be a small amount of egocentrism on my part. They could have genuinely thought I’d be interested in them. But I wasn't. So those are the guys I didn't respond to. At first I felt bad because I thought, if they have enough courage to message me at all they deserve some kind of response. But after getting an obnoxiously large number of these I realized I didn't have time for all that (I had a real man to find on that site after all!). The reasons they weren't guys I would date were as varied as the guys themselves. Some I would have never been physically attracted to even with Will Farrell’s personality. Some had opening lines and/or profile descriptions that I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to come up with even if it was my intention to turn off every single person in the world. My favorites were (and yes, I wrote them down; they were that good): “I have less than nine percent body fat,” (Is that 8.2 or 8.76 percent then? And does anyone really care the exact body fat percentage of anyone?) and, “You aren't dreaming. I AM real. I know what you are saying. "He's perfect. It's too good to be true." (I'm hoping he meant that as a joke but I’m still counting it). Then there were the guys who despite my insistence that I am not on there for an intimate encounter, still thought I would bone them immediately (And none of these guys resembled Brad Pitt in case you were wondering.). And last, there were the dudes who posted all these shirtless, muscle pictures. Like the Shania Twain song, that don’t impress me much.

That summarizes the guys who I didn't respond to. Next come the guys who seemed cool at first. They're at least fairly attractive, appear to be normal, there's nothing necessarily jumping off the page but maybe they aren't very adept at advertising themselves. Fair enough. I still gave them a shot. Then, as soon as I'd agree to a date and gave out my number they'd text me like it was their job. One dude I agreed to go out with on a Friday called me and he seemed nice enough at first but then he made several comments during the conversation involving how he thought our first date should include a hot tub in his apartment complex. I said, how bout we meet somewhere for dinner not at your apartment since I don't even know you (word for word)? And then there was the one who mentioned an ex-girlfriend and a couple girls he'd met on the website, which are topics of conversation I don't mind coming up but not in a first conversation! And from a relentless texter, "Yea, I like you." Okay, dude you didn't even know me. There was an strong air of desperation oozing from this group, although, unfortunately most times I didn't realize it until I was already out with them.

Last, there were the ones with a lot of potential. The ones who I considered to be on this site for the same reasons I was, good-looking, no obvious hang ups, and actually had a personality I think I'd be attracted to in real life. It didn't work out with any of these guys, partially because I think most of them were just looking to get laid. One actually told me he was on there because his roommate had done it and got a lot of action. "Not that I'm on here for that reason," he quickly followed up with.

Needless to say I got the h off that site quickly and can now say I've done it, it doesn't work for me, and I maintain that living in the real world, enjoying your life is the best way to meet someone.

ode to bad drivers

I felt compelled to write this today when yet another driver on a southern Californian highway (or freeway for those who are native to this state) thought he would change lanes. And that’s all fine and dandy (we all like to change lanes) as long as there isn’t a car next to you when you do it. In this case the car next to him happened to be me. Luckily he realized his mistake and swerved back into his lane. This was a very positive maneuver since my only options at that point were to let myself get sideswiped by him, swerve into the lane on the other side of me, likely sideswiping that car, speeding up only to rear end the car in front of me, or slam on my breaks causing the car behind me to rear end me. Either way if he’d kept going my car was meshing with someone’s and potential flippage (my worst driving fear) would occur. I would love to say this is an isolated incident but I have a near death experience at least several times a week, primarily associated with someone trying to play bumper cars with me without my knowledge. One of my roommates recently commented that this seems to happen to me on such a regular basis that perhaps I emit some kind of car attraction signal.

Besides the infinite amount of peeps who think it’s a swell idea to move into lanes already occupied by 3,000 pounds of metal (I actually have no idea how much a car weighs) I’ll highlight some of my fav bad drivers. In fact, I’ll start with the two in a row I encountered today simply driving down my street. First, there was the dude behind me who decided 6 inches was plenty of space between the end of my car and the beginning of his (And I don’t drive abnormally or even normally slow. Plus the fact that there was a car in front of me, in which I was allowing the standard car length between. And actually I probably should have even been allowing more car lengths based on the driver’s ed principal of car lengths we all learned when we were 16. But in SoCal law that gets divided by pi so I was legal.). Then, he actually had a for real good idea and passed me on the left. But then he lost his mind again because he decided to cut in between me and my regulation one car length (Okay, maybe it was two at this point because otherwise this story wouldn’t work.) only to turn an immediate right. And in response to the shocked look on my face and perhaps a hand thrown up in the air (And no, I did not extend any fingers!) he did extend his middle finger. The shocked look stayed on my face for some time as, not even two blocks down the same road, a man who’d parked his car on the side of the street opened his car door right in front of me and proceeded to step out onto the street. Now, at this moment I was driving abnormally slow, still recovering from the shock of the last guy. And boy, was that lucky for him because if I had been going anywhere near the speed limit he and his door would have been toast.

Another prime example of the cut off was on another major freeway where there had been an accident (surprisingly I don't see more of these). Due to this everyone was driving slow. Most times this inspires other drivers to be more aware and cautious in their driving. Not for Silver Some Kinda Car. This dude proceeded to cross over the double lines of the carpool lane and cut off three different lanes beginning with mine. I'll admit I've become a honker since moving out here. But only if its necessary to let someone know they almost killed half a dozen people. So I definitely blasted it as did the other cars that were cut off. The look on this guy's face was pure confusion. Apparently he didn't realize it helps to have room in front of a car before you get over... and a blinker on.

I don't get it. Far as I know we have traffic laws here. In fact, I know we do since there are required driving tests (not sure who's giving them, though) and I've been pulled over for not obeying some of them. But what really amazes me is the amount of those drivers who try to take me out sideways, frontways, rearways, any way they can and then become pissed off at me for simply reminding them that I'm there (Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm fairly certain the horn was invented so we could remind road hogs that other drivers aren't tooth fairies and that we do in fact exist). These buttheads as a collective group have flipped me off more more than any other group. I've even had a few roll down their windows and threaten bodily harm. Each time I'm baffled as to why they're pissed off at me seeing as they're the ones being completely inconsiderate, illegal, and dangerous. I typically smile and wave. After I lay on the horn.

My favorite butthead car is actually one I encountered on foot. I was running and came up to a crosswalk. I'm not a reckless runner so I keep a pretty good eye out for dangerous situations and noticed a moving vehicle about half a block away. Knowing there was a stop sign I proceeded to enter the crosswalk. This car decided to speed up and attempt to go right through the stop sign and me. If they hadn't slammed on the brakes at the last minute I would've been toast. I froze in horror (probably not the best reaction if I wanted to survive) and all five teenagers in this car started screaming at me in Spanish. I don't know a ton of Spanish but I'm pretty sure they were cussing me out.

While I feel that I was being a very cautious pedestrian I can semi-understand their probably overall frustration with southern Californian pedestrians as I've also noticed that peeps suck at walking. Now, I never knew you could mess up walking but some folks have figured out a way. There seem to be inordinate amount of individuals in this part of the country who think it’s highly intelligent to dart out in front of moving vehicles. And my favorites are the ones who do it at night, dressed in all black or at the very least navy blue, carrying or pushing babies in strollers.

One last note on bad drivers so that we don't all blame it on the Asians, which is the ongoing joke about their ethnicity being the worst drivers. I've even heard this from Asians themselves. Reflecting upon all my experience with bad drivers, it has absolutely nothing to do with a person's ethnicity. The Asians I know who've grown up here (and even some who haven't) are as good of drivers as anyone else I know. Rather it's people from foreign countries in general. This makes a lot of sense because most foreign countries don't have the same driving laws we do. If they have any driving laws at all. This especially makes sense in a location as diverse as southern California, with such a high population of immigrants.

In conclusion, I have no recommendations. Rather this is simply a public service announcement to those brave enough to frequent the southern Californian freeways. Practice defensive driving, never be afraid to lay on the horn, and practice extending that middle finger if necessary. Everyone else is doing it.

individuals who creep me out

Now to be fair to these individuals they aren't anyone I know personally so all I have to judge them on is their public persona. However, I think that might be enough:

Kevin Bacon: If I ran into Kevin Bacon in a dark alley I'd run as fast as I could in the other direction. Hell, if I ran into Kevin Bacon anywhere at anytime I'd probably run as fast I could in the other direction. This probably stems from watching Sleepers and Hollow Man one too many times rather than him actually being a total creeper in real life.

Heidi and Spencer Pratt: I don't really know anything about these two other than parts of two episodes of The Hills I unfortunately watched and some random articles on the internet. However, between her insane plastic surgery and semi-clueless way of speaking and his hard core jerk moves and bad attitude. Still, they've managed to make a fortune out of no talent so I might be missing something here. Or else the U.S. is more f'ed than I ever could've imagined.

Ryan Seacrest: I'm convinced the man's a robot. Which would then technically not make him a man. Does the dude sleep? He has a morning radio show, which if I'm correct would require him to be at work each morning at some crazy hour like 4am. He hosts American Idol. I'm not a fan of the show but it's so popular that can't be a small feat. He does stuff for Entertainment television. What stuff I don't know. I mean, I'm into accomplished peeps because that denotes hard work, commitment, dedication, talent, dreaming big, all great qualities I would want in someone. However, in this case I think he's taken it too far. When I think of him instead of thinking of the above characteristics I think of workaholic, neurotic, attention whore and selfish. And that might not be fair. He might not be any of those. Well, he has to be a workaholic or I don't know how he'd accomplish so much. And it's all in the entertainment industry so I'd venture attention whore isn't way off. Neurotic is simply a bold guess. And selfish would just be because I don't know how he'd have time to maintain any semblence of a close relationship in his life.

anger management

I don't get angry. Not really. I've had several moments but I can probably count them on one hand... maybe two. Sometimes I think that maybe I should. The whole Freudian psychology thing about repression. But so far I haven't experienced any adverse effects from being mostly anger free so maybe I'm repression free. There simply aren't many people or situations that can get me that worked up. The only ones who've ever managed to truly do that are my parents, brother and sister. No one knows quite how to push your buttons like an immediate family member. But for the most part those episodes took place in my childhood. As I grew older I learned to let things roll off my back because they weren't worth the energy. There's still the occaisional frustration due to interactions with these folks I love but anger has certainly been replaced by understanding. The only person outside of my family (and perhaps a member of a competing sports team) who's ever gotten me that worked up was a guy I was dating (and I use this term loosely). One night he randomly went off on me about how he didn't want to get into a relationship and said some really mean things (inebriated). Now this was a guy I never saw myself getting into a relationship with so certainly hadn't mentioned such a thing in any shape or form but he wouldn't listen to me. I was angry for about a week over his meanness but once I chilled out I realized how much that had hurt me and don't think I've been angry since.

The reason I'm thinking about anger is due to an incident at the grocery store last night. The grocery store was having momentary problems with some of their cash registers. This resulted in long lines of people waiting to eventually check out. For most of us this wasn't a big deal. Everything can't always go smoothly. I used the time to catch up on text messages and glance at magazines I would never buy in real life. One man didn't see things in quite the same way and went off on any employee in the vicinity. He was irate that one line had been redirected to another line with a now operating cash register but his hadn't (I was also standing in the same line). Now I understand how that could be frustrating; however, the woman behind him and I simply stepped over to a line with a working cash register. So we had to wait a couple extra minutes. In the grand scheme of things that isn't a big deal. Waiting hours for your blood pressure to go down (particularly for someone a little older) seemed like a much bigger deal to me. He continued to yell at the clerks and managers who came to see what was going on. He poked his finger in the face of the sweet young manager who came over trying to help. Everyone else in these long lines were looking at him like he was loco.

I mostly felt sorry for him. People who get that worked up about the little stuff cannot have happy lives. And research (look up the stats) shows that they live shorter and less healthy lives. I have yet to encounter anything or anyone to get angry over that's worth that. Yet, you see this fairly often. People ranting and raving over seemingly nothing. And they do it in public. That's the scariest part. Because if they act like that in public, I can't imagine how they must act in the privacy of their own home. Now I understand that people'll get angry on occaision (as I've done so myself) but I try to avoid being around anyone who's that way on any sort of regular basis. You never know how short a fuse they have and I don't want to be at any end of it.



Dude at the grocery store needs this

quiet people

Okay, there's a third group of people I have difficulty trusting. And I can't believe I forgot about them for a minute. These are quiet people. I wouldn't say I'm prejudiced against them like I am against boring people. Because quiet people can be interesting once they warm up. However, for the most part I don't know what to do with them. And I fear they're secretly plotting to overthrow me. You never know what's going on in their heads. The quiet ones always seem to be the ones who do the craziest things, like blow up buildings, go on shooting rampages, and take hostages. All in order to get attention (I assume). I can understand wanting attention. Who doesn't? But if you never speak it's really hard for anyone to pay attention to you.

My sister was a quiet child and still is. Whereas both my brother and I are big mouths (probably myself more so). Yet she was the only one of us to punch a hole in the stairway wall and kick one in the screen door. This is likely where I first established my theory on quiet people. But I'm not against quiet people overall. Everyone has their quiet moments. It's just those who are always quiet that concern me. And so I tend to avoid them as I'm quite happy not being alive and not held hostage.


With quiet sis (whose quietness no longer concerns me) & some others in the fam

he who cannot be named (in the bathroom)

He who cannot be named likes to talk on the phone in the bathroom. And not the bathroom of his residence. But the bathroom at his place of employment. Possibly also the bathrooms of restaurants, gas stations, bars, who knows how far reaching this might be. Alone this isn't a problem. I'm not gonna lie. I've done it too. But in the privacy of my own home. To my immediate family members who I've had numerous between door conversations while on the toilet when we're in the same location. There's a difference between that and doing it at work. The difference is called professionalism. He literally takes care of business while taking care of business.

people o.d.

It's been established that I love people. The only thing is I need to add a clause to that. The clause being that I love people as long as I haven't o.d.'d (have no idea how you spell that out; overdosed for those who can't follow) on them. Which periodically I do. This being one of those times or I probably wouldn't have broached this subject.

I work with people in my profession. A lot of people. And for the most part that's what I really enjoy about my job. But there are times each year when I spend 10-12 hours a day solving hundreds of people's problems. And when I get home I have no energy to even figure out if I have any in my own life. Let alone take care of them or prevent them from even occurring. Laundry, cleaning, bills, car maintenance, health maintenance, it all goes to the wayside. Until the next thing you know every time someone I have to help asks a "dumb" question (and contrary to popular belief there is a such thing as a dumb question) I want to ask them to help with my laundry, cleaning, bills, car maintenance, and health maintenance. It's only fair.

At that point by the time I leave work each day the last thing I want to do is see people. There are a few exceptions but for the most part I'm tempted to make my standard phone greeting, "Go to hell!" Or throw it in the ocean. However, since I doubt that'd go over real well with my homies and I'd like to keep them around for when I get back to my true self I've managed to refrain from that.

This is quite challenging, though, because I have A LOT of friends. Bordering too many. I've contemplated making cuts but I really like all of them so I wouldn't even know where to start. I have a potentially bad habit of collecting friends. Anyone I think is primarily interesting and good looking I'll give my phone number to. I've not only picked men up in bars but also a good number of women (all entirely platonic much to the disappointment of men's imaginations everywhere). I'm even still friends with a fairly high percentage of them.

I have cut friends before. When they've become toxic. The ending of a friendship isn't typically as dramatic as the ending of a relationship. Usually it slowly ends until you don't even realize it was over until it's long been over. These are the ones I like because typically it hasn't been for any horrible reason. It's usually due to location, schedule, just not having that much in common, them being highly boring. But in the past year or so I've actually had to end a couple close friendships out of the recognition that they weren't good for me. And that was certainly more difficult. It was akin to breaking up with a boyfriend. I think. I've never actually broken up with a boyfriend. I've definitely ended more than my fair share of relationships before they even got to the second, third, fourth dates but I don't think that necessarily qualifies as dumping. I'm supposing it's similar. Although, while it's more difficult than just naturally letting the friendship die, I must say it's much easier to be on the dumping end than the dumpee end. There's a lot to be said for seeing it coming and already knowing it's the best thing for you.

But as I already said before I digressed into what should probably be an entirely different post, I don't have any that I currently want to cut. And so this week alone I've had/have three different birthday celebrations lined up while all I want to do is disappear beneath my covers with some popcorn, Harry Potter (even though I've already read all the books) and perhaps a cute boy (if he doesn't talk all the better).



Perfect illustration of how I feel

sports at the grocery store

I was at the grocery store Saturday morning getting some things for work that day. Despite having to work on Saturday (not that I still necessarily agreed with it)I was in a pretty good mood, which motivated the man (I wouldn't necessarily say he was homeless but he was certainly a little out there) behind me to start telling me about how our respective cashier loved the Clippers but the one next to him loved the Lakers and how they'd go back and forth. He asked me if I was a basketball fan. I was tempted to answer, am I a basketball fan?! But he didn't know that so instead I told him that I was. He asked whether I supported the Clippers or the Lakers. I said, "Neither. I'm a Pistons fan!" He looked surprised but unantagonistic, which is not what I typically expect from LA fans, and asked how long I've lived here. I said, "Almost five years." He said, "And you haven't converted?" I said, "Never! I've been a fan since birth." He nodded his head as though it made sense. He then began to give our cashier a little bit of lip regarding the Clippers performance the night before. Next thing you knew all of the middle aged men in line (I was the only person who didn't fit that category) were chatting sports with me and very excited about this. As I paid for my groceries they all said good-bye to me and told me to stay a sports fan. I assured them I would and walked out of the grocery store with enough street cred to last me at least through the year.

curling

Since the Olympics began I've seen different polls and lists debating who the hottest 2010 Winter Olympians are. Based on the options they gave me I only agreed with the Bode Miller nomination. Then, my roommate and I discovered the sport of curling. Well, we'd known about it previously but had only witnessed the women's competitions, which has me convinced I could become a world class curler by 2014. By the time we figured out there was a men's competition too it was nearing its completion. Such a bummer because it contained the hottest guys outside of World Cup soccer! My roommate and I were on our way out to get breakfast, happened to catch a glimpse, and contemplated not eating until the competition was complete (even if it took the rest of the Olympics). Who knew there was this hidden gem of eye candy? Here are some sights to enjoy:

a minus

I'm an overachiever. Or at least I used to be. And I'm not stating that in an effort to brag or say I'm super fantastic or anything like that. Personally I think anyone can be an overachiever should they choose that route. It simply requires tuning out anyone in the near (or far) vicinity who could possibly rain on your parade. I definitely grew up with some odds to overcome but incapable was never a word I heard out of my parents' mouths. And so I made it well into junior high believing all 5'2" of me would some day dunk a basketball in the NBA.

Something happened toward the end of high school/beginning of college to change that. I couldn't pinpoint a single moment or even moments. Perhaps it came with the difficulty of getting a college to look at me for soccer despite some pretty outstanding stats. Perhaps small town syndrome had finally caught me. Perhaps the accumulation of the naysayers' words had finally registered. Or maybe I simply tired of the high energy it took to overachieve and said eff it when I entered college.

I spent the first semester of college setting the record for least classes attended without flunking out and achieved the grades to reflect it. Not that they were particularly bad grades by most standards but for me they were the lowest I'd ever seen in my life. I suppose it was a sort of rebellion I'd never had before. 'Course the only person impacted by my rebellion was myself. Not that the grades were what hurt me. I still finished college with a high enough GPA that it would benefit me in whatever I wanted to do. But something changed with that and I became more sensitive to others' criticism, believing them to the point that I didn't go for things I wanted that I wouldn't have thought twice about going for when I was younger. And sadly that's followed me to this day... or at least it has partially.

I've gone on and attained a Masters degree with flying colors but as far as acutal career accomplishments I feel as though I haven't achieved anything. And I know achievement isn't measured on awards or accolades or anything that can be statistically analyzed. A lot of people look at me and say things like, "Wow! You're really doing something to help the world. You must really love it!" or "How fulfilling!" or "Wow, you're really doing good for others." Howevever, when I know I'm involved in something not entirely fulfilling to my soul it doesn't feel that way to me. I know what I've done in the past and am doing currently is helping others but I have a lot of mixed feelings with that. One being that I feel it's kind of arrogant to assume people need me (or anyone) to help unless they ask for it. And it seems to me that while the goal of non-profits is to uplift people the words and techniques utilized to do so more often patronize. I could get into a whole long spiel regarding this but this is a side topic to the point of this post so I'll save that for later.

I suppose I feel sort of that I got into social services in part because I lost sight of my dreams (professional athlete, best selling author, creative inventor, etc.) and maybe I wanted to ensure that other children never let that happen to themselves. However, if you aren't entirely what you want to be then you can't be a complete role model to others and now I'm realizing that. If I'm able to follow my authentic dreams then I'll naturally help others to do the same.

There's a feeling of helplessness that accompanies this realization. A feeling of begin stuck on a hamster wheel. Difficulty breathing. And it's quite reflective in my current position. I'm a firm believer in life reflecting to you what you need to learn in order to grow and develop and it's never been so obvious. I've been in my current job position for just over two years now and have felt stuck there for almost that entire time. I knew going in I was overqualified for the position but it was the time when the economy started taking the blame for everything. And I needed a full time job at that point to make the bills. I figured I'd work there until I could find something else. But something else never came along and I justified it because I was finishing my Masters and then I was too tired after working and going to school full time to look for another job and then I was applying to PhD programs. Now that I'm done with all of that it's readily apparent what a horrible position I've put myself in. I work for an organization that takes advantage of the kindness of others, doesn't encourage and develop their employees' skills and abilities, and in fact, takes it a step further and attempts to bring them down a notch. And I take full responsibility for being in this position. I'm the only one who can give away my power.

So I've spent the last couple months figuring out how I can get out of this position and so much is pointing toward just up and quitting. I know simply being here is holding me back because I question myself and what I'm capable of on a daily basis. So much so that even though I know this is something I need to do for my welfare I'm unable to do it because I've become paralyzed with the fear of not having a paycheck. It's amazing how much something like that can be used to control a person (or an entire population). And that's not someone I want to be.

This was completely thrown in my face this past Fri. when my co-worker and I were training some college students for the program we run and our executive director (who's a case study in and of himself) attended it. This was the first time in his two and a half year tenure with this organization that he'd been to one of the trainings we conduct (despite it being an extremely important part of what we do). Half way through there was a bit of a break and he went off on what a great job we were doing. He then continued to go off even further on how amazing my co-worker was and what a natural she is at it, and she's definitely an A+. Then, he casually turned to me and said, "And you're like an A-" He didn't have any idea that what he'd said was completely inappropriate despite the looks of shock on both myself and my co-worker's faces. I wanted to say, "Well, if that's how you feel then see how you do the rest of the year without me," and walk out. But I wasn't about to do that in front of the future volunteers we were training.

But really I was a big, fat wuss. If I'd had a few more balls I would have walked out. Because this isn't the first time he's done things like this, particularly to me. He's constantly commenting on how wonderful my co-worker's writing ability is but that he's here to help me develop mine. It's absurd because I feel like writing, teaching, and public speaking are actually three of my biggest strengths (I could be the delusional one, though ) and he's one of the only people ever in my life to think I suck in these areas. I don't know why he feels the need to put me down but I've had all I can take. Everyone says to talk to him; however, I've already done that, as well as addressed it to others and obviously nothing's changed despite my high hopes that things were different. I like to believe in the best in everyone but I know he isn't a good person for me to be around if I want to achieve all I dream of. While I know an A- isn't bad I don't want to be an A- in my life, I want to be the A+. And somehow that's what I'm going to be!

backing that arse up

I love to dance. Anywhere. Anytime. With anyone. Well, okay, almost anyone. I'm pretty adverse to dancing with those boys who think it's appropriate to approach a girl at a club by humping her butt. I like to be twirled, dipped, and don't even mind some dirty dancing once I'm comfortable with my dance partner (which comes after the face to face twirling and dipping); however, there's something entirely too primative about the butt approach for me. I'm really not into alpha males who are still in the beginning stages of human evolution. Particularlythose who love to advertise that at dance clubs.

That being said I still love to go out dancing. In fact, that's the only reason I enjoy clubs at all. Otherwise I'd be okay without ever experiencing that meat market. Other drinking establishments are different. Sure people go there to hook up but just as many go simply because they have a friend in town, it's someone's birthday or they've tired of drinking in their own home. It seems to me that the only reason to go to a club is to dance or hook up. Sometimes both happens. And that's fine. I'm not against people getting their groove on with random strangers. I am against the approach most men use to get this groove on (and really women too but that's not for this post). I've actually dated a guy I met at a club dancing... for a solid three months (long term relationship in my book).

And even with that experience I would still never expect to meet a man I could potentially have a relationship with at a club. A regular bar (or maybe a Snoop Dogg concert) for sure but not a club. This was never more obvious to me than this past Saturday when I went with a group of friends to a local club. I suppose I should keep in mind that this was a club notorious for a much younger, slightly less sophisticated crowd and it was the night before the big Vday so the vast majority of the people there were probably single, lonely, and looking to score. Or maybe those were just the ones I interacted with...

At any rate I was approached from behind by no less than two dozen males (and I know they were males even without turning around), asked for my phone number by at least half of them and some who had the balls to approach from in front, as well as invited home that night by two of them. The quickness in their approach to conquer was admirable. I'd never seen anything quite like it because although I was highly intoxicated I'm certain I wasn't giving off the have your way with me signals. Although I suppose high intoxication alone might give off these same signals. These men had no qualms about approaching those wearing a ring on the fourth finger of their left hand, those standing next to their large male significant other or those who use the word NO without mumbling (although slurring might sound like mumbling to some) over and over.

Now lest you think I'm getting a big ego about all of these men wanting to be with me I know it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was me. It was solely because I have boobs and an arse... and other body parts. And the next day was the big Vday and they were lonely and horny. I know this because soon as I said the word no enough times for them to realize I wasn't actually saying yes they moved right on to the next gal with absolutely no shame in their game. And these gals were literally standing right next to me. Some of them being my friends. Needless to say I had to fight the extreme temptation to hand them my digits.



Sometimes you have to get onstage to escape the butt humpers

old(er) men

I'm fascinated by the sheer amount of older men who'll chase after younger women. Well, maybe fascinated isn't the best verbage, grossed out, repulsed, disgusted might be more appropriate. And by older men and younger women I don't mean 5-10 years, I'm talking more 20-30+.

It isn't even the age difference that grosses me out. I understand that love manifests in not entirely socially acceptable ways and that it's fantastic when two people can overlook our societal constraints and live happily ever after. I completely understand that sometimes you're working, volunteering, collaborating with someone not even remotely near your age group and feelings develop based upon shared interests, values, and just plain sexual attraction. What bothers me is when these men only seek out women significantly younger than them, like it'll keep them in Neverland or something. At that point the courtship feels almost predatory and dirty.

The inspiration for this post comes from a male senior citizen (I am not kidding, at least 65) that approached me on this recent past big Vday as I walked back to my car from surfing. He initially inquired about my surfing experience, which was fine. I typically have conversations with older men about surfing since they're about the only surfers I ever come into contact with (that and teenage boys; still can't figure out where all the guys my age that say they surf paddle out) and they're usually really fun and informative to chat with. Then, the senior citizen turned predatory and told me there was this band playing at a bar down the street that night and would I like to be his Valentine's date? Now, there's a difference between someone who's just teasing about such a thing and someone who's dead serious. I didn't sense any inkling of jokes in this man's voice or expression. My look of shock must have given away the fact that I wasn't entirely (or at all) interested because he followed up with, "Oh, do you have a man waiting for you at home?" The look of shock certainly didn't disappear as I wanted to reply, "Yeah, this look of shock has absolutely nothing to do with the obvious 30-40 year age gap here," but instead I just told him I had a handsome, much younger stud waiting for me at home, probably butt naked in my bed (Okay, I didn't quite say all that either.).

This isn't the first time this has happened to me. And I've seen it happen over and over to other young ladies. And some of them eat it up. Perhaps because they have low self-esteem. Perhaps they think he has money. Perhaps they know he has money. Perhaps they think it's funny. Perhaps he's Hugh Hefner (most disgusting person in the world aside from serial killers) and she wants to be a playmate. I don't really understand it because I get the "I want to puke in my mouth" feeling when approached. I can feel the desperation and it isn't attractive. At the same time I can understand it. They've probably been playboys their entire life and women their own age certainly aren't going to put up with that. At a certain point it becomes difficult to teach most old dogs new tricks. However, it still isn't attractive behavior. And so as not to sound sexist this goes for older women and younger men too. True love (regardless of age) equals cute while preying on those who aren't entirely emotionally capable of making sound romantic decisions equals not so cute.

overheard randomness part tres

Young woman on the train chats on her cell phone to who knows who. She's larger than average (to be nice) with her butt crack hanging out of pants that are certainly three sizes too small and a shirt that shows more of her stomach than even Giselle should. Her hair looks like it hasn't been brushed (perhaps even washed) in the new year and I'm pretty sure her breath smells (not being nice). Her conversation goes something like this, "First Tyrone came over last Sunday. Then, as soon as he left Jason called me. But I told him he couldn't come over. I mean, it's Sunday. I can't have two guys over on a Sunday. It's the lord's day. So he came over on Tuesday cuz he had to work Monday... No, no one came over on Monday. But Wednesday night I went out with Jill and met this guy. I don't remember his name but he came home with us... No, nothing happened... I'm not doing that on the first night we met! Plus Tyrone was coming over the next morning for breakfast. I had to get new dude out fast. And Jason wanted to get together that night. I don't know how this happens!"

Two seemingly normal guys stare, their mouths agape. I'm guessing they agree with her last statement.

valentine's haters

I should probably start with stating that I am not one of them. Despite never having had an actual stereoptypical Valentine in my entire life (well, except for this year, which ended up not being stereotypical anyway so not sure it counts in the ways of Hallmark, which is how I stereotype the day). Despite being dumped at one point the day before the big Vday after a lame Mexican dinner followed by some Million Dollar Baby (In all fairness I probably would've dumped someone after seeing that film too.). Which are typically the things that seem to make most people I know hate the big Vday.

I have always loved the big Vday because I love holidays in general. Or more accurately celebrations. Of any kind. In college one of my friends somehow had access to a list of strange holidays (like Oreo cookie day and hang your shirts outside to dry rather than use electricity day), which we would celebrate simply in order to have an excuse to drink (or bother our other friends). Halloween is my all time fav because you have to dress up (not that that's stopped me from dressing up for other holidays/celebrations/regular days of the week) and eat loads of candy (not that that's stopped me from eating loads of candy every other day of the week).

Aside from the fact that the big Vday's a holiday and I get to eat a lot of candy and dress up if I really wanted to (although I generally avoide the pink and red color pallette that day cuz that's taking things a little too far) I also like that it's about love. And not the Hallmark box of chocolates/generic poetic cards/flowers pre-packaged induced romance that we're led to believe is Valentine's Day. But rather a day to remember and celebrate how much you love and are loved by those around you (whether a boyfriend/fiance/husband, girlfriend/fiance/wife, other family members, or friends you haven't slept with). I've already mentioned what an amazing support crew I have so there's always been much love to celebrate on the big Vday even without a man involved. Even the Vday I was dumped I went in to teach my elementary school class hoping I wouldn't have a breakdown in front of them (not that they would've remembered it the next day). But once I got there and all the kids had their homemade Valentines for me and other heartfelt tokens of their appreciation for me I broke down in another way. It was quite touching to realize that even if this dumb dude didn't love me there was a class full of little kids who did and would continue to unconditionally.

And my loves and I have always made it an event. There was the year in college that we volunteered at a big Vday dance for people with disabilities. Then went out afterwards and got smashed. There was another year in college we went to a bar and passed out condoms as a part of the Safer Sex Patrol (an honest to goodness legit campus organization) and also proceeded to get smashed. There was a couple years ago when something like twelve of us were single and decided to invade an Italian restaurant, proceeding to make every couple in there wish they'd either stayed home or chosen a different locale (wonder how many of them lasted). And then proceeded to get smashed. Then, last year a bunch of us (singles and couples) decided to take on Vegas, where far as I know no one got any action... but proceeded to get so smashed none of the fifteen or so of us could manage to consume alcohol for the rest of the trip.

So that has established that I love the big Vday. However, this year I came to fully understand why some people legitimately might not. I had the unfortunate experience of watching the movie Valentine's Day in is entirety in the theatre for $10 and I might as well have watched the Valentine's Day Massacre movie. It left me highly tempted to sue New Line Cinema and any other organization that conspired on behalf of this movie for the I lost hours of my life I'll never get back. And I went in with high hopes. I'm not the biggest chick flick fan but I'm becoming more open minded to them and it looked like it had some "He's Just Not That Into You" potential (Hey, I thought that was a pretty funny movie!). Oh, I was so wrong and for a moment I became a Vday hater. I realized that while I love the big Vday because of the way I choose to observe it I don't love it the way most people choose to observe it.

Many peeps use it as the one day a year they "have" to show their affection for their sweetie. And the fact that these people even have a sweetie but don't find it enjoyable to express their supposed love, respect, and admiration for that person on a regular basis makes me really sad for them. The huge stands with tons of red cheesy stuff, flowers, heart shaped objects made of plastic, nasty tasting chocolate, etc. made me really want to puke in my mouth (I may have a little) because that isn't what love is. I think that stuff is fun for the kids but really if some guy ever tries to show his affection for me with a red, heart shaped stuffed pillow thing I will send that man packing (unless he's really cute and trying to be a smart ass... and has a nice ass). I actually had a Valentine this year (I decided this on my own so he may or may not be aware of this) and we proceeded to get smashed at a bar with friends... Best. Vday. Ever!



Perhaps if peeps dressed like this for the big Vday they'd enjoy it more!

overheard randomness part dos

A young lady check's her baby's diaper while sitting in a [really high class] restaurant with her friend. She interrupts her friend who seems to be going on about absolutely nothing anyway and announces to almost the entire eatery, "Damn, I'm out of diapers!" To which the perplexed friend responds, "Do you have any maxi pads? She's small enough, right?"

bestest part dos

Okay, I had to do it. One last cheesy post inspired by my bestest in the whole entire world (or at least for some time). I've just really been feeling the love hard core this week and based on some highly touching emails, phone calls, and face-to-face conversations I felt I should respond extremely publicly (okay, maybe not extremely publicly since I doubt anyone outside of the inner circle has even seen this but maybe someday... sigh).



Escaping a monsoon with some of the adopted sisters


I'm very lucky to be surrounded by people who are not only very loving and supportive (and have I mentioned hot?) but also very honest. If I ever need my arse kicked I have plenty of people who'd line up to do it and then give me a big hug afterwards. Luckily the heartfelt words I've received lately have all been of the good kind so my arse is feeling pretty good right now. As I mentioned before I sent this to some of the trusted inner circle to get some feedback on my writing (I'm pretty sure I find myself more entertaining than anyone else in the world so I need to get reality checks now and then) and so far it's been really positive (and if it's been negative I've probably ignored it; I once had a roommate who commented that denial isn't just a river in Egypt but also likely my middle name. There might be some truth to that). What I didn't expect were all the "I love yous" I received because of it. Many of my friends that live far and away said it made them feel like we were having a conversation and that we were closer in distance than we actually are in real life. And then thanked me for being who I am and their friend. I never expected my blog to be in any shape or form touching; I simply thought I could recount my hilarious encounters for posterity sake and perhaps snag a book deal once "they" (whomever they are) realize how great it could be.



Bus ride to the Hollywood Bowl


One of my friends (you know who you are) told me I was one of the most authentic people she knows, which is probably also one of the highest compliments I've ever been given and thoroughly surprised me. Not that I strive for fakeness but for a large portion of my life I've felt not quite like I fit in anywhere and I've only recently gotten to a place of full (or mostly full) self-acceptance, which while I'm trying to have a humorous blog here, has required the prerequisite stereotypical Eat, Pray, Love spiritual journey. Unfortunately since I haven't yet gotten my book deal I wasn't given the financial backing to spiritually explore myself in Italy, India, and Bali but think I got similar results in Michigan, the ATL, and southern California (much of the nirvana being found while getting smashed by large waves). Now I know this is a process most people undertake at some point in their lives because I think that's what makes us human and this is probably why I was not a huge fan of Eat, Pray, Love. Therefore, I likely won't be writing a book about revelations, as I feel it would simply be a compilation of what has already been written by the masses (Unless of course it's going to pay the big bucks; in which case I'll make an exception.).



Korean Bell of Friendship with fam and friends


The point of this post isn't to tell anyone how to be more authentic because I wouldn't even know where to begin or even if I've achieved that despite my friend's assurance that I have. The point of it is if I have achieved authenticity (and I think that's something we're all constantly striving for) then anyone can do it. Being true to oneself is one of life's greatest challenges, pleasures, and reward. I think some of my dissatisfaction with my current job stems from my desire for authenticity because I feel that I'm in a career field that doesn't necessarily value that trait. I often feel that I have to set an example at all times and that example is more one of social acceptance than authenticity. How can I teach child development and then talk about getting hammered immediately after? Or the biggest, how can I continue to work in a profession that's "helping" people when I don't fully agree with that term?



New Year's Eve!!!


And so authenticity continues to be something I strive for but am glad I at least seem to be on the right track. And I think I need to again thank my peeps because if I am on that pathway I owe a significant amount to them for inspiring me to become a better person, follow my passions, and be myself. Because no one loves me more exactly for who I am (no matter how many times I eff up and they have to kick my arse) and honestly, it's that unconditional love that makes all the difference in a person's life (Not the after school programs, tutoring, just say no to drugs talks... just don't tell my boss, I still need my job for at least a bit longer. Unless, of course, you want to buy the rights to my future book or give me my dream job. In which case I'll inform him myself right now.).



Some of the Cali friends

homeless men love me

And so do teenage boys.

I'm not sure if it's like this for everyone else but I have distinct types of men (and I'm being generous with that term) who will always hit on me no matter the circumstances. Two in fact. The aforementioned. Let me preface this with that I do get hit on by other types of men but the amount varies according to the situation. However, these two types of men will hit on me whether it's raining or sunny (granted it's almost always sunny in SoCal), night or day, outside or inside, lookin' good or not lookin' so good...

Last week two homeless men passed me on the street and as I smiled at them as I typically smile at everyone because I think we all deserves at least one smile in ourday. One of them responded with, "Can we come home with you? We clean up real well, I promise!" I had to crack up because, honestly, that was probably the most creative pickup line I'd heard in a long time if not ever. Albeit, they did not accompany me to my humble abode.

Now the day before that I walked out of my apartment and was almost a victim of a skateboard hit and run. About eight boys (and I am not being generous with that term) on skateboards came down the sidewalk traveling somewhere around the speed of 35 miles an hour, which I'm guessing if they had hit me would do a decent amount of damage and being the age that they were it was highly unlikely they would have stopped out of fear of getting in trouble. As I stood there waiting for the next group to pass by me (they traveled in two packs) one of the boys asked if he could get my phone number. I swear to you this child was no more than twelve years old. I could have given birth to the kid if I'd been sexually active in the eighth grade.

And oh, these are not isolated incidences (Well, of course, since I've already said this happens all the time. I just needed a transition.). I had another homeless man (and I apologize if I was simply judging them on their appearance and they aren't actually homeless) offer to buy me a dress. More than a few have asked if they could come live with me. Kids who don't even yet qualify for a driver's license have asked for my number more times than I could count. And chances are 8 times out of 10 when I'm hit on while at a bar the guy's still an undergrad not on the Van Wilder path.

Now, I'm really not into homeless men. I'm sure they're really great people and from the conversations I've had with them most are very nice. It just seems like there'd be a lot of issues to deal with in such a relationship and I kind of prefer my dates to have their shite together. As for teenagers I have a strict 21 and over dating policy. If they can't get into a bar legally they can't date me. With that said I'm not opposed to being a cougar (although, I'm told I'm not old enough to call myself that and since I'm not actually sure of the textbook definition I don't know either) and have welcomed the opportunity to date the 22 and 23 year olds I encounter. In the past several months, though I've rethought that policy. I mean, if dating 22 and 23 year olds when I was 22 and 23 (or younger) didn't work out cuz they didn't feel like they had their shite together, what makes me think the 22 and 23 year olds of today are any better (although, I have two very positive examples in this area as both my brother and a good male friend of mine are in their early twenties and two of the most mature dudes I've ever met)?

Regardless I've been soul searching to discover why it is I particularly attract these two types of fellas. I've come up with the following conclusions: Perhaps I attract homeless men because I've never had much money and up until now, primarily focused on how little money I have (hence attracting those with the least amount of money). Or maybe I'm one of the only ones who smiles at them? As for the teeny boppers I s'pose I do look kind of young (But really a teenager? I'm flattered yet unconvinced.). It could also be that I feel very young. I certainly don't feel the late twenties age I supposively am so maybe they feel that energy. Or one other thought is that in the past (I think I'm over it now) I've had something of The Peter Pan Effect in that I don't want to grow up so perhaps I'm putting out that energy and attracting males who I definitely wouldn't get into anything remotely serious with (hence the homeless and youth of today), thus avoiding a relationship, which is certainly one of the most grown up things you can do. I'm starting to learn to strike a balance between the maintenance of youth and becoming a grown up. Still they continue to hit on me so all theories may be null and void.

a slight bit of me wants to be homeless

I realize that being homeless isn't necessarily something anyone wants. No one says when they're five years old that they want to be homeless when they grow up. I also realize that it's not seen as a good thing in our society (or most societies as homes provide an innate sense of comfort). That being said I do believe there are some people who prefer that lifestyle over what the masses consider to be a more civilized way of living and I think I finally understand why. I've been feeling extraordinarily restless lately. This is a feeling I've become accustomed to since I typically feel most uncomfortable when there isn't enough change. I've combatted this in the past with piercing my ears six times, streaking my hair with pink dye several times, dying it bright red once (I know, I'm real crazy), moving to different cities, buying new clothes, going on trips, jumping off tall rock formations, taking up a new hobby, etc., etc., etc.

This time around it's different. One, I'm overall quite satisfied, actually truly happy with my life. I've submitted one million applications to PhD programs so in all likelihood there's a new adventure on the horizon, there's also an exciting (although not guaranteed) potential job opportunity for the summer, I've gotten back into writing simply for the enjoyment of it, and I've even met a super cool dude I love spending time with. So really I shouldn't feel any sense of restlessness but I do. After much contemplation I know it's due to the nine to fiveness that has been my job for the past two years. I'm not very good at nine to five. I suck at going to the same places and seeing the same people over and over for any extended period of time. Really, I just suck at it if it's mandated because I don't mind seeing my roommates or other friends over and over. But the fact that I HAVE to be at work makes me claustrophobic. This might have something to do with the fact that I really dislike being told what to do probably more than anything (except maybe dirty teeth). I'm not one of those loud rebels who boycotts and fights against anything mainstream just to fill the space in their lives but nevertheless, I quietly try to figure out how I can escape that fate. This might stem from when I learned to read in first grade and from there on no longer depended on my parents to teach me academic knowledge.

Regardless of where it comes from I recently developed some slight envy for those homeless people who seem to relish in the fact that they don't have to answer to anyone, anytime for anything. Now, I say this with a sidenote in that I probably don't actually want to be homeless. I guess essentially what I want is the same freedom but by the opposite means, aka lotsa money. I want days where if I want to go to the park from sun up to sun down and write meaningless social diatribes and really awful poetry I can. I want nights where if I want to consume alcohol until the sun comes up and then fall asleep knowing I don't have to get up until the next night should I so choose to I can. I want weeks where if I want to explore ancient Mayan ruins and the pyramids rather than read about them in the encyclopedia I can. I want a happily ever after where I can own a popcorn shop and a bookstore and not worry about whether or not people get their popcorny fingers all over the books' pages because I can afford not to. And not have a single soul tell me what to do (They can ask me all they want. When people ask nice enough I'm typically putty in their hands.).

Restlessness to me equals a lack of freedom. And I recognize that I'm actually pretty lucky in terms of the freedom and flexibility my current job gives me. I typically work 10am-6pm but could come in later or earlier and leave later or earlier depending on what I need to do that day outside of work. We have decent vacation and sick time (based on U.S. standards). If we have to schedule a dentist appointment in the middle of the afternoon we can as long as we get our work done (and don't mind vague disapprovement from supervisors who take advantage of this far more than I ever would). But it still doesn't feel like enough. Peeps are still telling me what to do. 'Course this feeling of restlessness could be an overall sign that this career path I've spent so much time on isn't the right one for me, something I've been considering an awful lot lately as well. S'pose it might be a sign to cut my losses and move on when chosen homelessness almost seems like an appealing option.



Might have to pitch a tent

bestest friends ever!!!

Recently I emailed this out to a bunch of trusted and beloved friends (sorry guys if I don't tell ya'll that often enough but it's always true) because what's the point of having a blog if no one's reading it. Plus I highly value their input since I only choose the most intelligent, creative, fun, witty, well read and written, and oh yeah, hot friends. And I got a lot of positive feeback, as well as some recent random comments/compliments from those near and dear that've made me feel like I'm as wonderful as they are (including the one I got today from you know who you are that really inspired this post as I was searching for something to write on). That reminded me again that I have the most amazing collection of friends and family in the entire world. This is something I often think about (particularly if nothing else in my life is going according to plan), as well as often share with others. This includes one time when a guy I'd just met at a bar said he had the bestest friends in the world. I immediately told him that no, I actually have the bestest friends in the world. Let's just say we never went on a date (Perhaps I should have told him maybe we both could have the bestest friends in the world and then we would've made new friends.). So this is in honor of everyone who has supported me throughout my life whether it's been since near birth (holla bro and sis!) or more recently.



Bachelorette party in VegASS


Some people only have a a couple or one or perhaps even zero (so sad) people in their lives they feel they can truly count on but I don't think I could even count mine on all of my fingers and toes (I tend to be the kind of person who stays friends with everyone I have even the remotest connection with. Granted, some of those relationships fade over time due to distance, busy schedules, etc. but I know that if those details were to change we could pick right up where we left off.). Maybe only half actually feel that way about me but I like to think the feelings are mutual.



Z-Trip and glow in the dark body paint


As a child I made friends with everyone (as I still continue to do) and didn't think twice about whether or not they'd like me because I just knew they would. That faded some in the teenage years as insecurities crept in and I felt like I didn't quite belong anywhere for some time, which I later found out was probably how everyone felt during that same time period. College was where I made my comeback, as well as some of the greatest friends I'll ever have in my life (although a few I already knew from back in the day). There's still a significant group of ladies (and some gents, although I don't talk to them as much as I'd like) I keep in close touch with and count as my adoptive sisters. They witnessed (and really inspired) me turning from an extremely fashion challenged tomboy who didn't know how to flirt into someone who can mostly match and has had more than her fair share of M.O. sessions and dates. I definitely have to credit them for contribuing to the person I am today.



Post-Tgiving with the bro and adopted sisters


When I graduated from college and moved to a new city far away (a day's drive anyway). I spent two years meeting some cool peeps but longing for those friends as I only developed one real, meaningful friendship (that still continues strong to this day and I'm as grateful for it as she said today that she is). So when I moved out to southern California I had pretty low expectations in regards to making real friends. I figured I'd probably made my allotted amount back in college. Plus I'd heard all of the stereotypes about the fake people that reside here. Almost five years later I've had the complete opposite experience of what I'd expected. I've met some of the most phenomenol people I've ever encountered in my life (no worries college/before college friends, you are not being replaced). And there are so many I keep joking that I need to make friend cuts but I like everyone so much I wouldn't even know where to start. They've supported me through graduate school, me trying to get on the right career path, perpetual singleness, taught me to surf, found me soccer teams, etc., etc., etc. Five of them I even met at the same bar (and who says you can't meet someone at a bar)!



My bday/ugly holiday sweater bar crawl


I live in a four apartment building with eleven roommates and I call them all roommates because no one locks their doors and we walk in and out of one another's apartments like we all live there. It's not uncommon for me to come home to find my neighbors on our couch watching TV and none of my actual apartment's occupants anywhere nearby. None of us have our initial matching dishware or cooking utensils because we've all shared them back and forth so many times. I know that if I ever disappeared they'd have a search party out for me in a matter of hours. And while sometimes it can feel a bit claustrophobic and I have to work to spend time completely alone I recognize that I may never have such a situation again in my life and so I'm enjoying it to its fullest potential.



EVB Peeps


And the coolest part about all of these friends is when the different groups or individuals meet, often, it's like they've known one another for just as long as I've known all of them and they develop relationships amongst themselves (Not to brag but I'm directly/indirectly responsible for two marriages and likely a third in the near future!). But that's probably because they're all such good people and good people attract good people (or at least that's what I'm told). It definitely feels great to be the connector, though because there's nothing I dislike more than seeing someone who's lonely and unhappy. So thank you everyone who counts me as their friend or family member because without your positive influence in my life I wouldn't be who I am or where I am today. And I will discontinue all sappiness on this blog from now on (or at least it won't be a frequent occurence).