I (finally) explain myself. Or something like that.

    

You may find yourself making a trip to the grocery store for butter and sour cream.

And you may find yourself purchasing pickles as well.

And you may find yourself also buying chocolate chip cookies.

You may find yourself in the candy aisle, with a bag of Starbursts in your hand.

You may ask yourself, "Well, how did I get here?"*

And your answer to the above question will probably be one of the following:

1. "I'm stoned, again."
2. "I'm shopping while hungry, again."
3. "I'm shopping while pregnant, again." -or-
4. "I'm shopping while frustrated with work, again."

If you're like me though, your answer to the above question will be

5. All of the above except for #1 (that sort of thing is generally frowned upon while being #3).

Yup, that's right folks, you read that correctly. I... am... (drum-roll please) HUNGRY! Oh, and I'm pregnant too. Thought I should just throw that out there. It's already "Facebook official," so might as well tell the rest of the world. Here, I'll even share my "making it Facebook official" photo with you:

(Well, technically I am, but by default the G-man is too. Or something like that.)

So, that's been my deal for the past so-and-so many weeks/months. Which is another way of saying I totally blame the person growing inside of me for why I haven't blogged in forever. This being pregnant shit can be rough. But I survived the milestones of the first trimester and am now honeymooning in the second. I didn't realize how bad I was feeling during the first three months until I started feeling good again. Like my stepfather always says, "The best part about pain is when it's over." Amen.

In case you're wondering, "Oh hey, OBG, if you're feeling so great now, how come you're still not back to blogging regularly?" Well, now it seems, despite my return of energy and easing up of nausea, I'm suffering from frequent migraines, and if you know anything about migraines, they make looking at a computer screen feel like there are shards of broken glass being driven through your eyeballs.

(You aren't really affected by this, but I had to share that I needed to take two days off from this post in order to nurse a migraine. I'm back now. Again, I doubt you even noticed.)

You're probably wondering,  "What does this all mean", right? Well, it means my life is in the process of changing significantly, and therefore so will my blog. In fact, I think I touched upon that once or twice before. Don't panic yet though. I have no intention of becoming a "Mommy blogger," not that there's anything wrong with that. There are plenty of Mommy and Daddy bloggers out there that I enjoy and who do a pretty damn good job of writing some pretty gosh darn entertaining shit. I would be lying though if I didn't admit that being a brand new shiny mommy (or mommy-to-be) won't seep it's way into this blog. I'm sure it will. I'll try to keep it to a minimum though.

In the meantime, while I'm still trying (and can find the time) to sort out the direction of this blog, let me answer some FAQs before you ask them. When I'm finished, if you still have questions, you may find the comment section to be a suitable place to ask (that's the teacher in me speaking right there).

OBG Prego FAQs (in no particular order)

When are you due?
In August. About mid-August. August 19th, to be more specific. If you're not any good at pregnancy math (and who is?), that puts me at 15 weeks.

What are you having?
Um, I'm not well learned in the matters of biology, but I'm pretty sure we'll be having a baby. Oh, you meant what is the sex of the baby? Don't know yet. Ask me again in about a month, and if I'm in a good mood, I might decide to tell you. Or not.

Will you and the G-Man be getting married?
Geez folks! We've only been together for 10 years. We should probably give it some time to see if we even like each other before we rush into any hasty decisions like marriage.

How are you feeling?
Like there's a human being growing inside of me, and I no longer have control of my body.
Like there's a massive water balloon that has taken up residency in my gut.
But otherwise, not bad. My back's starting to hurt, and I get horrendous headaches, and I have horrible... Oh. You were just asking to be polite? You didn't really want a list of my woes? No problem. I feel great! Thanks for asking!

Do you have any cravings?
Fruit and candy. And pickles, but that's nothing new.

Will you be returning to work after wards?
Uh, yeah! Did you not read this post? Although, I'll admit, I have fantasized about being a SAHM (look! I know the lingo already!) for at least the first six months, while embarking on some creative endeavor that would allow me to do so and still bring in some dough. But I'm realistic. I'll have to go back to work.

Can we see pictures?
Um... if you're family and/or close friends you can. I'm not sure how I feel yet about posting prego pics of me on the internet yet.

But what if we promise not to laugh?
Fine. I'll give you one picture:

(The dreaded "pregnancy mask")**

Alright, well that's enough with FAQs. And that's enough from me. I've got big important stuff to do. Or something like that. 

Wait! One more thing. If you're so inclined, pop back and reread my New Year's Resolutions. I promise you you'll see them in a whole new light.

* Swiped from Talking Heads.

** FYI this was at 13 weeks. There's a bump there, but mostly this will serve as a basis for comparison for all the future bump pictures I'll be taking for close friends and family.

My Pear-y Christmas

 

This Christmas my family surprised me with some of my gifts. It seems I have an affinity for all things pear right now, and my family picked right up on it. Check out these sweets treats they bestowed upon me!

This fabulous clock from Etsy seller, KitchenTableVintage.

Now my challenge is to find a place to hang it!

Three of these precious ornaments from Etsy seller, Defabricate.

I can't wait to hang these on my tree next Christmas!

This amazing timer from ModCloth.

Technically, this was an early birthday* present.

I can't wait to add to my pear collection now, and the color works perfectly with my dream kitchen color scheme!

(*10 days away)

Things are a brewin'!

     

Source

SO PLEASE STAND BY

Meanwhile, enjoy this re-post, previously "aired" January 8, 2010.

Some holiday reflection

The holiday season has come to an end and for the first time in many, many years, I'm sorry that it is over. Usually around mid-October I begin experiencing holiday related panic attacks, stress headaches and night sweats (alright, maybe not the night sweats, but you get the idea). After the holiday season of '08, however, I vowed to do things differently this year. I wanted a relatively relaxed, peaceful and stress-free holiday experience, and for the most part, I'm happy to report that I accomplished just that! So what was my magical solution? What mysterious remedy did I discover to banish holiday related stress? Well, I didn't buy a single Christmas present this year. Not one. And I didn't feel the least bit guilty over it.

      
As the years move on, and my immediate family gets older and continues to expand, the number of gift recipients keeps multiplying. I have four sisters and a brother and when you add in their significant others, their children, parents and step-parents... you can see how quickly things can get out of hand. This year I declared, NO MORE! Now, in the interest of full disclosure I must admit this decision wasn't entirely made as a result of my gift buying frustrations. It just so happens I'm in graduate school finishing up my thesis and trying to survive on the measly income I receive as a graduate assistant. In other words, I'm dead broke, which contributed significantly to my inability and unwillingness to purchase Christmas presents this year. I very well could have used my {gasp} credit cards to buy some holiday joy for my loved ones, but I didn't. (I am quite proud to say that I have 0 credit card debt, thank you very much)

      
In place of gifts I decided I would spend more time with my family and help them out with their holiday stress as much as I could. BEST. DECISION. EVER. I have never felt better about myself nor the holidays than I did after helping my mom wrap Christmas presents, or after staying with my sister for a week and helping her in any and every way she needed (she had three boys, all under the age of 5 and fueled up with Santa-fever, to manage), or after preparing an entirely homemade, from-scratch Christmas dinner for 12+ family members. Never has a last-minute, purchased gift, wrapped in over-priced paper made me feel as generous and giving as I did this year. I felt useful. I felt appreciated. Most importantly, I felt a renewed love and joy for my family that I haven't felt in years.

   
Will I buy Christmas presents next year, when grad school will be over and I'll be (hopefully) employed full-time? I don't know. I do know that if I do, I will put more time and thought into my gifts rather than rush through the stores, carelessly checking people off my list. I also know that I'm going to take more time for my family and offer to help them out as much as I can.

      
Happy New Year!

Phoning it in

Remember when I told you (way back when) that the G-man had already purchased a Christmas present for me? Well, due to travel plans we had our Christmas last night, and it turns out that gift is a Kindle! I'm using it as we speak (so-to-speak). It comes with free 3G connection! It's not the greatest, nor the most convinient browser, but it's still pretty sweet!

Hope you all have a great holiday season. Travel safely. We are headed to NY for a week today to see family I'm super psyched!

Happy Thanksgiving Eve

    

"What are you, a cat?" interrupts the G-Man, as he watches me climb up the back of the love seat. We were conversing about our Thanksgiving travel plans when I attempted to sprawl out across the back cushions. I had managed to wrap my arms and a leg around the cushions, while the other leg swung freely behind the love seat. 

I stopped, mid-crawl, and looked at him blankly.

"What, do you want me to come scratch your head now?" he asked.

My head perked up, and I expressed a small gasp of excitement, "Could you?"

**************************************************

If you're one of the lucky few who won't be hitting the road later tonight for a seven hour drive, then go get your drink on. It is, after all, one of the biggest nights for drinking (this fact can be verified with your friendly neighborhood bartender). 

For the rest of us poor suckers, drive safely, stay off of I-95, and don't forget your allergy meds because your sister-in-law has cats and last Thanksgiving you spent the entire night wheezing and sneezing.

Happy Thanksgiving. 

200 posts later...

... and I'm still alive and kicking. Sort of. Can we all just pretend this isn't my 200th post? Not that I'm any good at celebrating these sorts of things, in blogger world or the real world. If it weren't for Twin, I would never remember anyone's birthday, and forget about anniversaries. You're on your own with those.

And while I'm on the topic of birthdays, one of the cutest little boys in the whole entire world just had his first birthday. Yup, that's right, little Benny Bugger just turned one. Happy Birthday, Benny Bugger. Sorry I couldn't be there for the festivities.

He likes cake.

And check out the sweet cakes my sister made for Benny Bugger. (One was for his real birthday, and the other was for his birthday party with friends and family. My sister is one of those moms who wouldn't let her sons have cake until their first birthday. Don't judge her. I think it's cute.)

The concept was good, but the execution could have been cleaner.

Coolest cake ever.

I'm sure my sis would want you to know that the first cake was designed by big bro', Owen, who's 3. I think he was in charge of the sprinkles. I'm extremely impressed by the second cake, which I heard only took a mere 4 hours to make. And here I thought she lacked cake making talent. Or maybe she just told me that so I would make her cakes for her. Guess who'll be making her own cakes from now on?

In other birthday news, the G-Man had his birthday this past weekend. He decided a night in Alexandria with a bunch of friends was the way to celebrate. So a bunch of us got a few hotel rooms in Alexandria on Friday night, and we all got gloriously wasted. Or maybe that was just me. But check out the sweet room. I love the picture above the bed. Much better than your typical hotel art.

I totally dive-bombed this bed. Multiple times.
And then I had to stop because I hurt myself.

In related news. You know how I'm super coordinated and totally classy? Of course you do. Well, remember how I had that gnarly toe injury not that long ago? Well guess what? I did it again. Yup. I stubbed my toe up pretty good Friday night, and if it weren't for that previous toe injury, which happened in the safety of a bedroom, while I was sober, I would totally blame the alcohol and the uneven sidewalks of Alexandria. But, also seeing as I had tripped on the uneven bricks earlier in the evening, before any alcohol was consumed, well, I don't think I can blame the alcohol. But maybe I can blame the sidewalks. Or maybe not. I am, after all, the kind of person who takes one thing off of a shelf in the closet and then has eight other things come crashing down on my head. Or the kind of person whose ten lb. purse falls on my head while using the restroom in Target (don't ask).

And since I am in a sharing kind of mood, I have a picture to share with you.

WARNING: PLEASE AVERT YOUR EYES IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH AND/OR CAN'T TOLERATE PICTURES THAT SHOW:

a) TOES
b) GENERAL GROSSNESS
c) TOENAILS IN DESPERATE NEED OF A NEW PAINT JOB or
d) ALL OF THE ABOVE

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. SERIOUSLY, LOOK AWAY. DON'T GO ANY FURTHER. I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST LUNCHES.

In all its glory, I present to you, my new toe injury...

 

You can click on it to enlarge it. You know you want to.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Wait, haven't we seen this toe injury before?" Well, no, you haven't, but you have seen this toe injured before. And it is quite similar to the last injury, but it is, in fact, a brand new injury. And because I'm in such a good mood today and don't want to make you work too hard (it is Monday, after all), here's a pic of the last toe injury for comparison.

And because you're not grossed out enough (Wait, is there anyone left reading this?), I must add that the new toe injury had two skin flaps that needed to be removed as well as some gravel, some mashed up toenail, and a fuzzy. And there was blood. Lots of blood.

And my birthday gift to the G-Man? He got to clean my toe up on Friday. And then I let him pick gravel out of it with tweezers. Hey, after last year's present, a lousy flying lesson, in a real plane and everything, I knew I had to step it up this year (hee hee. Get it? Step it up? Well, I thought it was funny). And really, what man wouldn't prefer bloody appendages over a flying lesson?

And for the few of you who made it through this travesty I call my 200th post... thanks. Here's hoping I have enough shit to talk about for another 200 posts.

Twelve hours and two torrential downpours later...

... and I'm back in VA. I think it was around hour 8 or 9 that my back started protesting loudly and angrily. But I made it, the car made it, and I have tons of ideas for future posts. Seriously, what else do you do on such a long road trip by yourself. Well, besides the obvious- crank the tunes, dance in your seat and sing as loud as you can. Yes, I'm that person. Laugh all you want but I have fun on my solo road trips (at least for the first 5 hours), plus, it helps to combat fatigue and increases blood flow. Who's laughing now?

Yesterday I posted a series of questions for you to all ponder while I was suffering the horrors of driving. But what am I saying? You were all there, so you know, right? At any rate, I promised to post my answers today (you know, because I'm tired and don't have the brain power right now to write about anything more clever).

Well, here goes... 

* If you have the ability to easily let someone off the hook for something they're sweating over, do you? Or do you think, "Huh, I could tell so-and-so to not worry about it, maybe some other time, however, I'm really curious as to what excuse so-and-so will come up with this time. And furthermore, if this is always so-and-so's idea, and so-and-so always cancels, shouldn't so-and-so be made to sweat over the lame excuses?"

Well, if you're anything like me (and you're probably not, lucky you) you tend to jump to conclusions and assume that so-and-so is hemming and hawing over what excuse to use this time when, in fact, they're just super busy and haven't replied to your text because they were under the impression that you were going to call them (which, after it has been pointed out to you, you vaguely remember agreeing to). So, under this incorrect assumption, you bow out of the plans, citing various lame-o excuses just to save yourself the agony of going through that again, and, in all honesty, you weren't entirely sure it would be in your best interest anyway. And then so-and-so immediately responds to you and expresses their extreme disappointment that you're bailing and tries to get you to change your mind, but at this point, for various reasons, it's too late and then you end up spending the rest of the night (and subsequently, the next day as well) kicking yourself for being such an idiot. {sigh}

* Pennsylvania or New Jersey? PA or NJ? The long route or the aggravating route? PA? NJ?

Pennsylvania. And it actually had nothing to do with trying to avoid NJ. So, yeah.

* Which is more important in life, security or happiness? (I may or may not have recently watched The Wedding Singer)

God, where do I even start on this one? The responsible (and unemployed) adult in me says security (don't judge me, please), however, the romantic adventurer in me says happiness. In a perfect world, we could have both. I'm beginning to believe less and less that we live in a perfect world (I know. Shocking, right?). I've always believed, that above everything else, the most important thing in life is to be happy and live for yourself. Unfortunately, my bank account disagrees with me.

* What's the best music for a summer road trip?

She & Him. TV on the Radio. Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs. The Black Keys. The White Stripes. The Dead Weather. Adele. The Antlers. The XX. The Killers. According to my iPod at least. If the funds were available, there definitely would have been some last minute additions to the list (read: David Byrne, Noah and the Whale and The Kinks). Unfortunately, I did a piss poor job of prioritizing my music purchases before my gift card ran out.

* Do you believe in soul mates? Explain your answer. And furthermore, is it best to have known your soul mate and lost him/her or to have never known him/her at all? (I may or may not have recently watched 500 Days of Summer)

Okay. I've never been a believer in soul mates. Of course, up until a month or so ago I was also in extreme denial of the romantic that lives inside me. I always felt that the idea of soul mates was all a bit hokey. It was my belief that there were no such things, just people that you can get along with. And once you stopped getting along with someone, you just moved on to the next person you got along with (totally un-romantic, I know, but remember that whole denial thing?). Of course, that's probably the child-of-divorce speaking, but whatever. That being said, I may or may not believe in soul mates now. And we're leaving it at that. Oh, and as for the second part of the question, I'm leaning towards having never known, despite what the rest of you think.

There.  Now excuse me while I go and plan out those super kick-ass posts I came up with on my journeys. Or not. In case you haven't noticed, I'm the kind of person who frequently starts things and then never finishes. Or never gets around to starting in the first place. True story. In fact, I have 4 drafts just chilling out, waiting to be finished. Or started.

And of course, since I really hate posting without pics, here's a few from my adventures in Northern NY.

Oh, and one more thing... 

Remember how you I used to regale you with tales of my adventures that were just so shameful I couldn't actually tell you about them? Man it's been awhile since I've had on of those weekends, huh? It may interest you to know that I'll be attending a party in DC this weekend. I am assured that drinking games will be played (wanna come? Seriously? Want to?), which means, I may have fantastic and humiliating stories to tell you on Monday that I will be too ashamed of to tell you about. Yay[ex.pt.]

Happy Father Figure's Day

(Dear Twin Sisters: The following post is an account according to me. Your memories may be different than mine. In fact, they most likely are. Please don't feel like you need to correct me. I'm okay with being wrong from time to time. I'm okay with my false memories. Just let it go.)

Today is the day I envy all the "Daddy's Girl"s out there. Today is the day I wonder, "Huh. What would it have been like to have a real dad?" Not that my dad isn't real. He is. It's just... well... he is lacking. I mean, I know he tried and often times he probably had the best intentions, but, well, that didn't always come through. And let's just leave it at that.

Instead of dwelling on the negative, today is a day to focus on the positive. Therefore, I present to you, the Father Figures of my life (because I wasn't damaged raised by just one man). 

(Please note, unless otherwise specified, none of these men are deceased. Some of them are just no longer in my life anymore. It's easier to use past tense.)

Father Figures of the Familial Type

My Dad

(shown with my youngest nephew. Photo taken by someone else and stolen from my sister's Facebook page.)

There are a few great memories I have of me and my dad. I remember he used to make Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes for breakfast on the weekends. I'm pretty sure he's the reason I love grilled cheese because I think that was what we ate after my mom left. I don't recall him being all that great of a cook, but he used to take us to the only "restaurant" in town, Big Daddy's, for dinner. We always ordered grilled cheese. I still order it whenever I go to a diner. He's the reason I can't drive by a shipyard or smell diesel fuel and grease without reminiscing about my childhood and the times we used to spend on his ship. I'm pretty sure he's also the reason I knew how to read before Kindergarten (him and Sesame Street and Wheel of Fortune). My dad used to read us books before bed. He used to quiz us on the pictures too, so I'm pretty sure he's responsible for my partial-photographic memory and my mad skills of observation.

My Step-dad

(photo taken by me at his 55th 54th 56th 57th on his birthday.)

My step-dad is a man of few words. Thankfully, my step-dad never really stepped (pardon the pun) into the pseudo-father role. Which is good. Otherwise I probably would have disliked him just like I disliked my step-mom who jumped right into the pseudo-mom role. I know he still worked behind the scenes when it came to "dragging" us kids up though. My step-dad is probably responsible for many of my views in life and some of the things I know.

He taught me how to change a tire (not that I necessarily remember, but hey, he tried). He tolerated my sisters and I whenever we got it into our heads to repaint our bedrooms and furniture. And he was always there (well, in the workshop) when we needed help. Whenever various boyfriends/friends got stuck in the muddy/snowy/icy driveway, he was right there with his tractor, ready to pull them out with barely a grumble of complaint.

While a little gruff around the edges, my step-dad had a soft heart and would do anything for anyone. He offered to give his kidney to his best friend when he got sick, and he and my mom used to joke about opening their own nursing home because they cared for the aging family members. Plus, he puts up with my mom, and trust me, that ain't an easy thing to do.

And when it comes to water gun fights, he doesn't mess around. Garden hose always trumps Super Soaker.

My Grandfather 

(My grandfather passed away in 2000 as the result of an accident. I can't believe it's been ten years.)

My dad's dad was the greatest, nicest man I've ever known. All men in my life get measured against my grandfather. If there was anyone in my life I wanted to make proud, it was my grandfather. I miss him everyday.

My grandfather taught me about lazy Sundays and how to spend the afternoon playing solitaire and doing crossword puzzles. Reading the Sunday Funnies was always better when he was visiting. And he always brought doughnuts. Lunch on Sundays was an event with cold cuts and sandwiches. 

My sisters and I used to watch out the window for the arrival of my grandfather. And we always looked forward to the slide shows he would show us at night. We didn't know most of the people in the pictures he showed us, but it was cool to see where he'd been on his last vacation. And he always had tons of slides of the grand kids that we giggled over.

Visiting my grandfather was so much fun. We were allowed to ride our bikes around the neighborhood and on the campus of the college in town. He would take us to his old offices in the athletic department and show us off. We learned to shoot pool in his basement. He would hire a couple of baby-sitters to watch my sisters, my cousins and I while the adults went out for dinner. We'd watch rented movies, eat delivery pizza and play games the sitters taught us. 

And he always returned our noses to us in the same condition as when he stole them. 

Father Figures of the Academic Type

Mr. E and Mr. R.

(Sorry, no photos available)

Mr. E. was my 4th grade teacher, and he introduced me to hobbies. His was stamp collecting. Mine is procrastination. Well, can't win 'em all.

Mr. R. was my 6th grade teacher. He introduced me to the joys of contemplating life in the middle of the woods and in graveyards. He introduced me to writing poetry and drawing while surrounded by nature.

Mr. T. and Mr. B.

(again, no photos available)

Mr. T. was my 7th grade, 9th grade, and 10th grade social studies teacher (it was a small school). Mr. T. was the only person to ever ask me what it was I wanted to do with my life. When I told him I wanted to work with kids and bake, he didn't mock me, but asked me how I intended on accomplishing that. I'm still working on it.

Mr. B. was one of my science teachers. He was also the only person to ever suggest that I could have been more than an art teacher. He's also the person who told me I could have gone into science, despite the fact that I barely passed physics (in all honesty, I barely even tried). Of course, I didn't hear any of this until after I became an art teacher. In all fairness, if he had tole me that in high school, I wouldn't have listened any way.

Mr. L.

(no pic)

Mr. L. was my soccer coach from 9th grade to 12th grade. He pushed me to try my hardest, he wouldn't let me give up, ever, and most importantly, he saw right through me. He knew what my problem was before I did. He knew when I was bullshitting him before I even opened my mouth. And he didn't let me get away with anything. He was the only person in my life to confront me when I was self-destructing. He never accepted excuses from me and he was always there for me whenever I needed him.

So, while technically today is Father's Day, I'd like to say thank you and wish all the Father Figures out there a Happy Father's Day.

One Blonde Girl 101

When I started this blog, it began as a place for me to reflect on "my journey through life". At the time, I was at a much different place in life (read: happier). My blog was not meant to be humorous nor was it meant to be bitter nor was it meant to be what it has become. It has since evolved into what you see before you. A place for me to rant and rave, bitch and moan, tell funny (hopefully) stories and bond with other bloggers about the woes of life. 

One such blogger is The Naked Writer over at The Writing Womb. I find her ability to be open and honest with the world about the trials and tribulations of her life admirable. She recently wrote a post, The Naked Writer 101, which was both informative and inspiring. Influenced by her frankness, and her "utter disregard for couthness" (yeah, I quoted myself. What of it?) I present to you...

One Blonde Girl 101

       

Because what's a post without a pic? And yes, that is me. (Source)

1. I love pickles. The tangier the better. I love pickles so much that if you leave a pickle on your plate unaccompanied, I will totally eat it on you and then pretend I have no idea what happened to it. True story. Your pickles are not safe with me.

2. I buy clothes with pockets because I never know what to do with my arms in social situations. Pockets are safe and comforting. In a perfect world, every article of clothing would have pockets.

3. When I was in high school I hated being blonde and wanted to dye my hair black but then a friend of mine told me that if I did, my hair would be black permanently, and that scared me, so I didn't.

4. I once hit a flock of birds with my mom's car and killed at least three of them. I've also caused the deaths of a bat and a cat via vehicular manslaughter.

5. I'm a night owl. I'm most productive and energetic after 7 pm. Some nights it will last until 4 am. This makes it very hard for me to be productive in the real world.

6. I function the best on 6 hours of sleep. Any more or less and I'm useless.

7. I dream of being a tattoo artist. Unfortunately, I have a thing against needles.

8. I can't stand to watch any scene in a movie that involves cutting a person. Any other kind of violence is fine, but not cutting.

9. I love horror movies. Especially haunted house and zombie movies. I hate Sci-Fi though. Hate it.

10. I'm constantly changing my mind. Which probably explains why my blog goes through so many transformations. And why I can't decide what to call myself. "April"? "One Pea"? "One Blonde Girl"?

11. I'm not a cat person. There. I said it. I don't like cats. I'll take a dog over a cat any day. The bigger, the better. (I once had a cat that I loved with all my heart. He had six toes on each foot and the funniest looking face. But then he up and died. One minute he was frolicking outside, and the next, he was dead. I don't think I ever got over that.)

12. I've never (knowingly) been involved with or pursued a guy who was already in a relationship. That's the biggest no-no ever. In my opinion. In fact, discovering that a guy was already involved was an instant turn-off for me. He could have been my soul mate and looked like Clive Owen, but as soon as I found out he was married or had a girlfriend, he turned into Steve Buscemi.

13. I've never had stitches. Thank god, because I don't know how I could handle that (see #7).

14. The first time (and unfortunately, not the last) I ever felt violated by a boy was in the first grade when a classmate who liked to look up the girls' skirts hugged me during nap time. It took me many years to get over that.

15. I've never finished a piece of art work. Never. Ever. It's a mental thing. I just can't do it.

16. I'm envious of people who have close relationships with their parents. I don't.

17. I don't do makeup. Possibly because no one ever showed me how. Or possibly because I can think of better, more important things to spend money on.

18. My knees are always hairy. Always. I can't seem to figure out how to work a razor around the knobbiness of my knees.

19. The most traumatic years of my life seem to end with 5s.
1985- I started Kindergarten and hated it and my teacher so much. I cried and cried and cried. The only way they could get me to go peacefully was bribing me with reading time with the other Kindergarten teacher.
1995- Well, in a nutshell, it began with the development of an eating disorder and accumulated with my dad booting me from his house. And a little bit of everything else thrown in for good measure.
2005- Well, I'm not quite ready to talk about this time of my life yet.
Needless to say, I dread 2015.

20. I have a twin sister.

21. I hate Lima beans. Hate 'em.

22. I hate housework. If I ever have a house (and a job), I'm totally hiring a housekeeper. I don't care. I'm doing it.

23. I don't watch ANTM on a regular basis, but anytime there's a marathon on, I'm glued to the TV.

24. I can't really pin down what makes me happy. Not specifically, but when I am happy, you'll know instantly because I make up little songs and dances and I spin.

25. I can't remember the last time in my life I was really, truly happy with my life.

26. I'm a really good multitasker, except when it comes to the big things, like education and relationships and career, then I have to choose one to focus on.

27. Most of the decisions I've made in my life were based on what other people wanted, not what I wanted myself. It's made for a very miserable life, but I'm working on living life for me now.

28. I live in constant fear of settling.

29. I don't trust words. I trust actions.

30. My favorite life advice comes from Magic Hat beer caps.

31.  I can't figure out if I'm more afraid of succeeding or of failing. I pick the middle road by not even trying.

32. My dad used to be the captain of a cargo ship. I was a world traveler until about age 8.

33. My dad's family owns a button factory in Iowa and were innovators in the pearl button industry. I think that's awesome.

34. I hate shopping. Any kind of shopping. Hate it.

35. I love helping people and making their lives easier. It makes me feel good, productive and accomplished.

36. My first real boyfriend was abusive and cheated on me frequently. That was the first and the last time I ever allowed a guy to treat me that way.

37. I love my feet, my knees, my hips, and my collar bones. Basically all the bony parts of my body.

38. Mind-altering substances scare me a little. Not that I'm afraid of their effects, but that I would enjoy them too much and would end up on an episode of Intervention.

39. I hate stuff. I don't understand why people insist on having so much stuff. Every time I move I purge more and more useless stuff and it makes me feel so good.

40. I feel guilty over my grandfather's death. It's totally irrational and illogical, but I often wonder if he would have still fallen down the stairs if I had chosen not to move away.

41. I don't know how to want things. In my mind, wanting something is wrong and a sign of weakness. I can't explain this. Well, I can, but we don't have the time to get into it.

42. I have to have a million and one things going on at once in order to not be bored.

43. I love strawberries.

44. I love music.

45. I love driving a stick shift. It makes me feel strong and powerful.

46. I'm terrified of having kids.

47. I hate spending other peoples money.

48. I often wish I could see myself through other people's eyes. I'm sure they don't see me the way I think they do.

49. I don't regret breaking up with any of my exes.

50. When it comes to intimate relationships, I think bodily functions should always remain private. Always. There are some things I just don't ever want to hear, see or smell. Ever.

51. I have scars on my body that make me severely insecure, force me to be extremely conscious of the way I do things at all times and make me fear the moment someone notices them and asks me about them.

52. I love getting dirty (you can interpret that any way you want).

53. I hate making small chitchat and will avoid encounters with people just to avoid meaningless chitchat.

54. I don't like day-hikes. If I'm going to put in the effort required to go hiking there better be a tent and a cozy sleeping bag at the end of the trail. And a campfire with S'mores.

55. I don't see the point in watching sports on TV. Unless it's the Super Bowl and I'm at a party with lots of alcohol and pizza. Otherwise, what's the point? I do enjoy the excitement of watching them in person. Except for baseball. And golf. And probably curling too.

56. I hate red roses. Hate them. I once got red roses for my birthday from a boyfriend. In November. My birthday is in January. Epic failure. I once received a bouquet of daisies from a guy I was dating. For no reason other than he thought I would like them. Epic success.

57. I'm severely indecisive and can never make up my mind about what I want or like. My brain literally becomes paralyzed whenever anyone asks me what I want or like. I'm trying to work on this. It's not going so well.

58. I have a hard time not judging people for their choice in music, reading material and other entertainment choices (like TV). Sorry.

59. I have sacrificed more of my life for relationships than I would like to admit. I'm trying to work on this.

60. I miss the friendships I had in high school.

61. I have an irrational fear of getting my haircut. Which is why I only get it cut once or twice a year. I've had so many bad experiences. Some day I would like to leave the hair salon with the hair cut I went in there expecting to get. Some day.

62. I have an irrational fear of birds.

63. It's easier for me to be friends with men than with women. I don't get the drama that comes along with having female friends. And I have a hard time relating to women. I'm not sure why.

64. I'm a chronic procrastinator.

65. I love sushi. I never thought I would, but I do.

66. I often wish I could get rid of all my stuff, jump in my car and drive away. Far, far away and start a brand new life where no one knows me. Kind of like Delia Grinstead in Ladder of Years by Ann Tyler. Tyler's books always give me perspective on my life.

67. I love the cartoon, Chowder.

68. I once dated a musician. He wrote a song about me. His band broke up not long after, before they even had a chance to perform the song in public. I was more bothered by that fact than the fact that we broke up as well not long after.

69. I've never had a successful one-night stand. And by successful, I mean, one in which the guy didn't want more. Some of my longest relationships were the result of failed one-night stands.

70. I love gumballs. I've never met a gumball I didn't love. Even the stale ones that have been sitting in the machine for 6 years.

71. I've become more spontaneous and less controlled as the years go by. And here I was afraid it would go the opposite way.

72. In college, I once allowed others to believe that I had slept with someone because I would have felt bad for the guy if his friends had found out the truth. (The truth was, I refused to sleep with him after discovering how small his penis was. I lied and told him I was having my period. And then I slept in my roommate's bed. He had a rep to maintain, and I didn't want to become the source of any suffering for him.)

73. I rarely ever give a shit about what others think about me in any given situation (see #72 above) because I know the truth, and in my mind, that's all that matters.

74. I hate it when I'm forced to justify my actions to someone else. I would love it if I could just act of my own accord and only have to answer to myself.

75. After years and years and years of being in relationships, I feel like I'm all used up.

76. It's easier for me to tell this stuff to strangers than it is for me to tell this stuff to the people who love and care about me. I can't say I'm really trying to work on this.

77. I rarely wash my hands. Not properly at least.

78. I can't stand Molly Ringwald.

79. I can't stand anything really sugary sweet. Like girly drinks. And fancy pastries (egg issue aside). And frosting. And sweet tea. And sweet coffee. (Chocolate is the exception. As long as it isn't gag-me sweet)

80. I have four sisters and a brother. My stepfather always complained about being outnumbered when we were growing up. Now he has four grandsons (officially. Six unofficially, as in, not belonging to my siblings but to their significant others) and a granddaughter. Coincidence? I think not.

81. Only one of my siblings is married. But he's currently going through a divorce, so I guess it no longer counts.

82. Life just won't let me forget the person I'm trying to forget. Stupid life.

83. My mom bought me and my twin the Betty Crocker Cookbook: Bridal Edition years ago, claiming that we'd never get married, so she might as well just buy it for us while it was still available. (Thanks Mom. Your faith in us is so uplifting and inspiring. And don't think I don't know what you're getting at when you hint that you'll never have anymore grandchildren. I get it. I'm an epic failure. I've accepted it. You should too.)

84. I often feel like the black sheep of the family.

85. I once had a student removed from an elective art class I was teaching because he was sexually harassing me. True story.

86. I hate it when people ask me for advice or expect me to comment on a predicament they've gotten themselves into. People rarely want the truth in these situations, and that's usually all I'm willing to dish out because I hate blowing smoke up people's asses.

87. My sexuality often scares me and sometimes feels like more than I can handle (see #88 below).

88. I have a hard time remaining faithful in relationships. I'm trying to work on this.

89. I have a hard time letting people down/disappointing them/breaking their hearts/and so on and so on. It's a guilt thing. I blame my childhood. More specifically, my parents. I'm trying to work on this. (It's not going so well)

90. I believe that dying is like sleeping, but without the dreams.

91. I have a hard time believing in anything that isn't tangible.

92. I love to bake. And plan parties (but not necessarily attend them. I prefer to be behind the scenes. Unless it's of the beer-drinking variety. And especially if there's a bonfire.).

93. I once played a nerd in my class' senior play. I loved it. It fed the acting bug I had been harboring since the eighth grade, but I was realistic, and I knew that where I grew up, the opportunity would never present itself.

94.  I love to cook but I only think it's worth the effort when I cook for someone(s) other than myself.

95. I have a bladder the size of a walnut. This isn't backed by any medical evidence, just by the fact that I have to pee ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME.

96. I have a heart-shaped uterus. This is backed by medical evidence. You would think this would make for a more loving uterine environment. This is not the case. Apparently it makes for a more inhospitable one. Whatever. We'll cross that bridge if we ever get there.

97. I once had dreams of becoming a soccer superstar. But then I hurt my knee and lost all confidence in myself (FYI, this was just one of the many downfalls that occurred in 1995).

98. I love my sisters. We're not all that close, so I often fear that they don't know this, but I do.

99. I prefer to make my own wrapping paper.

100. I don't eat fast food nor do I drink soda. I have no regrets about this.

101. I used to hate my first name, but now I kind of like it. I just wish it were easier for people to remember it (Seriously, it's a month. What's so hard about remembering a month?).

This post has been very therapeutic for me. It won't even bother me if you didn't read through all 101 items because it meant more for me to write it than it did to have anyone read it (quite possibly related to #73?).

And that is that.

A Picture Post

Regular posting will return tomorrow (I promise). In the meantime, enjoy this picture post of my week visiting my sister and her two boys.

(FYI- I don't suck at taking pictures, in case you were wondering. I'm just not entirely comfortable posting pics of my nephews without my sister's permission. That's why their faces are mostly concealed.)

Life Advice from a 3-year Old

I was bonding with my nephew this morning over a container of ectoplasm-green Play-doh, when his mom brilliantly suggested that I ask him for some life advice. So I did, figuring it couldn't be any worse than the direction I was already headed in. Or so I thought...

OBG: Okay, so here's the deal. I just graduated with my Master's degree and...
Nephew: What Master's?
OBG: It's a big deal. 
Nephew: Why?
OBG: Because it means you're smart.
Nephew: Why you smart?
OBG: Because I have brains.
Nephew: Why you have brains?
OBG: Because I was born with them.
Nephew: Oh.
OBG: So I paid lots of money for classes I didn't need, and I wasted two years writing a paper that's just going to sit on the library shelf and no one is going to look at. And now I can't get a job. What should I do?
Nephew: Cut you head off.
OBG: Uh-huh...

(At this point, I made a mental note to talk to Mommy about this. After our conversation, she decided to have a conversation with Daddy about things that are not appropriate for little boys to watch on TV)

OBG: So, I'm broke. I have no money and it costs money to live in a house. I'm going to be homeless soon. What should I do? 
Nephew: Get motorcycle.
OBG: A motorcycle? And do what with it?
Nephew: Ride it 'round.
OBG: Around where?
Nephew: To yous house.
OBG: But I don't have a house. Where should I go?
Nephew: The gym. Ride circles.
OBG: Uh-huh...

OBG: I need a job. How do I get a job?
Nephew: At Walmart.
OBG: Walmart?
Nephew: Yeah!
OBG: Uh-huh...

(I also asked the boy for some relationship advice- long story short, he thinks I should run around in circles. I think he knows me too well.)

Contemplating the big questions of life.

p.s. I'm convinced my sister's house is haunted. I would explain why, but it would just creep me out. Plus, she reads this blog and it would creep her out too.

I think I peed myself.

 

First, let me clear this up. I did not pee myself. I can only recall two times in my life when I peed myself at an age when it was downright mortifying to do so. Once, when I was six or seven, and once when I was, well, a little bit older. This title is in reference to one of the two crazy-ass dreams I had last night. I won't bore you with a rundown of my dream (Seriously, I HATE it when people make me suffer through that shit). I did, however, write about it over here, if you're interested in reading about it. Just so you know, I don't talk about my dreams like others do. I keep it short, succinct, and to the point, so if you do choose to read about it, it shouldn't be too painful.

At any rate, today is Mother's Day. I am not a mother. This should already be obvious to you. Childlessness aside, it is impossible for anyone to not be aware that today is Mother's Day. The world won't let you. Bloggers blog about it. Facebookians post about it. This morning I woke up (what? 11:30am is still the morning. Technically), logged onto Facebook and was immediately attacked by a barrage of Happy Mother's Days. Aside from the status updates, it seems every mother on my friends list decided to individually wish every mother on their friends list a Happy Mother's Day. My "Most Recent" News Feed reported a count of 500+. Really folks? Was that necessary? In protest, I wished no one a Happy Mother's Day. Not through Facebook any way.

So, I suppose, in honor of this day, I'm obligated to tell a tale about my mother. Or at least show you her picture, which I know she would hate because she is one of the least photogenic people in the entire world. Alright, here goes, let's see what I can dig up...

Here's my mom at Christmas in 2008 with my one of my nephews and my sister's legs. My mom used to make these really yummy cheesecake cookies every year at Christmas time. She still makes them for me. I can't eat them. You know, because of my egg allergy. My mom forgets this every year. Occasionally I eat one or two to make her feel good. I'm sure this doesn't help with her tendency to forget about my allergy.

Here's my mom grilling at my going away party/stepfather's birthday party in 2009. That's my nephew again. He's wearing his mommy's shoes. He's a character. Here's a pic of the cake my mom bought me for the occasion...

Yup! That's a cheesecake folks! Guess who couldn't eat it? That's a pretty accurate drawing of my mom and step-dad. They raise chickens. My mom didn't draw it though. Her artistic talents lie more in the sewing spectrum.

Here's a pic of my mom at Christmas in 2009. That's me holding one of my nephews. Yes, my mom wears Christmas sweaters. She also wears nature sweatshirts. I don't recall there being any cheesecake cookies at the festivities that year. However, that was the year I planned Christmas dinner and my sister was in charge of the desserts, so that might have had something to do with it.

Here's anther pic of my mom, holding my nephew. I had made a trip back home to attend the wake of the mother of one of my close friends from high school. In honor of me surfacing from the thesis-writing pit I had sunk into, my mom bought me a special dessert. Yup! You guessed it! Cheesecake! Not only that, it was one of those fancy variety pack cheesecakes. It looked really yummy. I think my sis really enjoyed it.

So, in conclusion, I wish all the mom's out there a Happy Mother's Day. I should probably go call mine. I sent her a card already, but I'm pretty sure in her eyes that isn't a sufficient enough gesture. Maybe I should make her a cheesecake*...

*For the record, my mom tries really hard to accommodate all of our likes and dislikes. Unfortunately, I think she stopped keeping track in 1989**. In her mind, my oldest sister still likes the color purple and unicorns, my twin is still obsessed with lions and roses, my younger sis still likes... well, I'm afraid I'm not sure what she ever liked. And I still eat cheesecake and collect teddy bears. Thanks any ways, Mom!

**I'm exaggerating, of course. But you already knew that, right? Oh! And it's sunflowers. My younger sister loved sunflowers. For your entertainment, here's a pic of all of us back in the day. 1989 would probably be an accurate guess based on the clothes and the fact that my oldest sister hadn't ventured into the big-hair, crazy-perm, poufy-bangs stage of the early 90's yet.

 (I'm in the cool rainbow striped top in the center. Missing from this pic is my brother. Yes, I have one. And my youngest sis. She wasn't born yet. And she doesn't belong to my mom's family any ways. She belongs to my dad's. Although my mom has unofficially adopted her as a part of her family. But that's a tale for another day.)

I don't care if you're on your deathbed... IT'S LOST!

                                  

SPOILER ALERT!!! DON'T READ THIS POST UNTIL YOU HAVE WATCHED THE LATEST EPISODE OF LOST!!!

Normally, I don't blog about TV recaps. However, last night's episode was fan-freakin'-tastic! Of course, I felt like I needed to share with someone how awesome and amazing the episode was. Normally, I share with my sister. During commercial breaks. And afterward too. For like, an hour. I couldn't do that last night. Here's why:

(this conversation took place via the technological wonders of texting)

Me: why was Desmond on their plane?

Sister: Not watching. Very sick.

Me: what? are you full of shit? i don't care if youre on your deathbed... ITS LOST! and it has DESMOND in it.

Me: AND CHARLIE

       AND CLAIRE

Sister: No tv in bathroom. Will watch online later.

Me: SHUT UP!!! well, I hope you are feeling better soon...

Sister: Thanks.

Me: are you pukey?

Sister: Yes.

Me: OMG!!! Best episode ALL season!!!

Sister: Bitch.

Okay, now that you're all caught up, let me explain why this was the Best episode ALL season!!!:

1. Desmond is featured in this episode. Desmond is one of my Top Ten favorite Lost characters. (I haven't actually made this list, but I'm thinking I might have to now)

2. Charlie is in this episode. Charlie. As in, CHARLIE!!! I ♥ Charlie.

3. Flashback to the saddest moment in the history of Lost. When Charlie died. And Desmond couldn't help him. I cried. I cried again tonight. Here, I know you want to cry too, so watch this:

4. Claire is in this episode. As in pre-crazy Claire. As in sweet, naive, pregnant Claire. I miss that Claire.

5. No Locke. Thank god, 'cause I was getting tired of him. And Jack. We only had a brief sighting of Jack, which irked me, but I guess it could have been worse. (I'm beginning to think it's written into Matthew Fox's contract that he must appear in every episode. He's such an episode-whore)

6. Lost's lovable losers were looking for love. Everyone together now, awwww.... How sweet was it that all the men who actually deserve to be loved and happy (Read: Not Jack) are realizing that somewhere, out there, is a woman for them? And not only that, but THEY'VE ALREADY MET! Talk about soul mates. (if only I believed...)

7. Upham Daniel returns. It took me a very, very long time to get over the appearance of Jeremy Davies after what he did in Saving Private Ryan, but I learned to love the guy, and it was good to see him back again. It means we're about to get all quantum physics-ie again soon. I missed that. I don't understand it, but I missed it.

8. The mystery is back. I feel like this episode was a throw-back to the good ole days of last season when Lost still had you sitting on the edge of your seat. You know, when you would yell at the TV and couldn't contain the physical anxiety all the drama was creating and would bounce around the room like a four year old cracked out on sugar? When you would actually converse with the characters on screen as if they could hear you? Remember those days? No? Just me? Okay then...

9. No Ben. My sister will disagree with me on this one, but Ben is one whiny little bitch. He irritates me. 

And there you have it. My reasons for last night's episode of Lost being the best one all season. And just for fun, here's the conclusion to the conversation with my sister:

Me: i can't believe i can't discuss this with you! im fracking [sic] out all by myself!

Sister: Text [person]. He watched.

Me: yeah, but he doesnt care and he just wont get it! its not the same. im pouting, btw.

Sister: Sorry to ruin your night. Mine is worse right now.

Me: you're not preggars again, are you?

Sister: Hell no! I dont get sick then. More than puking but will spare u the details.

Me: sounds like fun!

(In hindsight, I think I may have been a little insensitive to my sister's plight, but, hello! It's Lost! And she wasn't watching it! And it was the best episode ALL SEASON! Now I'm going to have to wait until she watches it before I can discuss it with her and then I'm going to forget all my current excitement and it just won't be the same.)