Life Lessons I Have Learned Since Turning 30

    

[chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp]

Gushing and Blushing

  

Okay, I know it's Tuesday and Random Shit Tuesday is supposed to occur today, but my week is all screwy, so I'm making today Monday, or maybe Sunday. Therefore, I've got something else in mind for today.

So, can I just say that you all are freakin' awesome? I'm gonna say it...

YOU ALL ARE FREAKIN' AWESOME.

This morning I got up, jumped on my laptop and discovered eight, yes, eight comments on yesterday's post. After the two days of hellish-ness I had just gone through (and, for the record, only one day was hangover related, the other was drug side-effects related, but you don't need to hear about that), nothing could have been more welcoming to see than that.

My favorite was from frequent commenter, the Didactic Pirate (go check him out), who wrote,

"Sometimes I think your life is like a really awesome movie -- one I'd pay full price to see." 

Me too, man, me too.

Lest you aim to look like Keith Richards, and let's be honest, nobody wants that.

(Source)

I have a confession to make, I'm a tad bit narcissistic (but aren't we all?), and I occasionally go through my days wondering what people would think if they were reading my life story in a book or watching it as a movie. Yeah, okay, maybe a little bit more than a tad bit, but whatever, this is why I have a blog, right?

Anyego, I envision that my life's movie would be something of a cross between a quirky rom-com (think 500 Days of Summer, not a Reese or SJP rom-com) and a Judd Apatow movie. And before I ventured into what big stars would play all the various characters in my movie, I took a moment to reflect upon the aspects of my life that would be entertaining enough to actually make it into the movie. And then I was reminded of a snippet of jules' comment,

"(Though I've pretty much give up alcohol in the past few months after some SCARY drunk episodes.)" 

Holy shit, I can totally relate to that. Especially lately.

Back in the day (I'm talking college here, folks), I was quite capable of holding my own when it came to drinking. In fact, it was often said that I could drink any man under the table. I was a kick-ass Beirut partner, and puking usually only occurred the next day, and in a toilet. Post-college, I was still in my prime drinking time (and yes, it does pain me a little to think that I can use those words to describe any part of my life). I was a go-to partner in beer pong (Beirut, apparently, being a regional thing) and would often be one of the last people standing at the end of the night. Unfortunately, those days are long behind me, and as it was so delicately pointed out to me on Sunday, I'm getting older and can no longer hold my liquor (this being just a saying as I did not consume any liquor the previous evening).

Yes, I'm getting older, but there's also another major difference between me now and me then that I neglect to take into account. I was 20, 30, sometimes 40 lbs. heavier back in the day. And of course, weight plays a major role in how much you can drink before becoming intoxicated. This is something that I never think about. I have my own personal issues with weight that I won't bore you with, and the only time the reality of my size ever occurs to me is when I'm clothes shopping and I automatically reach for the size 8s and mediums and later discover that I'm really a size 4 and an extra-small (please don't hate me for this. I'm not bragging. There were times when I would grab size 8s and discover that I was actually a size 14. I have some demons at work inside of me, so please, move on).

Or not. I vote for not. At least until the next time.

(Source)

So, long story short (Too late! Sorry, that never gets old, or does it? Whatever, I love that movie.), I forget, quite often, that I'm not the same rock star I was in college, or even post-college. I've got to start remembering that my limit now is 6 beers or 1 1/2 bottles of wine or 4 whiskey drinks or 0 shots, and I think I'm okay with that. I also have to remember that I'm no longer drinking cheap, light beers from my college days, and I'm drinking higher quality, higher alcohol content beverages as my tastes for quality beer have evolved over the years (and whiskey. Damn if it doesn't pull me in every time.).

I'm not saying the best of my drinking days are behind me, but hopefully, through acknowledgment and acceptance, I can finally begin admitting to myself that even thought I still look 23, I can't still drink like 23. So, in conclusion, thanks for all the support, thanks for relating to my woes, and thanks for sharing in my misery. You guys are freakin' rock stars.

Previously on OBG... The Pilot

(for those of you a little slow on the uptake, the following should be read with Dallas-esque levels of drama and theatrics) 

Although inspired in part by a true incident, 

the following story is fictional 

and does not depict any actual person or event.*

When we last left OBG... 

...she was wallowing deep in the self-pitying depths of the deadly Swamps of Sadness, discouraged by the lack of job prospects and by life in general. Landlord Dude had just confirmed with OBG that he had, in fact, already rented her room out for July and that she would, in fact, be without a home in less than a month. OBG, dismayed by her future, or lack-thereof, was quickly drinking her way through a case of Magic Hat, suffering from a bout of insomnia, and wondering how, OH DEAR GOD, HOW would she make it to her eye appointment on time?

We now join OBG at her eye appointment, which, with the help of her iHome and the wonders of Google Maps, she made it to on time...

Doctor (scribbling on his notepad): Well, it seems your left eye is weaker than your right...and you seem to be slow to focus...

OBG: Okay...
Doctor (looking up from clipboard): It appears... you have... (dramatic pause)... astigmatism.
OBG (wringing hands): But what does it all mean, doctor?
Doctor: Basically, it means that your eyeballs are football shaped when they should be baseball shaped.
OBG: Oh. But, I don't even like sports. Doctor, (dramatically drapes hand across forehead) is it... curable, doctor?
Doctor: I'm writing you a prescription that should help and give you better than 20/20 vision.
OBG: Oh. But, doctor, what about driving at night? I'm practically BLIND at night. (throws self dramatically across the chair) Whatever can be done?
Doctor: Well, this prescription should help with that.
OBG: Oh.
Doctor (all serious and shit): But I must warn you, you should probably... avoid driving at night.
OBG (gasps): But... I'm...  a night owl! Nooooooo......

After surviving the trauma of the eye doctor and his evil tools of torture that puff air into your unsuspecting eyes, OBG began her weekend adventures with a trip through the evil state that is... New Jersey...

OBG (all sweaty and disheveled from spending five hours stuck in Jersey traffic): DAMN YOU, JERSEY! DAMN YOU! Now I'll never make it to Happy Hour on time!

After her harrowing trip through Jersey and, subsequently, Delaware, the OBG finally arrived at her destination, the dreaded NOVA, where she had plans to attend a wine festival the following day. We now join her at said wine festival...

OBG (dramatically dragging herself across the field towards the crowded ice cream stand): I must... have... ice cream...
The G-Man (heroically picking OBG up off the ground): You can't handle the ice cream! Don't you know?!? It's made with... eggs!
OBG (throwing hand across forehead): {Gasp} No! Not all of it! Soft serve isn't! I'm sure of it! And... (alternates hand dramatically thrown across forehead)... I'm... PMS-ing! And... (alternates hand dramatically thrown across forehead)... it's soooo hot here! We don't have these levels of humidity in New York (dramatically relaxes body and collapses into the G-Man's arms) I... want... ice cream... now...
The G-Man (desperately shaking OBG by the shoulders): Get a hold of yourself, woman! Look at that line! That's a 30 minute wait... at best! And with these temperatures, and with your white, white skin... (shakes head)... well, I can only imagine...
OBG (whimpering): But... but... I want it...
The G-Man: What if we get another bottle of wine?
OBG (dramatically standing): {sigh} Okay. (thinking to self) But I'm on to you. Oh yes, I am. You may have won this time, with your distracting, tempting offer of sweet, sweet wine, but I will get my ice cream. Oh yes, I will.

Next time on OBG...

... will OBG ever get her ice cream? (Editor's Note: OBG never got her ice cream, but she did get two more bottles of wine and pizza.) How did OBG end up in DC at 1905 eating ravioli that she didn't even want? And why were there peas involved? Are they following her? Will OBG ever learn her lesson? Will OBG ever stop wearing white skirts to parties in fields? Will OBG survive her drive back through New Jersey? Will she ever find employment? Will OBG take the G-Man up on his offer and move to NOVA? Or will her Prince Charming finally rescue her from the Swamps of Sadness and whisk her off to Never, Never Land where she will never have to grow up?** And whatever did happen to that earring? And furthermore, did anyone know that Courteney Cox was in Masters of the Universe?

Stay tuned for the next episode of OBG, where all of these questions will be answered. Or none of them. It could go either way.

* In other words, I embellished a little. But only a little. Real life is boring and less dramatic. But not much.

** Yeah, I know. I'm mixing fantasies and fictional characters here, but it's my story, dammit, and if I want Prince Charming to take me to Never, Never Land on the wings of Falkor, so be it. Thank you very much.

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.

B.Y.O.T.P.

     

Today I am taking a quick little road trip (5... 6... 7 hours, depending on traffic) with a guy that I've been friends with for the past nine years. (FYI- this is the same guy from the FWB post. You know, the one that I've been friends with forever but there has never been any romantic or sexual interest? Yeah, that one.) It should be interesting. While we're really good friends and can easily converse and frequently give each other shit for being, well, ourselves, we've never actually had to spend so much time together. Alone. In a car. Plus, we haven't seen each other since Christmas... for about five minutes. So, we'll see how this goes. Don't worry, I'll be sure to relay all the good nitty-gritty happenings. 

In the meantime, enjoy this post that I wrote on Tuesday (yes, I blogged ahead, again. Sue me):

In my house our bathrooms are B.Y.O.T.P. You know, Bring Your Own Toilet Paper? While I live with five six five other people, we never really nailed down a system for purchasing consumables (not in the sense that we eat it, but in the sense that it gets depleted by use. Other examples would be paper towels and dish soap). As a result, there are times when we don't have any toilet paper in the whole house. 

There are gloriously wonderful moments when toilet paper just magically appears in the bathrooms and no one knows how it gets there. I'm not sure how that happens, but I know I didn't put it there. I learned my lesson after the first time I picked up a package of good toilet paper. We ran through that shit in a matter of days. The next time I picked up t.p. I bought the cheap stuff. You know, the kind that feels like sand paper? And I rationed it too. I stored it in my bedroom and put a new roll in the bathroom only after a couple of days had gone by and I realized the magic t.p. wasn't going to appear.

One of my housemates used to steal toilet paper from one of the arts buildings on campus. She hasn't done this in awhile. Maybe the custodians are running low on supply. Who knows?

Any ways, I know from experience to always check ahead of time for an adequate supply of t.p. before I plop down on the pot. (Okay, to be honest, I don't always remember to do this. Like when I'm drunk.) We've all been in a situation where you realize too late that there's no paper on the roll, right? Embarrassing, right? I mean, what do you do at that point? While I've been in this situation more times than I'd like to admit, there was this one time when I felt like I'd hit an all time bathroom blunder low. The year was 2002. I was working as a purchasing clerk...

... at a company that manufactured the operating systems on train doors (if you've ever used a subway, you've used their operating systems). Or something like that. It just so happened that the restrooms were located out on the floor. If you don't know anything about manufacturing facilities, the floor is where shit is built, separate from the offices, which was super convenient, let me tell you. As you can imagine, the plant primarily employed men. Remember this tidbit for later. 

So, I headed to the bathroom in a hurry because I have a bladder the size of a walnut. I looked into my regular stall (yes, I had a stall I used regularly. Doesn't everyone?) and took note of the toilet paper situation. There was a roll perched on top of the holder. Score! I plopped on the pot and took care of business (for the record, I only did #1. Had I needed to do #2, this story would have ended much worse than it actually did). 

Business taken care of, I grabbed for the roll of t.p. Being the oh-so-coordinated person that I am, I managed to knock the roll off the holder when I grabbed for it. I watched in horror as the t.p. rolled across the floor of the stall. Thinking quickly, I checked the actual holder for toilet paper. No luck. Just empty rolls. Not even a measly scrap of paper. 

I assessed the situation and realized that the roll on the floor was just within reach. I carefully stretched my right leg out and was just... about... to... get... it... but no. My foot succeeded in reaching the roll just enough to bump it right out of the stall. I watched, head down, peeking under the door, as the toilet paper mockingly unrolled across the bathroom floor.

Fuck!

What now? I'm only slightly embarrassed to say this, but I proceeded to check the floor for scraps of paper. Of course, the one time I could benefit from toilet paper litter the floor is bare. Double fuck.

I again assessed my situation. I concluded that I had three options...

1. I could sit there, patiently, and wait for someone else to come in to use the bathroom. Knowing how few women worked in the building, I concluded that there was no telling how long I would be sitting there, waiting. It could be hours.
2. I could do the whole drip-dry thing, hoping that things would dry off enough so I could pull my pants up part way and then waddle into another stall to snag some t.p. Of course, it would be just my luck that someone would enter the bathroom at the exact moment my bare, white ass was waddling across the room. 
3. I could yell for help and hope someone would hear me and come to my rescue. Of course, if you remember, the only people who would hear me would be the male production workers.

As you can imagine, I concluded that these options were not actually options. So I sat some more (like I had anywhere else to go) and thought some more. At this point, my eyes happened upon the empty cardboard toilet paper rolls hanging on the holder. A-ha! Another option! 

Yup! I peeled some cardboard off the roll, and I used it! Not one of my finer moments, and certainly not one of my most comfortable ones, but it did the trick.

How about you? Do you have any embarrassing, no-toilet-paper stories to share? I would love to hear about them. Especially since I anticipate needing a few laughs after the car ride today. Comment away!

There should be an instructional manual for this.

Seriously.

Let's be honest here, not all of us were raised with the most attentive or informative mothers (for an extremely humbling yet humorous example, read this post from one of my favorite blogs, Hipstercrite). Not all of us were taught the ins and outs of eyebrow tweezing, the basics of makeup application or (nor?) the how-tos of assembling an entire outfit. And let's not forget the hot topics of dating, girlfriends and, well, basic survival. The only dating advice I can ever remember my mom dishing out was "Good girls don't call boys," and this was less of an advisement and more of an accusation (yeah, I'm pretty sure my mom was insinuating that I was a whore. At 14, but I digress.).

So, my point is, there are (very frequently) moments in my life when I want to pull the hair out of my head and yell SHOULDN'T SOMEONE HAVE TOLD ME ABOUT/HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS?!? Therefore, for us poor unfortunate souls who grew up without a proper education on how to be a girl, I suggest that someone create an instructional manual for this shit (and I'm not referring to the Cosmo kind, because I'm pretty sure there's more to being a girl than How to Give Your Man a Mind-Blowing Blow or How to Dress Like a Hooker at Work and Not Get Called a Whore*).

For fun, here are some things I would like to see covered in said manual:

1. How to survive puberty- as in the logistics of it. This shouldn't be left up to the health teacher, who is just going to show us a picture of a cow's head and throw all sorts of medical jargon at us. And please, please, please this shouldn't be left up to our moms, who are gonna get all theatrical and "You're now a woman!" on us and then throw a book at us that will miraculously explain it all. It won't. Just give us the real world, this-is-how-you-deal, facts.
2. How to be a friend with a guy without him wanting to take it to the next level- I'm convinced this type of relationship can exist, and I'm still determined to prove it. This should also cover how to have a one-night stand that won't result in him hounding you for dinner and a movie, and how to get him to NOT call you.
3. How to say no without feeling like a bitch- this has so many applications I don't even know where to begin. Being incapable of saying no without carrying around a burden of guilt the size of Texas has resulted in many life situations I have NOT wanted to be in.
4. How to be a lady while wearing a skirt- I fail miserably at this. I have no qualms against sitting criss-cross applesauce (formerly known as Indian Style) in a skirt. I have no problem sitting on the floor or the ground or in the dirt. I wear flip flops in skirts. I go barefoot. I put my feet up on my chair/table when wearing a skirt. I have flashed many unsuspecting strangers numerous times when the wind picks up. 
5. How to wear our hair/clothes/make-up in a flattering manner- I know we all have to go through a trial-and-error stage, but I think with the assistance of an instructional manual I would have discovered my personal style before the age of 25.
6. How to hurt someone's feelings with grace and ease- I suck at this. 
7. How to have a successful argument without caving at a crucial moment- I suck at this too.
8. How to survive other women- Women are mean. Women are cruel. Women are vindictive. Where are the instructions on how to deal when you find yourself at a barbecue, surrounded by married women who are all five years younger than you and all have children or are pregnant and none of them work and they make YOU feel guilty for being almost 30, unmarried, sans kids and more focused on your education and career then all those other things. Not that I've ever been in that situation, I'm just saying, for example.
9. How to be entirely comfortable and accepting with the longing, the desire and the decision to be a free and independent woman- Cuz the world doesn't make this easy on a woman. I like living on my own. I like paying for my own meal. I like driving my own car (a standard, by the way). I like not having to answer to anyone or check in with someone at all times. So why do I still feel guilty about this?
10. How to talk about cars- it seems men are born with this ability. That's unfair. I would feel much more confident heading to the garage if I knew what a catalytic converter did or if I knew what a tie-rod was.
11. How to purchase a bag of Oreos and NOT consume the entire package in two days- same goes for chocolate. and ice cream. and candy. Damn you, PMS!
12. How to comfortably do things on your own- like eating out or going to a movie or grabbing a drink at a bar. I have to admit, I have successfully eaten out on my own (granted, it was always at a diner, but it counts) however, I have yet to go to a bar on my own, but I see men do it all the time. And I have yet to master the ability to walk into a movie theater on my own, purchase a ticket and see that movie that I've been dying to see.
13. How to drink with the boys- alright, in all honesty, I don't need instructions on this. I've been known to drink quite a few boys under the table before, but I do know quite a few girls who could benefit from putting down the girly umbrella drink and grab a beer, for god's sake!
14. How to not make an ass of yourself in front of a crush- (I really couldn't end on 13, so I threw this one in, but it's still true). Fergie sang about this. We all do it. How do we stop trippin', stumblin' and acting all clumsy and start acting like the sophisticated, put-together woman that we are in front of the men of our dreams?

Well, it's a start. What would you like to see in the instructional manual for being a girl?

 

    
* I don't think these are actual articles from Cosmo. I don't read it, but from what I've seen in the aisles of the supermarket, they very well could be.

Golden Girl*

 

As a sort of homage to the Oscars(sort of) on Sunday night, I experimented with gold leafing. There were a few things I learned while experimenting with the joys of gold leafing:

1. Safety first (technically, I learned this while glass etching)
2. Gold leafing involves a huge time commitment as you need to wait an hour between each step (which made it the perfect project to work on during the Oscars. That show is long!)
3. This shit is addicting!!
4. If you have any perfectionist in you (and God help me, I do!), this might not be the project for you, but if you can get past the fact that your results won't be perfect (and this is where my stubbornness really helped), you can gold leaf ANYTHING!!
5. You should not gold leaf while in bed (just one more thing to add to my long list of things that should not happen while in bed)
6. Did I mention this shit is addicting? Yeah, it is.

Please enjoy this visual step-by-step of my Sunday evening. Enjoy!

(safety first! gold leafing is stinky!)

(the supplies. I used Rex Art Gold Leafing Kit. This is a six step process, but I skipped the antiquing step)

(the gold leaf. this isn't the gold leaf that came with the kit. I can't remember what kind this is and I can't find it. it's possible it's no longer available)

(the first step. these are my 3-D glasses I swiped from the theater after watching Avatar. I think you were technically suppose to return/recycle them, but the movie was LONG and I wanted a souvenir.)

(prepping my otter. remember? I bought him at Michaels)

(gold leaf applied. this is like, step three)

(drying after applying step 4, the sealer)

(modeling my new glasses! I intend on adding some more decorations to these, so stay tuned! after all, if you're forced to sit through long, sci-fi, 3-D movies, shouldn't you be rockin' some cool shades? I think so)

(my Cabbage Patch was jealous and wanted to try them on too)

(they look SO much better on her!)

Hope you enjoyed this! After gold leafing on Sunday, I was motivated to do some more later on. I'll definitely show you pics of those later!

* How perfect! I just noticed that this is my 50th post! Hurray for the golden one!

Happy Sunday Morning!

      

Five quick things because it's gorgeous outside and who wants to spend the day on the computer? Not this sunshine-starved girl!

1. It is impossible to sleep-in if you neglect to turn off your alarm clock... again. This is a lesson I should have learned already, since it happens EVERY WEEKEND, but alas. I have not (of course, I also should have learned by now that I am no longer 23 and can no longer party like a rock star without some SERIOUS consequences and suffering the following morning. But that's a tale for another day)

2. I woke up this morning feeling super creative. Maybe it's the sunshine, or maybe it's because when my eyes opened, they saw this...

 

(don't ask). 

Here's a close-up...

Isn't that just the coolest? 

(I am, of course, referring to the pattern shining through the beer bottles, not the beer bottles themselves)

This has inspired me to attempt to etch beer bottles! Ambitious, I know, but I am determined. Two Christmases ago I bought some glass etching cream to make personalized gifts for my fam and haven't used it since. Hopefully it's still good. Now if only I can find my stencils (this could prove to be a huge challenge since I have moved four times since that creative Christmas and most of my life is packed up in storage about 6 hours away).

3. Apparently I like to take pictures of myself... a lot! I don't know why this is, but every time I upload pics from my camera onto my laptop, there are, inevitably, at least 400* pics of myself. Maybe I'm in love with myself, or maybe I'm just hoping that, this time, this time, I'm going to look in a picture like I do in my head (did you follow me on that one). I'm guessing my photo obsession has more to do with the last one and I'm guessing that this ambition has yet to be accomplished. Here, enjoy my latest...

(cheesy fake smile and all!)

4. I just discovered a packet of blue Crayola® Model Magic™ and a gold leafing kit under my bed. I'm feeling inspired all over again...

5. I have plans later today that do not involve writing my thesis. I am anticipating that these plans will be canceled. Blame it on my sunny optimism, but I would say there's a 90% chance of this happening. As a result, you can probably expect a new, bitter rant over at The Bitter Blonde later on this evening. 

That is all! Enjoy this glorious Spring-like day!

* this is an exaggeration, sort of. I usually only find about 3-4 pics on my camera, but since I have an entire folder on my desktop dedicated to these types of pics, I'd say it would be fair to assume that I have a problem.