Thursday, December 24, 2009

Christmas Eve wisdom

Although it is not Christmas yet (even though I've said "Merry Christmas" a billion times already...even to my students of Jewish decent) I've learned some things this season. A wise man once said, "Hey...I know things." So true.

Here's what I've learned thus far:
1. It is difficult to wrap a golf club, especially one that has a cover on the end (or the top? whatever it's called) Note: I once dated a fellow who was attempting to become a pro golfer. I tried to use golf verbiage a time or two, needless to say it did not work out)
2. The best Christmas gift to ask from one's father? A visit to Jiffy Lube. You better believe Wanda the Honda got some lovin' this morning...fluids, oil, the whole enchilada, all while I was still snoozing in the guest bedroom. I may have left my keys out as a hint to go without me and avoid waking me from my slumber, just a possibility.
3. If there is a gift under the tree that is a sweet of any kind, dogs will find it, and eat it, and perhaps parts of the box too.
4. Christmas shopping at Facists' Island (aka The OC's Fashion Island) at T-2 days is only an option when involving a stop at Yard House for a cold beer mid shop.
5. Watching Julie and Julia is quite the inspiration to blog ;)

That's it for now. Stay tuned...

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Winter shopping

There's a reason this post is called "Winter shopping" instead of Christmas shopping. I'm not talking about shopping for Christmas gifts, I'm talking about shopping for myself during the Christmas season.

"How selfish" you say aloud. No, just honest. You do it too.

I have a problem (the depths of it I will not get into right now) that makes me think I have a surplus of money...when I almost never do. With the help of direct deposit and online banking, beginning at midnight on the 15th and 30th of each month, I can go on that world wide web and see 4 digits in my bank account balance instead of the usual 2-3, okay it can sometimes be 1 digit or many digits proceeding a negative sign but lets just say it's more than my standard amount for arguments' sake. I see that balance, which seems extremely high for someone who's survived on the wage of a private, anti-women being independent, Christian school before (again, we'll save that topic for a later time) and think that there is a never ending amount of funds for me to spend! Let's get something straight, I don't spend ridiculously, realistically about 90% of my "spending" is on a fun category in my budget called "bills/loans," thanks private university education!
Nonetheless, when I'm out and about shopping for Christmas gifts, with that crazy high balance in my head, I inevitably find a reason to purchase something for myself. Never anything too outlandish. My usual cap is a $30 fancy shirt, whoa! I can always come up with an excellent argument (argument with myself) for deserving something new for my closet...especially if it goes on my feet.

This particular week, the argument went something like this, "It's Christmas...and New Years! I have to have something cute (meaning new) to wear. Plus I've been working a lot lately. Like really a lot! I definitely deserve something. I mean some girls I know shop all the time! I'm really frugal when it comes down to it."

It worked.
I bought myself a little something, under the previously mentioned cap, and was so confident about the decision, I didn't even try it on. Because I'm becoming one of those people that doesn't leave OB, I of course shop here...which means that not only do most places only take cash, but they also don't do returns, only exchanges! Damn hippies.

So, after realizing my great decision did not fit as well as I'd hoped (Double D's can be a real joy kill) I had to exchange it. This is what led to trying on more clothing and my conclusion about winter shopping:

1. Nothing looks as good on pale skin as it does on bronze.
2. Those "treats" from students add up and hit places that are usually bundled up in leggings and long jackets. But oh how they are exposed in the confines of a dressing room with fluorescent lighting.
3. Dry skin is really pretty.
4. Sweaters aren't cozy. They're itchy. And why do all of them have fur inside all of the sudden? Some of us have higher body temperatures okay!
5. There's no better formula for getting extremely irritated than this one:

Buyers' remorse + cold outside + winter clothing on as I shop + hot inside store/dressing room + dissatisfaction with extra winter "coat" that's been sneakily added to my body + overly cheerful (and freakishly skinny) salesperson + the pressure of having to get something (that whole no return rule) + still not being done with/able to afford Christmas shopping, yet buying something for myself!


Is it Spring yet?

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

You complete me.

Remember the elevator scene in Jerry Maguire when the deaf man signs those words to his woman...and Renee Zellweger is moved to tears, then tells Tom what was said? Tom Cruise later says this to her (instead of signing it) and ends up coining the phrase, "You complete me." A year later you could hear this said in an even sincerer form, from Dr.Evil to Mini-Me.

As usual, I'm experiencing a theme lately in my world...in conversations with others and thoughts with...well, myself. (I've said it before, you don't wanna be up here.) The theme is the idea of "completeness." Completion is the correct term but we Christians can add "-ness" to any word we choose, making it a descriptive noun. You say purity we say "pureness." Webster's may say devotion, we say "devoted-ness." Feel free to make up words yourself, I am confident you'll find it liberating.

This theme of, get ready for it, "completeness," has mostly been in the context of relationship talk. Lots of those go on around me, all the time. Not sure if it's because I'm a woman and we just LOVE relationships (being in them, talking about them, obsessing over them) or if it's due to the fact that so many in my mid-to-late-20's-world are currently in one. I suppose the reason is unimportant for now.

I've been thinking about the phrase, "You complete me," and I just don't buy it. You thought I'd say something sappy like "...and I just long for the day when I can utter those words..." Wrong. I once again sit in the seat of cynicism. How could such a happy and carefree little girl be so negative?!
I say this not to be negative, but because I feel way more comfortable with the word compliment than complete. Take a moment, substitute that word in the phrase...got it. If a man completes me it's reasonable to say that I am therefore incomplete without him. I'm not being cynical, but merely logical at this point.

My feelings aside for a moment (but just a moment, not for too long) that poor "completing" man is responsible for the daunting task of completing an incomplete person? That sounds awful...and like a tongue twister. If it were me, (and sometimes it is) I'd want to hang with someone who was already complete...before I showed up!
But really, how romantic is it to hear (imagine a sweet voice in your ear), "You compliment my already completed self."
Ummm...
But shouldn't that be more like it?

We should feel complete on our own. Life itself and faith should satisfy us. Then we meet someone who just compliments that, with ease. Ease is a key word here. I've decided through authentic research, that if he's not easy, it's just not right. That could be interpreted in a few ways-I mean to say it in the more appropriate one.
I don't want to date the dude that's always searching for the next entertaining thrill, who's constantly dissatisfied and well, incomplete. I want (just FYI we're back on my feelings now, I feel much better don't you?) to be with the one who has friends, hobbies, passions, things that complete him and make his life worth while...without me! Then he's just even more stoked (I mean, who wouldn't be?) once I'm on the scene.
And so, for the uncomfortable and antsy child (yours truly included), I say to you, set your goal not on "meeting someone" to feel complete, but on creating an environment for your life that causes you to feel so complete that you can't even stand it! One that's filled completely to the top with friendships and passions...and a frigen good time.

How lucky will he or she be when they hear your lips seductively whisper, "You REALLY compliment me."

That should make for a good night ;)

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Last night in San Fran

My last night on "Thanksgiving San Fran Roadtrip 2009" was a difficult one.

"Okay you're going to go up that hill for about 16 blocks, then over the Golden Gate Bridge.Once you're off the 101, turn right, then left then left again, then right. You'll know what it looks like."

Ok. Quick pep talk to self. Map of strange city riding shot gun...always helpful (when you have the where with all to look down while driving crazy roads and can read maps). A sweaty, shaking version of me made it off the freeway. The lefts and rights began to blur, especially without street names.

Once in the residential of the destination I was at a loss. Areas like this one tend to have that every-house-looks-identical appeal.

I know they have a mini-van in their driveway.
There was definitely a fence.
And there was trim around the roof and an American Flag hanging...or maybe a festive turkey flag?

Mission Accomplished. Arrival at 7pm, ready for screaming children and a glass of celebratory red wine. Done and done.

Friday, November 13, 2009

A day in the life...of VG Comics

It is Friday which means only one thing. I am enjoying my lunch of left-over buffalo wings (yes, I'm a man) and Diet Coke with the students of VG Comic Club. "VG Comic BOOK Club" is not the name, I learned today, because they are not just working on books, but also videos. This is a no-nonsense club.

My job as the club sponsor, is to sit in the corner of the room, listen, and on occassion throw in a courtesy laugh for the kid who hears crickets after the punch line of his comic book related joke. He happens to be one of my favorites, I mean, teachers don't have favorites! How silly.

Truthfully, the statements that fly out of these four boys' mouths make about as much sense to me as the a jean skirt paired with Uggs. I will attempt to document some of their priceless interactions in this post...

"We're working on a video, that'll probably come out after Christmas since I'm asking for a new video camera, one that doesn't suck."

"Yea, make sure it's digital."

"It'll be on youtube. I'm definitely going to have to create a director's account, obviously it'll be more than ten minutes long."

"The video is a Resident Evil Live Action Parody."

"We need a girl in it though."

"I know one actually. But I haven't talked to her since the fifth grade." (An epic two years ago)

"His name can be Resident Weevil, instead of Resident Evil."

"Good one."

"Ripper does have hair, black hair actually." For those of you not in the know, Ripper is a video game character. I mean really, where else would "Ripper" be from?

"What do you have for lunch?"

"Vienna sausages...alright you can have only one."

"Cool."

Saturday, November 7, 2009

It's a jungle up there

I can be a bit of a creep sometimes. Unfortunately, being a teacher gives me more than enough opportunities to hone this talent.
One of my sixth graders had In-School Suspension for calling one of her classmates "witch, but with a B." She is the student who others refer to as "CooKoo." I've seen her in action. When a student didn't honor her request to open the door one day she made what others call her "evil eyes" from outside the window.

"Uh oh. She's making her evil eyes! That means she's gonna try to kick one of us!" I could feel the genuine fear in the room. In fact, I started to sweat a little bit myself.

Last week I walked into an administrator's office to find "Jungle girl" camped out there for her suspension. She had her evil eyes on. I asked her about it.
"Hey you, what's goin on up there?" (Referring to her very interesting mind)
"It's a jungle up there."
"Yea? Would I wanna vacation there? Ya know, but not actually live there?"
"Well...it's not a tropical jungle!"
"Oh. Well what kind of jungle is it?" Most might think it appropriate to stop the conversation with Jungle girl here. I challenge that opinion.
"A jungle with all kinds of papers!"
"Really? What's written on the papers?"
"All of the thoughts I've had!"
Once again, a level headed human would halt (especially a teacher). I however, continued to pry.

"Like No-No thoughts?"
No words were needed. Her and her evil eyes answered yes. The shaking up and down of her head helped too.

"Welp, see ya later."

Monday, October 26, 2009

VG Comics

As I pack up the last few boxes in my kitchen, I realize a few things. 1) I have a freakish amount of lunch pales and 2) I'm insanely good at having a bazillion (notice the really large fake number for emphasis) things happening all at once. In other words, I'm the queen of overcommiting. I've gotten better. Years back, in the days of high school I was pretty much out of control. Snow boarding club? Yea I should definitley be a part of that, and the VP of it as well! School musical? Why not? FBLA? Sign me up! At least now I keep my commitments limited to things I'm interested in!

Until last week.

One of my very interesting "case-load" kids, you've heard of him before-he's the one that talks of video games and comics that he creates in his head and on paper during class, has a hard time socially. A wise man once said, "Sure, I could be first chair jazz flute in the band, but is that gonna help me climb the social ladder? I think not." Connection here? Possibly. Some are just made to be in that first chair wearing a plumed hat and chin strap while others perhaps fit in better playing Varsity football. Is one better than the other? Well...yes. Kidding. I think you see where this is headed... Moving along, Comic Book Kid loves creating comic books that are loosely based on his favorite video games more than anything. CBK just cannot get enough of this virtual world. It's really fun attempting to explain that spending all evening conquering the last level of Zelda lacks in validity as an alternative to doing ones homework. I personally have learned to pick my battles.

I've tried everything from stealthily flashing cards that say words like "Focus" "Put that away" and "Eyes on the board" to very seriously looking past the black framed glasses of the child, into his eyes and saying "Okay for real, you need to put your comics in your binder!" He has recruited another one of my own, one whom I love dearly (teachers have favorites, it's just the reality of the situation) and now both of them create comic books...during class!

I had a brilliant idea last week. What if CBK heads up a Comic Book club?! They can meet at lunch once a week, socialize a bit and have conversations with other Comic Book/Video Game enthusiasts! This would secretly be a ploy to stop him from working on his comics during class. Duh. I brought up the idea and without any emotion at all (standard) he replied, "Yea, we got a club, it's called VG Comics." I refused to lose my enthusiasm and told him we could make it school wide, instead of the current members which consisted of him and only 2 others. They could even meet in a classroom at lunch once a week...this is big time. Usually we exile the kids from the inner parts of the building during lunch, some things are sacred. I got it all worked out, actually saw an ounce of excitement from the guy, and received many encouraging emails from other teachers that knew of students that'd quickly become admitted to the club. One of those emails also informed me that every "club" on campus needs a "sponsor." Guess who that sponsor is.

Every Friday at lunch you can find me nerding out with the creative minds of "VG Comics." I anticipate many a blog post birthing from this commitment.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Going Postal

As planned, Monday morning I reinstated my "Triple A," and got 'ol Wanda the Honda back to the shop. Although I am absolutely dense when it comes to space, time and therefore directions, I am very much aware of the distance from my house to the mechanic since 7 miles was this morning's limit on "free" roadside assistance. The total distance was 7.67 miles actually. I don't feel great about it being called "free" since I'm pretty sure I had just read the numbers off my Visa to an agent for the grand total of $67. What are ya gonna do?

After checking out some OBcean apartments, I decided one was adorable and the other a dump. I was later dropped off at home by my dear friend who happens to also be a dear mama. My new theory: The only way to house hunt in between jobs one and two on a humid Monday afternoon, to do so with two precious babies in the back seat...mostly because they laugh at your silly jokes and facial expressions.

I still had an hour before job #2 and with the list of tasks to accomplish this week, had no time to waste. Note: I very, very rarely consider a 3pm nap a waste, but today was an exception. So, in an effort to stay on top of my "To-Do" list, I got on top of my bike. Random Tangent: I've heard some corny married people (not that all married people are corny, I'm not cynical anymore remember!) use the term "Honey do" list. This would be the wife saying to her hub, "Honey do...fill in the blank." I'm not about being a bossy spouse (I mean, that's why I have students to boss around right?) but the idea, or fantasy rather of asking my "honey" to do some of the typical crap errands I despise, sounds pretty appealing right about now-especially as I gear up to do these errands on a rusty, almost-flat tire'd beach cruiser.

I started out on an adventure to Blockbuster with 3 DVD's of Gossip Girl Season 2 in hand (more like in a bag that I struggled to keep slung over my shoulder as I peddled and gripped the handle bars). I soon got one of those "you should check, just in case" feelings. These don't always come to me since I am kind of a hyper-do-it-quickly kinda kid, and the rare times they do, it is often too late. I'm still honing that skill of forward thinking. Before throwing them into the Returns Drop I checked inside the cases and whadoya know one was empty leading me to the clear conclusion that the DVD was still in the DVD player. Damn. If it weren't for the "If you don't return these TODAY we'll kill you!" (I mean, "we'll charge your credit card") message from Blockbuster on my voicemail, I probably wouldn't have cared much. But, it is what it is...back on the cruiser I go. To my house. To retrieve the disc. With the bike waiting for me outside, on a busy street, where I hope that the 30 seconds it takes to turn on the DVD player's power, hit the "open" button and place it in the case, isn't long enough for a hobo or drunk sailor to steal my little "Baby Blue." My mom says only crazy people name their cars and bicycles. Case in point.

After yet another ride to the video store, the next stop was the Post Office. For some reason Point Loma's is always packed with a line of people with mailing needs! The time of day makes no difference. I always come up with some reason for the crowd in my head. Comforts me in some odd way...
"12:00, must be that guy's lunch break."
"2:30, that woman looks like a mom, she's stoppin here on the way to pick the kids up from school."
"Retired people...have all the time in the world."

Today was particularly awful. Coming up with some general excuse for the task taking 30 minutes seemed impossible and my brain was far too tired to create 15 strangers' reasons for their visiting time. Instead I theorized on WHY the city of San Diego would decide to take the stamp machines OUT of the postal annex! My mail need was simple. Two stamps. With the convenient machine, I could be back on Baby Blue within minutes, happy to avoid the line and scary (also freakishly slow moving) asian man who works there. This was not the case however. I was dealing with the lack of a stamp machine. After 10 minutes and two patrons through the line, I had an announcement to the fellow line waiters on the tip of my tongue..."So, anyone wanna give me two of their stamps and make some commission? I'll give you an entire dollar instead of 88 cents?!" If I were one of those people, I'd think that was a great idea and would gladly sell my stamps to the enthusiastic girl. I chickened out, big time. No entrepreneurial stamp exchange, just more waiting. The best part of my observations (which I just cannot help but do in such a diversely populated situation) was the perma -angry woman behind me. She exhaled loudly countless times and had that look on her face where her eyebrows were arched up as high as she could make them in an effort to silently show her intense anger. She made a few comments about the asian worker. I kept quiet...like any decent person would, waiting to get home and write about him on my blog instead. Have a little class.

Once up to the counter, I asked for my stamps, gave him a dollar and said to keep the change. There just was simply no time for him to count out 12 cents. And he probably would have given me all pennies!

I have a new appreciation for the saying...

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Nay I say.


For some odd reason every area of life seems to be hectic at the same time. A friend of mine had the nickname "Hectic" for a season of her life. This was mostly because she often found herself out and about (code for getting drunk downtown), where chaos seemed to find her. In the last month I've had my car in the shop (driving rental PT Cruiser of course), been the "squeaky wheel" at work to obtain a bigger and better position (they heard my squeak!), a move approaching in two weeks to which the area of the city I am not even certain, a sick grandmother, and wedding festivities where I will share my professional bridesmaid skills approaching in the next week. So much. No other word can describe it, but hectic.

My current roommate was gradually taking her goods and is officially moved out, along with our sofa and kitchen table, as of today. After house hunting online all morning, okay after 11am when I woke from my slumber, I found myself sitting in a beach chair, covered with an old comforter, with boxes of my "quality smalls" (QS's can be anything from picture frames to books to nail polish) surrounding me. I sat down to have some lunch and realized how Nucking FUTS my world is right now. If I could just fast forward to November! (although that would mean missing a day where it's actually appropriate to utilize one's costume box...hmmm) Oh and did I mention Wanda, my precious Honda came home to me Thursday and within two days the battery went dead? Only after having had its alarm go off for 45 minutes in the parking lot of a restaurant, that has mostly patio seating.

With all of this madness going on, it would be so easy to become negative and bum out in the living room all day (on the hardwood floors which are covered in dust bunnies). But, to negativity I say NAY! One day at a time. Tomorrow morning I will get up while it's still dark, I am the antithesis of a morning person, and call AAA to renew my membership (another fun unexpected cost) and get them to send over someone to tow my car once again, back to the shop. I have a plan to tell them it must be their fault somehow and it should fall under the warranty they gave me. Then I'll very nicely ask Joe (toe truck driver, duh) to drop me off at work, in the tow truck. On my prep period I'll continue to call on apartments and hope that I can get a ride to the appointments I make to go see them!

As for now, I will return to my purple beach chair and watch Along Came Polly, a romantic comedy which I wisely recorded earlier this afternoon, in anticipation of exhaustion after serving Bombay Sapphires and "Sunday Sundaes." Life is good.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Burrito or Taco?

I've recently been making efforts to get more involved in my church. For real, it's hard to even go to church for me, let alone go AND be involved in some other capacity like a mid-week gathering! However, for the past two weeks I have been attending a "Community Group" with like-aged people. It turns out there are actually some pretty nice human beings that are a part of this community. Not to mention, my "Ace Hardware" theory... if you want to buy tools, you go to Ace Hardware. In other words, go places where you'll find what you're looking for ie. you want a Christian man...go where there are a whole bunch of them (said the skeptic) otherwise you might just continue finding real tools! So am I going there with a bad motive you ask? No. I am going there with good motives, hoping for the possibility of some great perks ;)

I'll try to wrap up my thoughts in a few short sentences, or maybe a semi-long paragraph?

I have mentioned before that I used to teach at a private christian school that was close-minded and hyper judgmental? I am grateful for the experience as it made me realize how much I love kindergarteners (occasional crying, snotty noses and all) and because of the few women I did connect with. Now with the run-on sentence of positivity out of the way...I found that all of the nitty gritty things that bothered me over the course of a year and a half working at said school all came down to one frustrating social phenomenon...the Christian culture. After the 5 year-old pupils graduated my class that June, I just could not get any further from that chapter of life. In fact two weeks following, I had to go to 5 other countries as a means of cleansing myself. My European detox allowed me to really dive deep into what I feel my faith should be about and how what had actually led me to that current spiritual place (swanky clubs and all) was frustration with certain "cultures" of Christianity, not at all God Himself.

I returned home having left behind a few pounds (affording one meal a day does a body good) and all efforts to be a part of Christian culture. Instead, I brought home a new focus, seeing the heart of my God. Without listing many, many examples of my previous frustrations (and making every reader loathe a faith that can be so good) I will just say this: Christian culture (meaning the people) has gotten it all wrong. We should not strive to fit the culture's box, generally as a means to make ourselves feel good anyway, but should shift our endeavor to thinking less and less about what others are doing and more and more about how GOOD our God is.

With that brief explanation out of the way (so much more where that came from)...Last night at "Community Group" I regretfully followed one of the discussion groups heading outside. There was a very nice view and I adored the patio furniture (off topic!) anyway, the conversation could not have been any drier and cliche, you know I hate that. More unfortunate than this was that the topics for the night had the potential to blow our minds! Usually, meaning last week, the only other time I've attended, I sit in the group where two pals lead. Due to lack of space on the upstairs couch and a wandering eye (Wondering what the deck looked like outside) I ended up in Dullville. For the sake of disclaiming: I do not always need to be entertained. I do like being entertained but not so much that I resort to leaving church time upset if that doesn't come to fruition. Disclaimer finished.

Every person that answered a question (I stopped after about 3, my quota was hit at that point) answered in a way that either 1. was from the perspective of "the bigger person" or 2. was seriously mentioned so that the opposite sex around the fire pit might swoon. I'll give you an example...The icebreaker (always a church hit) was the question," When were you last outside your comfort zone?" I thought it might be inappropriate to reply, "now" and since I had to go second, terrible choice of seating, I simply said I couldn't think of anything. Little do they know not much is outside of this comfort zone! Could the bachelorette party I attended last weekend that was BYOWig count? That would be lying and I try not to lie at church. I wasn't uncomfortable at all, who doesn't love wearing a wig?! So, being the "shy" girl that skipped the question, I listened to all of the other responses. Most couldn't think of an "outside the comfort zone" recent story either so they resorted to the "funnest" recent thing they'd done, Funnest isn't a word by the way. If I knew I had that as a default question I coulda come up with something really good! Oh well. One of the males said that holding his new baby niece was the funnest thing he'd ever done...

REALLY?!

That's the most fun thing you've EVER done? I'm sorry, but I seriously doubt that...and I am a big fan of the babies! Then I realized why on earth this dude would say that. Christian culture! Everyone wants to get married. When "prayer requests" come around most include "Being ready for the next Chapter of life," "Having to be patient for God's timing..." Guess what, that's all code for "I WISH I HAD A HUSBAND/WIFE ALREADY AND I DON'T!" Oh Christian culture. Isn't there anything else we could pray for?

At the end of the discussion, we all waited outside so that the inside groups still remaining wouldn't be bothered. I began to debrief with a friend next to me. We recently met but connected immediately, upon realizing we're both super cool and should be friends. We went on and on to each other about how most of us don't think enough, ponder God's love and character as a way to better love people, but instead go along with what every other Christian is doing and run from deeper connections (all very radical ideas indeed). A young man lying on a lounge chair near us popped his head up and asked our names with a smirk. Curious about the smirk of course, I asked if he heard our entire conversation. He replied, "Yea. You guys think too much." I was reminded of a man I met in Prague who said girls think everything means something. To which I replied, "What does that mean?" Lounge chair guy said that everything has already been thought of and "written" (biblical phrase taken out of context is a must) and that there's nothing to think about. Super cool friend and I had so many things to say but could really only come up with confused looks and raised eyebrows. After about 10 excruciating minutes of conversation, his argument was that all Christians are nice, that's what being a Christian is and that the only decisions you have to make are like "Am I going to eat a burrito or a taco?" Mind you, quotes indicate that this is word for word! After a few times of bringing up tacos I told him he LOVED tacos, lightening the unintentional awkwardness.

We made a run for it as soon as possible and eventually were upstairs (where the group I should have joined was held) and awaited the much needed restroom. I had a Diet Coke right before, bad move. In a strong effort to avoid another convo about not thinking I did my best to look busy talking to others...problem being that I don't KNOW many others and therefore this effort was a no-go! Mr. Lounge Chair came up with a smooth statement that would of course win me over. "I know how you can be nice, you can come buy me a taco." Of course this did NOT win me over. Everyone, (everyone who isn't exhausted by 9pm/Christian conversations involving the word "awesome" over and over again) goes to Taco Tuesday after the group ends. So apparently my clear disagreement with a life void of thinking was not enough to prove we are incompatible. We should go to Taco Tuesday and what...disagree (and prove an unfortunate old theory of mine) somore? I think not. Harsh? Maybe. The reality of the situation? Most definitely.

So I ask you....Burrito or Taco?

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Wonder Woman is that you?

As Halloween comes near I am reminded of Old Hallows' Eves past. Last year (hold for cliche) I was a pirate. Judge me if you must. It was a group effort and since I was still broke from Euro trip '08 it was one of the only costume ideas I could afford. Gotta love second hand stores that carry pleather, jagged edged skirts and $2 eye patches (new, not used. Hygeine doesn't always come first but as a means of avoiding pink eye, should). I believe Halloween ensembles always create a dilemma for young gals. "Let's see, 2 tanks of gas in my car or sleezy costume from one of those stores that is an empty warehouse year 'round until the month of October?" Decisions decisions!

The year before last, apparently funds were of plenty as I did in fact purchase one of those sleazy warehouse costumes. The worst of it being that I have an entire Rubbermaid of costumes. So, I dressed up as a cheerleader. Insert cringe here. What the spirit of rebellion against a crazy principal and the church ladies she works with will make a level headed gal do!

I went out with a group of ladies (who enjoyed a similarly reckless fall of 2007) to an uppity downtown club. The thought of it now makes me desperately want a nap. Toward the evening's close, with a 7am staff devotional awaiting this cheerleader, someone knew someone who knew the owner of the fine establishment. Before I knew it we were approaching the pent house sweet of the swanky hotel/club. My initial thought consisted of 4 words, "OUT OF MY LEAGUE!" Okay and one other thought, "We're definitely not at the Naz anymore!" Seriously, what was I doing there? It was almost comical. The very open, open bar was manned by pretty much not dressed women. Nothing creeps me more out than a VRB (Vodka Red Bull, party girl slang) being served to me by someone without a blouse on! And I don't even like vodka...or Red Bull.

Two of us made a mad dash to the bathroom, me and a pirate friend (never goes out of style), mostly to dish about the insane environment we were currently in. The penthouse sweet lacked a 1/2 bathroom in the living room. How does an architect include stripper poles, but forget the simplicity of a powder room for guests? So, it was necessary to venture through one of the bedrooms to get to the facilities. On our way, the pirate and I found ourselves at a standstill in the middle of a creepy bedroom. Personally I was much more confused than she, the girl ventures from Las Vegas, she's seen it all. I on the other hand...well, have not. After a second and a half we realized the owner of Swankville and a woman dressed as Wonder Woman were doing a line of COKE off of the expensive armoire. Not coke like what my mom refers to as "soda pop" and not the kind of line I made my Kindergarteners stand in earlier that afternoon. Like real, hard core, cocaine. Depressed, I whisper, "Wonder woman, is that you?" No wonder she runs so fast.

I lost more than my naivety that Halloween, I lost a hero! I can never look at the homemade red, white and blue cape living in my costume box the same (Yes I own a Wonder Woman costume). What a shame, I had only just made it months before out of an old jazz ditty from a 911 tribute dance performance and some sequins.

I'm shaking my head in disappointment right now. And you should be as well.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

String cheese or tampon?

I'm back to work today after what became a 3-day weekend. I stayed home yesterday calling insurance, car collision center (I hate when my little car is anywhere else than against the curb of my cement front yard!) The towing company now has poor Wanda the Honda since she doesn't even start up!

Today I return, in my rented PT Cruiser, which by the way feels like driving a really short mini-van (sans bucket seats that hold screaming children). I am feeling out of sorts, like I could re-wash a load of clothes instead of drying it! But I will attempt to focus on the day, my kids and getting some caffeine into my system!

As I reached into my messy teacher bag (don't worry, it's quasi hip, no apples or chalkboards embroidered on it) I couldn't figure out if what I held in my hand was a string cheese...or a tampon. This may be a representation of my mind today.

Here goes nothin'....

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Way to wreck my Friday!

I always start out a Friday morning with one thought...
TGIF.
I love my job but I love my weekends even more. I once heard a woman I "nannyed" for say something similar..."I love my son. But I love my dates with my husband more." Alrighty then. On a slightly less terrible note, I got in a car wreck yesterday!

It's one of those situations where you wonder if a small piece of the puzzle, or day rather, were different...then the mental wheels begin spinning and before I know it I've resorted to a nap.

The puzzle starts like this...I stayed an extra hour at work so that I could teach the Hip Hop class. I'm a sucker for killer dance moves as proven in the last entry. I was extremely glowing (OK sweating like a beast) and decided to go home and shower before meeting the rest of the staff for happy hour. I don't wanna brag, but my coworkers are probably cooler than yours. So yes, teachers, at my school at least, often send out an email or spread the Happy Hour plan by whispering in code to each other at recess or in the copy room. "So, uh maybe a little HH today?" Normally I'm not an avid showerer (this would be the adjective of one that showers often). It's true, I don't always shower after strenuous activity! Nine times out of ten if given the option to attend some sort of social event that begins right after my jog, you better believe I throw on a frock and a hat and am out the door sans bathing! And just as another excuse for my lack of cleanliness (a better one than the love of socializing), thick hair looks way better a little dirty ;) After my collision with a Jeep Cherokee, I wondered if I would have avoided the whole thing had I not taken the time to go home (and BATHE!), which then led me to take a different route to my destination etc etc? (I'll be back after a 20-minute power doze...)

What's the lesson here? No more showering! Probably not, but the lesson could be...pay more attention while driving, know your directions ahead of time, avoid happy hour...nah that can't be it. Well this wreck that wrecked my Friday was a very unhappy hour! Now I sit in my home, waiting for a friend to take me to the beach in an effort to avoid the issue that can't be dealt with until Monday anyway. I look out my living room window at my sweet little Civic with a jammed-in driver door (crawling over the center console to exit via the passenger door is always an adventure).  Did I tell you that my driver side mirror that is now sitting on the back seat?

TGIF.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Drunk girl or just retarded?

Now let me just first say that I am well aware that saying a word like retarded is not very "PC", especially in my field of work! However there is plain and simply no other word to describe this blonde in the story you are about to read, trust me I've racked my brain and even googled...

Next month I will be doing something that I have become very good at. It will be my 6th time performing this duty. Six other gals that I will be identically dressed will be doing the same thing. I will be a bridesmaid. If that saying "Always a bridesmaid, never a Bride" just entered your mind, I just want to take a moment to remind you about KARMA. Be nice.

I am very excited about being a part of this wedding. From the hot attire (who doesn't love an eggplant cocktail dress!) to the entire wedding party and wonderful couple, it is bound to be a blast.

The fun has begun already. In the past month or so, almost all of the (surprisingly good looking) groomsmen have conveniently become single. I have been given the full background on each of them, voluntarily of course, I'm a lady after all. The fiance and my lovely friend have given me permission/warnings where appropriate and necessary. Statements like "He's totally ready to settle down," "Now that's a GOOD guy" and "I'm just not sure how great his motives are" flew across the dinner table a few nights prior. I met the soon-to-be-marrieds and most of these GMs at a laid back joint and was thoroughly enjoying myself.
Naturally, good conversation and shuffle board is formula for a good time. Everyone decided to head elsewhere so that we could dance (in reality this was decided by the one loud guy in the group who dances wherever he is, always makes the decisions the group follows and is completely loved by all he meets, you know this friend). Our herd headed to a more dance worthy location and proceeded to get our groove thangs on. I of course did NOT use the saying GROOVE THANGS (although who wouldn't want to) in an attempt to hide the fact that I'm a total nerd til a later time, like maybe the second meeting.

I had been bantering the evening away with my walk down the isle buddy. Note: This is key to being a successful bridesmaid. You always want to become pals with your isle buddy, not too close if he's married (usually the case) but just close enough to not feel awkward gripping his bicep as you attempt not tumbling down a grassy hill in heels. Don't worry, more tips to come in my upcoming book Bridesmaid 101, TBA after Bridesmaid adventure #10. So, only two cervezas deep (in other words, not a drunk girl) Isle buddy and I begin comparing dance moves, so that upon entering the reception we have a little jig prepared. Duh. The comparing turns into somewhat of I dunno...a dance battle, if you will. Now I've lost things before, like not making 1st chair clarinet in the 5th grade, but I REFUSE to be runner up in a dance battle. It's just not going to happen. With a look of complete confidence in my eyes, I put down my clutch and the cocktail that I've taken one swig of since we arrived. In my initial stages of the "Lawn-mower" I step onto the rim of the glass I've stupidly placed right where my dancing feet will end up, my ankle gives out and I FALL to the ground, to land in somewhat of an awkward stag position. The vodka soda has spilled to soak my rump and I am...embarrassed. Did I mention the rest of our party had formed a circle around us to watch, ya know, in a usual dance battle fashion?!

How I actually reacted is blurred by my overwhelming desire to curl into fetal position under a bar stool and slowly rock back and forth for the remainder of the evening! Can we say MORTIFIED! Hopefully later moves like "The Sprinkler" and "Drivin' the Car" made up for my little bump in the road. These two are usually only used for certain occasions but I was nothing short of desperate at this point! I can just imagine the entire wedding party thinking, "So is this girl drunk...or just retarded?" Uh...the latter, thank you.

Later I woke up in the middle of the night, and as the image crossed my mind I couldn't help but cover my face with the palm of my hand and shake my head in shame. Wow. Seriously?

Oh and my left ankle kinda hurts.
But my pride hurts even more.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Probably the best compliments I've ever received...?


"Your hair looks nice today...
...especially compared to yesterday."
-Fellow teacher
(who probably doesn't remember any of this)

"I'd pick you up if I saw you in a bar"
Me: "But I don't wanna be picked up in a bar."
"Okay. I'd pick you up if I saw you on a playground."
Me: "Creep."
-Mr. A
(Always good for a laugh...and a minor ego boost)

I love my job
and the men I work with.

My perscription weed...

Remember that Seinfeld episode where Jerry wants the pen that can write upside down (the kind they use in space) so that when he wakes up in the middle of the night with a bit, he can write it down while lying in bed and remember it in the morning?

I see where he's coming from. I have had a million and one things to write about lately and yet when I finally get the time to do so, it all escapes me. After tossing and turning for over 2 hours the other night, I finally fell asleep. I was just gettin' to those good rems when I woke up in a haze and laughed to myself about a blog-tastic idea. Then of course I went back to drooling and even with the help of an astronaut pen probably wouldn't have made it to the nightstand to write it down.

All I remembered the following morning was my half asleep creepy giggle. My lack of writing issue has been compounded by the fact that I feel like I've gone through the past 3 months completely baked. Yes, I feel high all....the...time. I mentioned this in a little ditty about an OBecian laundry sesh at the beginning of summer.

This "high" I refer to is all due to my meds. When I say that out loud, or write it in this case, I can't help but get a picture of myself in a stark white room freakishly yelling "My meds! Where are my MEDS! Someone get me my MEDS!" This actually isn't too far off at times. These little pills I take are supposed to prevent me from getting what Dr. Janine, my neurologist, calls Ocular Migraines. I don't know how confident I feel in a Doctor who has me refer to her as "Doctor" and then her first name, but I'm going to look past it, especially since when I get these "OM's" I can't look anywhere...my vision is completely blurred and my head feels like it's about to explode! I've been trying out what feels like prescription weed for the duration of the summer and now that school is back in sesh am very aware of the side effects. Apparently I didn't have too many cognitive challenges this summer...aside from counting tips and figuring out how to use a foreign vacuum.

Yesterday after school I had plans to run with a fellow teacher. I went into the staff bathroom, never ceasing to make me feel like a real adult, and began to change out of my work outfit and into some running gear. In a daze, which has become my usual state, I put on my sports bra, shirt, socks and shoes. Seems like your average workout gear...except for the very important PANTS! Oh yea. Slipping those Lycra bad boys over giant Asics is fun. After catching myself on the protective toilet sheet dispenser so as not to crash to the tile floor (imagine the germs!) I open the bathroom door and walk outside only to notice that in this process of getting the pants over the shoes I have ripped what used to be a tiny hole into an extremely noticeable hole in the upper/inner thigh of my running pants, which happen to double as my yoga pants! I exhale dramatically and nod in disgust...what a stoner.
Silver lining: I didn't have to run that day.

All that to say, I have had many a story to tell...but simply have FORGOTTEN them. I guess I'll have to start writing everything down, while I'm awake at least. I'm willing to make accommodations for my less-than-lightening-quick mind, but disrupting my sleep is a whole 'nother level of commitment. Who knows, I may nerd out and become one of those teachers that has a pencil in their ear at all times. Though I often wonder about them....what is it you have to write that is so urgent it requires a writing implement that readily available? Now I know. Maybe they too are victims of prescriptions that cause side effects like those of my own...or maybe they're just high?

Friday, September 4, 2009

Miss Coffee Breath

School started back up this week. I may look 19 (without make up/my retainers in) but I'm not a student. In fact I am a teacher.
I forgot how much joy even junior highers have the ability to bring me. Usually it's the kindergarten aged children that say things like "You're a Princess!" that I think of so fondly. To these statements, I have no other choice but to respond, "Yes.  yes I am."

Being a new year, a new class, I have a new, what we special-ed educators call "case-load" of kiddos. These are the lucky students that get my undivided attention (depending on how many other kids are screaming my name) as I squat down beside their desk and provide extra help through whispered coffee breath. My caseload this year is full of students that are all so unique and intereeeeeeeesting to say the least. One of them is nothing short of brilliant. He creatively creates (oh my alliteration!) video games in his mind and has no qualms about telling me every detail about them. I fight the urge to suggestively ask, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to play kickball with the rest of the class? I'm sure your sports-induced ashma will be fine!" I'm no sports fanatic but during those times outside on the grass, Miss Sara wants nothing more than to hop out of those wedges and jump in on that kick ball game. Instead, I resist and try to follow Brilliant Child #1's video quest, although my mind so does not work like his (I don't know much about weaponry). Generally I nod and ask questions that he seems to think are totally stupid. Who's helping who now one might ask.

This week has flown by, as a whole as well as the days themselves. With my "extra curricular" activities such as yoga, Tuesday Night Fellowship and gettin in those 4-mile runs (bragging) I realize how much a 40 hour a week job cramps my schedule. I'll have to work on getting used to this again.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Top 10 ways to get a date...brought to you by the passive aggressive blonde


The following Top 10 doubles as a list of beautiful gifts (from some very beautiful people at my "Fam Bday Bash") AND items that will apparently get you a date...well not YOU, but ME. Feel free to take notes, or in this case hit "print", to file this valuable information in your personal records.


1. Movie Tickets...this is where the birth of the comment-taken-too-far took place.
2. Cookbook
3. Earrings
4. Clutch-with seahorses on it...so in love with it!
5. A single cousin (???)
6. A pork chop tied around my neck
7. Another cookbook
8. Polk-a-dot Apron
9. Every day apron (very practical, everyone should have one)
10. Silver Cross charm bracelet

Why these items you may ask yourself (or ask me)? I don't know. Apparently once you have chuckled even a little bit, out of embarrassment (or I dunno, possibly due to the fact that there is a quasi-set up situation going on AT the party), you have allowed free reign for the family "joke of the hour" to go on for entirely and inappropriately too long. And by "you" I mean "me." Once it turned to something along the lines of "Maybe cousin Tom could take you on a date!" I knew it was all over. One word came to mind... AWKWARD!...and okay, maybe another...FRICKEN WEIRD! I guess that's two. If there were a present opening contest...something focusing on who could do it the fastest?!...even up against 5-year olds on Christmas morning, I believe I could have wooped everyone. Just get me through the gifts, and to dessert...I don't think there's a "comment" about dates (or my supposed lack thereof) that can be somehow connected to a carrot cake!

The moral of the story...the minute you feel awkwardly or even minutely attacked...casually say something to the effect of "Ok. That's enough of that." Then perhaps lighten the mood with "Now let's focus on all of my PRESENTS instead of my LOVE life!" laugh laugh laugh, spotlight off rude date-comments situation...and scene!

Monday, August 31, 2009

A Quarter-Century

Today I turned 25. It seemed a little anti-climactic since I've been celebrating for the past 48 hours (life is just so hard).
Being that my birthday usually falls on Labor day weekend I tend to do that. I started out Saturday with a typical San Diegan social event...beach followed by bar. Now that I'm OLD, I didn't get drunk and hung-over the next morning, instead I was what one might call balanced and had two margaritas (that were of course purchased for me, gotta love birthdays), an ice cream cone, and a good night's sleep. Holla. Sunday was the fam party which consisted of close friends, fam and OC-tastic BBQin.

Since today is a Monday, and NOT Labor Day, it happens to be the first day of school. That may have been a bummer to some but to me all I can say is THANK GOD! A little structure never hurt anybody! Especially a yellow, ESFP, ADHD, Virgo! You'll have to excuse the overload on references...Color Code, Meyers Briggs Personality Test and of course the ever-so-sinful astrological sign! My point is...being who I am, I can only go a summer's length of time without the order and predictability of a Monday through Friday job. As glorious as you may think serving, bar tending and nannying (or in my case, being a house cleaner) may be, working at a school where we all arrive and leave at reasonable hours, and by reasonable I mean it's still light out, is ever so seductive come mid August!

With the big 2-5 comin up, plans thrown around with the friends and family, lately I couldn't help but reflect. Weird. Thinking? I never do that. I've been thinking about what this past year has been about and what the next should be about...not by anyone else's standards, but by my own. After a day of building laptop desks and "interviewing" junior highers...uh and some happy hour post 3:30 with fellow teachers...I had a lovely dinner with some gal pals at one of my favorite Italian restaurants. Aside from the food selection, a particular pinot grigio, and fun-to-look-at bartender, it happens to be in walking distance from my house! Don't judge me, it's my birthday. Now that the three of us have hit 25, what seems like it should be a big one, I decided we should go around and say words that describe what we hope will describe this next year. After some mockery, as I'm always the one that makes everyone at the table take a turn at talking for one reason or another, the ladies got into it.

Some words like intentional, fun, confidence were mentioned, along with restraint which was followed by the comment "That should be one of Sara's!" I laughed then yelled RUDE! In all seriousness, even with some grigio down the hatch, it's nice to think about what has occurred and what is to come. This past year was one that can be defined by nothing short of GROWTH...and I don't mean I passed up 5'3". Honestly it would have been impossible to have been challenged even an inch more throughout my 24th year...on quite a few levels. Let's hope that 25 is one that takes the learning from all that....stuff, for lack of a better word, and puts it to some good use.

Here's to a Quarter Century folks!

Saturday, August 29, 2009

The home stretch


This is what I should say as we set out on our running adventure, at 7:30 Saturday morning. The good 'ol "Orange" team (bragging) and I hit the 4 mile mark this morning. Kind of a milestone in my running career I think. That is definitely the furthest I've ever run. Let me remind you...I am NOT a runner! Naturally I was the sweaty girl in the back. A celebratory Berrie smoothie and 10 minute stare-into-space-sesh on the couch was much needed afterward.

In my usual before 9am haze (not to be confused with purple haze, the much slower team in our running group) I showed up seconds before the group's jont. I feel no need to arrive early and socialize. I tried chatting it up the first day with the pacing exercise small talk and was shut down! So lame. Now, I'm what we call an iPoder. Call me anti-social but a techno remix and some Snoop-Dawg whispering in my ear is basically all I need.

Since I start out toward the back of the herd, and stay there, I am able to observe...all things. I'm an observer. That's totally the reason I run near the back, it has nothing to do with me being an amature. What I see spurs some intimidation in me. I'm in the midst of some hard-core runner types. I mean, these runners have water-belts on! If you're new, as I am, to running world let me explain...These are elastic belts that have loops just big enough to hold plastic, easily squeezable bottles of water. Not just one...three, sometimes four miniature bottles of water. Why not just one big bottle you ask? I don't know. Perhaps too much weight in one area of your lower back? I can't tell you...because I'm not a water belt wearer. Some run with the double-bottle hold. This consists of Gatorade in the left hand and H2O in the right. These people say NAY to the belt. They can hydrate without the help of an elastic accessory from REI. I personally like the "stop at any water fountain in sight" game. It keeps me on my toes, literally. Who doesn't like almost fainting in August 90 degree weather then hittin up an oasis of glory at mile three?! Live a little!

The home stretch today...although I'm terrible with estimating yardage, I'm going to throw out there that I had about 10 yards to go. With a scheme of fleeing before the post-run seminar (i.e. someone talking about stretches or chaffing while I continue to sweat and itch from the grass I'm forced to sit on) I decide I should get my "cool down" in now and speed walk the last 10 yards...plus my play list has turned to some slower jams, I am left with no choice. I get my speed walk on, arms pumping, feeling just a little guilty since the enthusiastic coaches probably prefer congratulating runners instead of walkers at the end of the trail. I'm in the zone and fantasizing about the water ahead of me (should have worn a water belt). I swing my speed walking right arm and whop the upper thigh of the male runner next to me! I instantly spout out an apology, probably yelling to overcompensate for the music in my ears. Oops! I guess that's what I get for an early cool down and skipping out on the ultra-informative seminar!

I did stick around long enough to get my free t-shirt and hat! Secretly that's why I joined!

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Tuesday Night "Fellowship"

Last weekend in a car ride to Del Mar, I had an entertaining conversation with a friend and her hub. She brought up changing our circle's weekly Tuesday night dinner to Wednesday nights. "Tuesday Night Dinner" has become a tradition, since we graduated, where five of us buddies from The Naz* get together for a sesh of food and dishing. If we switch "Tuesday Night Dinner" to Wednesday nights (and change the name obviously) she would then be free on Tuesdays to attend a Bible study with some of her church ladies. Apparently up until this point, she has let these ladies assume that she's been unavailable on Tuesdays due to a long-standing other Bible Study! The church ladies have been fooled! Eating sushi and chatting with your girlfriends does NOT a Bible study make!

I found the fact that she didn't correct the church ladies to be quite amusing. We laughed about how one could make the stretch.

We drink a lot of wine and sometimes we eat bread...that's sort of like taking communion!
We go around the table and give updates...like "prayer requests!"
Sometimes we pray before our meal

The best part about playing with what to call our weekly dinner is that the hub calls it his wife's "Women's Support Group." Apparently the few times she's missed TND have really proven to him that it is an outlet for her and a valuable use of time. If he knows what's good for him, and apparently he does, he'll continue encouraging her to attend. He's a smart man.

This topic came up this week at dinner. A consensus was made that for some reason there is this stigma or shame in some christian circles, not all of course, in spending time outside of your husband and/or kids in a NON-Bible study setting. In other words, it is perfectly acceptable to go to your Women's Bible Study on a given evening (hopefully after dinner has been provided for your household) or to "fellowship" with women from the church, perhaps spending time at a cafe or in someones home praying for husbands and children. BUT, if you are leaving your hub or even worse your hub AND kids to go...eat, drink wine or maybe coffee, and just have a conversation with some girlfriends..you are a bad lady! I suppose one could just use the word "fellowship" and make it okay to do any of the crazy above activities (like eating a meal with your friends) but why should it matter what we call it? Why should my friend have to misrepresent what she does on Tuesday evenings when anyone in their right mind knows there is nothing wrong with it?

It's not like our Fight Club that we hold on Thursday evenings, now that's a different story!



*A pet name that only alumni with the highest respect and love for Point Loma Nazarene University consider using.
*church ladies in this scenario think the following topics are suitable for women/women's seminars: 1) Cooking techniques 2) Honing hosting skills 3)Reading Proverbs 31...again...and again...and again.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Chick Flick Night


I cannot begin to tell you how much I appreciate a good "Chick Flick." I think it's kinda funny that this term has been coined (I mean I get it, it rhymes, very clever) but c'mon you know the fellas like these "flicks" too! They pretend they're being draaaaaaaaaaged to them by their gf's but I believe that when the roomies are gone for the weekend and the testosterone in the apartment is down, The Notebook and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is at the top of the NetFlix Cue!

Last night I saw The Time Travelers' Wife with a girlfriend. Between the Quizno's 'wiches and diet cokes we smuggled in, the entertaining previews, and the movie itself (McAdams and Bana's work-incredible) it was a great evening. Although some of the crowd was the typical "dragged" bf and his chick flick lovin' gal, I couldn't help but appreciate being there with my bartending buddy.

Seeing previews of the latest Matt Damon film gave us both hope..."Do you know that in real life he married a waitress?! We're a step up from waitressing...we bartend!" Who knew the previews that most use for grabbing popcorn and hitting the bathroom could be so inspirational!

Eric Bana's naked bum (in many a scene I might add) might trigger an awkward moment on a date, but not with a girlfriend...instead you just look at each other wide-eyed and grin.

So, Charlotte York like rules  about seeing films like this solely on "date night." You may not be able to lie your head on some dude's shoulder (which I personally find is bothersome for the neck) but you will be able to lean over and whisper "Oh my gosh, I'm totally crying right now, are you?"

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Apparently I'm a "Cleaner"

This morning at my Nanny Job...

I know, I know, I haven't mentioned Summer position #3 before. It is a mere 6 hours, 7:00-9:00am three-day-a-weeker. I get two children up and out of bed, feed them breakfast, pack their lunches and drive them to various summer camps. My favorite camps they attend are within 5 miles and provide lunches.

How do I manage all of these duties you ask....and still maintain sleep, sanity, friendships and so many eligible bachelors?  Coffee.  Lots of Coffee.

This morning Aunt Becky (not to be confused with Uncle Jesse's wife) from Carlsbad came out of the guest room, ran into me and said, "Oh, you're the Cleaner."

Confused. "Uh..sorta."

Until now I hadn't realized I'd become the cleaner. The two children are pretty self-sufficient. A simple "Did you make your bed?" and "Gimme that dirty cereal bowl when you're done" is really all they need from me. So, what I end up doing....is laundry and unload/loads from the dishwasher! Oh and mopping up the water off the floor from the family dog's dish (it's the best). So when Aunt Becky from Carlsbad not asks me, but tells me I'm the cleaner...I suppose she's right.

Is summer over yet?

Monday, August 17, 2009

Quotes from Mars

I am nothing less than intrigued by the male gender.  I find their behaviors and thought processes to be compelling and interesting! I compare my male fascination to the average person watching a lava lamp. I can pretty much guarantee what will happen. It doesn't take that long to heat up. The blobs of goo will sort of bounce around, hitting one side, hitting the other, bouncing off the top, then the bottom, the color never changing. I know that at a certain point, the base of the lamp will burn if I touch it, but sometimes forget and do it anyway...or don't forget at all, but think that maybe this time it won't burn, but will just feel nice and warm! It's so very predictable but something about a lava lamp keeps you watching it, in hopes that something awesome will happen! What really happens...every time...the same blobs...bouncing around...in a way that we should all respect and admire of course. In other words the male gender is ENTERTAINING, for lack of a better word.  I have heard a handful of quotable quotes from some very quotable males in the last week or so. Some are quotable for their wisdom, some for their insanity.

Over an Italian dinner in Little Italy, cousin Tom and I discussed the topic of marriage...
"I mean, you're 31 now. You want to get married right?" I clearly have an agenda.  I want him to have kids that I can play with at family BBQ's okay! Tom's response in total seriousness, "Yea...Marriage seems like a good thing to do before you die."

I suppose that's one way of looking at it.

Over calamari and wine with my sister and brother in law...
"I mean, if he wants to see me badly enough, he can make it happen. I have a busy schedule but there's no reason we can't meet up for a quick glass of wine or something!" You guessed it, this is me talking.
My sister interrupts, "Or ice cream!" I quickly shut the idea down. "You know ice cream gives me diarrhea!..."  Later I asked my Bro in law if he was getting uncomfortable with our conversation.
"Actually I was more uncomfortable when you mentioned diarrhea."

I learn more about men every day. Note: Do not discuss diarrhea anymore.

In an analysis with Mr. A about a reoccurring dude in my life:
"Well, I mean, I sort of have the control right? We only see each other when I call him. It's not like he calls me and I'm there. I call him and he's there!"
Mr. A: "No, that's not the way it works. The person in control is the one who has the least amount of emotions involved."
"So generally the dude."
"Yes."
Enlightened. "Oooooooooooooooh"

I had a light-hearted conversation over wine with a dear male friend of mine. In a very manly way, he candidly described some things he couldn't live without...
"Pizza. Chipotle. Salma Hayek. Peanut Butter...hmmm...I can't think of a fifth."
Being analytical at times, I pointed out the obvious..."Those are all food, except for Salma Hayek!"
His response: "But she sure is yummy."
Playing along, I throw out there, "Imagine if Salma walked in with a pizza in one hand, a Chipotle burrito in the other and a jar of peanut butter in her pocket!" At this point I'm thinkin' I'm super cool female friend who can relate to male nonsense.
"Or instead of a jar in her pocket, her body is covered in peanut butter!" He suggests enthusiastically.

Or that.

The worst of them all...but somehow still fascinating, simply because of how mortifying it is...
At an event with many friends, a mixed group, it becomes apparent to me (I'm starting to think I may be a little slow on the pick up) that the really "friendly brother of a friend" is hitting on me. After it is clear I am saying the big N-O...he resorts to the next option, "Okay, then let's go out to my car and you can show me your boobs." Feel free to burst out laughing, have a jaw drop or curse the male gender at this point in the blog. I find myself in an all too familiar place wanting to yell, "Is anyone else hearing this?!" This is one of those rare moments where you wish all of your girlfriends could run out from the corners of the room and be a part of it. Instead, I laughed and asked if that really worked for him in the past. Amazing no shame on his part was exposed...and nothing else was exposed either! 

Oh Boys...I'm convinced you truly are from Mars.
 

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The grass is greener part II


It happens every year. Mid June hits and I tell everyone I know (it's the external thinker in me) that I just cannot wait until summer. Oh yea, it's just sooooooo nice to have a random schedule, work some days, some nights...no routine, time for the beach....

Ya wanna know what I tell everyone around mid August? That I can't wait until Fall when I can get back into some sort of freakin routine!!! Routine paychecks have something to do with it as well I think. Yea, I'm pretty sure actually.

I pride myself on being a spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, free spirited kinda gal... until I forget to pay a bill, kick myself for not nailing down 1 full-time job (instead of 3 part-timers) and curse my "free" spirit for ending up being not so free! Turns out, all those Type A's (that seem to deserve pony-pulls most of the time due to their freakish desire for control) actually have something goin...it's called a budget, job that provides health insurance, and at the end of the day, or summer in this situation, a heck of a lot less stress...other than worrying about which girlfriend didn't pitch in the extra dollar tip at last night's dinner.

It's an internal (and epic) battle I face daily. Everything in me wants to hop on my rusty beach cruiser and ride away to the land of OB where I'll beach my day away, leaving the bills to pile, the unsecured job to "fall into place" (a saying that we use often, when things are easier left up to the universe than taken care of on our own) and leave all that inconvenient mumbo jumbo til tomorrow. Then I remember that the last time I left it until "tomorrow" a $40 parking ticket turned into a $90 one and that putting things off is often not the best way to go. Darn that logical part of my brain! How am I supposed to get any relaxing done with all that thinking going on up there?

So here I am, after a Sunday night of serving, wishing it were Fall...where I would have had the day off, oh and the day before that as well. I would be enjoying routine...until about December when Christmas break comes around and gives me just a little taste of what sleeping in on a Wednesday morning feels like...and I'm back to lusting after randomness.

The grass is always greener on the other side. But you know what they (whoever they are) don't tell you?
It's just as hard to mow!

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Sonic the Hedgehog


I went to a small, tiny really, Christian university where everyone knows everyone. This means that even if you don't know someone's name, which normally I do because I have a freakishly good memory, you at least recognize their face. I mean c'mon how many times can you walk past a face on "Caf Lane" without eventually being able to recognize it again shopping at Target?

There are inevitably cliques that form at a small school like this. There are the partiers, the athletes (which tend to overlap with each other), the super spiritual (you lead the homeless ministry and play the guitar in "chapel band", we all get it!), the dude-bros ("dude...bro!" Our school sits on the cliffs of amazing surf, 'nuf said), the over-involved (I mean, isn't ASB supposed to end after high schoool?) etc etc. I didn't really fit any one particular group, mostly just dabbled in a few from time to time and unfairly judged the rest.

Because of the recognizable face/small clique factor, I have reasonable evidence to believe that Sonic the Hedgehog knows who I am and is pretending not to.

I know that this sounds ridiculous. Let me back up. Although I really didn't partake in the party scene in college, I dabbled, like I said, and ended up at a total of 2 "sinful gatherings" (one of which I was turned into authorities for, long story). I also held tightly a hand-full of college gal pals who did partake in the par-tays. All that to say, people know people who know people...catch my drift? At a school of this size, in a scene of this magnitud, if you've been to one bash, you know everyone else who has!

Now, as an alumnis of over 3 years, I work as a beach server (there went my pride by the way). Did I mention it's just a summer job? Anyway, many young folks like myself, most a lot younger actually, work there too. I immediately recognized one young guy, notice I did not say young man! My friends and I always called him Sonic, although we know his name. If you played Sega in the 90's you have a pretty good idea of what this young man's hair do looks like. Take a moment to picture it. So, Sonic and I have made eye contact, exchanged friendly smiles and I've run through all of the connections between him and I in my head...more than once to be certain, just in case we chat. "Let's see...he made out with my asian friend that one time." "Oh yea, and my other friend, that other time." "And hey, didn't his best friend get that one girl pregnant?!" Classy dude. Over the employee salad bar one afternoon I threw it out there, "Hey, you're a Point Loma kid!" This is my way of being casual yet friendly. PLNU boys get overwhelmed very easily by females, especially outgoing ones. His aloof response (He's so cool) "Yea. You go there too?"

"Yup."

I thought it would end there. The polite thing for him to have done 1) pretend you at least recognize me, I mean come on I'm wearing a name tag for crying out loud 2) Say something like "Aren't you friends with...?" People love connections Sonic! At least I do. or 3) Say anything other than what you just did. No....I didn't go there. I just know that YOU went there. DUH.

Just like any hedgehog would, he dug his hole even deeper with...

"Are you still going there?"

(long pause)

"Nope."

Let's do the math for a moment. If I were a freshman in 2002, 7 years ago (with YOU!) and I were still going there, let's see, that would make me a really SUPER senior now wouldn't it!?! Unless you are high right now, very likely, there is no reason for your lack of manners or math skills!

Enjoy your salad!

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

This ship's about to sail

Here in Man Diego there are a lot of...you guessed it, MEN! I've encountered a few. Although I've made some strides in my effort to leave behind "Blanket Statements" (which ironically can be shortened to B.S.) I still hold onto some of the reasonable ones.

We've talked before, well I've written and you've read rather, about dating and the inevitable game of text messaging. Thanks to At&T's unlimited plan I haven't gone completely broke yet. Texting is by far the #1 men's choice for communicating. Those fellas just love it. It's less effort than a call and seemingly more friendly than an email. My point is texting is where it's at. You better believe that if you're in your mid 20's anywhere remotely in the vicinity you will be utilizing this technological beast.

I went on a date about 2 weeks ago with a "Nice" guy. Note: "Blog guy" existed somewhere in the middle of nice guy's stint. Remember my other blanket statement? When it rains....

Anyway, He went to the Naval Academy (what an upstanding citizen!) and is originally an East coaster.  East coast means the San Diegan mentality of There's a good swell today so you don't exist is a non-issue. I have this very, very special place in my heart for surfer dudes, I really do..

Naval guy and I surprisingly hit it off and he followed up the next day, day after that and the day after that. The 3rd day was an email which reiterated how much fun he had, along with the phrases "phenomenal personality," "exceeded expectations," and "I'd like to see you again. "Wow. And I was on day 3 of dirty hair. Nice. I ignored the rule that includes something about a personality compliment being code for him thinkinh you're unattractive because...well, I wanted to!

Since he's a "nice" guy there are certain protocol that are necessary and include an appropriate amount of reassurance. I believe the not-so-nice guys don't need this, they reassure themselves plenty. I enjoyed the date as well, so why not respond with some similar positive feedback? So I did.

Blah blah blah it's now been two weeks and what do we have....a Mr. McTEXTerson.
This "Nice" guy is also a "Text" guy! Since my current career is that of a server, (some hard-core say "I don't give food, I give service"...Yea, I just give food) I can be found wearing a sweet black apron which perfectly hides a "vibrated mode" cell phone. So, even at work, I get many a "Hello Beautiful" and when he's feeling bold "Can I see you again?" texts, but never a PLAN.

I mean, I'm willing to help him out here, I'll do the textful banter and flirt in between taking orders, but I'm not about to pursue myself! When I "jokingly" say (or TEXT rather) "you better book me cuz I'm a pretty busy, and popular, gal!" I'm not trying to be coy, I'm giving it to ya straight! Only so many days in a week my friend, and in an effort to use an analogy that hits close to home...This ship is about to set sail! I mean, honestly I'm losing interest by the milo-second. If there's not a 2nd outing soon (and one that includes some wine and food) I'm going to have to pull up the anchor on this one!

Sunday, August 2, 2009

My that's a fetching hurricane!

One of my many jobs this summer (gotta keep those outta work teachers busy and out of trouble!) is serving la jollans and vacationers wishing they were la jollans on a private beach at La Jolla Beach and Tennis Club aka The LJBTC...almost not an abbreviation at this point.

The LJBTC goer is one of two people: A member, just your average bloke who can afford to pay $60, 000 to join a private club where he'll frequent the beach and walk around with a tennis bag, you know, the ones in the exact shape of a tennis racket. The other is the guest who is staying in what we call our "apartments". We pretend not to, but we look down on these people. They are not as great as the members. "Oh, you're charging it to your room number? Yea, it's probably going to be about 30 minutes for a Kids' Chicken Tender basket, I'll get it to ya when I can."

I spend my day walking up and down the beach with trays of drinks in one hand and Styrofoam boxes of food in the other. With sections called "North Shore" and my attractive uniform of khaki shorts and a bright green polo I can't help but feel like Kelly Kapowski on Saved by the Bell, the Beach Club years! I suppose I should be Jesse Spano since she was closer to being blonde, but she also was the type-A Brainiack, let's stick with Kelly. Spano also had that caffeine pill addiction during the college application episode, no thanks! 

Working at The LJBTC opens up my eyes to a whole 'nother world. A world where beach bags and straw hats cost more than my rent for the month. At dusk, the beach transfers from sweaty children (although I'm still there and sweating) to BBQ's and Kendall Jackson chardonnay. Beach Services (the young gentlemen that wear red polos, make inappropriate jokes over the walkies and call the new servers "Fresh Meat!") go around moving the days' lounge chairs/umbrellas to replace them with tables/BBQ's. Stay at home wives (notice I did not say "moms") begin setting up their reserved areas around 6pm for what I am almost certain is a secret competition!

The last time I checked we were on the beach and checkered table cloths and sporks, were appropriate.  Not here.  Each table is decorated with the most chic of linens and only the freshest of flowers. There is generally a theme, but sometimes the lack of one shows her "crazy" side! Hurricane vases with purchased seashells and candles are a requirement and wicker must occupy some part of the lay out, perhaps to hold bottles of expensive wine and aged cheese. Being an interior design enthusiast, I slowly walk by the ones that intrigue me and take notes on my server pad...

Plaid baby blue and sunflowers, just lovely
Yellow cloth and pink linen, how adventurous!
My that's a fetching hurricane!

I believe that with my studious notes, someday I, the sweaty beach server, could win Dusk Decor Competition!

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Flirting Technique #27: Blogging


Much like every Tuesday night, I met my very favorite gals for dinner. After sharing a bottle of Chard over fish tacos, two of us decided to continue our night out in PB (stands for Pacific Beach, but "Pompous Bros" comes to mind as well). We ended up at a dive called Bub's, nothing but class, where all of 8 girls total, including us, were sharing a bar with many, many....PB's.

Your standard encounters didn't keep us from stimulating discussions on life and an enjoyable Bud Light buzz. We had the lonely bar fly come up with two girly shots, inevitably explaining what they were called and what was in them (not wanting to make him feel like a total idiot I didn't tell him that his knowledge was no good here, and that I am what we call a bartender) so we politely took the fruit juice with a dash of vodka. He left quickly (much appreciated) and mumbled something about a pretty smile. Okay, thanks. Another few came up, attempted chatting yada yada. Although we are what I would consider "nice girls" we do a pretty good job at sending the "I'm a biatch and not interested" vibe...gets 'em to walk within 30 seconds just about every time. Uh thankyou.

There was an amusing group of what seemed like middle-agers who had just finished some sort of league sport...bowling was my guess. One of their soldiers brought my pal Val and I some brewskies, how sweet. He informed us that they were in fact softball leaguers and that tonight they won their championship, hence the trophy on the belly bar. After some banter (shocker, I'm pretty good at that) he suggested I go give his buddies a hard time.

Oooooooooooookay.

So my free beer and I strutted to their table, "Wow! Is that a baseball trophy?"
"No, softball actually."
(Insert disappointed face here) "Oh."
And the rest was history.

A good time was had by all, and after much conversation with one of the "players" (mostly innocent flirtation via making fun of one another) we figured out that we are from the same glorious town of Glendora...Really?! He was no Charger from Charter Oak High, but I suppose I could get past that for the sake of some entertaining conversation.

In his effort to reel me in (now the teasing would have to really be up to par) he made fun of my last date who was in the Navy, the way I spent my day (writing of course being a huge part of it) and the fact that I think it's cool that I was born during the Summer Olympics...all answers to questions he asked and in good fun. I had some good ones for Mr Ex Pro Baseball Gone Corporate as well! I mean, the guy did commercials as a kid (been there, done that) and lives in PB for goodness sake, I got material for daaaays! He made me give him my email address so that he could write me a blog post about that night, from "my" perspective. I'm not an advocate of meeting males in bars, so giving out my number is never an option...but an email to a fellow Glendorian, why the heck not?!

Here's what I received the next day...

Subject line: Blog #1 The One who got away...or did he?

"So last night me and a few friends went out for a bit, I had a long day so of course I had to get in a bottle of cab prior to the night starting!! We end up here and there but our final spot, a local PB joint known as Bub’s, was where it all went down. We had it all folks, I mean everything!! From the random guy buyin drinks for my girlfriend and I, to sexy softball guys with huge trophies getting after it as if it were 1984 and we were celebrating the year of the Olympics (we will save this for another blog people)…..we had it all! So the night is under way and this man, a talk dark skinned rugged handsome man approaches me from behind (not that way ladies but oh do we hope so later) and whispers……’ Glendora , and you?’……….he immediately takes my breath away and I begin to choke on what was a Bud Light from a guy who was in the Navy wearin an extra small polo, front tucked in with a buzz cut and all!!
Well, needless to say he was funny and there was just something about him……..he didn’t want my number, yet wanted my e mail, to write me a blog……"

Seriously? Oh Bub's Guy you may have a trophy in Softball...but I have one in blogging!!!
After meeting up the next night (I'm telling ya, wit speaks volumes to this blonde) I promised to write him a blog, from his perspective of course.

Subject line: A Charger Indeed

"Wednesday started out with what seemed like just your average day...
groggy response to my blackberry going off, pretty tired from last night's softball game and celebration at Bub's. It was no double header ending in blood-stained kaki's, but a real aggressive game nonetheless. Us Glendora boys are KNOWN for being aggressive.
After receiving our well earned plastic, teal trophy the fellas and I could not resist the idea of a few pitchers, a winking bartender and some fly PB-tian honeys. As I stumbled to the shower (in my kind-of-a-big-deal 4 bdrm on Felspar St) I tripped over my flat rimmed hat which held a ripped piece of paper in it. "Ah yes..." I thought to myself, "...that phenomenal blonde I met was gracious enough to give me her email address!" Forget the trophy, that was ALL the reward I needed last night!
Although I told the adorable school teacher I'd blog at her by 10am, my duties of saving the world took precedence-after all, if I didn't tell the mexicans where to move the cubicles and copy machine, who would?
By 6pm, the ideas I'd been brainstorming all day (in a grand attempt to impress Sara without an 'h") finally came to flourish and a blog-tastic email was sent, witty title and all.
The intriguing Charter Oak cheerleader actually responded to my written pursuit! To keep her on her toes I sent her MY number, instead of getting hers, I mean c'mon it's the 21st century!
Long story short, she agreed to meet me at my favorite joint (not that kind of joint...I don't do drugs, I'm an ATHLETE!) When she walked into "Tap Room" I felt like a kid in a candy store!...or one in a canadian field on the set of a McDonald's commercial.
I mean, the girls that I usually meet at Bub's have two-toned hair, tramp stamps and wear Uggs with their jorts for cryin out loud!!!
This gal was pure class...a Charger indeed! All I could ask for was that she'd grace me with her presence again..."

Will this become a blogging war? Survival of the wittiest?

Stay tuned...