Okay here’s the deal (and can I just say that I’m enjoying the tone my posts have taken lately? There’ s been no deep thinking, no clever analogies, no witty puns- just a lot of straight talk. Pretty soon I’ll be chewing gum when I post and call you all ‘honey’). I’m currently on a lucky streak that’s so lucky that I’m almost frightened. It’s at the point now where I’m starting to think that I might actually be magical and that the next person to win the lottery (if I don’t buy a ticket) will be whoever touches me. I’m THAT lucky right now.

It’s my birthday week (birthweek?), and things have been going along swimmingly. In my last post I detailed how I scored a ton of stuff on the cheap, since two different salespeople on the SAME DAY both made errors while ringing up my purchases.

Now let’s discuss the last 24 hours-

- I went for a run last night. I didn’t want to go because it was raining and it felt like work and I didn’t feel like I should have to do work on my birthweek. When I put on my raincoat, I found $31 in my pocket. I’m sorry, you didn’t quite catch that? I FOUND MONEY IN MY RAIN JACKET. That’s like finding a tiara in your rubber boot or a medallion in your bra. It just doesn’t happen. At the rate I’m going, I’ll slip on some gardening gloves and find the Hope diamond.

- Also, I recieved one of the greatest birthday gifts ever. My darling friend Trout (who isn’t reading this right now because she’s currently battling meter high waves in a canoe) found an amazing photograph of a typewriter (complete with a great quote about ‘checking all typewriters before making a selection so you can be sure of the worth of the choice you make) from a 1960’s Life magazine and had it framed.  It’s stunning and I love it. And I love that I have friends who know me well enough to know that I would love it.

- I’ve been extremely busy lately. I had a 8am flight this morning to fly into the city and visit friends for a good weekend (and the JT concert that I keep forgetting about). Last night I went to sleep at 2am after packing (because, why wouldn’t I pack the last possible second?) and wished that my flight would have been a little later in the day so I could get some work done. Today, my flight was cancelled due to fog. I’m re-booked to leave this afternoon. Oh, and there were over a 100 of us that had to re-book, guess who was FIRST IN LINE? Me.

- Before I realized my flight was fogged in, I treated myself to a hearty airport cafe breakfast. I found a table, where someone had left TWO glossy and new fashion magazines (Vogue and Marie Claire, for those interested). I began to read happily, when the waitress came  over and asked if I still wanted toast, because the cook had made a mix up when shopping and they only had some ‘glucose free bread’. With a beating heart I asked if she meant ‘gluten’… and she said yes. The thing is, I never order toast because I can’t eat it. The waitress had forgotten that I told her I didn’t want it and came over anyway. So, I got to eat TOAST THIS MORNING.

So, to sum it up: I went running in the rain, got a picture of a typewriter, had my flight cancelled and ate toast. My life is fantastic.

In fact, it’s never been better.

SO IMPORTANT I’M WRITING IN BOLD CAPITALS: Tomorrow I start my first day at  Burt Reynolds’ Mustache. Please come and visit so Peter won’t think he was a fool for sending me that gold plated invitation email. If you leave a comment, I will double the baked goods I’m currently sending you. Which means, you will be getting twice as much of nothing. But still.

So let’s talk birthday.

It was fantastic. There was ice cream cake and family and presents. There were a few drinks, board games and phone calls from friends in Germany. It was like, all my favourite things wrapped up in a bow and handed to me while I sipped a cocktail and was fanned by shirtless men.

Or something like that.

In preparation for this birthday weekend of theatre watching, piano bar singing and a trip to a corn maze (because I have diverse interests) I went to the mall. First, I returned a pair of cords and a long sleeve shirt. I had bought them during some “buy one get one half off” sale, but once I got home I decided I wasn’t ready to accept the idea that fall was coming and thought if I returned the clothes and stuck it out with the flip flops, I could sustain the summer season. (Because yes, I’m deluded enough to think what I wear affects mother nature’s thinking pattern).  However, they refunded me the full amount, not the sale amount, which resulted in an extra $26 in my non-cord wearing pocket. I didn’t notice until I had got home and would have called except there was even a BIGGER mistake that my conscience had to deal with….

Although I’m not going back to school, I find that I get sucked into the idea of back to school shopping. Everything is so warm and plaid, and who doesn’t need another sweater vest? I decided that if I was going to put my foot down and NOT get sucked into the commericialization that comes with back-to-school, I could at least do it while wearing a new bra. So, I went to the bra store. 4 bras, and 5 pairs of new underwear later, I left the store and went home feeling like, I earned these things since you know, I had returned things previously. It wasn’t until I got home I looked at my bill. I had paid $42.18 for all my purchases. Oh, and I bought a $20 ‘discount’ card. Soo…. I paid $22.18 for 4 bras and 5 pairs of underwear.

Now.

With each bra being $38, I know that my saleslady obviously screwed up.  But right now, I’m just going to revel in the awesomeness of the situation and love my ‘free’ bras. And for the guys out there who don’t understand how exciting it is for a girl to accidentally get her bras for free, it’s like… if Heidi Klum came over to your house with a six pack of beer and offered to rub your belly while you watched NASCAR.

It’s that sort of awesome.

Ray Bradbury, Norman Schwarzkopf and Tori Amos all share ONE thing in common with me. (And it isn’t a love for British boy bands from the early 90’s, or pretty eyes- though I’ve often thought Ray was a dreamboat in old mans clothing.)

I love, love, love today.

So I got tagged by Anju to write a post listing 10 random things about me. Since I’m a heart rule breaker, I’ve decided to do 7, and because I’m needing some guidelines to type anything interesting lately creative, I’m basing them each around one of the Seven Deadly Sins- lust, gluttony, greed, pride, wrath, envy, and sloth (And yes, I had to look them up, I always forget about sloth, maybe I’m too lazy to remember it?).

1. Lust- I think the last thing I truly lusted after was this. If you are too lazy to open the link, it’s a shirt- not a man. But it’s a really cute shirt. That I think I want need. Speaking of lusty things, there is a great picture of George in the new issue of Vanity Fair Kathryn. Thought you would like to know that.

2. Gluttony- Hmm. I’m a glutton for many things- men with shaggy hair, really expensive lipglosses that promise me Angelina lips, and shoes with the perfect heel. I know ‘gluttony’ is supposed to be food or drink related (or so says ‘ask.com’) so I’ve racked my brain for some food item that I can eat in a ridiculous amount- and I’ve found them. Well, I can’t eat them now due to the gluten, but there was a point when I could eat an entire bag and not think twice. The object of my affection? Dad’s goodie ring cookies. I can’t find a link to them anywhere, but they are sold in a yellow bag. They are like, little rings of chocolatey-oatmeal heaven. Like… my mouth is watering right now. The way 14 year old girls feel about Orlando Bloom is how I feel about these cookies.

3. Greed- I recently noticed I’m quite greedy. I went jeans shopping the other day and found a pair that were on sale and pretty cute. I tried them on and they fit, they were not too long in the legs (a hazard for us short ladies). But did I love them? No. But then I imagined someone else wearing them and looking great and telling everyone they got them ridiculously cheap, so then I had to buy them. So to sum it up, I bought jeans just so someone else couldn’t have them. If that’s not greedy, I don’t know what is.

4. Sloth- Being unemployed, I could write about my slothy (is that a word?) ways for hours, but listening to an unemployed person talk about all their free time is about as entertaining as listening to a really skinny person discuss how they can eat whatever they want. So I will zip it. (But I will say, there has been a ridiculous amount of daytime napping, and did you know that I make excellent chicken tetrazzini??)

5. Wrath- See previous post.

6. Envy- I read a quote once that said “show me a beautiful woman and I will show you a man who’s tired of sleeping with her” (hello Brad and Jen). I try to keep that in mind when I start coveting the life of someone else, which sort of helps me put it all in perspective. And yes, I like how thinking that even beautiful people don’t get sexed up by anyone they want is what helps keep my envy in check. But if I was going to envy someone, I think I would envy Jon Stewart for his brain and Reese Witherspoon for her closet- and her bangs.

7. Pride- If there was one sin that I think shouldn’t be a sin, I would say it would be pride. Shockingly, it’s the one I must identify with. Well, that and lust, but I understand lust being a sin. It’s like loves wild cousin who does dangerous things with dangerous men. In the backseat of a car. On hot summer nights. Okay, I need to stop talking about lust. Back to pride. I think pride gets a bad rap, it’s like “confidence” with a different name. What am I most proud of? My relationship with the people close to me, my sense of humor, my extensive Babysitter Club knowledge and my ability to deal well with people who hurt my feelings (again, see previous post).

MY BIRTHDAY! is in two days.

Where do I start?

I had a whole other post prepared but then I got this email from someone named Annie:

“i used to love reading your stuff. you seemed like someone who would be cool to get too know. you were funny and had actual opinions on TOPICS other than yourself. now everytime i read your blog you are whinging about men and being single. where’s your self respect? you talk of being independent, but last time i cheked, independent didn’t mean complaining all the time. now your shit is boring and it makes me angry and mad to read how you are so set on guys cuz life is about more than that. something, YOU seem to have forgotten. ya, you are getting lots of comments, but probably because people feel sorry for you. maybe if you spent as much time as you do talking about yourself, trying to change yourself you would be happier. i’m probably not the only one who thinks this but the only one who has the guts to tell you, so dont’ think i’m the only one. i hope you figure your shit out and get back to writing INTERESTING posts. I won’t be reading until then. And don’t try to contact me, this is not my real name or my email address anyway.”

Oh so much to say. First of all, I’m sorry that I had this weird idea that because I was the one writing, and it was my blog that I could write about what I wanted. It makes much more sense that I chose topics from other people and try to mold my writing around them, while ignoring writing about my own life. I’m sorry that you find that my post is gone straight to hell. I mean, obviously writing about Jamie Oliver and mamograms is a HUGE step in the wrong direction, considering the ‘deep topics’ I wrote of when I first started blogging. Topics like how I roll, or good smelling body scrubs.  I can see how you would be worried. I mean, next thing you know, I might actually post more about my own feelings. Oh, but in case you missed it, I did complain about not having a boyfriend to take care of me while I was sick when I first started writing (check here), so I suppose I’ve always been a complainer.

Also, I’m in awe at your ability to step forward and tell me all of this. I would almost consider it brave, if you know, you didn’t send me a fake email address and name. It kind of boosted my ego actually. I like the idea that you felt it necessary to go to such great lengths. It makes me wonder if you were worried I would write something back to you, or if you were just too ashamed brave to use your own name?

As for the comments, yes I am getting more than when I first started writing, maybe it’s because I send them all money and baked goods as bribes? Oh, and  ‘angry’ and ‘mad’ are the same thing, so it doesn’t really work well to say you are ‘angry and mad’ about how I’m set on guys. It’s like saying I bet your mother would be ‘humiliated and embarassed’ at what you are willing to write to a total stranger. You see what I’m saying here?

And for my self respect, if I lost it anywhere, I lost it while on a houseboating trip while attending a 4am hotdog and ketchup party in the forest where we made sacrifices to the lake and intense shadow puppets. I would explain it in detail, but then it would be a post about ME, and I see how much you dislike that.

Lastly, Annie, there is something called ’spell check’. I know wordpress spell check isn’t working, but if you are going to send mean emails to strangers, have the courtesy to make sure you spell everything correctly. It’s the least you can do after you ruin my day make me want to OBAMA! you.

It’s moments like this that I really hope karma exists.

I’m always shocked when people ask me for advice. Mostly because I’m someone who almost needs help getting dressed in the morning and have been known to call people to ask what I should eat for dinner. I’m still unsure of how to change a tire, cook brownies without burning them or have a relationship that’s more meaningful than the one I currently have with Jon Stewart.

However.

I recently got an email from a guy asking me for tips on how to break up with his girlfriend. Suddenly, I could feel my brain stretching to hold all the thoughts I had on this topic. As someone who has been broken up with, I feel it’s my civic duty to share what I learned in order to stop hopeless lads from following in the footsteps of my clueless ex-boyfriend.

Thus, I’ve broken down the rules to remember if you ever find yourself in the unfortunate situation of wanting to quit someone.

Rule #1: Do not, I repeat, do not dump someone on their birthday.
Um, yeah. Getting dumped on your birthday is about as fun as getting a pap smear with a cactus. Birthdays are seen as a time to celebrate so getting dumped on one is usually a complete shock to the person who is getting the news. Also, it ruins future birthdays, since you will have a handy built in reminder every year of what happened on that day. It’s a toss-up as to what sticks with you longer- remembering your 5th birthday when you got a pony, or remembering your 23rd birthday when you were dumped out of nowhere (No really, it happened). Although, the plus side is you usually get to eat their slice of cake. So I mean, at least there’s that.

Rule #2: When honesty isn’t the best policy
So you are dumping her because you dislike her family? She has man hands? You’ve found someone who wears cooler shoes? Don’t say that. Really. There’s a nasty rumor going around that being completely honest is the way to go- that is a lie. Being completely honest when it’s going to hurt their feelings even more isn’t selfless- it’s selfish. Because the only person who feels better ’sharing it all’ is you. And when you are dumping someone, the last thing you should be thinking about is how you can most clearly express how they don’t measure up to the new person you fancy. Or just how annoying their voice is on the phone. Chances are your soon-to-be ex will not take this well- and will begin beating you with her footwear.

Rule #3: Don’t make it public
I understand the idea of wanting to break up with someone in a public place. There’s less chance of yelling, tears, extreme physical abuse with a pointy stiletto.  But, I think it’s also disrespectful. If you have been dating for longer than 3 days, there’s a chance there will be tears and creating a situation where someone is forced to cry (and maybe even do the ugly cry) in public just isn’t Cary Grant classy (And yes, Cary Grant Classy is what we are striving for- that’s for you Kathryn!).

Rule #4: Exit Strategy
So you’ve broken up. You’ve said sorry, you’ve talked it out, wished each other well. Now leave. Do not linger. If you are say, in a hotel room, stop being cheap and pay for another room. Forcing your presence on someone whom you’ve just shunned is usually more painful than the break up. Trust me.

Rule #5: Friends?
Realize that depending on personality, length of relationship, reason for ending it, an ex may not want to be friends with you. In a perfect world all ex’s would meet up for coffee on Tuesdays and laugh at the ridiculousness of them dating. They would swap vacation photos and be invited to each others weddings. But it’s not a perfect world. And the worse your break up job is, the less likely she’s going to want to be friends afterwards. So have a little Cary Grant class, a little compassion and maybe one day she will want to be your friend. Or maybe just your facebook friend. Or maybe nothing. That is the chance you take, when you dive into the dating pool.

I think that’s it. Good luck dear reader. I hope it ends without physical abuse and that you show both respect and thoughtfulness in a time when both are needed. As for everyone else, did I miss any rules?

The ones who get really loud. The ones that cry. The ones that suddenly re-discover dance moves they folded neatly in their memory after NKOTB broke up. The ones that tell everyone they love you while swaying to music only they can hear. The ones who start to look crazy and sit in the corner scowling. Everyone reacts differently to the liquid love that comes from a dainty glass complete with umbrella,  a cold bottle that reminds you of sea glass, or a stout tumbler of something I call swamp water.

I tend to be a talker.

I’m a gal who likes to gab normally, but add a few martinis and instantly I have an opinion on everything. As the rounds keep coming, I feel that every idea, every thought, every memory deserves it’s moment to be discussed over tables sticky with drink spills and smudged with fingerprints. This is why I do not work for the C.I.A. . It is also why I abhor technology.

Because suddenly, the party is over and while struggling out of the nights outfit, I realize that I’m frustrated. I have so much more to say. And in the haze that comes with a late night, minimal food and a fountain of drinks so sweet they hurt my teeth, I realize that I MISS people. And every reason I’ve given myself to explain why I shouldn’t miss them, melts away like the ice left in my drink glass.

So, I make the mistake that girls everywhere have made since technology changed how easy it is to communicate. I use the power of the cell phone, the text message, the email account. I tell them what I couldn’t say, what I didn’t realize that I even wanted to say. Not in so many words of course. Because, although I’m full of liquid courage, I’m not an idiot. To come right out and say I miss you is not in my plan. But I realize as I dial the number, text the message, click the mouse, that they know me well enough to know what I say between the words that I hand out to them.

It’s funny, in these moments that you are only thinking of yourself. Of what YOU are going to say, how YOU are feeling, what YOU miss. You never consider what they might say. How your words that you throw together and they decode, can affect THEM.

It isn’t until I hear from them that I fully become aware of two undeniable truths. That even at 2am my words have meaning, and their greatest meaning comes from those who find it laced in my casual hellos. And secondly, the only thing that hurts more than an angry reply, is a sweet one. That causes me to question everything I’ve told myself I know.

Consequences indeed.

When your doctor asks if you’ve had a mammogram, he means a real one. Performed by an actual physician. That time that you got caught up trying to close the 16 foot ladder and accidentally self administered your own version apparently doesn’t count.

Just remembering that day makes me shrudder. Approach ladders with caution ladies- they can be your friend, or your foe.

There’s a new 4- letter f word that I’m starting to find pretty damn offensive (more offensive even than the dreaded “c” word). I hear it at work, I hear it at home, I hear it from my friends and from my family.  I’ve heard my grandfather use it, my old boss use it, and it’s even sprung up in the classroom. Even Oprah says it. It’s always in magazines, the topic of books and a few days ago I even heard people openly talking about it at the grocery store.

The word that’s got everyone all worked up is- fate.

Fate is defined as “the predetermined course of events considered to be beyond human control”. The term we now use today coming from Greek mythology, where three goddesses named the Fates determined human life and destiny, and more accurately, how well and long a man lived. (I stopped feeling the ’sister power!’ when the Fates started power tripping on every poor soul that walked by in their toga and ended his/her life just because the person didn’t pray before going to the sea. Hello? People get busy.)

Besides the obvious problems I have with the fact that I consider myself a free person and it’s hard to feel ‘free’ when things aren’t completely in your control. I like thinking that my life isn’t planned, -that if I decided to move to Utah tomorrow that the big G isn’t going to do that annoying ”I told you so” nod to St. Peter like they both knew my move was in the cards all along. I am frustrated at how fate is defined as what is beyond ‘human control’. It just makes me wonder, how much control does a human have?

If I sleep in, lose my job and then spend my days wandering aimlessly through secondhand book shops and then fall in love with a dashing young lad who sells me cheap copies of chick lit I’m too smart to be reading the Classics- who was in charge? Was I in control of when I went to the bookstore, or was it planned by the man upstairs? Was I in control of the stores I went to, or was that also determined before I got out of bed that morning? If I would have went at any different time, would I have met the same man? Or would I have went home alone, watched bad Lifetime television and become amazed by Traci Gold’s acting skills?  In what situation can a person exert control over their own life and claim it as their own and not fate? How do you know what achievements are yours by your own doing and what’s already been decided for you?

And if any of you tell me the answers to this, was that planned to? Or was my writing completely my own idea?

Fate boggles my mind.

(And on a completely different note: The much anticipated baby Anna has arrived!! Head over here and to say congratulations!)

Because my brain can’t focus on one idea today I’m giving you 10 random thoughts.

1. Egan is going to have a baby. Well, his wife is. Soon. Like, maybe today. So go read the updates because it’s addicting to watch this happy family grow. Addicting like crack, except way more healthy. Like, trail mix- the good kind that has smarties in it. Oh wait, you Americans don’t have smarties do you? For shame!

2. There have been some recent posts that have knocked my socks off. These include (but of course are not limited to): This ditty from E.b’s World, this one from Jurgen Nation, and a unique post about shoes from Spotlight on Greatness. The lovely Bre has recently posted something that I can relate to (but she articulated it in a way I never could!) . Pink Cereal and Raspberries has started a “Real World Wednesdays” that looks at actual ISSUES going on in the world today. A brilliant idea and this was the most recent one that I think should be shared. Oh, and if you need to have a good cry, go to Dead Man’s Honda and watch this. Want to laugh? Read anything here.

3. Airam has started a book blog: Called Book Me In. Come! Join! Revel in her first review!

4. I’m in love with Jamie Oliver. There. I said it. Like, I love him more than my grandparents. Maybe it’s the hair? The accent? The fact the man can cook?

5.  I’m pretty sure I would be an amazing golf player if I ever took it up. Does anyone else have that feeling? That they just think they would be naturally inclined to really rock at something if they ever started doing it? For me it’s golf. And being a rockstar.

6. I’m watching Big Brother. There I said it.  And I’m loving every second of it. (Is it weird that I miss Will?)

7.  Phrase of the weekend? “Dance it out” Thanks Brookem.

Okay I’m only doing 7 things. Why? Because it’s Friday, I don’t have the attention span for ten and because I make the rules around here and I break the rules around here suckers. Whoa. I have a lot of energy. Perhaps I will go see if Pink wants to time me…

MY BIRTHDAY! is in 19 days.