And this song is called “I really know how to work the link” August 29, 2008
Posted by brandy in Q & A, advice, and now you might know everything, blogs, brookem is awesome!, confession of the day, i hate it when i blog about blogging, i post dated this mofo!, it makes sense to me, it's almost like a meme, lists, seriously, so egan will LOVE this, thanks for the heads up Ally!, the title says it all, the world according to me, you're skimming this one.53 comments
Confession: I really didn’t get blogging when I started. In fact, I thought I was going to hate it. In fact, sometimes I did hate it. It seemed like something pretentious people did after talking about obscure bands I wouldn’t hear about for another two years. In fact, I was so obnoxious that I even said something like that in my very first post. Oy.
Confession: The very first blog I ever read was This Fish. I have no idea how I found it, I just remember reading the entire history of archives over the course of two days, amazed at how someone was willing to put it all out there- a diary that you could scroll through. After that, I found the Holy Grail of Blogging Goodness. I found Dooce. And Dooce? Oh. I loved. I love. Still. There are days I save her posts for last like a dessert I know that will leave me satisfied. And there are times I devour them first, knowing that they will make me laugh in a way I immediately need.
Confession: The first blogger who ever linked to me was Bre, from “Win or Lose, We Go Shopping!”. I suppose it’s silly to have that be such a standout moment, but I just remember being so happy to know that someone else was reading what I was saying. To know that my words- although my own, were being read by someone else. It didn’t make them more important, but it did make them feel more real.
Confession: One of the first blogs I read daily was Sizzle and I was so scared to comment. I would read it, soak up all the words and tip toe away. Anyone who got over 40 comments on a blog post just… scared the hell out of me. She’s a great writer and I just felt so overwhelmed when I would go to her blog with it’s witty bon mots and gazillion comments. It took me months to work up the courage to leave my views. (And for the record, I worked up the courage by getting drunk on gin and sex. Seriously, I found that not reading everyone else’s comments helped, because then I wasn’t comparing myself to everyone and trying to think of saying something that sounded different from anyone else. And yes, this took me months to do. I console myself with the fact I was in accelerated classes in elementary school.)
Confession: One of the things I’ve learned is that my favourite parts about blogging have really little to do with blogging. I like thinking about how exciting it was when Egan became a dad or the conversations Brookem and I have about men (if only you saw some of the someecards we send each other…). I love E.b’s photos and the way Ally always makes me stop to think of what I’m grateful for. I’m excited to have a world with the letters “Jurg” back in it.
Confession: I really do love writing. More than I show in my posts that lately have turned into a meme/political hybrid complete with excessive exclamation points and riddled with half finished thoughts. I blame Twitter. Or John McCain. Actually, I blame those two on everything wrong in my world. I’m kidding. Please don’t send hate mail. Oh! Speaking of…
Confession: The more strongly I feel about the post, the more likely I’m to get hate email. And the more hate email I get, the more likely I am to write what I want. To just, you know, annoy people who tell me I’m going to Hell. (And on that note, that declaration loses it’s power after you’ve told me more than once. After the second time it loses it’s zing. After the third time? I consider it a relief. Because if you’ve emailed a stranger THAT many times to rant and condemn them to an eternity in Hell, I consider your judgment skewed and view your version of “Hell” as a place I would want to be. Because you know, I wouldn’t be there with you.)
Confession: I got an email asking me “how can I get more comments?”, and that I don’t know. I think blogging, is largely luck in terms of readership. Sometimes I will stumble upon a new blog and will be shocked to see a post receive 200+ comments. Then, I will read a magnificent piece of writing that has no comments. I have so many favorite blogs who I think everyone should be reading. They are like gems I almost don’t want to share- I want to hoard them all for myself, but I will because sharing is caring. Some of them are: My pen ran out of ink, Writes of Spring, Elisabeth Writes, Hope Dies Last, Que Sara Sara! and Speaking Of.
Confession: Sometimes (despite the tag) I don’t hate blogging about blogging. I don’t hate it at all.
So let’s go all Barbara Walters and tell me: What’s your favorite part about blogging? What don’t you like about blogging? What’s a secret gem of a blog you are reading and want to share? Who was the first blogger you read?
What I will remember for the next 67 days August 28, 2008
Posted by brandy in AHHHHHHHHHHH!, fingers crossed this works, happiness, i love fragment sentences, it makes sense to me, it's ironic because I'm Canadian, learning, politics, quote of the day, something I won't forget.40 comments
“You know, I’ve been criticized for saying he inspires me. To hell with my critics” – Chris Matthews
All the rest is here. And it’s brilliant.
Update: PALIN???? That’s ridiculous.
What would you have done? August 27, 2008
Posted by brandy in AGGRESSIVE eye rolling makes me mad, MY BIRTHDAY, family, oh look! i have opinions., proof i attract crazy, question of the day, seriously, sometimes i get violent, these are the things that happen to me, what the hell, when i ask you to do things for me.114 comments
I was going to let this slide, but I think you all are the perfect people to discuss this with.
Last week my birthday dinner was horrible. I went out for my party on Saturday, but on the Friday- my mom, brother and I went out for dinner. Here is what happened:
- Our server rolled her eyes when we asked for menus. Because clearly, I should have the mind powers that let me visualize everything on the menu. Oh, and given her impatience with the few minutes it took us to think about what we want, I apparently should also know what I want to order before entering the restaurant.
- I explained I had a wheat allergy and asked if I could get my salad without croutons. She said “of course”, as though I had asked if the place served food at all. My salad came with croutons.
- After we were done our salads, I thought I would avoid her turning into the Hulk if I stacked our salad plates/forks so it would be easier for her to take when she came back. She came back and said ‘Well, you are going to need to keep your forks”. At this point we had no idea who’s fork was who’s and none of us were wanting to take a chance and guess (my brother is really sick right now and besides not wanting his obvious boy germs, I did not want his sick germs). She rolls her eyes again when we ask if we can just get new forks.
- She brings the forks and THROWS them at the table. I’m not kidding. I had to use football catching skills to grab my fork before it fell off the table.
- We never get our drinks.
- We never get our appetizers.
- When our meal does arrive, mine is fine. My mom’s is cold and my brother’s manages to be both burnt AND cold. I have never seen my brother refuse to eat a meal (he’s like a human garborater) but he really can’t choke this down so he tells our waitress. She gives him a look that could kill Voldemort himself. And takes his plate away without asking him if he wants anything else. Of course, she needs to roll her eyes. Again.
- We still have no drinks.
- We get the bill and there are the appetizers on the bill that we didn’t get. I tell her we didn’t get them and she rolls her eyes and acts like she doesn’t believe me. As though my family is willing to pay $100 on dinner but only if we sneak bruschetta and spinach dip in our purse. My mom is mortified and thinks we should just pay it so we can leave. I refuse. It gets taken off the bill.
Our bill comes to $82.00 and my mom leaves a $100 on the table and is trying to usher us out before we can do something else that will offend our (clearly insane) waitress. I balk and say I want to speak to her manager (my birthday has put me into a mood of importance and I feel like I need to stand up to this bully). I DO talk to the manager who sticks up for the server telling me that ’she’s been busy’. I explain that I understand this (as I look around at the half empty restaurant) but that I’ve never had worse service and that my family was so uncomfortable that we couldn’t wait to leave. She stares at me. I pay the bill and leave without putting down a tip.
That’s right. I didn’t leave a tip. (Or, technically.. my mom didn’t leave a tip since it was her money). I ALWAYS leave a tip (especially if I’m paying with other people’s money). I’ve had too many friends work as servers that leaving a tip just was never an idea that crossed my mind. But I was mad. I was mad that she was rude to my family, that she could not come to our table without AGGRESSIVE eye rolling and that she ruined my birthday dinner. So I left no tip.
Today I told my mom that I didn’t leave a tip with her money (she never counted back what I gave her to see if I did or not) and she thinks that is wrong. She thinks that all service requires a tip, even if it’s just 10% because they get paid so little hourly. Most of the times I agree, but not this time. I tell you readers, it would have hurt my soul to leave a dime for this woman.
So what would you have done? Tip or no tip? Or would you have been so busy thinking about slashing this servers tires that you wouldn’t have time to think of any tip business at all?
In which I relate Joe Biden to peanut butter August 25, 2008
Posted by brandy in AHHHHHHHHHHH!, Bill Schneider wears a lot of funny hats, because US health care makes me sad, cnn makes my heart beat fast, confession of the day, hello universe? I love you, i know- we all LOVE him, i may write about the west wing forever, i wish i was a Kennedy, it's ironic because I'm Canadian, it's okay- you can skim this one, lists, people i like, politics, pretty hair makes me happier, the one that nobody reads because of the title, you're skimming this one.47 comments
Between the Olympics and the Democratic National Convention my nerves are shot. I went from cheering for Jamaican runners to standing on my couch clapping for Ted Kennedy. My eyes are red, my heart is racing and I’m starting to think that it might not be my liver hurting me, but an ulcer.
Here are some recent thoughts…
1. J asked what I thought about Joe Biden. I like him. I like any candidate who has a life story that could be made into a Lifetime television event,- and he has it. Plus, he married a teacher. And I got to give props for that.
2. I’m kidding. I actually like Biden for other reasons as well as his dramatic life experiences. I like that he evens out what Obama was lacking in terms of years of experience. I also like that he’s got a solid voting background and is well regarded by Hillary so she can’t go shit crazy that he got picked. Plus, he’s got an amazing set of chompers.
3. Ted Kennedy needs his face on a coin or something. That man is pretty remarkable. The dude has brain cancer, his doctor and wife BOTH tell him not to go to Denver and yet he still comes. And his speech gave my heart a boner.
4. Was that last line inappropriate? I’m sorry.
5. Michelle Obama rocked a great speech too. I was actually far more impressed with her than I thought I was going to be. And when she talked about her dad? Oh Lord. I should have wore a life jacket for all the tears I was swimming in.
6. Maria Shriver HAS MY DREAM HAIR. No, I’m not even kidding. If you asked me if I wanted Jennifer Anistons hair (who seems like she’s the ‘dream hair standard’) or Shriver’s, I wouldn’t even blink. Kennedy hair looks like it curls so nicely.
7. My only gripe is that if you are watching on CNN there’s A LOT of downtime between major speeches. Like, there was a few HOURS I could have done without. It would definitely play well to the audiences who are only watching an hour of it in prime time, but why would someone do that when they could get 6 hours of watching Democrats in crazy hats dance like it’s 1982?
8. Holy shit. I watched 6 hours of television today.
I really wasn’t going to do this. But then youtube fate stepped in and showed me this clip and suddenly, well not sharing this just seemed wrong. The only thing that would make this better would be if Larry King was out and Ryan Gosling did the interview. In a toga.
It’s TOBY TALKING ABOUT POLITICS! (And I giggle thinking of how many of you DO NOT CARE about TOBY, but it’s impossible to hid my excitement). TOBY FROM THE WEST WING. This reminds me of that time my friend introduced me to peanut butter ice cream. Combining my two loves, peanut butter AND ice cream into one great flavor explosion goes down as the second greatest day of my life.
Because naturally, finding this clip today has made TODAY THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE.
Exactly what this Monday needs August 24, 2008
Posted by brandy in Josh Lyman needs his own tag, and now you might know everything, family, games we play, genius, house fire incident of 2005, i may write about the west wing forever, let's not talk about how long this took, lists, so egan will LOVE this, tequila consequences, the title says it all, you're skimming this one.34 comments
Someone tagged me for this but I didn’t keep track of who. So, if you were the lovely lady (or lad) who did- let me know and I will link to you and give you all the credit you deserve. Because of you the world will know exactly why I dislike snakes.
I’m not feeling 100% today, (check out the letter “R” for a better understanding of why) so I’m phoning it in with a meme. Let’s still be friends though okay?
A. Attached or Single? Single. Because Josh Lyman won’t return my calls.
B. Best Friend? I feel lucky to say that I have more than one. (And no- I’m not counting Josh Lyman in this).
C. Cake or pie? Both our filled with gluten (and therefore banned from my life until some scientist stops being lazy and develops a gluten-aid tablet. Something similar to a lactaid that all those *wussy lactose intolerant people have), but if I went all crazy and got to choose? I would definitely chose pie. The crust! Oh the crust.
D. Day of choice? Thursday. I know everyone loves Friday and Saturday.. but Thursdays just seem like they have more potential. They are like the Casey Affleck of weekdays.
E. Essential item? I’m someone who has many essential items. I blame the housefire of 2005 for making me this way. If I had to chose a few… my new sunglasses (I do love that I start out with something so ESSENTIAL), my passport, photos, my library card, my brown newspaper boy cap, my West Wing DVD’s and crystal light.
F. Favorite color? Yellow. Which surprises people. (Whenever you know, I meet new people and we go all Barbra Walters on each other and pull out the tough questions like ‘what your favorite color?’). People always assume that it’s pink.
G. Gummy bears or worms? Bears. I like chewing their heads off.
H. Hometown? I’m pulling an OBAMA! and declaring myself a citizen of the world.
I. Favorite indulgence? Over-priced, phone book like fashion magazines. Nail polish with clever names. Trips that involve passport stamping.
J. January or July? July. Must I remind you what January was like this year?
K. Kids? The way this question was worded reminds me of my grandmother. No real… sweet lead-up to it at all. Just.. kids? She used to do this about relationships too, just walk up to be and throw out “single?” and then when I answered “yes”, she would look horrified as though I just admitted to voting Conservative or not liking plaid. I’m sure if I looked closely I could see all the unborn grandchildren she wasn’t getting from me reflected in her tears.
L. Life isn’t complete without? Passion, kettle corn and dancing shoes.
M. Marriage date? Dude. I didn’t even take a date to my friends wedding. But thanks for rubbing it in.
N. Number of brothers and sisters? One younger brother. Who is a constant source of awesomeness. This was re-confirmed today when we sent an entire conversations worth of text messages all relating to old school WWE wrestlers. (Sidenote: This is how genius my brother is: He’s decided he’s going to invent a peanut butter jar that has a lid at each end. That way when you get to the bottom of the jar, instead of having to dig with the knife and get peanut butter on your hands, you can just flip it over and open it from the other side. We may not have Nobel winners in our family but we are thinkers when it comes to peanut butter).
O. Oranges or Apples? Oranges.
P. Phobias? I have all the generic ones- spiders, mice, snakes, Steven Seagal … the snake one really got hammered home in junior high when my best friend would force me to watch her snake eat mice. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more scary than seeing a snake strangle a mouse and then gobble it up.
Q. Quotes?
“Do something today which the world may talk of here after”- Admiral Collingwood
“I used to be Snow White, but I drifted”- Mae West
“I have learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances”.- Martha Washington
R. Reasons to smile? Today I woke up on the bathroom floor with a (fake) tattoo necklace soft and gummy sticking to the floor. I smelled of tequila and lost opportunities and I was fairly certain a woodpecker had inserted itself into my skull and I was never going to be happy again. Knowing that I will never have that moment again (it would just be impossible to find the same tattoo necklace) is reason enough to a) smile and b) continue breathing. Also? The fact that I have friends who know me well enough to buy me an entire fake tattoo jewelry set for my birthday is a reason not only to smile but to gleefully shout from the rooftops “I love you universe!”.
S. Season of choice? I always love what I’m not experiencing (this sadly does not relate just to seasons). So because it’s summer, I’m really digging fall. I suspect the introduction of argyle everywhere has led me to this new love.
T. Tag 5 people: Anyone who hates Mondays. Anyone who has more than 4 letters in their first name. Anyone who actually just counted the letters in their name.
U. Unknown fact about me? I lay out my clothes the night before. My mom did this with me when I was really little and it just stuck. Even now, if I go to bed without knowing what I’m going to wear the next day, my brain goes into overdrive and sleep will then become impossible. Also… I probably post about 20% of what I actually write. The rest sits in the land of “drafts” never to be read or seen.
V. Vegetable? Spinach. It’s great with everything, just like gin. (And even though I told my liver that was a joke, it still karate chopped my insides when I typed that. Apparently my birthday drinking will have a lasting impact).
W. Worst habit? Other than the pesky heroin addiction? I would have to say making jokes that people may not know are jokes, which then result in me looking awful, or you know… like a drug addict. Also, if I’m within 100 meters of a can of cashews, there’s a good chance I will eat them all. And not share. Oh, and I love fragment sentences.
X. X-ray or Ultrasound? I’m a fan of the X-ray. It just seems cooler.
Y. Your favorite food? Anything that involves copious amounts of salt. Oh, and I’m a big fan of nectarines.
Z. Zodiac sign? Leo. Which apparently makes me some sort of crazed attention seeking whore who likes zebra print and bossing everyone around. Sounds about right.
* I’m kidding. You aren’t wussy. In fact, I love milk so much that I look at you all in a state of wonder and awe. A milk free existence? You have my respect.
Just one more thing I have in common with Norman Schwarzkopf August 22, 2008
Posted by brandy in AHHHHHHHHHHH!, I stayed up till midnight to post this, MY BIRTHDAY.62 comments
Other than the fact that we have matching facial expressions when we find Sephora doesn’t carry our favorite lip gloss:
Stormin' Norman looks ready to Par-tay
… we share a birthday! Today!
Tell me- if you could blow out my candles (why does that sound so filthy?) and have your wish granted, what would you wish for?
(to see what other dreamboat shares my birthday, click here)
And to everyone who read the last post and emailed or tweeted or called or texted or facebook messaged or just sent good wishes via a psychic mind meld … thank you. Those words are too small to express how I feel but they are the best that I have. I hope your thoughtful acts will be returned to you in many ways, perhaps no spam emails for the rest of your life or perhaps you will get stuck in an elevator with a single and shirtless man of your choosing. (Perhaps Norman Schwarzkopf if you are so inclined).
What I said to the 17 strangers who watched me do the ugly cry August 21, 2008
Posted by brandy in the title says it all.comments closed
I really don’t even know how to start this.
Do I start by telling you how absolutely mortifying today was? Do I attempt to explain how defeated I’m currently feeling? How every conversation today has been had with watery eyes?
I’ll start where it all starts to unravel. I will start at the beginning.
Today I was at a hockey arena. My mom puts on sports camps and although her prices are fair, she knows a lot of kids can’t afford to come to extra events like weekend tournaments. I had volunteered to sit at a table and talk to parents who were interested and ease their fears about paying (I would say about 1/5th of my mom’s participants do not pay because they can’t afford to) and encourage them to sign up and then tell them that my mom would call them about payment options (or in most cases, no payment opportunities). So, I was sitting there today with 17 people in line when Sam showed up.
My friend Sam was the one who had talked to the principal. She’s an ex-teacher, now a stay at home mom who teaches wellness classes (her child is currently in my mom’s sports camp, which explains why she was in the building) . She’s one of those people who leave you wanting to be a better person, who talks of ‘intent’ and the ‘universe’ and ‘positive thought’. If I could describe her in one word, it would be radiant. She told me today that she had found out that the vice principals niece got the job I applied for. That the girl didn’t have to have an interview and that she has no teaching experience.
I’m not proud to admit this, but I started to cry.
I told Sam that I was thankful for her telling me why I didn’t get the job, and that I would talk to her later. She looked at me, looked at the 17 people in line and said
“They can wait. This is important.”
I was tapping my foot and chewing my nails, trying to push the tears back inside. I just felt (feel) incredibly… frustrated. Defeated. Mostly, I felt tired. I knew that I wasn’t guaranteed the job, but I thought I was guaranteed a chance. And it didn’t feel like I got that.
Sam sat down beside me and told me that it’s important to separate fact from feeling. That the facts are:
1. Teaching is political. It’s one of the most political jobs out there.
2. Politics stink.
3. Not getting the job doesn’t affect my birthday, my family, my friends. All of that still stays and should still be celebrated despite this (I think she had talked to my mom who might have mentioned my deep seated fear of being unemployed on my birthday)
4. Not getting this job isn’t a reflection of the teacher I am. It’s not. It’s not. It’s not.
And then she said what caused the flood gates to open. She told me, ” I’m not going to tell you that it wasn’t the right job for you, or that it wasn’t meant to be. I’m not going to tell you anything about fate or chance or seeing the silver lining. Because I know you know those things. And I know right now you don’t give a shit about any of that. You are so sad right now it’s breaking my heart so I will just tell you, as an ex-teacher, I know how frustrated you are and I’m sorry. And it will get better. It will.”
Maybe it’s because I’m overtired or maybe it’s because I’m just a girl who really expects things to always work out, but I’m just.. really… sad actually. Which is not usually an emotion that I identify with- I’m usually excited or enraged, feelings that require more effort but today I’m too tired to be anything else. It’s exhausting hoping so hard for something, for telling everyone about it, for ‘putting it out there’, for finger crossing and wishful thinking. I’m just too tired today.
And so I fell apart. I fell apart because I feel silly I got excited about it. I feel silly that I told people- I told you all, that I thought I had a chance. I fell apart because I had allowed myself to believe that I would get it. I cried the tears you only cry when you are sure that no one is looking. Except that they were looking- the 17 people in line (and I know that there was 17 people because I counted them all while crying). After Sam left (not before her 9 year old son and 4 year old daughter both hugged me and told me “You are good”), I turned to the 17 people in line and said the first thing that came into my head:
” It’s my birthday tomorrow”.
As though that explained the tears.
Thankfully, no one asked questions though each one told me “happy birthday”.
17 people wished me a great birthday tomorrow.
At least today, I have that.
Things I plan on not saying (Or, one more reason David makes me sweat) August 19, 2008
Posted by brandy in AHHHHHHHHHHH!, Annie Lebowitz is so jealous, and now you might know everything, brookem is awesome!, confession of the day, i can't believe i said that, i know- we all LOVE him, i like scotch & table dancing, i post dated this mofo!, i wish i was water, it seemed like a good idea at the time..., it's a long one (twss), lists, love or something like it, men, oh look! i have opinions., politics, school, teaching, the world according to me, top 10, wasting time, when i say it anyway, you're skimming this one.38 comments
So first of all, thank you for all your well-wishes and crossed fingers/toes/internal organs regarding the job situation. It feels so nice to know that people all over the world (mostly the Mid-West US, but with a smattering of dedicated Russian subscribers who I suspect read solely for vodka references) are rooting for me. I will let you know how it goes. In fact, you will know if I get the job because I will probably write up some subtle post titled ” OMIGOD I GOT THE JOB WHHHHHHEEEEEEE!”, and if I don’t get the job, you won’t hear from me until next week when I awake from my self medicated depression reducing tequila haze.
The one thing that’s never really bothered me about the job search is the interview process. I get nervous thinking about what to wear (what looks like I’m trying to hard? And what’s wrong with trying hard anyway? I mean, isn’t that a good message to send to a possible boss? I’m working hard here, even in the shoes department because I want this job so badly?) but as to what to say? Not so much. This is mostly because I’ve inherited my mom’s gene that allows me to talk confidently at length on any subject. Especially those I know nothing about.
Although tomorrow, the topic will be one that I know something about- Me. Specifically, what makes me the person for the job. This is where I run into a bit of a problem. I might have a self esteem issue- meaning… I think sometimes my self esteem might be too high. As in- I worry that when asked
“Why are you the right person for this job?”
I may reply, ” I’m the only person who is really capable for this job. I mean, look at my resume, it’s outstanding and perfectly tailored for this. If you pick someone else, it will be a big mistake. Huge.”
This will be followed by an awkward silence where I count paper clips on his desk and wonder if he notices I pulled out some Pretty Woman talk (because quoting a hooker is always a good way to get the job), while he stares at me and ponders how such a big ego can fit into such a short person.
This is where things are tricky- though I’m not nervous to speak in interviews (in fact, I enjoy them because where else do you just get to talk about yourself and your accomplishments for long periods of time?), I worry about those other things that might spill out. The hooker quotes. My love for tequila and afternoon naps. What I want to do with David Duchovony. You see? Dangerous. So I’m going to tell you instead.
Here’s a list of 10 other things I may say during the interview that I’d rather not. (aka. My list of shameful confessions that I’m going to release to the internet similar to those who release a white dove on a wedding day. Except I’m not getting married and these confessions are not birds who probably have better things to do)
1. I read Oprah magazine. Regularly. And I enjoy it. Speaking of, Tea Leoni is in this months issue (p.228 ) and discusses how David came thisclose to finishing his PhD in English literature.
2. The news about David and his love of English literature made me actually swoon out loud. And clutch my heart (which, had momentarily stopped because David= amazing, David+the idea of his educated hands caressing the spine of fine works of literature= cardiac arrest of the best kind). I’m not kidding. I will think of this for the rest of my life and be forever changed.
3. I’ve given this much thought and I believe that the world would be a far happier place (ie. no war/starvation/need for “Intervention” the scary television show) if everyone got laid on regular basis.
4. I watch the Morgan Freeman commercials everyday on Youtube and everyday I cry. (I don’t even have the time to explain what the hell is wrong with this…)
5. Sometimes, I will lick potato chips but not eat them. And then, I throw all the soggy chips into the garbage. I don’t do this because I have a weird food fetish, sometimes I just don’t want the chip.
6. I brush my teeth in the shower.
7. I lose my phone so often it’s embarrassing. Not “oh, that’s cute and you’re so silly!”, but in a “holy shit, let’s velcro it to your body because no one can ever get a hold of you” way that’s not endearing but annoying as hell. (Just ask Brookem)
8. As much as I’m trying to control this, I get really irrationally level 10 annoyed/angry when I hear women who are going to vote for McCain. I can’t even really articulate the anger I feel about it, and I’m sure if I attempted it here, my hate mail would at least double and hate mail is lame enough as it is. For real.
9. I don’t like cats. (And saying this here makes me nervous. Like I’m saying ” I beat children” or “I support the making of high-waisted, tapered, pleated, acid wash jeans”.)
10. I’m just putting this photo up again so I can use the tag I made when I put it up the first time. And because, let’s face it. The picture does it for me in ways I suspect no other image found on the computer can.
I get love drunk off his humps smoldering gaze.
And for the record, the above sentence is definitely #11 on the list of things I plan on not saying.
7 vs. 27 August 19, 2008
Posted by brandy in AHHHHHHHHHHH!, MY BIRTHDAY, and now you might know everything, beauty can get ugly, confession of the day, family, find the dorkiest sentence in this, happiness, if you're shallow and you know it clap your hands!, sigh. i've made a tag for THE HILLS., this makes me sound dumber than i am.39 comments
I’m walking the fine line between being 27 years old and feeling like I’m 7 years old.
It’s my 27th birthday on Friday and it’s circled on my calendar= 27 years old
- with pink crayon= 7 years old
I’m finding it hard to get excited for my birthday this year= 27 years old
- but I keep telling people about it= 7 years old
I’ve asked for an old school pink bike, complete with basket = 7 years old
I’m thinking of getting warranty for it= 27 years old
I jumped up and down when I overheard my mom ordering it= 7 years old
I’ve already (partially) celebrated my birthday last week with sangria and gambling= 27 years old
- and sack races= 7 years old
I think I want to celebrate with a sleepover= 7 years old
- with someone completely inappropriate= 27 years old
I got a birthday card in the mail from my grandfather= 27 years old
- that had stickers on it= 7 years old
I don’t care about birthday cake= 27 years old
- but I still need to want to blow out candles = 7 years old
This might be the only birthday post I write this year if the tides of 27 don’t change. Which is a HUGE difference from last year in which I wrote out my birthday wish list almost a month before my birthday and then had roughly 4.7 billion posts leading up and then later describing my birthday fun. Perhaps I swallowed a boring pill this year?
Are you all “hooray it’s my birthday, let’s play white Russian roulette!!” person or a “let’s draw the curtains and spend the day watching *THE HILLS instead of partying” person?
* Speaking of The Hills (yes, I have to go there), Lo and Spencer should just get married. Then they can be miserable together and Spencer can spend his days attempting to grow facial hair and Lo can continue to practice disguising her meanness in that annoying baby talk complete with doe-eyed stare. The sickening thought is I would probably watch that show. And eat it up like candy. Candy laced with crack. Sigh. I have a reality television problem.
Today I put out August 18, 2008
Posted by brandy in I'm scared to see the search engine results to this, I'm yoda. Everyone else is a grasshopper, confession of the day, friends, hello universe? I love you, i think this would make her proud, it makes sense to me, it's a long one (twss), learning, these are the things that happen to me, this is where I grew up, this tag is for you Arm!, when I go all Dr. Phil on you, when i ask you to do things for me, you're skimming this one.39 comments
When I was in the seventh grade, my friends mom chased me around the house with an electric shock brush.
My friend (let’s call her Victoria), came from a very new- age family. Their house was home to crystals that stood taller than me, dream catchers, a hypnosis room, prayer beads, meditation mats and enough books on new age healing and psychology that I could have paper mached the Empire State building with them. In short, it was 100% different from my home in every way. And some days I loved it (when Victoria’s mom introduced me to reiki), and some days it scared me (the day I was chased with the electric shock brush that apparently would cure my headache).
One of my most memorable days with Victoria’s mom (other than the time she lectured us on stealing her cooking wine and drinking it on a trampoline) was the day she showed me the power of “putting it out there”. She was always talking to Victoria and I, encouraging us to make lists of what we wanted, to draw pictures, tell people, say it before going to sleep. (We usually scoffed because the last thing I thought about before going to sleep wasn’t going to be a wish to the universe for a better science mark- it was going to involve a personal fantasy that included Johnathan Taylor Thomas). One day she told us she was going to put it out there for the universe and we would see how powerful the world was. She told us she had been actively thinking about what she wanted that day and she wrote down what she wanted on a piece of paper. Then she folded it up, gave it to Victoria and told Victoria she could only open it when she told her she could. We rolled our eyes and went back to eating an entire box of cereal.
The day progressed and Victoria’s mom announced she wanted to go the mall. Specifically, she needed to go the pharmacy in the mall to pick up a prescription for Victoria’s brother. It was a few days before Christmas and Victoria and I agreed to go with her to finish our Christmas shopping (this is when I was still young enough that I enjoyed holiday shopping and didn’t hate people). While we were driving into the city, Victoria and I complained about how we had wore the wrong shoes and how wet our feet were going to get from snow trudging in the parking lot to the main doors. We knew it was going to be impossible to find a great parking spot and moaned about the fact that there was no cool winter boots for Canadian girls (there still isn’t by the way).
What I remember from the trip is Victoria’s mom not speaking. She would smile if we said something funny, but she stayed quiet the entire trip. We got to the mall and Victoria’s mom didn’t even glance at any of the last remaining parking spots near the rear of the mall parking lot- though Victoria and I screamed them to her, but drove straight towards the main entrance, that was right beside the pharmacy. And there was a perfect spot. Not only was it perfect because there was no car in it, but all the snow around it was gone. As though the snow had fallen everywhere but in that spot. Victoria and I cheered at the idea of not having to trudge through 800 miles of parking lot or get our feet wet. Victoria’s mom turned to Victoria and told her ” Okay, now you can open the paper”.
Victoria unfolded the piece of paper we had forgotten about to read her mom’s writing: “Today I will park at the closest entrance possible at the mall and there will be no snow”.
In hindsight, it should have been a bigger deal. Her mom had wrote down hours before what she wanted, and it had come true. Victoria and I both were quiet, proclaimed her mom magic and then went in to shop. But I think back on that day and realize that her mom was showing me something bigger than I could grasp, but I could thankfully remember. Who knows, maybe it was luck or chance or fate- or any of the other words we use when we can’t prove what we’ve seen. Or maybe it wasn’t- maybe it was an answer to what her mom had asked.
I thought of this today as I (once again!) applied for a teaching job. It’s at a dream school- two blocks from where I live. I had wrote down what I wanted, thought about what I wanted and proceeded to tell everyone what I wanted. I told a friend what I wanted and she told me that she was actually great friends with the principal, -of the school I applied to. She’s made a call and I’m supposed to call the principal on Wednesday, but apparently ‘things look good’.
Maybe I won’t get the job, maybe Victoria’s mom just got lucky, – or maybe not. It may be silly or flighty but today I’d rather believe that it’s possible to get exactly what you ask for, if you have the guts and clarity to ask for it. Today I put out into the universe what I wanted and Wednesday I will know if the universe heard me.
Cross your fingers.
