Monthly Archives: February 2011

People On Facebook I Wish I Was Like

I’m not quite who I want to be yet.  I’m darn close, but I’m not who I want to be.  And as I was looking at Facebook tonight, I was thinking about the things I wish I could be from each of my friends.

So mini-tributes to my lovely people who I aspire to be like (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER–AND IF YOU’RE NOT IN HERE, DO NOT BE OFFENDED.  I’M SAVING YOU FOR THE NEXT ROUND).  (PS, if it’s something silly, it’s probably because you’re an old friend, and chances are, I’ve already grown and learned from you.  I love you!)

1)  I want Jenny’s spirit.

2)  I want Kay’s alcohol tolerance.

3)  I want Barb’s…middle finger?  Ha ha

4)  I want Rachey’s climbing abilities.

5)  I want Monica’s strength.

6)  I want Lacey’s desire to see and understand the world.

7)  I want Harden’s ability to understand and make peace with life.

8)  I want Heidi’s snappy ass comebacks.

8)  I want Brittany’s tie to the social scene!

9)  I want Shelley’s ability to forgive.

10)  I want Hope’s ability to giggle…about EVERYTHING.

11)  I want Jessica’s hopefulness.

12)  I want Jena’s ability to turn everything into a party.

13)  I want Leta’s ability to dance in the proverbial rain.

14)  I want Aimee’s musical ability, and her laugh.

I have awesome friends.  LOVE YOU ALL!


Posted by on February 28, 2011 in Domesticity


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Losing My Cool

I don’t normally get too upset about things.  Sure, I get anxious, and pissy.  But not raging mad.

Well now I’m bordering on raging mad.



I cracked my windshield driving in PA–a semi threw a rock up.

I called Insurance Company, and they said it would be taken care of without cost to me.  Awesome.  SUPER HAPPY FACE.

Company X comes to my work, replaces the window.  I am thrilled with the convenience.

Upon moving my car after he was done, I noticed the interior or my car was badly scuffed.  I told the man who replaced my windshield.  He said, “I didn’t do that.”  Bordering on raging.

I call the man’s manager and complain (kindly, because after all, it was not the manager’s fault).  He comes to look at it.  I am thrilled with the convenience.  He says to get some estimates, that it will be paid for.

So I go to get the estimate on the interior ($424) and my parents have to come to take my car during business hours to the body shop for the damage to the paint, which will cost over $600.

I’m sorry, but they better pay for this.  And they better not let incompetent people change windshields anymore.

Now I have to find a time to take my car to get it fixed, and I also have to wait until they get back to me on ordering the parts for the interior.  Which means a lot of driving around to get stuff fixed, for something that I kept my cool about in the beginning.

Incompetency pisses me off.


Good day.

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Posted by on February 28, 2011 in Daily Happenings


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Art That I Understand

I spent the past 7 years in an artsy community, where there were “openings” at galleries, and “readings” at galleries, bars, houses.  And I will not lie–I didn’t get it.  Anyone I went to undergrad or grad school knows that I did not do one reading of my own work until the thesis readings, which were required to graduate.  I will say that I enjoyed seeing and hearing the art that my colleagues and friends created, but I will say again, I didn’t always get it.

But I found something–someone–I get.

I get Natasha Wescoat.  I get her art.  I love her art.  She won me over with her “Jeweled Trees” series in 2004, right when I starting to my second year of college, and I was looking madly for art containing trees.  As soon as I saw her paintings, I wanted to live in them.

They were everything that I thought was beautiful.  They still are.  The colors, composition, content, everything is gorgeous to me.  Natasha does everything that keeps me interested in an artist.  I can recognize her work.  I look forward to the new things that she’s doing.  And every time I look at one of her paintings, I see something different.  She also streams her painting, and nothing against Bob Ross, but this is much more interesting.

I follow Natasha on twitter, and won a free print from here.  I chose this:

I’ve actually begun building my bedroom around this painting.  So thanks for that, Natasha.  🙂


Check her out at  She’s pretty amazing.

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Posted by on February 25, 2011 in Daily Happenings


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I will go for a walk instead of post.  Because darnit, I need the air.


Happy day!

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Posted by on February 24, 2011 in Daily Happenings



“That’s all you’re buying?”

Last night, I ran to Kmart at 9:11 pm to buy one of the following items, all of which are unacceptable/embarrassing/promote odd looks when they are the only item you are purchasing.

*I know some of these from experience, and some from watching others buy them.

Single Items That Are Awkward to Purchase

A plunger




Chocolate syrup

Pregnancy test (unless you were TRYING to get pregnant 😉 )

Medicine for athlete “itch”

A teeny bopper magazine (with Bieber on it) as a 25-year-old woman

…I’m stopping this before it goes too far.

Basically, the embarrassing things to buy are digestive, medical, or sexual.  And buying them as single items (and in some cases, pairs) can certainly raise a few eyebrows.

And I’ll tell you that I bought a plunger last night.  And I made a joke about to the cashier, who was surrounded by a bunch of other workers because no one goes to Kmart anymore.

I was trying to think of things that I’m too embarrassed to by as single items, but the truth is, that there just aren’t any.  I used to get so embarrassed buying Backstreet Boy posters and magazines.  And I made my mother buy tampons until I was in college.  But anymore, there just isn’t anything that I wouldn’t step up and buy solo.

Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten cheap, and that I don’t want to spend more than I have to just to provide “check-out camouflage” (thanks Woody!).

What wouldn’t you buy as a single item?  Or maybe what wouldn’t you buy as a single item in the past?


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Posted by on February 23, 2011 in Daily Happenings, Domesticity


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Save the Men!

While women have been cast as victims, martyrs, mystics or saints, men have quietly retreated into their caves, the better to muffle emotions that fluctuate between hilarity (are these bitches crazy or what?) and rage (yes, they are and they’ve got our kids). -Kathleen Parker

Fair Warning:  This post is anti-feminist.  And no, I don’t care if you’re offended. (okay, I care now that I’ve written it.  There is nothing clear-cut about my views.  I just think people need to think things out a little bit.)

This has been a concern of mine for some time now.  Men are disappearing.  Read about it here and here.  They truly are.  There are two reasons:

1)  It has become socially acceptable. Which is such crap.  “Not so long ago, the average American man in his 20s had achieved most of the milestones of adulthood: a high-school diploma, financial independence, marriage and children. Today, most men in their 20s hang out in a novel sort of limbo, a hybrid state of semi-hormonal adolescence and responsible self-reliance. This “pre-adulthood” has much to recommend it, especially for the college-educated. But it’s time to state what has become obvious to legions of frustrated young women: It doesn’t bring out the best in men.”

True story.  Where are those men now?  Playing video games, eating Cheetos, and being promiscuous.  I mean, why would men want to grow up?  They want to be Van Wilder.  They don’t want to answer to anyone.  But it’s not reasonable.  We all have to answer to someone or something. It was fun being a kid–but it’s because you were a KID.  Men are creating more burdens for their parents by not growing up.  No, your mommy DOESN’T still want to do your laundry and bring you bacon.  She wants your wife to do it.

Which brings me to my next point.

2)  “Feminism has neutered men and deprived them of their noble, protective role in society.” This makes sense.  I do believe women should be able to vote.  I do believe they ought to be able to go to college, work, and anything else they want to do.  So long as you want to deal with this guy:

The exemplar of the modern male is the hairless, metrosexualised man and decorator boys who turn heter-osexual slobs into perfumed ponies. All of which is fine as long as we can dwell happily in the Kingdom of Starbucks, munching our biscotti and debating whether nature or nurture determines gender identity. But in the dangerous world in which we really live, it might be nice to have a few guys around who aren’t trying to juggle pedicures and highlights.

I do not want to deal with this guy.  All I’m saying is that if we all had clearly defined roles, well, maybe we wouldn’t have so many teen mothers, divorce, emotional diseases and devastation. I’m not saying these things would completely disappear, because in some instances they are unavoidable. Sometimes people have irreconcilable differences.  Some people treat each other badly.  Some people just don’t have the same goals in mind.

Taboos exist in society to keep people in line.

Stability promotes stability promotes stability.

Obligation builds character.

Reverence creates peace and respect.

Stepping down off my high horse now.


Posted by on February 22, 2011 in Domesticity


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I’m on a Boat! (Or What Your Shoes Say About YOU)

Not really…but apparently I’m preparing for it.

I bought my first pair of Sperry Top-Siders this weekend.  Kind of.  They’re on their way via (because I found a coupon code to save 15%).

I’m well aware that I should have bought these when I lived in Wilmington, but I couldn’t.  Probably because everyone else was wearing them.  Between Sperry’s and those damn Rainbow flip-flops, I just couldn’t buy into the fads.

Probably why I never owned a “Feel My Teal” t-shirt.  Blech.

But here’s what I’m pondering today:  What do your shoes say about you?  (Don’t freaking get offended.  I’m generalizing).

For instance, these Sperry’s.  The people who wear these shops at Polo and J.Crew and hang out with people who own/actually own a yacht.  They rock madras shorts, and white linen pants, RayBans, and gorgeous tans.  But they’re pompous, no doubt, and regardless of how crisp their clothes are, they cherish muddled up boat shoes.  I’m on a boat, bitch!


The work boot.  Hm.  This guys is either a trade worker, a factory worker, a construction worker–either way, he’s a hard worker.  When you’re rocking work boots, you’re probably doing manual labor or lifting heavy things.  So what does this say about the person wearing them?  Tough, for sure.  Rough neck.  Probably likes being outdoors, hunting, shooting.  You know, all that manly jazz.  But I like to think he comes home, takes his greasy boots off on the landing, grabs his wife with those strong hands and gives her a kiss before eating dinner and watching the baseball game.







The pump.  She’s worried about how good her legs look in that skirt.  For sure.  And she’s probably even more worried about the guys looking at those legs.  Oh calm down.  I love pumps.  I think they’re sexy.  And if I could wear them for more than 3 hours, I’d do it all the time.  But I always pictured the pump-wearing woman as a confident, driven business lady who knows what she wants.  That’s not such a horrible thing, is it?  Pumps.  Ha ha–they also remind me of the 1980s.  I just don’t see this going anywhere good.







The aforementioned Rainbow sandal.  Apparently the most comfortable and most overpriced flip-flop around.  I see hippies, and beach folks.  I see Wilmingtonians, mostly.  And those people are good people.  I think they’re pretty chill, pretty go with the flow Southern.  Pretty awesome.





You crazy kids with your Chucks.  I own them, too.  They just make me think of little punk rockers or Punky Brewster or rebellion or blah blah blah.  They’re sure as hell not comfortable.  So what is it about Chucks?  I have no flippin’ clue.  But I like the people that wear them most of the time.  So that’s good enough for me.







This is fun–maybe more shoes tomorrow?


Posted by on February 21, 2011 in Daily Happenings