Perfection

I can't do anything perfectly.

When I paint rooms I get paint on the ceiling and baseboards, when I clean I always forget something, when I cook, it's never quite right, when I garden it's in the wrong place, when I sing it's always slightly off-key, when I write it's never exactly what I want to say, when I speak it's always meaner than I mean.

I tend to be touchy when it comes to criticism. I already know there's something off with everything I do, therefore I feel no need to be reminded of it. I shut down pretty quickly when that happens.

Now, if you want to get all psychological you could say that my belief that everything I do is wrong could be related to low self-esteem or self-hate.

I say that's bullshit. There's nothing really wrong with how I do things, I only said there's something not quite right.

I think it's a pretty common feeling. Everyone thinks that their meatloaf, chicken noodle soup (insert homestyle recipe here) isn't as good as their mohters, that their co-workers are smarter, their father is braver, their sisters are prettier, their brothers are stronger, that marriage is healthier, that design is more creative.

It's human nature to see your flaws more easily than those of others. My challenge to myself is to turn the flaws that I see into reminders of the things that I've done.

That small lavendar smear of paint in the corner of my bedroom ceiling - proof that I'm not afraid of color and don't need stupid blue tape to paint a wall.

Those white paint drips in the back of my kitchen cabinets - proof that I can sand, strip, and repaint my kitchen cabinets by myself in 3 months.

That rickety bedside table - proof I can put something together when the instructions don't come with it.

That really great spaghetti sauce recipe - proof that I don't need to cook better than anyone, I only need to cook things differently.

That stain in the back bedroom carpet - proof that the owner before me thought that white carpet was a great idea and who is, therefore, a couple crayons short of a 12 pack.

I'll never do anything perfectly, but I'll do it anyway.

Europe in May

I've been having a bit of techno-hatred lately, so excuse the extended absence. I'll jump right in to the story.

My sister Meg did a study abroad program in Swansea, Wales starting in January. My youngest sister Myme and I decided to visit her in May. Our trip started on the 15th.

Myme drove from her small college town to my house and then I drove us to my parent's house in St. Louis, where we would be flying from. Myme and I got to the farm around 1 in the morning. We gave hugs and went to bed.

At 4 am we woke up and headed to the STL airport. We checked in, went through security, and waited for our first flight to Chicago. The plane left right on time at 7 and it was only a 45 minute hop to Chicago. The first bit of the trip was pretty uneventful, except for the Jesus freak who sat next to me.

He wouldn't shut up and kept spouting offensive things and calling people morons. I was trying to watch RuPaul's Drag Race on my iPhone but then he decided to make offensive comments about drag queens, lesbians, and Ellen Degeneres. I immediately told him about my love of drag queens and how fabulous they are. He then told me about his pregnant wife who left him over an unpaid insurance bill. She's now in Phoenix with her parents. Her parents think they need counciling but he thinks that only she needs it because she's the one with the problem, not him. I turned up the volume on my ear phones.

Myme felt a little air sick on the flight, which I am sure was only added to by the fact that them man in the seat across and up from her had an oozing open wound on his head about the size of a silver dollar.

We finally arrive in O'Hare and headed straight for the next gate for our flight over. It was a short 14 gates down. We had about 30 minutes before our flight so we went to get some food and then I assigned Myme with luggage watch while I went off in search of Dramamine and Mountain Dew. Dramamine for Myme and Mountain Dew for Meg, who apparently had no access to the delicious see-through beverage in the UK.

We got on the next plane and the flight there was good, but long. Myme pretty much conked out right away thanks to the dramamine. I was left with 6 - 7 hours of travel and no conversation. About 3 hours in I was stir-crazy. The food on the airplane wasn't as terrible as I had imagined. Myme wok up about 2 hours before we landed and as we were descending Myme's ears wouldn't pop, so her nose started to bleed. It was fabulous.

What, no, I've been here the whole time.

I've been slacking/vacationing. I'm sure everyone missed me very much while I was away from Blog land. Well, I'm back with a slew of stories, I'll start with some of my travel notes. Hopefully not too boring.

See you soon!

On Making Friends

So I've talked about my awkwardness with the younger generations. Lets talk about my awkward with people my age.

There's a reason that I have so many experiences with creeps, geeks, and the deranged. I'm a little bit of all of the above.

Since moving three years ago to a new town and a new job I've made exactly zero friends. The friends I tried to make (all two of them) were either grumpy and old or fired from work. There's a light at the end of this tunnel though. A couple of weeks ago I met a new girl at work. We started talking, she was funny, smart and had a lower lip piercing - my kind of chick, in a totally hetero way (oh who am I kidding, we're all a little bit gay, just like we're all a little bit racist).

Anyway, stepping away from the potentially offensive (told you I was awkward), this girl and I were talking, lets call her Aubry, and I was getting super excited at the prospect of a new friend. At one point I actually blurted out, "ohmigosh! We could totally be besties!"

Yeah, I then had to work on recovery. I went on to say that I'm not as creepy and weird as I seem and I get better with time.

Hopefully she'll take me up on my offer to hang out once she gets moved up here. Although on thinking about it, I probably said something like, "once you move up here let me know where you live so I can sit outside your house and watch you through binoculars" instead of "we should catch a movie sometime."

Oh well, I've still got CG. I've managed to somehow hypnotize him into staying with me. Sometimes I wonder why he's managed to stick around, then I remember he's a little bit creepy, geeky, and deranged too. We're meant for each other in a totally creepy way.

Black Holes and How I Cause Them

I'm getting old. I think I've discussed this here before, as it terrifies me beyond belief. How is it possible to BE OLD at 25? I've managed it somehow. This, however, will not be a post about my fear of oldness (don't judge, it's t0tz a word). This will be a post about how I, as an old person, interact with young people.

I think I'm pretty awesome, pretty much all of the time. I may have a "fat day" or a "lazy slob day" on occasion, but self-esteem is not really a problem. I'm the coolest and most adorable friggin' fatty you'll ever meet and I know it. I'm also pretty sure that my family knows it too. I've got some really amazing young family members. Two younger sisters who are the epitome of awesome and several cousins so fabulous they're beyond description. My sisters and two of my male cousins I have a great relationship with, because I see them all the time.

The problem comes when I'm introduced to any of their friends/ boyfriends/ girlfriends/archenemies. I'm awkward. I make inappropriate comments. That's who I am. For some reason teenagers don't seem to like that. So far I have managed to keep the embarrassment that I inflict upon my younger family members to a minimum. There will come a time though when the epic-ness (don't judge that's also totally a word) of my brand of awkward will cause an embarrassment so large that a black hole will form out of the spontaneous combustion of my family member. This black hole will then suck so hard that it will pull everything in it's range into tiny atoms and particles then condense them into it's center. Creating a ball so dense and heavy that it enhances the gravitational pull of the black hole, thereby expanding it exponentially. Thus ending the world as we know it.

I'm unsure how to frame the blame on this particular event when it happens.

My youngest sister Myme is bringing a friend over to my house for the second Friday in a row. I managed to keep cool through the first visit, but this is just asking for trouble. If I inadvertently cause the end of the world, please excuse me, and blame Myme.

Flames . . . flames . . . on the side of my face

As a child I was hot headed. Very, very hot headed. The kind of child who snapped quickly and violently. I can remember times when the smallest thing would set me off and my vision would blur and I would literally see red. A few minutes or hours later I'd remember what had happened.

I'm pretty non-confrontational now, probably as a result of the above and the terrifying thought that I could have really hurt someone.

There are still a few active hot buttons though. Things that make me so angry I'm barely rational.

1. Being hurt physically. Whether by accident or on purpose the one thing guaranteed to bring my crazy out is pain. So, if I stub my toe or you poke me just a little too hard take a few steps back and stay quiet for a couple of minutes. No sudden movements.

2. My fabulous sister Meg. I love the child like crazy; she's my best friend, my confidant, and I'd trust her with anything. However, she can push my button's harder and faster than anyone else on this planet. We're too much alike.

3. People whispering. If you don't want me to hear it get the fuck away from me. It's rude, unprofessional, and stupid. I don't care about your "secrets," I just care that you're a rude moron.

4. Backstabbers. Don't smile and compliment me if you're going to trash me as soon as I leave the room. I don't care if you don't like me, not everyone will. Just don't make me think you're a friend.

5. Dinging my car door on those stupid concrete thingies next to the gas pump. I'm pretty sure they're put there to make getting gas the most unpleasant thing on this planet. It's already smelly with sub-par facilities, why not make it a driving/parking hazard as well.

6. Bono. I don't know if it's his stupid glasses, his ridiculous hair or his smarmy-prick attitude. It's probably all three.

7. The fact that my adorable, but loud and excitable 9 year old cousin can catch fish after fish while screaming into the water, running like a loon, throwing rocks into the pond and not using bait. While I can sit out there quietly for hours with the best lures and not catch a damn thing.

8. People looking over my shoulder while I'm on the computer. Don't. Do. It.

9. That weird aftertaste that Coke leaves. It's like a stale leprechaun farted gently into my mouth.

10. Bad table manners. I am not the neatest person out there, I know this. Now, I'm not talking about elbows on the table or not putting your napkin in your lap. I'm talking chewing with your mouth full, making out with your utensil to get every last bit of food off of it, or mixing all your food into a big pile and eating it with a fork in one hand and a serving spoon in the other. Unacceptable.

Random Thoughts 1

Heavy Breathers are the bane of existence, especially on a work conference call. I can almost feel them drooling on me. I always feel violated afterward.

People who give themselves "cool" middle names on Facebook make me want to stab them in the eye with a fork. Just because you want to be known as Kevin "Big Dick" Dalton does not mean that we'll call you anything other than your nickname from high school - aka: Kevin "Peed his pants during a football match" Dalton. You fail at cool. You fail at life.

Surviving the World - Spitting

True Story. Actual Fact.

When There's No One Around

I live alone and enjoy it about 95% of the time. This is why.

1. I don't have to share the bathroom with anyone.

2. I don't have to make my bed.

3. I can make blanket forts in my living room and can leave them up as long as I want.

4. I can cut flowers from the yard without asking permission.

5. I can hula-hoop in my living room and not worry about breaking anything.

6. I can drink straight from the carton.

7. I can listen to 90's boy-band music and dance spasmodically in my living room without fear of embarrassment.

8. I have full remote control.

9. I can sit backwards on the couch with my head touching the floor and my feet in the air and pretend I live in an upside down land.

10. I can sing really loudly in the shower, or anywhere for that matter.


In short, always call before visiting. I could be dancing naked in my backyard in homage to the goddess of harvest or playing tag with my cats (they're really terrible at it).

Lord I was born a ramblin man . . .

Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can.

Spring has sprung . . . and then retracted. It's been beautiful here in the crotch of the corn belt for the last few weeks. I planted and sewed my seeds and plants only to see frost this morning when I woke up. Tragic. I think most everything will make it through this cold snap but it was disappointing to dash out of bed this morning and straight to the thermostat to turn on the heat.

Anyway, I've been trying my hand at gardening. I want pretty flowers, a green lawn, and fresh fruit and veg. I'm just not sure how dedicated I'll be in July when the humidity sets in and I can't be outside for more than a few minutes without beads of sweat forming on my upper lip. Time will tell I suppose.

My self-synopsis is pretty spot on, I tend to begin everything with lots of energy and excitement only to get bored halfway through and abandon it to the pile of lost hobbies a few months later. I've never been good at follow-thru.

Knowing this, I made sure that most of my plants are easily maintained and annual. It's much easier to get invested in something when you know you'll have it next year and the year after. I'd much rather have things constant than have things fun.

I can't believe I've just made an entire post about gardening as a metaphore for my life. This is probably boring. I can't tell any more. It's my life so it all seems important, even the rose bushes and fairy lilies.

Things You Shouldn't Talk About

I'm totally hitting a wall right now with this blog. There are tons of things going on but I have absolutely no desire to write them down. Basically I suck at life.

So I'm pushing past the pain long-distance runner style.

I've had some amazing opportunities with my job in the last few months, those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook know and, I'm sure, are justifiably jealous.

Well yesterday was the be-all, end-all of epic work perks. I got to attend a luncheon for the Center for the Prevention of Abuse. It's a wonderful non-profit focused on helping those abused or raped move on and get away from their abuser.

It's a cause that is very close to my heart, something I wish I could be more involved in and maybe someday I will be.

Anyway, the key note speaker was Vice President Joe Biden. Those of you who know me IRL know that I'm a staunch Libertarian, I'm for individual freedom and not much else. I did, however, vote Obama in the last election. As a Libertarian who voted Obama I'm required by law to dislike about half of the things he and Biden have done while in office. As I'm not one for political debates I'll leave it at that.

However, Biden's speech was amazing, inspiring, and made me really like him. Honestly, the inappropriate things he's done in office (this is a BIG FUCKING DEAL) made me predisposed to like him immensely anyway. He also managed to say SOB and badass.

Someone has a new political crush!

Here's part of Biden's speech.

Anyway, this post is part PSA and part bragging about how awesome my life is.

The PSA part is the link. Domestic abuse and rape are the only crimes where the victim is put on trial. It's heartbreaking to know that not only are the victims put on trial, but the trial itself comes down to he said; she said. It's hard to convict, and therefore seems almost pointless to report. I don't know how to fix it, besides education, public understanding and awareness.

I'm really just in awe of how passionate Biden seems to be on this issue and am grateful that he didn't use this as a platform to talk about anything but the topic at hand.

Thanks for doing it right Vice President.

I knew you were crazy, just not THAT crazy.

You know those families where everyone's out of their mind but they're your family so you love them? Mine's not like that. - The Wedding Date

Okay, so I do still love my family. I think they're totally great and couldn't adore each and every one of them more if I tried. But (and there's always a but, isn't there?), about 50% of them are THAT kind of crazy.

A history of mental illness that, if written out, would be taller than I am floods both sides of my family. Ranging from alcoholism and drug addiction to schizophrenia and dementia back down to just plain white-trash, beating the crap out of your significant other while wearing a tight white t-shirt a la Street Car and drinking Natural Light.

Yeah, I'm abusive, but look how cute I am!

CG finally got a real peak inside the honest to God crazy in the family this weekend. I'm sure it was eye opening. I kept warning him, trying to tell stories, to lessen the blow that was sure to come, but I don't think he really believed until this weekend.

I won't go fully into it because, well, yet again these aren't really my stories to tell but it involved an AK-47, a video camera, a hoarder, an abusive spouse, a serial cheater, and a control freak. No one was harmed or had the potential to be harmed but uncomfortable silence was had by all.

This is what I would call a good weekend, a fun weekend. I had an absolute blast. It was, after all, my 25th birthday and I got an extra $20 out of participating in the crazy with a positive attitude.

If you pay me enough I'll pretend your shit don't stink, your kind of crazy is perfectly normal, and that I am totally okay with whatever screwed up thing you're participating in. I'm basically an emotional whore, I'll react however you want, for a price. It's a system that works well in my family.

Honestly, money isn't the currency I'm usually paid in to go along with familial delusion. What I get out of it is peace and a relatively detached emotional state that keeps my mental health in good standing.

Crazy is much more fun when viewed from the outside.

Now to add a disclaimer: While everything said here is absolutely true, it's all said with a smile and love. For all of the crazy in my family it's also filled with more than it's fair share of love, understanding, good will and most importantly growth. They are (with one or two exceptions) good people with amazing life stories, harrowing experiences, and hope for the future and themselves.

My grandmother is a perfect example of this. My mother's mother is an absolutely amazing woman. She used to race stock cars and motorcycles, drives a Mustang and just a year ago had a stroke while riding bitch on the back of a Harley. She tapped her husband around the middle, got him to pull over, laid on the grass, had the stroke, got back on the bike and had him drive to the hospital. She's a total bad ass and while things in her life are far from perfect she handles herself with grace and humor and never takes anything too seriously, even death.

She told me on Saturday that while she was lying on the side of the highway during the stroke, sure that she was facing death she thought to herself, "Jeanie, calm down, you were doing something you loved, something that you enjoyed, it's a beautiful day and you're going on a day that was good." "Then, of course, I didn't die, I was ready and nothing happened!"

So even though I'm sure to descend into crazy as I get older I'll have fun doing it.

Happy St. Patty's Day!

I've got no real excuse for a week long hiatus. I've been sick for the last 5 or so days, but honestly that gives me more time for long-winded writing, not less.

The main thing is that I don't have much to say. Things are going well, I'm getting more and more excited for up coming trip, and getting all my ducks in a row for the whirlwind that will be the next month and a half.

So Happy St. Patrick's Day and I'll try to think of something more entertaining for my next blog.

Ac-cen-tuate the Positive

The last month has been pretty nasty for me. Lots of gross, sad things happening and it was all too easy for me to get lost in them and forget about the great things, the amazing things. Well my trip home this past weekend got me past a lot of that.

I'm not going to go into why I'm re-prioritizing because it's not my story to tell, but suffice it to say that the things that seemed so huge and scary just days ago have been made ludicrous. My problems are laughable and I've had a very good time the last two days doing just that.

So I've got some amazing, fantastic, unbelievably awesome news (at least for me). I mentioned earlier my possible trip across the pond to the U.K., it's now a total go. My middle sister, Meg, is already in Swansea doing a study abroad program at University. My youngest sister and I will be going over to see her on (or around) May 15.

This was all brought about by two fabulous ladies that have done more for us girls than anyone should, especially considering how terrible we are at keeping in contact with them. Our Fairy Godmothers have given us their hard won frequent flier miles.

Excuse me, I'm not sure if you heard me . . . WE'RE GOING TO FLY TO AND FROM LONDON FO' FREEZIE.

I'm going International bitches! It's Callie - the World Tour. I'm spending a week in England and Ireland with my fabulous sisters, doing fabulous things, seeing castles, going to the sea-side, and pretending to be posh.

I promise not to do a fake British accent, but I can't promise to stop being awesome.

I can feel the eye-rolls from you world travelers out there, but I'm pointedly ignoring you. I've never been farther than Canada and Mexico. I'm going to be taking a huge, international plane. I'm going to be jet-lagged. I'm going to see London, I'm going to meet the Queen (okay, maybe I'll just be a creep and tour her palace - OMG I'm going to be in a palace!!!), I'm going to make faces at the palace guard, I'm going to visit places where Jane Austin lived, I'm going to drink myself silly in an Irish pub, I'm going to get my picture taken on the bridge where The Quiet Man was filmed, I'm going to meet a handsome Irishman and have a torrid affair that will end after a drunken kiss when Meg pulls me off and reminds me about CG. I will then try to set up Meg with said Irishman because she needs to have little Irish-brogue-speaking babies.

Meanwhile, my youngest sister, Myme, will be singing Danny Boy with the best of them and will be asked to stay in Ireland to attend University there on a vocal scholarship and get her law degree in Dublin or some equally charming local.

Okay so the last bit, after the bridge from The Quiet Man will most likely not happen, but it's my dream sequence and I'll end it how I want.

So if any of you are "world travelers" yourself, hell, if you've ever looked through a book about England and thought, "well that would be neat to see" please feel free to give advice, or tell me about places of interest, things to do, foods to eat, beer to drink, or places to stay.

Thanks and YAY ME!!!!

$13.98

A few weeks ago I found an absolute deal. A new shampoo and conditioner had just come out and there was a rebate attached to it - for the full amount of purchase. I happily picked the set up, dutifully filled in the forms, put on a stamp and sent it off. Today I got a check for $13.98 in the mail.

I'm so excited to cash my check. I'm so savvy! LMAO.

Talk about It

Not much from me today, just a link to blog post I think is worth reading, is worth knowing about.

Thailand Coup

Broken Hearts

When I was young, 6 or 7 I think, I had an acid wash jean jacket. I loved that thing. It had large purple hearts sewn on it and across the back stitched into two intertwining hearts was the phrase, "Heartbreakers Club" The collar and cuffs of the jacket were that springy cloth, almost like sweatbands. I wore it everywhere, even made up a secret club for the jacket, one that no one but me was allowed into. I bragged about how exclusive my club was and everyone wanted to borrow my jacket.

I was wayyy to cool. *eye roll*

I can't remember what happened to the jacket, I'm sure I out grew it pretty quickly and it was soon donated to the church. It's funny the things you treasure as a child, the things that make you cool to other kids.

It's much harder, damn near impossible to get that same joy as an adult, or to be cool in your 20's. I mean, I manage to do it, but I'm sure for others it's difficult.

I used to wear my heart on my sleeve, physically and metaphorically. Now I just do it metaphorically. It's just as easy to be hurt now as it was then. Somethings even years can't teach I guess.

Then

CG and my two year anniversary is this Sunday, well technically it's February 29th, but since that day won't come around for another two years we just get as close to it as we can.

It's pretty impressive I think. Two years is a long-ass time, like, really long. Supposedly the "spark" (or whatever kids are calling it these days *takes off old lady cap*) starts to fade after the first year.

It still feels like our second date to me, except I'm not nearly so uncomfortable about the cleanliness of my house or worried about the last time I combed my hair.

Anyway, two years is a huge deal for me. I've never been any good at maintaining any type of relationship, whether it be boyfriend, friend, job contacts, etc. It just seems to take more effort than I'm willing to devote to it.

To put it another way, I have officially devoted two years of my life to the upkeep and health of a relationship without regret AND without screwing it up beyond repair.

So yay me! And thank you CG for your unending amounts of quiet understanding, doofy humor, strength, sweetness, and for just sitting quietly with me when I'm sure you'd rather be actually doing something.

I try not to end my posts on too sweet or depressing a note so in closing I guess I'll provide one of my most favorite de-motivators.

Things I've Forgotten

My brain is a funny thing, a scary, funny thing. Sometimes thoughts fly through it so fast that even I have no idea what I'm thinking. I catch the tail end of a thought only to wonder moments later when my brain has slowed, "why would a fuzzy elephant dance the cha cha slide in 7 inch heels made to look like Frank Sinatra's spats from Guys and Dolls?"

I don't know.

I'm not sure where this entry is going.

I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.

I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.

I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.

I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.

I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.

There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.

I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.

The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.

The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.

It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.

Love and Marriage

So, this book came out on the 4th of this month:


Yeah, I haven't read it and in all honesty I have absolutely no plans to, no matter how good Oprah's magazine says it is. I've read Ms. Gottlieb's article about this self-same subject, also desperately entitled: Marry Him.

Go ahead, read the article, I'll wait.





So, you've read it right? Now, I'm not married, have no finite plans for marriage, I have no children, no plans for children, and I'm most certainly not in my 40's, or even 30's. My frame of reference will obviously be skewed.

However, what I am is a woman with no legal commitments besides student loans and my mortgage, living alone, working in corporate America, and doing a pretty fucking awesome job at living my life the way I want.

Surprisingly, I agree with Ms. Gottlieb's underlying point in this article. However, I disagree with almost everything that she's trying to convince us 20-somethings to do. I don't disagree with the point that she inadvertently makes.

That point being that there's no such thing as Mr. Perfect, don't hold on to childhood fantasies of marriage, men, and babies. They aren't real. That my friend, is sound fucking advice. I couldn't agree more, women who go into relationships full of hopes and dreams and idealizations tend to leave those relationships bitter and disillusioned. Living in a dream world and having unattainable goals tends to do that to people.


However, the tone and meaning of the article is complete bullshit. At one point she advocates marrying your gay friend because you'll at least have someone with you, and besides, "how many long- married couples are having much sex anyway?" Apparently physical attraction is not required at all, in fact it's perfectly okay to be physically repulsed by your husband: "if you get a cold shiver down your spine at the thought of embracing a certain guy, but you enjoy his company more than anyone else’s, is that settling or making an adult compromise?"

In fact, it doesn't matter if you can't stand the sight of him:

"The couples my friend and I saw at the park that summer were enviable but not because they seemed so in love—they were enviable because the husbands played with the kids for 20 minutes so their wives could eat lunch.In practice, my married friends with kids don’t spend that much time with their husbands anyway (between work and child care), and in many cases, their biggest complaint seems to be that they never see each other. So if you rarely see your husband—but he’s a decent guy who takes out the trash and sets up the baby gear, and he provides a second income that allows you to spend time with your child instead of working 60 hours a week to support a family on your own—how much does it matter whether the guy you marry is The One?"

So, as long as he'll make a good baby daddy marry him. Marry him now, before you get old, wrinkly, and you're eggs start shriveling!! Yay for feminism?!? I mean, logically I know that women have a set amount of time, eggs, and grace under pressure when it comes to children. But being so desperate for a family that you marry someone you not only don't love, but who actually makes you shudder at the mere thought of him touching you? That seems excessive and seriously fucked up.

So, I guess my admittedly inexperienced opinion is: be realistic but don't settle. I mean, am I the unrealistic one here? I had, in the past, been quite proud of myself for realizing that sparks fizzle, heat cools, and steady and dependable are two of the best qualities that a man can posses. I still dumped men who I didn't find attractive, never kissed anyone who physically repulsed me, and have no regrets in ending any of my previous relationships. Maybe I have regrets about the way I ended things, but I never thought twice about the reasons.

They all seemed and continue to seem valid and purposeful at the time. There are three men who I've dated and also dumped who fell into the awesome guy, but not for me category. They were all funny, smart, endearing, dependable, tall, and good tempered. All of them would (and in one case does) make wonderful fathers and husbands. But the amount of chemistry that was generated in these relationships would take the last place ribbon in a grade school science fair contest.

No matter how little you see your husband, or how great he is with children, there's got to be something there. Something that holds you together while the kids are away at camp, when you're on vacation, when the kids move out, when you retire. I'm not saying that loveless marriages don't work, I know that they can, but that'll never be what I want.

Now, back to the book. From the few reviews I have read it looks like Gottlieb has toned down the "marry your gay best friend thing" and the "it's awesome to marry, have sex with, and then have babies with someone who physically repulses you." So who knows, this book may be worth reading because I do agree with her points about fairy-tale romance and the perfect man.

Her article is still total bullshit though.

Having Goals . . . maybe

So, my whole Katie the Dog fiasco is turning a bit hopeful. I took the monster home last weekend to my hometown vet and we decided to give her a month to heal by herself. The Vet doesn't believe it's as serious as the ER vet did. So we've got her on some anti-inflammatory and stuck in her cage for about 22 hours a day. I feel terrible, but a little discomfort for a month is totally worth it if she doesn't have to have invasive surgery.

Dog drama down to a minimum *thumbs up*

I also got my hair cut this weekend - that's one goal for 2010 down. LMAO

I'm still working on the travel thing. Since we aren't sure yet if Katie is going to need surgery in a month or not I'm in a holding pattern right now. If she needs the surgery I won't be going anywhere for a while, if not then I'll get to fulfill one of my goals for the year. I just have to get my ass in gear and get my friggin' passport. *goes to google search local locations*

In other news, I had a wonderful Valentines weekend, which included a nicely violent hockey game with box seats and a delicious Budweiser beer, and a taco bake casserole with cheapish pink champagne. I'm the fucking classiest broad EVAR. I also got my ass kicked by Current Guy at basically every Wii Sports game. Tragic.