It's Alive!

Sometimes we all do things that we later regret in life, only we try and convince ourselves that we don't regret those things at all, but instead call them "learning experiences."

Today I was trying to give my cousin some material that I've written, as he does the same.  I had nothing, but I did remember this blog as his mother mentioned it the other night at dinner.  I Googled it, found it and I read as much as I could from my 25 year old self (Hi, I'm 30).  I laughed aloud and reminisced about the craziness that once ensued.  Surely I couldn't let this just sit here unattended forever, but does anyone blog anymore?  Doesn't matter, a journal is a journal is a blog is mottled mess. 
This evening when I got home I decided to log into this old friend and see if anything magically came out of my fingertips as I haven't had the desire to write in ages.  Through multiple failed login attempts I finally realized that the email associated with this account is an old account that I deleted 2 and a half years ago when I met my [now] ex-boyfriend.  

There are two points to this story.

1. DO NOT ERASE YOUR PAST.  You are who you are due to all of your past experiences: Wins, fails, all of it.  I have nothing to regret, but I was so afraid that he wouldn't have approved that I erased the hardly used email account (OKAY!  I used it mostly for online purchase receipts).  This is a regret which in turn dominoes into a learning experience.  If someone doesn't accept all of your old battle wounds and mistakes then they're not worth the time.
2. THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE FOR RECOVERY.  I spent 15 minutes trying to figure out how I could reset my password, but everything led to that sad, deleted email account.  I went to Yahoo! to try and pretend like I had never deleted it only to get the message, "Account not yet taken."  Apparently, with most accounts, if it's deleted for longer than 3-6 months it's fair game.  Dare I try it?  You bet!  I claimed the old email account, went back to the main Blogger page, once again clicked the "Forgot my password" tab and received the link to reset my password.

Hello again!

We may fall, get bruised or broken, but there's always recovery.  A small piece of us may drift away that we never get back, maybe a sparkle or two inside is lost, but within time we grow stronger and brighter than we ever were before.  I've missed me.

Ryan Buell Breaks My Heart

This is a blogging emergency.  Ryan Buell, my own personal prince for over 3 years when his stupid show debuted on A&E, has revealed in his new book that he's bisexual.  My mother insists he looks like Isaac from "Children of the Corn" (1984 edition), ergo he must be something of the devil, and this is her confirmation.

Isaac, Children of the Corn. 1984

Disclaimer: We're not very religious people, and she does not really think that gays/lesbians are of the devil. Thank you.

Now, I know being bisexual he still likes girls, but what I'm afraid of is, a) he was missing something from women/men that he went looking for in the opposite. I say "women/men" because who knows if he was attracted to women before men or vice versa, b) if he's only saying "bisexual" to make it more socially accepted, when really he's gay.  Also that would make me a really sad panda, and c) if in the future he'll choose to be with men. 

Granted, I shouldn't really care regardless because we'll never be together (thank you, cruel universe), but I seriously didn't see this coming at all and so, let us mourn. 

Ryan Buell, sigh.

Allah is our Protector

I've seen this van a few times driving locally.  I believe in freedom of speech, and more importantly, I'm pretty much agnostic so I don't care who you/what believe in, but what I'm not sure if I quite understand is this (look closely):

Notice it?  Well, yes, the obvious and maybe disturbing "ALLAH IS OUR PROTECTOR" sticker, but moreover, the middle sticker above it is a USMC sticker.  Now, I get America stands for tolerance and acceptance of everyone's personal beliefs, but at this time, is it not ironic?  Maybe I've got it all wrong, but we're fighting a war on terrorism - Al Qaeda's main focus (if I have it correctly) to be rid of anything that's non-Islamic. 

It could just be me, but at the same time, this person is driving around hickville and if I'm asking questions about it then I'm surprised this car is still in one piece.

PMS Rant Session: Volume 1

My blog, I can rant if I want to, and today, we're going to touch back on the subject of irony.


In short, I'm actually exerting the effort to get to know someone. I keep in touch, I ask to make plans - whatever time works for them is good for me. I listen to them ramble on about stuff I don't know about and I can hardly get a word in edgewise. Enough about me, anyway, right?
Scenario: Sports bar, 2 for 1 drinks.
Conversation: Dating.
After some talk back and forth about the subject, he said something about my coming out with him for a drink. He said something about it being a good idea. Yeah, a good idea I had, just like the other two times we hung out. I boldly told him how it's usually me initiating everything. I think I even went so far as to tell him that I'm not doing it anymore. He obviously has no idea about my track record in dating. I never put forth effort, at least not for long. 
Not 5 minutes later, did he tell me how his sister told him to date as much as possible, so that's what he's trying to do - even though not all of the dates ever go anywhere. Apparently my expression and body language immediately changed because he asked me what was on my mind and what he said wrong.
Nothing! You said/did nothing wrong, but now I know that I shouldn't be putting forth that much effort when I'm obviously not getting it in return. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don't date. This is most likely to be continued.


In other news, why bother being the good friend when even those who do wrong get praised? It almost makes my friendship feel discounted. Think of a 10 year old doing exactly what you tell them not to because they know they'll get your attention when they do it. I almost want to be a douche just to make them realize how good they had it. What a downer!


/Rant.


Period, commence. 

Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome

This isn't new:  I let everything that's good pass me by.  I think it's a disease (or disorder) like hoarding or sex addiction.  I admire those who aren't afraid to be happy and to take the necessary, though not always smiled upon, steps in order to achieve that ultimate happiness. 


I've let my anxiety hold me back from a lot of great experiences.  I've also let the fear of how others would view me stop me from doing things that I wanted to do.  All that's gotten me is a stigma of walking the line.  I'm not Johnny Cash, and even though he walked the line, even he stepped off track. 


I've also let many (and I mean many) great guys disappear because -- simply put -- I just didn't appreciate them at the time.  My stubbornness gets in the way each and every time and then I usually decide that I'd be happier alone in the end.  But really, I don't want to be alone. 


Moving along, I recently thought about an old acquaintance (dare I call him "friend"?) that I had  a few years ago.  Actually, I had thought about him off and on, but when we ran into each other at a store, it was blatant confirmation that I had to rekindle our romance of words.  He was always very kind to me:  always there to throw a compliment (if I were willing to catch), always there to stimulate me (my mind, guys.  My mind), and always ready to lend a logical piece of advice or a hand if there was anything he could ever do.  I took this for granted.  I guess I'm always afraid of leading people on, or turning friendships/relationships into something they're not.


I cut him loose.  Nothing like, "Hey, your services are no longer required," but we slowly just stopped all communication.  And that was it. 


So upon this meet cute we had in the store; although not so much "cute" as we didn't even exchange words, just glances, and we started communicating again, it obviously just wasn't the same.  We had both been through a lot.  We exchanged a few texts here and there, a few emails, made plans to get together to catch up (but not the actual "meet up" plans, the kind of plans you just say you're making, yet never actually do it), but never did we really get back into our old groove. 


I thought about this and confronted him.  I told him I missed talking to him.  I love the way he writes, so I always have a comment when I read anything he posts, but I haven't been getting responses.  What's the deal, man?  He apologized and told me that sometimes he gets that way, but it's by no means my fault and he'll do better.  He promised.  Then he tells me he's moving.  I thought: No!  The only person I wanted to hang out with is now leaving!  Upon further inquiry, he reveals he has a fiance' and a new job.  I can't remember the exact words, but even though it was in writing, I got the indication that I was being a nuisance and this was his way of being rid of me.  The only thing I could think to say was, "Okay. Good luck!"  And with that, I deleted his phone number. 

Why do I feel so dumb, though?

We were always friends, but I'm not sure if we were ever completely on the same wavelength.  I enjoyed his friendship, as I'm sure he did mine but I think at one point there were more feelings there that I never gave the chance to be explored. 


I know he'll eventually read this, and that being said:  I want you to know that I know I have bad timing; I've always been that way and for some reason I don't think I'd change it if I could.  I don't think running into you was coincidence and I was definitely looking forward to maybe starting a more active friendship, but apparently the stars have a different path for you!  I'm sorry I let all these years go to waste instead of just giving you the time and attention (as my dear friend) that you selflessly deserved.  Congratulations! 

Old-en Cartoons-enberg

I have this friend who's going to be shipped off to boot camp come August for the U.S. Navy. I don't know how/why he found these, but I can't stop watching them. He posted a link to a very old Donald Duck WWII propaganda cartoon called "The Spirit of 43." It was barely 6 minutes long, but I can only imagine how many children ran to mother and father upon its ending credits saying, "save for taxes!" 

Then of course, there's link after link after link of more. I watched the Three Little Pigs next.

And of course, you can't forget Donald Duck as a Nazi. 

Can't... stop... watching.

Ellen DeGeneres Has it Right

Along with my short blog about dating younger men, this one, too, is going to seem juvenile.  Maybe it's because my hormones are raging due to Mother Nature saying hello, or maybe it has a little something to do with not having any form of sexual contact with a man since early July of last year (maybe), but I digress. 

Since Comcast decided to butt-bang everyone with no lube and I only get channels 1 through 20, my TiVo has pretty much gone to waste.  There's the occasional House M.D., LOST even though I've given up on it seasons ago, COPS, AMW, The Steve Wilkos Show (and proudly), and now: Ellen DeGeneres.  I've always thought she was hilarious, why not record her show so I can get the giggles when there's nothing else on? 

So, in my few days of recording her show I've noticed that she always has the most current, hottest stars as guests and boy does she own them.  Everyone loves The Ellen.  I've also noticed that every time a hunky actor or musician or athlete comes out for their interview Ellen gets a nice little peck on the lips.  This is regardless of marital status (Drew Brees, Eric Dane, Michael Buble').  Being that she's a married lesbian, these hunky piece of hiney's wives couldn't possibly care, right? 

"*KISS* Hi Ellen, the wife says hello *ASS SMACK*"

 I think you see where I'm going with this.  Pretend you're a lesbian so you can kiss any farking man you want and not get in trouble.  Sign me up.

Hell Has Frozen Over

Last time I checked I lived in South Florida, land of sun, humidity and fake boobies. Global Warming is a hoax.

Rear window of my car

!!!!

Uncensored: Audacity Awareness

They say when it rains, it pours. In my (un)professional opinion, I'm not sure if it's because a lot of negative things happen at once or if it's because since we're already sensitive from our one bumming event that we just think everything else that follows is negative. 

I consider things to be really "bad" when I feel the need to call my best friend and begin the conversation with, "you're not going to believe this..." Otherwise, things can wait until the following day until I see her on AIM. She also suggested that I write about it and eirgo, she contributed to the title of this very blog.

A couple months ago, I went on a first (and last) date with this guy we shall call Brad. We seemed to have a great time. We talked, laughed, shared a few drinks, shared a snack (I paid) and then we played video games in which I whooped his scrawny butt. All the signs pointed to "GO - collect $200." We even sat in the parking lot for what seemed like two hours talking and kissing like teenagers. The months pass, we don't see each other again, but we continued to talk here and there. He would complain about how he's embarrassed to date anyone because his career isn't going where he wanted it to go, he was 30 living with his parents and he in all felt like a loser. I was supportive and I gave him words of encouragement until he landed his dream job (well, almost) to which I said, "see? I told you things would work out."

In the last few weeks, Brad would tell me he wanted to hang out again, even shared his thoughts about what he'd like to do in a physical sense (oh, behave). He's very charming in a dorky sort of way, so a few nights ago, I felt like playing along with him. I sent him a message asking him if he could do me a favor. My plan was to follow it up with something flirty. Brad's response:

"Make it quick. I have to be up at 5 AM for work."

The only thing I could think to say after that was, "goodnight." Talk about a mood-killer! The next evening, I got an IM from him saying:

"Now I know how you felt after our first date."

I was intrigued! I didn't even know how I felt after our first date. He went on to explain that he went on an amazing date on Christmas Eve and he hasn't really heard back from the girl. He was bummed out because it was the best date he's been on in 10 years. There were several other details and I sat there and read each message with many different emotions swirling around my brain. Is this guy serious? I didn't know which was worse! The fact that he assumed I felt my date with him was the best I had been on in 10 years or the fact that he had the audacity (word of the day) to vent to me about his woes!

I let him have it. Boy, did I let him have it. I calmly (yet firmly) explained to him how silly he was to assume that's how I felt. Not only that, but if he thought I felt that way, then what in his right mind would make him think it would be okay to tell me about his problem? Looks aren't everything, because as handsome as this guy may have been, he definitely wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. The only thing I could think to say after that was:

"Since day one I've been trying to be nothing but understanding and supportive but I can't help but think you're just a dick. I'm going to go ahead and take your advice from last night and 'make it quick.'"

Gone. Deleted. I've seen "He's Just Not That Into You," I don't need this crap!

Two days later I check my messages and I have an email from a dear, old friend whom we shall call Ben. Ben goes on to write that he needs me to disappear from his life because he's trying to patch things up with his wife and he doesn't want any distractions (she's never really liked me - it's more for her). I can appreciate that, although, the night before he was using me as a shoulder and didn't want to lose me again. He also explained that if they were to split for good, he would be back to reclaim his old friend.

I was a little hurt, but I wrote him back telling him that if he were to come back, hopefully I'd be understanding enough to accept. Later on that same day, he sends me an IM saying:

"Of course you'll accept, that's what friends do. We'll have a beer and laugh it off."

The audacity! How dare you toss our life-long friendship aside and then assume that I'll accept it when you're ready to pick up again. If you feel my friendship is disposable, then maybe I shouldn't be so forgiving.

Audacious audaciousness! Do you mooks have any pride?

au-da-cious  /ɔˈdeɪʃəs/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [aw-dey-shuhs] Show IPA

–adjective 1. extremely bold or daring; recklessly brave; fearless: an audacious explorer.
2. extremely original; without restriction to prior ideas; highly inventive: an audacious vision of the city's bright future.
3. recklessly bold in defiance of convention, propriety, law, or the like; insolent; brazen.
4. lively; unrestrained; uninhibited: an audacious interpretation of her role.

(via)

Death Penalty: Sweet Dreams!

I'm typically a classy eye-for-an-eye kinda lady, but I'm still not sure how I feel about the death penalty. I was reading the BBC News and I came across the article about how Oklahoma is finding a more "humane" form of the lethal injection (article here). They say it'll be a more "peaceful" death, whereas sometimes the other form of lethal injection may cause suffocation due to muscle paralysis.

Do I care?! The person is being put to death because they put someone else to death. Odds are they didn't show the same courtesy to their victim. Why should they get free housing and food while they wait for their anesthetic? Yes, they compare the new injection to anesthesia. You will peacefully close your eyes and not wake up. Ever.

Furthermore, do I even want them to die? That's like putting them out of their misery. I'm not religious, so I don't believe that they'll necessarily go to hell. Eirgo, I want them to rot. Suffer. Think about what they've done for the rest of their miserable, caged lives.

But wait, fickle aquarius. No one wants to be told their life is going to end because of something they've done (suicide doesn't count). I'm sure the 10 seconds when the verdict is delivered are the most horrible 10 seconds of their life. My heart would freaking sink if I heard other people were telling me that I'm going to be killed as a punishment.

My tentative solution: Sentencing criminals to death row and not actually killing them. It's perfect! They live their lives out in prison wondering when their day is going to come. I also recommend that they're told they're going to be lynched or mamed in the guillotine. Something awful and gut-wrenching just to add fuel to the fire.

Call me heartless, but for some reason "sleepy-bye" medicine just doesn't seem like justice. It almost seems like a favor.

***Addendum***

It was brought to my attention that I contradicted myself with the housing/food situation. Yes, I do. Obviously felons are going to be placed in prison where they're fed and given a slab of cement to sleep on which the citizens pay for. I just think murderers should be treated differently. I suggested to my dear friend Andy that we throw killers in a hole and let them starve slowly, yet surely. Maybe throw them a few sips of water and a ration of bread like the prisoners of concentration camps were given until they eventually wasted away. Andy quickly put me in my place:

Andy: that's cruel and unusual
Andy: unconstitutional
Andy: if we can't do it to terrorists, who aren't even US citizens, we certainly can't do it to prison inmates who are.

Very well, then.

P.S. You can catch the blog he contributes to here.

I'm Alive

It's always been said that flight is the safest form of travel. Statistically, this may be so, however soaring through the sky in a 200,000 lb airbus leaves me less than assured. I've always had recurring dreams of plane crashes: planes blowing up, planes plummeting, all sorts of scenarios and locations but all with one thing in common - I'm never on the plane. In my dreams I'm always witnessing the tragic event from a distance (not necessarily a safe one) and I'm always okay at the end. I chalk the dreams up to having a fear of the unknown. I don't understand how these heavy pieces of metal can stay up in the air without coming down. Hello, Newton and gravity.

I've also always been a great traveler in spite of these somber dreams, but I'm noticing as I get older, the less of an ideal traveler I become. I've started a tradition of kissing my hand and placing my kiss on the left side of the plane as I enter making sure to protect the flight (ha). I also make sure to say hello to the captains and to thank them as I exit - they're very special chauffeurs.

Needless to say, upon departing New York on the 21st, I lugged my Orange County Choppers duffle bag (mental note: invest in a duffle bag that has wheels) onto the airbus, somehow mustered up the strength to get it into the overhead compartment and took my seat in aisle 8 at the window. Not long after, a nice older gentleman took his seat in the aisle and we celebrated the empty chair between us as the plane doors closed and we backed out to take off.

I'm used to flying at night, so being able to wear sunglasses on the plane was like a special treat and I bounced my head happily as I stared out the window and lip synched to the XM Country station. Before long, the captain announced that we would soon be starting our descent and would be landing at FLL in 35 minutes. It was then that the plane started lowering into the clouds and I glanced out there curiously like a small child on her first flight.

What's the worst thing that could happen to a nervous flyer? Turbulence. I take a deep breath and continue back-seat driving. I noted the color of the clouds which were dark and  that alone gave me the indication that we were flying through rain clouds. Fine, okay. Suddenly, the plane drops. Even through my earbuds I can hear the screams of the other passengers. Simultaneously my fellow flyers and I all grabbed for whatever we could to keep us in our seats. Did you know that the first thing people instinctively try to hold is the ceiling? Neither did I until Tuesday. The plane regains control of its surroundings and we continue our descent.

I turn up the volume a little more on the XM radio. Could there be a better time for irony? Kenny Chesney, "I'm Alive" featuring Dave Matthews began to play. I laugh out loud and put my head back on the chair. Again, the plane drops and screams of horror drown out the soothing sounds of the lullaby. Although this felt like a terrifying roller coaster, there were no tracks. This time my arms went behind me and I grabbed the back of my own seat, meeting the hands of the gentleman behind me who also latched onto the back of my seat. I look up waiting for the oxygen masks to fall down. Yes, we dropped far. No, I'm not over-exaggerating.  "Flight attendants, please take your seats..." the captain ordered nervously.

THAT'S IT! As the captains regained control of their plane, I grabbed my sweater, buried my face in it and leaned toward the window so my aisle-mate wouldn't witness me cry like an 8 year old. The tears flowed as Kenny and Dave finished their song. I tried not to sniffle loudly and I stealthily let the tears roll onto my sweater. Thank goodness for those sunglasses. I made sight of the runway and muttered, "thank goodness" as the wheels gently touched down. There were some claps and laughs and "thank you Jesus'" throughout the plane.

The gentleman beside me in the aisle turned to me and asked with a smile, "feel better?"
"You heard me?!" I asked embarrassed. He still smiled and shook his head yes. "I'm not a good flyer" I said as I sniffled, no longer caring how loud I was as he already knew of my panic-session. He helped me get my bag down and I waited my turn to exit the plane.

I thanked the captains.

Not now, I'm busy!

The time has come! It seems the devil himself has finally called upon me. Does he not see the time!? I have to go to work!