Sometimes I wonder

+ if that lotion actually tints my skin, or just applies a layer of tan gunk to my legs
+ how many brain cells I've lost
+ how smart I'd be if I didn't remember CMYK breakdowns for PMS colors (and the names of work's colors)
+ if I'm really as funny as I think I am
+ how many opportunities I've missed
+ if the spider hanging from the bathroom vent will drop into my hair as I pee in the morning, or if he fears me now that I've Tilex-ed him thrice
+ why my best ideas come when I'm in bed
+ why I can't sleep at night but still lay in bed for hours, often without writing those thoughts or reading
+ if I should have spoken up
+ what made me not choose Door #2 or take that path (though I'm glad...)
+ why I don't have a Southern accent (though, again, I'm glad)
+ when I'll actually find a practical application in my life for Calculus
+ how much money I'd have if I saved every penny not spent on necessities
+ how popular I'd be if I'd let those girls brush my hair on the first day of kindergarten (I refused, because my mom gave me a speech about lice coming from shared combs before dropping me off)
+ why I clench my jaw
+ why I bring work home at night when I know I'm probably not going to do it

I've been working long days this week, so I'm back on the energy drinks. Wednesday night, my boss and I split a good ol' green Monster. Last night I bummed an Amp from him, promising that I'd pay him back for it today. I had some errands to run last night so I finally picked up a pack of energy drinks I've been wanting to try for awhile based on name alone - Bawls.

I'll admit I bought it for the novelty of having a blue can reading "Bawls". And the look on my boss' face when I offered him one this morning was priceless. "Hmm, it's got a great kick," he said after taking a sip. "But it's a little watery." I wish I could say I refrained from any balls-related jokes, but I did not. For shame.

I totally forgot about it though, as I was carrying it to the sink to wash out. (I take home the cans I drink at work to recycle them, since we don't have a recycling program here.) The co-worker I affectionately refer to as Puppy was also in the break room. He squinted at my can, and said "Did you have that with your lunch?"

Without thinking, I replied, "Oh no, I had Bawls for breakfast."

He gave me a strange look, but didn't laugh. And I didn't either.



Until he left the room. Then I almost peed myself.

To my bruzzer

I know that all siblings fight, and I’m sure I used to fight all the time with my brother. I just honestly can’t remember getting angry over anything other than him farting - in my room, on my things, on ME. Maybe it’s because we’re great friends now, I’ve just forgotten the past. Maybe it’s because we probably fought over stupid shit that doesn’t matter now. Regardless, thinking about your childhood and only remembering that you got mad over farts makes, to me, a pretty awesome childhood.


I always wanted to be like my brother. I used to always run after him, needing him to verify the pettiest of my decisions by asking “Right Frank?” Any toy he had, I had to have - Ninja Turtles figures, Ghostbusters ghost trap and Proton pack, MicroMachines. I always wanted to be with him and his friends - I remember being six and wanting to play in the backyard with him and a friend. They gave each other a look when I said I wanted to take off my shirt like them, wise eleven year olds they were. I went whining to my mom, who was on the phone and promptly peeled off my shirt and sent me on my way. When I triumphantly returned to the backyard, they dissolved into giggles (again, eleven year olds...) and ran off to play without me. I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten over that...

But seriously, my brother is why I’m so cool. And I love that if he doesn’t think I’m cool, that will almost be an insult to him, haha. He made me a tomboy, he let me play with him if others weren’t around, he taught me to laugh at the sound and smell of farts, he showed me the glory of Western and action movies. Face it, any boy I marry will have to come thank my brother for grooming me into a classy lady.


I’m not only glad he’s my brother and my friend, but I’m also super proud of him. Frank’s always done what he wants, and it’s paid off. He’s loved sports for as long as I can remember, and he went out and used his talent and personality to make connections that got him a job in baseball. He’s worked as a trainer strength coach for two minor league teams and it’s obvious that he loves his job. Even though he has to work somewhere else in the off-season, it’s worth it to him to be able to do what he wants, and that’s influenced me strongly while I try to find my own path.

No one makes me laugh more than my brother, and no one understands my humor and obscure quotes like he does. Everyone says girls want to marry a man like their dad, and I’m lucky enough to be one of those. But I’d also be thrilled to find a guy like my brother - someone cute, funny, silly and sweet, and one of the best people you’d want to know.


Happy birthday, Frank!!

Lost Wallets and Mothers Day

Lately I've realized that I am pretty damn lucky. Most things that happen to me could be a lot worse, but somehow it turns out right.

Last night, for example. A group of us went out for a friend's birthday as well as my graduation. We hopped around a lot of places in Midtown. I wish I spent at least one rental stint in Memphis living in Midtown. I'm no hipster, but how cool is it to be able to walk to such a wide variety of restaurants, shops, and theaters? Not to mention bars - not having to worry about driving or parking. Anyway, we went from place to place, gaining people, losing people.

I woke up this morning at one pm and came to my computer to download a song that had been stuck in my head, driving me wild. After about ten minutes, I thought of my wallet, totally randomly. So I went to my purse and felt around. Not there. I dumped everything out and searched through. I went to find my jeans from the night before and checked the pockets. I got on my hands and knees and checked the floor. I went outside and checked the driveway and my car - even though I didn't drive. I called the people I was with, tried to call the last bar we hit, because I knew I paid cash there so had it at that point.

I checked my debit and credit accounts online, and nothing had been charged, so I wasn't scared. C'mon, a Saturday night? If someone had found/stolen my wallet, they would have run up a bill and drained my account. So I was pretty sure it was in my DD's car, or still on the patio at the last bar.

My mom called me at 1.30p, saying the bar had left a message there (my DL address is theirs, so that's the number in the phone book). I drove oh-so-carefully to Midtown, ran into the bar, and got my precious wallet back. It was like finding a puppy who had run away. Turns out, when I was fighting my friend, trying to pay for his drink (that'll teach me to try and buy boys drinks!), I had dropped my wallet back into my purse, on the ground, but when I picked it up, it fell back out again. The zipper on this purse doesn't close anymore, as of last night. Even if I could fix the zipper, I'd be too paranoid to use it again. This reminds me of why I usually just go out with my wallet in my back pocket, keys and phone in hand. I'm just lucky everything went so smoothly!

Once I got my wallet, I could gas up and buy my mom some coffee for her day. We had a good time sipping and talking in the cool cross-breeze. I'm lucky to have such a great mother - and I appreciate her EVERY day of course, so I had a hard time making today special to her. I hope just spending time and giving her a small, homemade gift was enough. It's kind of like Valentine's Days for couples, I think - if you love them, show them EVERY day, not just on one cuz you have to! Her birthday is very close to Mother's Day, anyway, and I'd rather go all out for her birthday since it is HERS alone, not to share with all the other Mamas.


But, regardless, happy Mother's day to my bloggin' moms out there,
and happy Mother's day to my own Babsy!


I have NO idea when that was taken, but I love it. Mama with her babies.
We turned out well...

once a child but now ive grown within

the sun comes up and goes away
so does graduation day
you did your walk of fame and that was it

insomniac.

I get very attached to inanimate objects. Spaces. Surroundings.

When I move, I will certainly miss my built-in bookcases. But I know one day, when I own a house, I will be reunited with them. In a different incarnate, yes, but I will cease yearning for them at that point.

The thing I am not prepared to leave behind is my couch. It's technically not even mine. It's a hand-me-down from my sister-in-law, passed through a friend of my brother. It is the most comfortable thing I have ever had the pleasure of relaxing on. When I am not concerned with what time I need to wake up, I sleep on it. I love it more than my bed. I love it more than I think I have ever loved a piece of furniture. If a bed was not waiting for me in Virginia, I would not move mine, I would not purchase a new one. I would haul this couch 800 miles and sleep on it and sit on it and read on it.

It is cushy. It is supportive. It is gray, meaning all my pillows complement it, even if it is stained with green fingerpaints and sheetrock dust. You cannot fathom the wonderfulness of this sofa.

I lie awake at night and think of the drastic changes I will experience in the coming months. I think of opportunities I need to take, how I should live it up. I think of my lunch for the next day. But most of all, I think of the couch.

I will leave this house in a month. From now until then, I vow to spend as much time as I can with that blessed settee.