stop pussy-footing around

When I was in college I was invincible. Life is fleeting, and all I knew back then was that I wanted every moment to count. Every moment to be memorable. Which explains the years that I thought it was completely justifiable to get drunk, rip my clothes off, and run down the street with a bong clutched in my hand and tassels dangling from my nipples. Or when I didn’t think twice about bungee-jumping in that really sketchy neighborhood in Mexico for only $5. Smart? No. Memorable? Definitely. Hey, I never claimed to be the smartest person.  Don’t judge.

Yesterday I got word that my sister-in-law wanted to go sky-diving for her 30th birthday with all of the adults in our family. I was, well…. horrified. Seriously. In the last decade life has become a lot more fragile. I make sure I’m more careful and avoid any unnecessary risks. I have an amazing husband and future goals that I’m not ready to put on the line for a cheap thrill. Of course, Alex was excited about the prospect of going before I shot him a nervous look and he decided to back down from the idea. I’m such a bore and a damper on a good time. Whoops.

Would you want to go sky diving for your birthday? What if you had 3 young children and a lot to put on the line if, heaven forbid, something went wrong? Have you gone sky diving and think it’s totally safe (enough for me to not worry about my husband going?)

 

i’m getting stabby

Sometimes I feel like a bad American. Now, I can definitely get down with the love of hamburgers and pizza. I’m also all about double-fisting cans of really shitty beer until I can’t remember my name and I’m running down the street wearing my bra as a headband. (I haven’t done that before. Nope, never. Really.) I just can’t handle the politics. It makes me stabby. When someone tries to talk to me about them I stare at them wide-eyed and clueless. I’m a lost cause.

People like to give me a lot of shit because I don’t vote. (Yes, you can too if you want. But I’m just going to shake my head slowly and pretend you’re naked and being hugged by a human-size porcupine.) Obviously I care about the issues at hand and a lot of them are important to me, I think I just get too overwhelmed by the arguing. I can’t handle the confrontation. The idiocy. The insanity. I get too emotionally invested by things so I’m better off avoiding them like the plague.

Ready for some irony? My college major was Political Science. (Weird, right?)

(Edited to Add this paragraph) I just can’t handle the way politics turn people into assholes. Recently when Scalia passed away, I read numerous posts on Facebook and here (WP) about celebrations. How it was a great thing. There were jokes over his death, cheers, and a lot of fucked up stuff about how happy people were. Regardless of the guy’s politics – he was still a person. With a family. Who died. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with people? You’re disgusting. 

I’m curious where you stand, so you better vote down below. I already told you I was feeling stabby. So… you better listen! (Please and thank you 🙂 )

you sexy love muffin

I’ve never really understood Valentine’s Day. If it takes corporate America to force you into proving your love to someone… chances are y’all ain’t gonna make it. Sorry folks. But, I can’t completely condemn a holiday that emphasizes something positive. Especially one that’s often paired with champagne and chocolate. Or cheesecake. Mmm… cheesecake.

Do chocolates, roses, and jewelry do it for you? Do you expect to come home to rose petals strewn across the bed while your partner is naked and covered in sushi? A stuffed bear holding a fuzzy heart? A surprise couples massage and a rub down by a sexy masseuse named Antonio? (or, if you prefer women — a sexy masseuse named Sophia)

It seems like Valentine’s day evokes a lot of different feelings for people. I’m genuinely curious where you stand.

 

 

you are one nosy s.o.b

People are weird as hell. I am no exception. (Neither are you!) For some reason I have the incessant desire to snoop through the bathroom cabinets when I’m in a person’s house for the first time. Terrible, right? But, the contents of your cabinets and drawers tell a lot about you. Plus, I think I have the right to know what kind of crazy shit I may be dealing with here. It would be nice to be sure that, you know, you didn’t invite me over to harvest my organs or shove a plastic bag of heroin up my butt. There’s no way I’m schlepping over the Mexican border for you, asshole.

So, if you are inviting me over for some of your prize-winning chili and a rousing game of Pictionary for the first time – there is a good chance I will be rummaging through your bathroom. Hide your pill bottles, your condom stash, and your Preparation H. Do me a favor and don’t leave a pile of dirty crusted over undies on the closet floor. (Not that I’m going to touch or go through your underwear – I’m not that crazy – but I will help myself to opening the door if it’s closed.) And, for the love of God, please refrain from leaving a pile of wet hair swirled around on the wall of the shower or leave a new douching kit proudly out on the counter. There’s no way I’m going to see a douche out on a counter and not make a joke about it. Embarrassment will ensue, my dear. 

Thanks for your consideration. This is the first step to a successful lifelong friendship with a crazy person. (e.g. ME)

Have you ever nosed your way through someone’s bathroom? Ever find something alarmingly weird?  Don’t be ashamed, folks. Here’s a Fun Fact: 40% of people who come to your home for a party snoop in your medicine cabinets.