The The Horrible Rotten No Good Very Bad Terrible Twenties.

Goodbye Terrible Twenties, Hello Terrible Whatever Comes Next

I obviously had no clue what I was doing when I started this blog. I think this is pretty clear.

For the most part I couldn't believe nor conceive the ludicrousness making up my twenties. So callow I had been to think after college life would unfold neatly into a pretty little row of experiences making up adulthood. As if college were a right of passage into a saner life- because truthfully- I never had a simple life. I've been running this never ending obstacle course through a circus freak show the whole way through. Sob story, I know. And if I can remember correctly my motivation for beginning this blog was in thinking I could not possibly be the only person out there believing much of this is just plain ridiculous (one of my grossly overused descriptors). And I'm a written word loud mouth with tons of use(less)ful opinions.

Personally I can use this blog as a historical reference. Not so easy to forget things when you have it conveniently recorded in the infinite Internet. Some of my posts even living infamously in my real life- the resulting danger of having anyone who knows you read your freely expressed thoughts. My attempt was to keep things in humor 90% of the time as this is all meant to be laughable, despite the times I couldn't manage a chuckle. Those instances flopped self-indulgently like the sitcom that tried to become a drama.. But believe me- there was an edit function. Tons of posts not published of things I really wanted to say but logic told me were not appropriate for my audience. Particularly the part of the audience who lives in my life with me. Blogs are dangerously easy tools to point out the truth of the matter, as when you write something down it becomes so vividly honest.

Although it certainly doesn't appear I had any semblance of rules or formality or reason to anything I've done here, I did promise myself something when I began. A tiny set of criteria. And I told myself that once one of these criteria became true- it would be time to end the blog about my horrible rotten no good very bad terrible twenties. I'm not generally one to follow the rules, but in this instance, I must oblige. Time to wrap it up. Wish I could tell you it was because suddenly I found my Oz of perfection in life, love and happenstance. That I was putting a bow on my packaged up terrible twenties and shipping it via Fedex to the past. Nope. Not happening. I'm pretty much still a disaster.

What have I learned though? I must have learned something through all this analysis! All this time spent blogging. I would say I learned 3 Things:

1) I hate other peoples lists. Lame f'ing Top Ten lists make me want to staple my hand. Yet I continually write my own stupid lists. I'm a total hypocrite.

2) MSN relationship and love advice defies all logic and intelligent thought. If I try to think of the stupidest, most least true solution to love it would be on par with the articles on MSN.

3) I no longer try and make sense of other people's love lives nor my own. We are all totally and uniquely crazy. There are no rules to this. Trying to fit into other people's rules is what ruins everything.

Good news is I've morphed into something else. I loathe to be cheesy, but it's as if I shed a skin and evolved into the next version of me. Ready to endure whatever mess my 30's brings me but with my battle scars reminding me the scrappy fights I fought. Ready to do something. Time to compile all this into a book and make a run for it. Time to start a new blog (because I can't just shut-up completely) Girl Twentiesh doesn't have the voice for. But this rather quirky and undefinable girl in this horrible rotten thing we call life is off to explore and learn more and screw up hopefully less. With many many dirty martinis of course.

Thanks for riding along...

I Don't Think I Like Bloggers

Watched the movie "Julia & Julia" and now I don't like bloggers. She was so egocentric. So self-involved. Yet, similar to me in the fact that she had attention deficit disorder in life projects. Every time she started something, rarely she'd finish. Then, I started to do the "next blog" tab and saw an alarming amount of blogs written by dark haired females for the sole purpose of showcasing their perfect family of five's day-to-day adventures. Those blogs laughed at me. I almost lost the contents of my stomach when I saw one woman's blog and her "100 Reasons I Love Myself" list. She actually listed 100! Suddenly I hate every list I've ever written.

A Moment to Recognize Chronic Cancelers

I would like to take a nice little holiday moment to recognize those whom are Chronic Cancelers.

While it's very convenient for you to book as much as you can in case there is the 2% chance you may actually follow through with your plans, it may shock you to know that this method is not as convenient for those you made plans with. Yes, this is correct, other people might be adversely affected by your actions. You see, on the other side is a person who also has a life! And when you cancel, that leaves them with their own scheduling conflicts to face. That time making up your life? All the creatures of the earth have that. Cancel once and awhile- totally understandable. But when the pattern becomes predictable you become someone who sucks just a little more than you did the last time.

(This is on behalf of all of those disturbed by chronic cancelers, sponsored by people who care).

*Note: I personally get over chronic cancelers after the 3rd offense. Then I just agree to plans but make my own back-up plans based on trending statistics.

Genius Quote of the Day

Comedian Whitney Cummings says via her Twitter account:

"Girls giving each other hi-fives makes me really uncomfortable."

I couldn't agree more Whitney.

The Life of a Really Cool Working Girl

30 minute commute (not too bad).

8 hours of work (no break).

60 minute workout (wow do I need a tan).

30 minute commute home.

Construction worker cleaning his work bucket in my shower. Is this standard?

Wine.

2 more hours of work while Top Chef reunion plays out of focus background to my computer.

Wine.

Contemplate finishing work, or waking up early? Blog about nothing really important.

Wow. This is what the life of a super cool working girl looks like.

Something to Ponder as You Navigate Relationships

Why is it that relationships feel like such a navigation? No compass to help out you find yourself lost over and over again from wrong turns, miscalculations, booby traps, poor communication and bad directions. Who am I kidding? We're lazy- most of us want a straight up GPS to tell us where it go. Maybe that's why we give up so easily.

Something I heard awhile back, and I can't for the life of me remember where to give proper props to the author of the thought, but that "to know somebody they have to know you back". I can't stop thinking about this. On one hand, it speaks to offering up the correct parts of you to really let someone know you. Not giving the true sense of you won't ever open the true sense of another. It also speaks to a reason to turn back and go another way from a relationship. If that person can't seem to get you no matter how hard you try to explain yourself, you'll never see clearly how to get them. Might be best to change navigation paths.

That's a lot of complex thinking for a Monday night. Clearly I think too much.

A Simple Life

Monday morning has me wondering- can't I just have a simple life? If somebody can fill me in on how to achieve this, I'm all ears.

Yeah...That's Not Working Out For You

Tiny tip....

While trying to pick up a lady, revealing in the most self-pitying manner that you hate your job (that you've been doing 6 years), are depressingly poor, a pessimist, your ankle hurts because you twisted it doing laundry, like to smoke lots of illegal things often and then asking her to make-out is not going to work for you. Time for a new strategy.

Need Help Identifying Big Lies?

In case you are in need of assistance in deciphering and identifying when a big fat lie is coming your way, here is a list of common indicators to help you:

1. Any statement that begins with, "I really want to, but..."(if they really wanted to, they would)
2. Claim that "it's natural" (generally used to hide the fact that is not, in fact, natural in act or appearance)
3. Anti-puff anything (anything claiming to de-puff you is a gross over exaggeration and blatant false advertising)
4. "I've never done this before" (yes, they have, although I have said this and meant it but I commonly do things I've never done before and then learn to never do them again)
5. "You look nice today" (commonly used as an empty buffer before asking for or demanding something)

Stopped in My Research Tracks by Frivolity

Earnestly skimming the Internet for ideas and springboards of societal pieces to wax poetic into my eventually finished book about this whole mess of a life of mine, I was stopped in my literary tracks by an obnoxiously beautiful piece of art. Trend jewelry. Of all things. Which, if you saw my jewelry box you'd see half pairs of earrings and pieces my mother left to me.

I don't qualify as a jewelry person. I like it, but am far to choosy to let art haphazardly adorn my bones. But this, oh this, calls to me. This piece beckons my right ring finger with relentless whispers. What does this say about me that my soul ring match is a black onyx?

If you'd like to purchase it for me, David Yurman has it waiting for you (size 5.5 please)

Random Impressive Acts

This past weekend I found myself struck by random acts of impressiveness. The following list summarizes the instances moving my mind the last few days:

1. My friend's ability to small talk with anyone. Staggeringly talented at talking about nothing and everything with all walks of life. At times they look slightly offended, but they're too confused to really understand why.

2. My ability to fume. I was so angry I sat in my jacket at my table for over two hours just fuming. Without moving to my knowledge. Things got dark.

3. The man with a small child on his shoulders who made eye contact with me as he left the restaurant to then come back in, boldly put his card in front of me, and say simply with a smile, "If you'd ever like to go out with me, give me a call." Impressively confident. I of course was wildly embarrassed and I believe just stupidly gazed back in surprise while stammering "thank you" or something equally less impressive.

4. While we're on the subject of men, the French man at the art show who managed to have me fall in love with him after 2 minutes of talking. Never mind his probable wife standing next to him. He smiled at me like he loved me back, and that's the story I'm sticking with in my mind.

5. University of Texas Longhorns' ability to pull off a win in a serious bind. That's my boys.

6. The amount of Swedish Fish I can consume without getting sick of them. They're like crack to me.

7. People who watch the show Dexter. I watched approximately 4 minutes of the first episode and was convinced someone was going to murder me and I turned it off.

And there you have it. Being impressed 7 times in 48 hours is impressive in itself.

I Remember When Friday Used to Mean Something

Remember when Friday used to be a big deal? It meant a break from whatever? Actually I don't think a Friday has really held significant weight in emotional and mental release since high school. Now Friday means I still have work over the weekend, only people are less accessible and I am not necessarily needing to respond immediately. Other than that, it's not like it all disappears over the weekend. It's not like I go into some alternate reality of only fun and games. In fact, if I break completely from it for two days of leisure, I'm often met with a hurricane of stress come Monday morning.

Good news is nobody knows if I'm drunk while working on the weekends...

So Another Man Cheats on His Wife. Big Deal.

So Tiger Woods cheated on his wife. And the news is what exactly? Am I supposed to be shocked by this? People. When will we accept the biological facts? Men, all men, would love to sleep with as many women as physically possible. This is who they are! Accept it. If I had hot men (which hot to me is unfortunately more complicated than toned bodies and sexy bedroom eyes) I might be hooking up around the world too. I just wouldn't promise with all my heart to a partner that I would stay sexually loyal. Take a man with infinite talent and success rolling around in billions of dollars and you're going to see a man who will be taking advantage of the cocktail waitresses of the world offering themselves up. The foolishness lies in Tiger thinking it wouldn't come out to the media. Now that's the news story. How naive is that? Nobody is safe these days with endless means of social communication- especially not a super celeb.

Now excuse me while I do something more important than discussing celebrity affairs- drink some wine and watch the Top Chef season finale.

What's Better? Hot, Pretty, or Cute?

A couple weeks ago I was involved in a very deep, mind boggling, intense conversation mulling over the following:

Is it better to be hot, pretty, or cute?

You can probably imagine the surroundings for such a philosophical debate- a bar, Wednesday night, 4 to 2 ratio of men vs women, and possibly a round of shots had been consumed. Let me tell you flat out, it's definitely nice to be called any of the above. A friend of mine told a gentlemen once that I thought he was "adequate looking" which when verbalized in no way sounds complimentary. I believe his mouth opened in shock.

But seriously.

If you're called hot, as a woman, doesn't that sound kinda like someone is saying you're good enough to sleep with, but that's just about it? I don't know. I'm pretty sure I can't qualify for that description based on my less than flashy dressing habits, crazy hair, and inability to keep makeup on my face- thus maybe I'm biased. So, I guess if I had to choose a way to be thought of/complimented by the public, "hot" wouldn't be it. Probably not by choice. I mean really. It doesn't make sense to not want to be called hot.

Then there's pretty. That sounds nice. But that's the problem- it just sounds nice. Daisies are pretty. Sunsets are pretty. Stationary is pretty. One of those dudes from Twilight is pretty. Has pretty become a mediocre statement? If by being called "pretty" are you merely "fine" or "pleasant" and the common compliment subject? Maybe if you put pretty in front of hot and called someone "pretty hot" you'd be on to something! Take hot down a notch with a little innocence. Hmm....

And of course cute. The problem with cute is if you get called cute as a standard, you're never taken seriously. You're always the cute one. Like the guy who is always the friend. Cute implies you lack sexuality. But cute can be great when used to describe an action- like, "Girl Twentiesh is so cute when she hangs up the phone, slams it twice, and says f-u to it." Saying an action causes cuteness is a great compliment because it implies behavior leads to attract ability. Therefore in the correct context, cute is good.

So the ultimate best? To be "pretty hot who looks/is so cute when..."

This was all decided until one of the men said honestly, "When I really am in to a girl, I think she's beautiful." Moan. That's a tough standard to ever hit. But- case was quickly settled by all- being called beautiful is definitely the best.

Sucker for The Season (Cramping My Style)

I find myself falling into the holiday trap. Sentiment for no good reason wrapping me up like a tangled mess of Christmas lights. Tendency to listen to holiday music. Determined to bake all of my mother's classic cookie recipes no matter how many Sunday afternoons I must spend with the mess of flour. Wishing for snow even though it means scraping my car and hours added on to the commute. A warm, loving glow wanting to hug everyone up around me (well, only the people I actually love, I'm not a hugs-for-all type of girl). Sucked into romance. The urge to watch "The Holiday" and "Love Actually"- which summed up all together this has a dangerous impact on my sarcastic nature. How can one be sarcastic when listening to "Dreaming of a White Christmas" and thinking about fires and tradition and the Christmas Eve an ex bought my dad a case of wine and I got so plastered I passed out on the bathroom floor where no one could find me?

Oh wait, that brings it back down to earth for me. Whew, thank goodness I'm still in here somewhere.

Me. Version 2.0

I have a distinct and clear understanding of a personal metamorphosis. I half expect to look in the mirror in the morning and see an extra appendage or new face or something (hopefully not Kafka's vermin). An odd day-to-day feeling most definitely. Never before can I remember being so in the moment of understanding. Most of the time I'm too in awe of what the hell is going on around me to be self aware. Who has time to notice themselves when there are Tiger Woods fire hydrant accidents and John Mayer's dating life and that guy at the club with ridiculous triceps and Black Box wine? Much too much to notice. In theory of self actualization as we age we look back and see in retrospect points of change, evolution, maturity. Hopefully learn from bad fashion mistakes. Hopefully growth in relationships. Hopefully the ability to understand where you've gone wrong. But I feel it all today. And I've been feeling it in the moment for awhile. As if I've shed a skin or something and am exposing the new stuff to the elements of life. I don't know what this means, besides it's very different. Could this be a one third life crisis? I have been thinking about getting a dog....if I start buying plants somebody should intervene.

Figuring it Out

What Do Your Texts Say About You?

I wish I didn't have to bring this up. No secret to readers of this blog- I have a curious admiration/hate relationship with the text message. A wonderful tool when running late, struck with a funny story that must be shared immediately, or just a nice thought once and awhile. Pictures can be fun. A little gift of technology. Evil hand when abused. The accessibility is like a constant temptress to over-sharing, under-relying, and dehumanizing relationships. Everybody is at reach and on call at all times for better or for worse. Now if you happen to fall dead (excuse me for being blunt here) rather than worrying about people going through your papers...ever wonder what your text messages say about you? Could our living legacy be left to a train of text message conversations?

If a stranger were to read your chain of texts, what would they see? You think I'm going to tell you what mine say? Think again. Get your mind out of the gutter- mine are fine. I'm a good girl. As long as the phone is away from me during an Ambien episode I stick to the basics, sarcasm, and the occasional surprise. But other people- whoa- I'm pretty sure there is some incriminating and eyebrow raising activity.

Certainly something to think about though, isn't it?

If I Were in Charge of the World

At some point in my early educational years I was given the assignment to write a poem titled "If I Were in Charge of the World". I had actually been highly anticipating this assignment for years- as my older sister crafted hers years ahead of me I couldn't wait until I got my assignment. Who doesn't want to be in charge of the world? I really felt akin to the idea.

When I finally got my chance to prove to the world the rules I could craft to make living much more enjoyable, I had things like "If I were in charge of the world, there'd be no fat grams, no puking, and everyone would feel loved." Ah, the things the mind of a pre-adolescent comes up with. Although I still agree to those basics. How great would it be if nobody puked? And if we didn't have to worry about fat grams? And of course, everyone should feel loved.

As an adult, I'd probably add a couple things. Like having success in life be part karma system- you can't be truly successful unless you do good things and are a good person. And everybody gets to pick one thing to be really talented at (I don't think it's fair that some people have all the talent). And that we all eventually figure it out before it's too late. And everybody everywhere gets 4 weeks vacation and 4 roundtrip tickets to anywhere (doesn't make any sense to have a giant world and no money or time to see it). And for every bad thing that happens to you the equivalent good thing happens to balance it all out. And boys are no longer stupid. And you get shocked if you use more than 3 exclamation points in one email (punctuation abuse is a crime).

Who Is In Charge Here?

Rifling through old things yesterday I happened upon an old notebook from college. Never a diary keeper (way too dangerous to have all those real thoughts written somewhere) I had the habit of an idea notebook. The non-assuming Apple logo cover made it look like some computer manual, but inside hid instantaneous thoughts I felt the need to record should they have the promise of an idea.

On one page I wrote simply:

I think I am disillusioned.

Yet under it, who knows how long the above thought held real estate, I wrote:

I realized I am not disillusioned. The disillusion is who is in charge of your life.

What did this mean anyway? Why was I thinking this? What had brought me so disenchanted, so down to earth in thought? But then it appears I was corrected. That something caused my eyes to open in understanding where charge of life came from- which- I've come to accept- is me. Scary, but true. The illusion is always other factors take hold of your life- your job, your lack of job, your boyfriend, your husband, your lack of either, the children, the dog, your parents, your debt, America, the weather, Katie Couric, the sales at Victoria Secret, the television show Lost. Whatever. We blame it all on controlling what essentially we only control.

Interesting how we forget these simple things. Time to step back and suck it up.

Lessons Learned Over A Weekend

1) Different is good

2) Being wrong sometimes makes everything right

3) There are cheesy people everywhere. Thank goodness, as it gives us something to laugh at

4) I am stubborn

5) You know you're getting old when you wake up before 7am on a weekend

Dating Dealbreakers- That I Cause

Because it's always good to think about both sides of the story, I began to think about dealbreakers I cause. What are the things that I do that cause a man to wave their hand and say, "Next please!"

A List of Things I Do to Break the Dating Deal

1) She does not maintain well manicured toes and fingernails. I don't. I don't get how people have time for this.

2) She's got an ugly competitive side in card games. I'm not proud of this. I think it's genetic. I get actual anxiety when someone is playing who doesn't understand how.

3) She makes me feel guilty for eating fast food. Sometimes I may not say anything, but you can always see it in my eyes.

4) Sometimes when she talks it doesn't make any sense.

5) She's horrible with direction. Men really can't stand this. I think it's a brain defect- I was premature.

6) She also knows nothing about basic car mechanics and refuses to learn. True.

7) It's like she remembers every little detail long-term but nothing short-term.

8) She isn't bubbly. Or the life of the party. I got a Bachelor of Science for heaven's sake- I'm supposed to be standing in the corner.

9) She won't use a dishwasher and leaves the room if I unload it- which is very weird. (I loathe the sound of filmy glass against skin)

10) She can't do anything straight- park, cut paper, hang a frame. I blame it on being ambidextrous. I'm in constant confusion.

11) She refuses to wear a sports jersey. Call me no fun, but it does not fit into my personal style guide.

12) She points out bad television or filmmaking while I watch it. I have gotten MUCH better at this- now I just remove myself from the situation. Don't make me watch it, as I can't hide my feelings.

And, and I think that's enough pointing out of my own flaws for one evening.

Dating Dealbreakers

Recently on NBC's comedy "30 Rock" television show writer Liz Lemon publishes a book revolving around dealbreakers in dating. These are the behaviors that men or women exhibit essentially putting a halt to any continued involvement. A dealbreaker is that final stop sign in what could have led you down an extremely steep and rocky road. You throw up the red octagon and back away from the perpetrator (otherwise known as the man/woman you were seeing). An example in the show:

"If your man disappears and then shows up after 7 months of no contact....That's a dealbreaker ladies!"

Pretty obvious standard. Got me to thinking...what are my personal dealbreakers? I should be able to collect some from, oh, the last 15 years of my life (had my first steady boyfriend for the 4th-7th grade). I'm not going to suggest all of these are necessarily fair for the entire dating public, but as Socrates suggests- know thyself. And I know my dating self pretty darn well by now.

An Incomplete List of Dating Dealbreakers (continually evolving with experience)

1) Threatens to leave me because of my hair (5th grade, true story)

2) Suggests a threesome with one of my friends

3) Wears more jewelry than I, and/or any of it is 18k gold or from a trip to Cancun

4) Spends more hours per day on television, non-work related Internet, or video games than on any other activity

5) Eats like a slob. Can't handle it.

6) My 5 year old niece has greater spelling and sentence structure capabilities

7) Isn't nice to the elderly

8) Suspiciously elevated levels of aggression/jealousy/anger

9) Thinks women have life too easy

10) Text messaging is his primary form of relationship contact

11) Quotes movie lines for the majority of his thoughts

12) Shows zero signs of ever reading a book

13) Uses bathroom humor around me

14) His life plan/goal is to win the lottery

15) Has never loved anyone

16) Doesn't have a car (unless he lives in NYC or Paris, sorry, dealbreaker)

17) Intoxicated more often than sober

18) Absence of common courtesies

19) He does something my mom wouldn't forgive

20) Isn't sure if he has children or not

Wow, that's a really good start!

If You Continually Make the Girl Next to You Leave..You're Doing Something Wrong

Last night while at happy hour I endured an all too typical scene. Myself and my fair-eyed beauty friend sat on our favorite bar stools enjoying rewarding cocktails and deep conversation. Well, some fluffy conversation as well. We're sociable girls. Open to public engagement and talking with strangers. We are not by any means the girls shooting daggers to anyone looking at them or attempting innocent converse. We're also not the girls begging for attention with hair flips or what have you. I'm in public because I want to be. I want the experience of my surroundings, whatever they may bring.

However, there are boundaries.

As I chatted innocently with some gentlemen beside me on similar business matters, my poor friend was left to fend for herself on what appeared to be an uncomfortable and forced conversation. I eventually noticed she was desperately trying to part with her conversation. I did all the telltale signs a friend does to bail another out of this situation.

Step 1: In a clear and pointed voice to all around, "Well, we should go. Let's get the bill."

Step 2: Getting the bill quickly and attempting to leave our seats as he continued to talk to her.

Step 3: Leaving the bar as he tried to talk her into staying.

Giant clues here. If you actually make a woman/man leave the bar because you overwhelmed them with uncomfortable or unwanted communication- you're doing something wrong. Even more giant clue is if it happens to you more than once in an evening. And eyewitnesses have assured me this particular fella I speak about continued his detrimental pattern throughout the night.

Social cues are so useful. Can't we just all get along and drink in a bar in harmony?

If You Want to Know the Truth- Say it Out Loud

Sometimes it just takes saying it out loud to see the facts.

Those instances you mull over in your head, deciphering with your own filters of excuse to try and reach a conclusion of why or how- guess what? If you take out any excuse words, face a friend, and actually let the 5-8 word sentence of pure fact vocalize out of your mouth you'll be amazed at the simple truth you arrive at. It's scary. But as I discovered last night, effective. Saying it out loud quite clearly defines the truth. Like it or not.

The Unabashed Hope I Imagine in Couples Walking

Along the path of my 4 mile runs I encounter multiple sets of couples walking the trail. So interesting, these couples. In the brief moment I have to mentally snapshot their interactions, their facial expressions and their behavior, I draw my own conclusions of their fate. Most often my conclusions fall in the hopeful, "Diamonds are Forever" commercial type spirit.

In these couples walking I imagine that surely he tells her "goodnight" every night. That she gladly makes him breakfast on-the-go each morning- not because she has to- but because she wants to. This couple walking ahead have unspoken mutual respect, a bond tied by passion and truly taking the time to know one another through the passage of time. They would never hurt one another, they will always challenge the other to grow and prosper, and as they wake up to face another day they each understand the blessing in he/she who lays across the bed. What a beautiful life this couple has! And they have taken it upon themselves to proclaim their perfect life together by walking together as I run solo past them.

Of course this is mostly hope.

Hope that the strangers surrounding me have what I imagine to be perfect. But in my perfectly imaginative stories of couples who walk together, I am able to hope that such a thing even exists. As I never will be one to walk along a path - I always run- walking is so dull. But perhaps I someday will be one half of the couple running who has all that I think that can be.

Doesn't Anyone See How Weird Celebrity Perfume Is?

Somebody needs to speak out on this issue. My heart broke when a seemingly credible actress, Reese Witherspoon, was recently spotted with her own perfume ad in one of my beloved magazines. I do not understand the allure of celebrity endorsed perfume!

What a celebrity endorsed perfume says to me is:

1) With this perfume I'm trying to convince you that you will have a life like mine (the celebrity)

2) This is how I, the celebrity, smell and now you can smell like me

And why would I want to smell like another person? Why do I want to look at Beyonce, wonder what she smells like, and purchase her bottled up bath water? I want to smell like a beachy sunrise or a rose petal or crushed vanilla bean- not a human being!

This is so utterly disturbing to me.

I Don't Even Believe Compliments. That's an Issue.

Being complimented is like having a golden halo beam down on you while angels sing. Who doesn't love to be complimented? It feels absolutely fantastic. I think. I don't know, because I'm having a hard time believing them. It's like a softball hitting my glove and bouncing into a puddle. I've built up an immunity to compliment receiving.

The problem is I don't believe 'em unless they come from my toddler niece and nephews. Lately I've been lucky enough to have a real adult throw around some pretty heavy compliments and I can only laugh as if it's a joke in irony. Therefore not only am I not getting the compliment high, I'm awkwardly unable to respond in an appropriate manner. Instead I'm looking around for the hidden camera, for Ashton Kutcher to jump out of the bushes announcing, "You've been punked! No way are those compliments real!" And then the viewers at home laugh with Coke Zero shooting out of their noses for the humor in the girl who believed the compliments. As if!

Is this a product of age? How did I become compliment jaded? Who can I blame for this?

Dear October 2009: You Have 4 Days To Redeem Yourself

Oct 2009 has not been my month. Paradoxically it has been my month in some ways. Let me explain...

Well, there isn't much to explain.

October 2009 will forever go down as October Evil 09' in the history of my life. Look for t-shirts at your local Hot Topic. This after that after this and I'm starting to believe October has something against me. After all, this month has sucked for me for the last 5 years, so I'm not being dramatic here (I will spare you the rundown of how each individual October has pitched me with a devil fork). I think next October I'll take a month vacation in attempt to break the hex. Then I could at least blame Amsterdam and loose laws.

The odd part is that some really cool, good, widely appealing things have also happened this month. Some fantastic things. Maybe these "things" seem much more wonderful when compared to the bad, but heck, I'll take it. I'm living a teeter-totter of bad versus good experiences and I can't decide which is winning. I am determined to make these last lingering days count.

For humor and reflection, I'll list some sound bites/impressions/commentaries directed my way this month which still hang in my mind:

1. You are the galaxy's trashcan

2. I've been sick and I blame you (from the janitor cleaning my office)

3. Um yeah, I think you could use some highlights

4. You sound pathetic

5. If you die, don't sue me (which would be hard considering I'd be dead)