Crucial.

READERS, THIS IS PROBABLY THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION I'VE ASKED IN DAYS. (Ok, not really. But don't you feel a sense of purpose when you read that? Go ahead, read it again. Powerful, huh?)


...Which Star Wars t-shirt do you like better?

Don't make the wrong choice. NO PRESSURE.

Since the world is ending anyway...

Inspired by my friend Kevin, I've decided that setting some resolutions for the new year wouldn't be the worst thing I could do. Since I'm at my best when other people are watching and ready to make me feel inadequate in the case of my failure, I'll let you read them! Feel free to mock me openly when I don't accomplish these, ok? 


1. I am going to stay on top of my inbox. This seemed like a trite resolution until I spent almost an hour clearing out my various email accounts a few days ago. (Do you realize how many sales I missed at Bath and Body Works?) So this year, I will not let things pile up. Not even my yahoo account that I reserve for newsletters, online shopping, and people I don't like. 
2. Get really and truly started on my master's degree. Not in a flirting way like I've been doing, but we're going to get serious. I'm going to tell facebook about our relationship and everything. 
3. I am going to be 100% more vigilant about zipping up my pants. I'm not kidding here, there were two days last month where I repeatedly discovered that my zipper was down, INCLUDING A TIME I REALIZED THAT I TAUGHT THE WHOLE MORNING IN THAT STATE. Not that my class would have noticed--I regularly have to tell kids to rebutton wonky shirts and switch their shoes to the correct feet--but it's not a good feeling. 
4. I am going to get back to the workout routine that I liked best/worked best for me. I've let it fall away and since we know I need to be concerned about the size of my ass, I need to get back on it. Ask me how it's going, Internet. Not right this second, because clearly I'm writing a blog post...I mean periodically throughout the year. Like, whenever you're thinking about me (I know you do). On a similar note, if you have any music suggestions that motivate you, let me know. I'm always looking for recommendations. 


You will notice nothing about men here. I am purposefully omitting this aspect of my life from resolution. I have enough weirdos, married men, men in other relationships, and emotionally wounded men in my life--I can't handle more. 
Here's to a decent 2012, readers! 

Probably not the intended use.

My partner in crime used to have the kind of job where the whole office would receive and read those business self-help books. Since I don't have one of those jobs, I was curious and borrowed one from her shelf. I was hoping it would help me talk to men, but I'm not sure I'm the target audience for this type of book. 


I chose "Fierce Conversations" by Susan Scott. I figure anything fierce can be of use to me. Part of the book is a section called "mineral rights"--a series of questions meant to get to the bottom of an issue. I posed the first question to my partner in crime and we went from there. Was it helpful? You be the judge.**


1. What is the most important thing you and I should be talking about? Coffee. 
2. Describe the issue. We don't have any coffee. And we should have coffee. 
3. How is this currently impacting you? Who or what else is being impacted? This is impacting us because we love coffee and have none. Coffee levels are depleting rapidly. We are both being impacted. So is the general mood around here. 
4. If nothing changes, what are the implications? When you consider those possible outcomes, what do you feel? If we don't get coffee, we will still have no coffee and be totally grumpy. That makes us feel sad. And a little angry. 
5. How have you helped create this issue or situation? We drank all the coffee already. 
6. What is the ideal outcome? When you contemplate these possibilities, what do you feel? Ideally we would have coffee. And that would make us feel happy.
7. What's the most potent step you can take to begin to resolve this issue? What exactly are you committed to do and when? When should I follow up with you? The most potent thing would be to make coffee. We are committing to making coffee and drinking it immediately. We can follow up in 5 minutes when we have the coffee. 


I mean, ultimately there was a positive outcome. I'm not sure I'm meant to be part of the business world, though. 








**All questions are quotes from "Fierce Conversations" by Susan Scott.

Because it's Thanksgiving...

This year, I'm thankful for...(in no particular order)...

1. Puppies, like the one I'll be seeing tomorrow at my sister's house. Because nothing seems that bad when a puppy is sleeping on your lap. Even boys who can't locate their testicles long enough to ask for your phone number.

2. Self esteem boosts from second graders. Three of my students wrote about me in their journals for Monday's "I am thankful for..." topic. TWO of them wrote that I smell good. My students are strange and wonderful. Especially when dance like robots and ask if they can come to my house and eat cupcakes.

3. The uniquely fabulous family I come from.

4. Coffee, champagne, and gin. Not all at one time, don't be gross.

5. Awesome and insanely talented friends who defend you in the face of insults, say yes to a cup of coffee regardless of the time, agree to any and all proposed adventures, position themselves between you and people you can't stand, pretend to be your boyfriend when creepy older men won't leave you alone, and wander around Target with you just because.

PS: Honorable mention to Ryan Gosling. Look at him.

A serious moment.

I'm sorry I've been absent around here. Sometimes life takes over and there's too much work and drama going on to drag you all into it. And I wanted to come here and write something at least sort of entertaining. But before we try that...

This week, I've had to say goodbye to someone way too young. Someone heading into the years where things start to get really good. I had to watch her friends say goodbye and confront this reality that they shouldn't have to face yet. And it was heartbreaking. Every aspect of it.

I have a lot of teenagers in my life. And I know that most of them think I am super lame because I'm getting close to 30 and I have to ask what things mean and I don't understand the things they write in text messages sometimes and I dance like a big dork. But I'm a great listener. And I may not understand everything you're going through and I won't have all the answers. But if you need to talk or ask questions or complain or just vent about life...I'm here. Just know that I'm here and I care. It doesn't have to be me--just find someone.

Ok. Thanks for sticking around while I deal with life, guys. Tomorrow we can go back to talking about how gross it is when people make out in Starbucks.

Guess the road was bumpy.

I've often written about my adventures (misadventures? you be the judge) with transportation. But I don't believe I've ever shared with you one of my favorite stories.

When I was a junior in college, I studied abroad in Ireland. The experience was truly and completely fabulous. I mean, to spend a year of one's young adult life surrounded by charming Irish accents and learning to make bad choices? You can hardly beat that. I spent many weekends traveling around the country, taking the bus from my university. That bus is where our story begins.

One such weekend was spent in Cork with my housemate. J was another American in my study abroad program and we were eager to travel whenever we could. On Sunday afternoon, we boarded our bus to return home. We headed to the back, where there were 5 seats across the row. J sat in the window seat and I took the one next to her. It's common bus courtesy not to sit next to someone you don't know until the bus fills up enough that sharing seats becomes a necessity. As our departure time drew near, we were feeling more and more confident that we'd have some space to ourselves.

And then, he appeared. It was as if a dark cloud rolled in overhead, foreshadowing things to come. Had this been a movie, ominous music would have played to warn me. But sadly, it was not a movie, and all I knew was that there was a loud man on his mobile heading my way. He found his way to the back row, placing his bag on the seat next to me, taking the one on the other side for himself. I was privy to his half of whatever conversation he was having, taking note of his accent and fondness for language I wouldn't use around children or my mother. He didn't have the charming, lilting accent I'd grown to love, letting boys tell me lengthy stories even if I didn't understand them or found it boring. This was harsh, loud, and wholly unpleasant. Shortly after we began the several hours home, three things of note happened. One, this man took a can of beer out of his bag and cracked it open. Two, his phone ran out of credit, effectively ending his phone call. And three, J "fell asleep" with her head against the window. She was clearly faking it, but I had no idea why. Until he spoke to me.

A blissful moment of silence was ended when he took note of the phone in my hand and asked if he could possibly make a call. I told him I was low on credit, not a complete lie. Ah sure, he had a beer to finish anyway.

The next hour passed by uneventfully with J sleeping and my neighbor drinking a couple beers and receiving the odd phone call. He made sure to tell every one of his callers that he had a bag full of drink and was planning on getting very pissed on the way. Somewhere along the way, a couple older teenagers got on the bus, taking the seats in front of J and me. Lucky for everyone around, my seatmate befriended these two. They prattled on about inconsequential nonsense, which for the most part was not a problem for me. Sure, a bit annoying but it could be so much worse.

And then it got so much worse. "Ugh," my neighbor complained. "I have to piss." (Are you swooning yet?) Who could blame him? He was two and a half pints in! His sidekicks didn't help the situation by telling him there was no way the bus would stop. After a few minutes, Thing 1 said, "Well sure, you could just go here."

I froze, unable to pretend I hadn't been eavesdropping. He hitched his thumb my way. "Sure, she won't mind. Just find something to go in."

"Oh," I started in, "she minds." My eyes were narrowed at him, every word laced with venom.

Apparently nobody cared about that, though, because moments later my companion found an empty Snapple bottle in the seat by the window.

"Excuse me,"he said to no one in particular. My head turned away, my eyes screwed shut. This was not happening. No. There's no way. No way that a grown man would relieve himself on the---oh shit. Ohhhh no. I could hear it. I could HEAR the urine hitting the bottle. The man was truly peeing on this bus, a foot away from me. I tried catching J's eye, hoping to have a partner in this low moment of my life, but oh no. She was going to keep up that act even though I could see her texting underneath her purse.

You'd like my story to end here, yes? Oh, if only. My now empty friend resumed his inane conversation with my new arch nemesis. I began texting my friends at home in a desperate attempt to remove myself from the situation, at least mentally.

Not twenty minutes later, he announced in his very smooth way, "Ah, I've got to go again." Fabulous. This time, he grabbed one of his empty beer cans. I instinctively turned away, knowing what vision awaited me if I opened my eyes too soon.

I heard the pee hitting the can...and then I heard him. "Oh, shit." Quite an impressive string of expletives followed.

What?? Oh shit isn't ok! What's the oh shit for??

"I got piss all over my pants," he grumbles to Thing 1 and Thing 2. Turning towards me for the first time in ages, he uttered something I'll never forget.

"I'm sorry," he began in a much calmer way than he'd been speaking. "I hate to ask this, but there are some things a lady shouldn't see. Would you mind turning away?"

He wasn't even done speaking before I replied with a hurried, "YES" and faced away from him completely. I heard him digging around in his bag, and figured out that he was changing his pants. As I sat there, wishing for a giant bird to come eat the bus or something, anything, that would put me out of this misery, I laughed at the absurdity of it. He hadn't even hesitated to pee into a beer can in front of me, but changing his pants, now that was something to shield from a lady. He was actually trying to charm me! I guess chivalry isn't dead.

With his permission, I righted myself in my seat. I couldn't help texting friends about what was happening--none of them believed me. But his troubles weren't over. Not by a long shot. I saw him, staring in front of him. In the seat pocket were four beer cans. Two were empty, one was an unfinished beer...and one was his own urine. Dilemma. He carefully picked one up. Empty. Another. Empty. Another. Sniffed it. Looking satisfied, he took a drink. Ah, yes...beer.

Finally, mercifully, by the grace of God and one very clueless Bus Éireann driver, we arrived home. I've never exited a bus so quickly in all my life. On the way off, though, he left us with a goodbye...he grabbed J's ass.

Alright, maybe chivalry is dead.

Sorry...

One of my best friends is getting married soon, and it has caused no small amount of reflection on our assorted adventures together. Essentially, 26 years of adventures. One weekend probably a decade ago, we decided to have Lame Movie Weekend. We rented a couple classics...Glitter and Love Story. The former is one I don't really want to talk about, as I've blocked much of it out. Awful.

But Love Story. Wow. Have you seen it? It's this story of two Ivy League college students who fall in love and then there's something about money problems and [SPOILER ALERT] she comes down with some mysterious, unnamed illness which we assumed was cancer. I wasn't impressed. Sorry. However, somewhere along the way, Ali McGraw issues the statement, "Love means never having to say you're sorry."

What? I mean...what?? Is she for real? What sort of dreamlike trance is she living in? Maybe that's ok if you're not trying to maintain a relationship. But if you are, then love means ALWAYS having to say you're sorry! Love means saying you're sorry even if you don't think you should! Love means saying you're sorry even if you're not sure WHY. Love is what happens in between apologies. Let's be real here.

...So maybe I'll leave this story out of conversations at the wedding.