Amy the Wombat

Alrighty, here we go. When we last left off, I had just adopted a new dog and met a cute waiter that was trying to work things out with his ex-girlfriend.

If you’ve been watching Jane the Virgin, you will totally get that I referenced the recap of the show in my opening monologue of this post. I am that much of a nerd. But seriously, can we talk about Jane the Virgin for a hot second? I thought the premise of this show looked improbable and mind numbingly dumb, so I waited until this month and became so curious that I couldn’t not watch it. Now I’m catching up on past episodes and I am in love. The humor of the show is right up my alley. If you haven’t seen it, allow me to give you a quick recap.

Jane is a virgin (obviously), who, during a routine gynecologist visit where she was to get a pap smear, ended up accidentally artificially inseminated by a doctor who was filling in for her own doctor and had never met her, hence the mix up. Oh, and the doctor had drinking problems, had been in legal trouble once before for malpractice issues, and found her girlfriend cheating on her the night before. Said doctor inseminated Jane with her brother’s sperm (The doctor’s brother, not Jane’s brother. Jane doesn’t have a brother.), which was supposed to go to her brother’s wife, and had she properly checked the charts before entering the room, she would have known her sister-in-law was waiting for her in the next room. Right after the artificial insemination comes to light, Jane’s boyfriend, who doesn’t know about the baby yet, proposes. After she tells him she’s pregos and he decides he doesn’t want to keep the baby, and she decides the biological father and his wife should have it, she accepts his proposal and decides to call the baby growing inside of her “The Milkshake” so she doesn’t get attached. This doesn’t last long. Her boyfriend is a cop who finds out that the sperm donor’s wife is cheating on him, and knowing that Jane wants the baby to go to a two parent home, withholds the info from her. She finds out and decides not to marry him, while the sperm donor decides to divorce his wife. Did I mention the sperm donor is her boss that she once kissed five years ago? And her dad is a a mega superstar on a Spanish soap opera? And she got a job student teaching at a catholic school where the nuns advertise she’s a pregnant virgin?

There is something so wrong with this show that it’s right. You have to watch it. It’s insanely ridiculous and ironically hilarious all at the same time. I’m in a serious non-romantic relationship with this show.

Speaking of relationships, I know some of you are dying to know what ultimately ended up happening with the Cute Waiter. In all my time of non blogging, I knew I was going to have to address this in the next blog, because my readers and friends always come to me curious when I don’t follow up with something I’ve previously blogged about. I’ve debated how to go about writing this post and what to say six ways to Sunday, and the truth is, I don’t have a good answer on how to address this. I always tell the whole story, written plainly for everyone to read, because I believe if you’re going to heart blog, you should do it with full disclosure. Someone out there will understand what you’re going through and connect with your post. I believe in connecting with people, and that’s why I blog and always has been why. This situation is a little different, and certainly something I haven’t dealt with before, so, for that reason, I’m going to keep the answer simple and discreet.

Cute Waiter and I met at a Starbucks on a Thursday night for our first face to face. We had been talking through text for a couple of weeks. When we met, the connection was immediate. We both agreed on this afterward – we had insane chemistry. And that caused issues. It caused us both to be a little weird with each other and a little crazy with the way we handled things. He walked away, apologized and came back. I let him. I saw him one night at his workplace after I had major surgery and was still on some painkillers. I don’t remember much of the night or what was said, but apparently I was an ass, and he walked again. Again, he came back. Again, I let him. In the meantime, during all of this, he and his girlfriend decided not to work things out. Two months after we first met, we finally, and I do mean FINALLY kissed. Things got muddled from there, and I’m sure there was a clear delineation of events that I will never quite understand that led to us not talking. Which was never my choice nor what I wanted. It is what it is.

Maybe that’s not the post you all were hoping for when you asked about what happened, but it’s all I can give. This is the first time I’ve felt the need to protect a situation and I have to go with my gut on this one. No one was the bad guy. I’m not mad and I don’t hate him or have any bad blood with him. I just keep telling myself that it is what it is.

My life has been busy and very happy and full. My little business is doing pretty well, but I make everything by hand and can’t keep up. It leaves little time to blog, but my heart is in my blogging and writing – something that I’m no longer willing to give up for this business. My goal in the coming year is to write and blog more – to take time for myself, doing what I love. What is your goal for the coming year? How was everyone’s Christmas?

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the name of this post comes from what someone once told me. I was explaining to that person that I wasn’t a typical girl, and that I should have been an awesome gay guy or black girl. In turn, they said, “You’re not a typical girl. I don’t know what you are. You’re a wombat.” Wombats are my people, apparently.

Come Hell, Come High Water, You Push On Me I’m Gonna Push Back Harder

I had a super snappy post lined up. Controversial, but snappy. I had planned to roll it out last night, but then ended up inexplicably tired and unable to do much in the way of making sentences that were properly punctuated and fun to read. In other words, I was halfway between Sucksville and Snoresville and not living on a prayer of staying awake. I didn’t want to impose that on you.

Today, a few things happened that made me change my mind about that post. It made me decide to not go ahead with it, but instead use what I was going to post as a jumping off point to mesh what I learned today into an inspirational, honest, bleeding heart look at heartbreak, humor, and life lessons. I never started this blog just to document my own days. That’s what journals are for. I was inspired to start this blog by Keltie Knight, then Keltie Colleen, who wrote a blog called High Kicks and High Hopes. Her entire blog was dedicated to her honestly spilling her heart out and sometimes saying unfavorable things about people everyone knew and loved (Hint: Her ex boyfriend Ryan Ross, formerly of Panic at the Disco.) because she knew it could help others who were going through the same thing. She took a lot of flak for it, too. Since she was quasi-famous, I decided that I wanted to do the very real, very modest girl version of her blog, because I was so inspired by her. I wanted to prove to myself that I was brave enough to bare my heart and regular girl problems to anyone who wanted to listen. I’m also happy to report that I recently had a lovely little conversation with her on Twitter, and she’s as amazing as you would think. You can also see her on The Insider on E! Just saying.

Because of the honesty of this post, it’s going to get murky at first. I’m going to say some bad things about myself and admit to bad habits of my own. I’m going to lay things on the line and state my feelings toward someone else, and that may make people who know him mad, because I typically don’t talk about this situation in detail, so a lot of people really have no idea what happened from my point of view. They’ve only heard his, and they may be shocked at some of the things I say. If you are going to start reading this post, I ask that you read it the whole way through, because the way it starts out is not how it ends. It’s all rainbows and butterflies and forgiveness and gratefulness for all its worth. That is what this post is really about, but without the rawness of the situation being laid out first, none of those things mean anything. None of them let my readers identify with me and know that someone else understands them. None of that helps them heal through my experiences. I’m putting myself on the line in a way I never have before, because I want to share with every girl who has ever had a broken heart the things I’ve learned from it and those that I wish I knew back then. Had I known them, the myriad of emotions I felt would have made sense. I’m not Taylor Swift. I don’t have a multimillion dollar record deal to reach out to everyone and let them know that I get it, that I’m just like them. This is all I have, and I’m exactly like you.

If anything could sum up what this post encompasses, it’s lyrics from a song called “When the Right One Comes Along.” They say, “Every single broken heart will lead you to the truth, you think you know what you’re looking for, until what you’re looking for finds you.”This post has also been edited forty billion times over four hours to get it just right, because I want everyone to understand where I’m coming from and to know that there’s no hard feelings here. There’s no hatred. There’s no pain now. I have always been open-hearted and honest with y’all on this blog. If I feel like I can’t be that way, I don’t blog, which is why the blog sat lonely for so long over the past year. I never want to be anything but authentic, and whether you love me or hate me is your prerogative and none of my business. I love and appreciate every single one of you that reads this.

Because there is no way for this post to make the kind of impact that it should without telling you a little about what I was initially going to post and how it led me to this moment of truth, I will share a bit about the lost post. I knew what I was going to post was going to tick a handful of people that I knew off, but I also knew that the people who had been by my side through the situation and those who heard both sides of the story and not just one would get the post and find it hilarious. I was willing to take the risk of having a few people angry at me, because I felt like the point of the post was actually very funny in a satirical sort of way, which is really my niche. I knew the possibility of the post getting taken the wrong way was high, but also that I didn’t want to feel like I had to hide my feelings about how I had been treated because someone may not understand them.

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in friends who don’t know my side of the situations per my lack of talking about it, but if I were to write the post I wanted to write, would suddenly see me as the bad guy anyway. In saying nothing at all about the situation, this meant that I had also never said anything bad about the person the post referenced, but I still felt that because the person the post referenced had been so willing to talk about what happened between us and I wasn’t, that the odds were already against me. I also decided if bad things came out of a comical post because of that, then it was meant to be, because the amount of people who understood why it was funny far outweighed those few who didn’t have all the details. Even now I am taking a risk in posting this, but still feel it’s worth it. Now I am not comprising a controversial post for laughs. I’m doing it because I hope to help and inspire someone else. The chips will fall where they may.

The original post had to do with my recent posts about Craigslist. I was bored the other night and started reading my old posts tagged Oh, Craigslist. That’s when I noticed something utterly ridiculous, funny and epic in timing. On May 7, 2012, I wrote this post entitled Stupidlist. At the end of it I made a joke stating, “Who is Craig and where can I find him to slap him?” I found myself in a ball in a fit of laughter for about five minutes over this. Exactly five days after this post I met my ex. His name is Craig. How is that for timing? It’s like the universe was just shoving someone at me to slap and saying, “Here he is!” Up until then, I had never met anyone named Craig before.

More times than not over the last year and a half I have very much wanted to slap him, but not for anything that had to do with the breakup. I wanted to slap him for listening to other people that I hadn’t talked to in months, and then coming at me or my friends in an accusatory fashion well after the breakup when none of it was true. When I tried to tell him what I had actually said, which was vastly dissimilar to what he been told, he wouldn’t listen to me. Breakups don’t constitute me wanting to slap anyone, but stuff like that definitely does, because there’s nothing I hate more than putting my heart and one hundred percent of my trust into someone who I was completely honest with and told personal things I had never told anyone else just to have that happened. More than anything, I was hurt, because I thought I meant more to him than the words of other people. I thought he had gotten to know me better than to believe the really bizarre and downright insane things that were said about me. Even now I don’t know if I was hurt because I was mad, or if I was just mad as hell for the sake of it.

One night last August I was so damn mad that I put on my clothes, coat and shoes at 11:30 at night and was on my way out the door to drive to his house and literally slap him over a text he sent me when someone stopped me. My rationale is that he was too timid to call the cops on me if I smacked him upside the head Agent Gibbs style. That wasn’t my best moment, and neither is the next thing I’m going to say. I never said anything bad about him for over a year, until he did something that hurt a three year old girl because he and I just frankly couldn’t communicate in a way that didn’t piss each other off. It became about us, not the little girl, and things went down. All bets were off at that point. Say what you want about me, upset me all you want, and hurt me until the cows come home, but when a three year old girl cries over you, Momma just don’t play that game. I have a gun for a mouth in these situations, and though I didn’t run around bad mouthing him, if someone would bring him up or ask me what I thought of him, I stopped giving politically correct answers and spoke my mind.

Maybe all of the memories this one little lost post brought up are what made me change my mind about posting it. I had pushed so many things into the cobwebs of my mind when I moved on over a year ago, and maybe I never really dealt with them  or attempted to form an opinion on him or how I felt about everything that happened after the dust had settled. I just bid it adieu. I have a bad habit of kicking things under the rug like that. Those things form dusty bunnies, and they attack every so once in awhile if you don’t clean them up.

That one little funny post made me look back on things. It opened a door. After everything I went through with him, I find it hard to remember anything good about him or us. But ultimately I loved him for a reason. I was enchanted by us. I don’t think about him or us anymore. I haven’t in a long time. I don’t talk to him. I haven’t done either of these things in a long time, and I very much like it that way. What I don’t like is feeling like he’s an awful person. His actions put me on that path of emotions, but it doesn’t mean I like it. It forces me to only remember the bad, when there were more redeeming qualities about him that made me feel something after being closed off emotionally for so long. But the bad, it was a demon for him, and he fed it and let it feed itself, too.

I’ll probably end up crucified for saying this by someone, but anyone who knows Craig knows this is true. He has issues with alcohol, and no amount of feelings I had for him were going to change that. I couldn’t change that. I felt like I failed because he just wanted to drink so much all the time, and I knew he was worth so much more than that. I felt like a horrible girlfriend because I didn’t understand why he wanted to drink so much, but no one drinks as much as he did because they are happy. I clearly couldn’t make him happy. People drink like that to forget and to numb themselves. This was a situation that I had been through years ago with a good friend of mine and was able to instantly recognize. With Craig, much like my friend, he didn’t think his drinking was a problem. He could drink a pitcher of beer and not be drunk at all. There was no change in his personality. That is the problem. When we were together, I even bought into the logic that he was fine for that reason; he acted fine no matter how much he drank. The truth is, no one comes upon that level of alcohol tolerance unless they have a reason to consistently drink that much. No matter how things ended or how he made me feel, I don’t ever want it to be that way or see anything happen to him.

I have not always been the best person I could be in this situation. I’ve often times wondered if things that got said and were done post the breakup made him drink more, and I never wanted to be the reason he drank. I react to the way you treat me by giving you back the same, which isn’t always the most proactive way to handle a situation. Because he had accused me of lying about things when I had never once lied to him, I made the decision to use that to my advantage when we would periodically and tensely talk many months after we were apart. There was a time I had to text him about something, because when my friend tried, he wouldn’t answer her. He answered me immediately, but I wanted to make sure he knew I was only texting him for my friend. To avoid a bunch of crap, I told him I was in a serious relationship with someone so that there was no confusion and he didn’t think what was going on with my friend was a front for me trying to wedge my way back into my life. Was it optimal? No. Did it work? Like a charm. Lying is still not in any of my best moments, because I’m not that kind of girl.

These go-by-the-gut reactions don’t always culminate into my best decisions. I have issues smiling in someone’s face when they are not being straightforward with me, which is why I give them back what they gave me. It’s something I’ll never do; smile in your face and stab you in the back. If I feel like I want to stab you in the back, I’ll just tell you where to shove it to your face and cut out all the drama. I also have issues dealing with drama, so if a lie avoids it and simply fills in the gaps where the truth still may not, sometimes I will do it as long as it’s not a lie that matters or hurts anyone. Saying I was in a relationship, though wrong, didn’t matter or change anything between us. It just stopped the drama. Regardless, none of these are good things.

What also isn’t good is something that is a little funny, totally Mean Girls, and that I’m only sharing because the reference I’m going to make is actually the turning point of the situation. I’ll admit that my friends and I have nicknamed him Norman, as in Norman Bates, for the emotional fuckery he put me through. He single-handedly killed the old me. But that death was the best thing that ever happened to me. If anyone else felt like that, Psycho wouldn’t have been re-imagined into the television show Bates Motel.

When it’s all said and done, I’m grateful the old me is gone. I like the new me a lot better because, as it turns out, the new me is really just the girl I was when I was seventeen, before I had something happen that changed the way I felt about the world and made me unhappy, and before I got sick. These things festered for years and just got worse and worse. I was deep in a depression that I hid well and had been for many years. I was at my breaking point when I met Craig. He made me happy, and he was the only thing other than my Greta Hayley dog. That should sound sad, but my dog is awesome, so don’t hate.

And then he was gone, I was unhappy, and things got worse after the breakup than they were during it. Everything I was afraid of was thrust upon me, and that just mixed in with the depression I had already felt and it had me lying on the cold hard ground. (This is a tragic love story. I have to quote Taylor Swift. It’s the law.)

Having had a chance to be that happy, even temporarily, had magnified my depression by a thousand and ended up creating this little monster called PTSD. Every situation I had been through was no longer something I could deal with and was just depressed about. It was a panic attack and the inability to breathe. I blamed him for this, but honestly, it wasn’t his fault. He could have handled things with me better, told me flat out he didn’t want to talk to me anymore, and not just walked away like my dad did when I was thirteen. That was the one thing I asked him not to do, and that was the trigger point for the PTSD. I had a hard time letting go of that for awhile, but I learned to.

He’s just a person; a human being and I think a very confused one at the time when things happened. I don’t know if he knew what he wanted or why we had gotten so close so fast, because I didn’t have the answers to that either. I didn’t know if I wanted to get serious with him, I just knew that, for some reason, I loved this person I barely knew. I can’t speak for him and the way he feels now, because I don’t know who he is now. At the same time, I’m also not going to make excuses because, as it turns out, I couldn’t be more grateful for him and the clusterfuck of a situation we found ourselves in. I have never been happier or more secure in who I am. I’ve never been able to be the person who was able to say, “There is no one I can’t say ‘screw you’ to” and mean it. I would let people run me over, but pretend like I never let that happen. I’d make excuses for the person and make the situation seem like it was my fault rather than admit I couldn’t stand up for myself. Now I can say “screw you” to anyone who deserves it and walk away. I don’t take peoples’ crap. I speak my mind. I’m not shy and mousy and allowing people to consistently run me over anymore.

I always felt that I was the most me that I could possibly be. I didn’t know until six months ago that who I was inside and who I was verbally and emotionally with everyone else wasn’t the same thing. I’ve hid a lot of things about myself, even from him. I had always been that awkward, gawky girl who couldn’t get noticed by guys. When I got out of my teens, suddenly I had guys hitting on me and telling me how pretty I was at best, and trying to get me into bed more times than not. I didn’t know how to handle that, because in my mind I was a wicked amount of fun, but still gawky and awkward. Because of this, I felt like I had to impress boys, so I stuffed all the not so socially acceptable things in my back pocket and decided to pretend I was a normal twenty something when I have a very old soul and am far from it. I was emulating characters from television shows that were popular because I wasn’t confident enough to tell someone that if they didn’t like me, I didn’t need them in my life. I wanted to be liked and needed. I still mother people because of it.

The list of things I hid isn’t enormous, but crucial. I have a somewhat southern accent. I have no idea why, either, because I’m from Pennsylvania. Over the years I’ve conditioned it out of my voice with tactics I’ve learned from vocal coaches when I took singing lessons. It’s not cool to talk southern here in PA. I listened to super cool music on the radio and talked normal and tried to act like I was in with the cool kids and blend in. I acted as if I was always the pretty girl that got attention and that it came naturally to me, when really I’m the ugly duckling turned the nerd next door. I edited myself instead of saying what was on my mind, because I tend to say some weird things and wanted to say cool things instead. I am not very ladylike. I’m kind of like a guy. I think my body got confused and gave me boobs when it shouldn’t have, but I try to act ladylike. I acted like I needed to go to clubs and party to have fun, and worse, that I liked doing these things. I bought some clothes that were more sexy, showed my lovely ladies, and tried to make myself look like girls do in magazines. I’ve always felt like I had to have a boyfriend, so I would date just to do it, even when I was unhappy with someone. Craig was the first time I hadn’t done that.

Y’all, that is not me. I like my strange little southern accent that I still sometimes, by habit, edit out. I like my country music with heavy guitars and a little kick ass, take no names attitude that you don’t get with pop music, and I am really, really good at singing it. I like dressing conservatively a la the impeccable Taylor Swift and forever southern Lemon Breeland. It’s so me. I like not being cool and hanging out at home and writing and crafting and baking while sober. I like being surprised by what comes out of my mouth too. I like that I can throw down with the guys, and that I’m not necessarily romantic or mushy and think a lot of women overreact to things their boyfriends do. I like not being the girl that cares if she gets married or talks about next month, far more forever. I’ve got more balls than most guys I know, and that scares a lot of guys away, but I really don’t care. I love being single, because I think I’m tons of fun and I like hanging out with me and dancing around the house because there’s no one there to see me. I’ve been told many times that I’m too independent for most guys, because I don’t need a man’s help and I have my own life. So be it. I don’t want someone that can’t handle me. I know why I’m single, but I’m having too much fun to change those quirks.

I pushed all of those things away because I’m a twenty something that should be hip, but I’m just not and I all kinds of love it. The one person who has known me since I was twenty and knows the real me and knows I am all of these things is also happier to see me being myself again, and he doesn’t like me any less for my lady balls. He does like me less, however, when I retract them. He would attest to this in a court of law, in front of his girlfriend.

I’ve taken control of my life because of one person, who, for a very, very long time I thought was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I had wished I had never met him. I hated everything about how things went down and kept thinking about how I wasn’t going to go to the party where I met him, but changed my mind at the last minute. I blamed myself for all of this because of that. I kept telling myself that I shouldn’t have gone. If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

Now I know that I was supposed to be there that night. I was supposed to meet him. Things were supposed to turn out this way. I don’t know how much belief I had in the saying that things always turn out the way they’re supposed to and for the best. When you’re so depressed you can’t deal with regular everyday things and you end up having to go to a psychologist because you end up with PTSD over a situation, it really doesn’t seem like the best thing and you want to go out and kick every single person who has ever uttered that phrase in the balls or va-jay-jay.

But it’s true. Sometimes the worst people to ever happen to you are the best, and it doesn’t mean that person is the worst person ever. It just means the situation you were in sucked a little more than it should have. Had we stayed together, I wouldn’t have started my business to earn a little extra money to help me save up and pay for important things like car insurance. Had we never gotten together, I doubt I would have started the business at all, because I just couldn’t motivate myself to function like a normal human being. I was so depressed from being sick for so long, and I knew I needed to talk to someone. The PTSD caused by the end of our relationship forced me into doing that just so I could stop having these horrible panic attacks. Therapy was the best thing for me because it taught me how to deal with everything I’ve been through emotionally, and all the medical things, such as my stroke at 22. I do want to experience life now, and I do enjoy baking dog treats and selling them here and there. I would have never gone to talk to someone if it wasn’t for what he I went through with him. I wouldn’t have found true happiness.

Not writing my initial post last night was kismet. I had to go through today to learn that everything I thought I knew about what had happened between us was wrong. Maybe I figured it out more than a year after I gave up the ghost of thinking about him anymore or missing him or wanting him back and getting over him. Oh well. It took a year. At least I figured it out. This is the first time I’ve thought about him in so long, but I’ve made the conscious decision to not hate him, because it is just that; a decision. I made the decision to respect that he is going through some stuff that I don’t know about, nor do I want to, nor is it any of my business. I do not regret the way things turned out or the decisions I made in the way I dealt with him. The only thing that matters to me is what I think of me, not what he thinks of me. That is simply none of my business. Sometimes the last time you think of someone has to be the best time you think of them, because you look back and know you learned something. You decide against ambivalence and instead have sympathy that they are going through things too, and hope that they have betterment in their life as well, even though you have a separate one from them.

If I could tell him anything, I’d hope he’d know that I hold nothing against him, I don’t hate him, I forgave him long ago and moved on. I don’t blame him. I would thank him for doing what he did, and ask him not to do it to anyone else, because he won’t be happy that way, and he should be happy. He deserves to be. I don’t think he ever saw the good in himself or what I saw, but I hope one day he does, because I thought he was pretty amazing just the way he was. I wouldn’t flip out at him if he tried to talk to me, and I don’t know how well it would go over either. As long as he finds happiness as I have, everything else that happened between us is just stuff from the past. No hard feelings.

There’s songs that resonate with the bad; with the things you went through with someone that made you feel empty and open.

There’s songs that help you find peace; with the things that you can’t control and know it’s not worth trying. But that was a hard lesson to learn.

There’s songs for when you realize you can make it through everything. This is exactly where I am now. This song defines me in every single way. Watch out, world. It’s gonna take more than that to put me under.

Valentine’s Day Memes For the Anti-Valentine’s Day Girls

Full disclosure: I hate Valentine’s Day. I’ve never had a Valentine to call my own, but even if I did, I’m still pretty sure I’d hate it with a Grumpy Cat-like passion. The second my man tried to take me somewhere fancy or get mushy with me, it would be over. Not Valentine’s Day itself, but the whole relationship. I don’t do mushy. I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t like being dotted over or have someone drop a lot of money on me. All I want is someone I can trust and count on. Everything else is just material.

Because I got out today, I am in a particularly non-snarky mood for this holiday. Then again, the township kind of got their own eff you and trying to keep people blew up in their face when temperatures soared to a balmy forty some degrees and all the snow melted. Everyone left their houses anyway, and the township was forced to lift the Declaration of Disaster Emergency. So, like I said yesterday, their so called emergency was a bunch of bologna, no offense to bologna. It was a little zoo-ish out there, but I like when the weather sticks it to the man, so I went out anyway and supported it.

In honor of Valentine’s Day, and my first Valentine’s post in the ten or so years that I’ve been blogging, I’ve decided to go an unusual route. Since I have nothing to gush about, I’m just going to post a bunch of adorable memes that represent different sides of the holiday so you can squee over them, because meme squeeing is the only kind of cute squeeing I want to do on Valentine’s Day.

The most natural valentines to start with are those done up by my girl, Grumpy Cat. There are many more of these online, but these are the ones that I would actually send to people, and I’m sure they would send them back with a nasty letter. Nonetheless, I would send them. My favorites are the two stating “I think you’re…” because it totally goes with my Team Even My Compliments Are Kind of Accidentally Mean that I started in yesterday’s post by, of course, total accident.

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Grumpy10

Grumpy11

Grumpy12

Grumpy15

Grumpy18

It’s totally bizarre when you grow up and realize that every single human sees this holiday differently and loves different things. Take, for instance, Jennifer Lawrence. She don’t need no man.

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And even if she did, let’s just be totally honest about the sanction of love.

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And when you can’t get a date, just remember the below things, because they’re so true. And someone somewhere is really missing out and doesn’t even know it yet.

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And if that person does finally figure it out and they screw up, well, there’s always this option for making things right. Especially if you go in and yell nine on an alphabetical scale.

image-8With those nine on a alphabetical scale flowers should come this, because girls love punny things earmarked with cute animals of any kind.

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But remember, if you love something and it doesn’t love you back and leaves, it’s okay to feel like this squirrel.

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But after the initial devastation wears off and you decide you’re never dating again, please, oh please, do NOT take it out on your cat.

image-3And do not date guys who are kind of okay but also a little weird, because they could actually be related to this cat, and no one would want that.

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After you do date that guy in your period of bad judgment, you can come home to the one thing that always understands you, no matter how bad things get. The one thing that will not judge you.

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Because even if you think your cat gets you, he or she doesn’t. That’s why they don’t meow back, leaving you feeling even more rejected and alone.

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When your cat doesn’t get you, it’s important to remember that your dog is feeling the same rejection as you are feeling from your cat.

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At the end of the day, you can all come together knowing that, when relationships don’t work, the bed cradles you but never listens to your feelings, and the cat doesn’t meow back, the dog always has your back. As long as you have a dog, you have a Valentine of your very own.

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This is mine.

Greta Outside

Even if she did have a brief affair with Stitch the cat.

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And Mr. Giraffe the stuffed animal.

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And even if she is a little weird.

Crazy Stretch

I have no regrets. Best Valentine ever!

 

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Help! I’m Turning Into Rachel Zoe! (And Am Secretly Okay With It.)

As women, we grow up learning that our first love is our family and friends. Then we get older and find boys, and we talk about love and marriage and children. We love boys, who turn into heartbreaks, and then men, more heartbreaks and, if we’re lucky, the real deal. But for those of us who find boys and love and heartbreaks and not much else, there’s still hope for us. There’s shoes. They’re the third kind of right kind of love. (Try saying that three times fast.)

Taylor Swift once said, “I don’t know if you know who you are until you lose who you are.” Love her or hate her, she’s absolutely right, and every breakup teaches you to do that. A breakup from true love does so much more. True love is something that last, unconditionally through all time and space, interweaving into your life and never ending. You could hate your ex and hope a gorilla eats him. Getting back with him could be the like, ever kind of never ever. If you were going to talk to your ex in only cat memes, these might be the ones that would represent what you had to say best. (I’ve used the last one. I’m too nice to use the other two.)

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Regardless, no matter how definitively you’ve moved on or how much you’ve let it go and watched it run away, and how happy you are in your life, you will always love that person somewhere deep down inside, no matter how much you hate them on the surface and think they’re a piece of dirt. It’s those kinds of relationships that leave you feeling bare and empty and sad when they’re through. Something has to change, and you realize it has to be you. Back to me without you. (“You made grief my chief emotion. Why’d you have to do what you thought you had to do.”) Me. That’s who I need to find again.

We’ve all been there, so we resort to who we were before we got lost in trying to love the things he did because we loved him, and strip ourselves to the bare essentials, becoming a better us for it. It’s easy to get caught up in being “us” and lose yourself as part of a team, but when one team member quits, it all falls back on number one. It’s this incredibly saturating feeling to be the best you, and now even better; stronger.

This is a lesson it took me so long to learn, and I remained stuck in the past for longer than I’d like to admit, even if I had moved past the person. I started looking ahead and realizing that it wasn’t him that had me stuck, but I had myself stuck, because I was surrounded by my past. I’m one of those people who doesn’t throw anything essential out unless it’s completely ruined. One day I opened my closet and found that none of my clothes were me. That’s probably because every article of summer clothing, at least shirt wise, was something I had owned since I was in high school, prior to getting sick, a whole thirteen years ago, save for the few vintage pieces Aunt Bev had given me. I look young, and I was dressing like a kid. I hated all of my clothes and half of them didn’t even fit right. It was time for a change. It was time to find a new love that wasn’t a boy. It was time to really love myself.

So I changed my wardrobe and got rid of stuff that had sat in my closet for years without being worn, and the stuff that didn’t fit me right, and I found a few great pieces that were me. It killed me to give away shirts that were in perfectly good shape, but they were pried out of my hands by my mom, who insisted I did, in fact, look as ridiculous as I thought. I was feeling better about myself already. Even though I knew the ex wouldn’t have been attracted to me in the clothes I wore, that brought me peace, because I was finally myself. It showed me how many miles apart we were and how glad I was to have had the chance to part from him and get back to me. I felt lucky to have a chance to find someone who would love me for me; someone who appreciated the mature way I dressed and wasn’t looking to relive their high school days.

What I never planned on doing was changing my shoes. I’ve never been a shoe person. Even when I worked at a shoe store, I wasn’t a shoe person. Shoes were just some stupid things I had to spend money on so I didn’t walk around barefoot and was allowed in stores. I bought the cheapest ones I could find that fit and called it a day. That could be why, when I went to clean out my closet, I noticed all of my shoes were falling apart. I mean literally losing their souls, or discolored, or badly worn. I change out my tennis shoes every six months in order to keep good padding in my shoes and keep my back aligned, but I’ve had the same shoes for at least ten years when it came to every other kind of shoe, save for my cowboy boots, which were now also pretty dead to the world. I also had one pair of dress shoes that actually fit me right and didn’t care if they matched what I wore when I needed them. I had three pairs that didn’t fit. There was a lot of horrible going on.

Begrudgingly, I decided to set out on a search for shoes. I don’t even like shopping for tennis shoes, nor do I care what they look like, so I just go to Ross and find a cheap pair. However, the last time I bought tennis shoes, I got some fancy Skechers shoe and I love them. They’re so light and so comfortable, but I digress. It was time to go out in the world and buy actual shoes that actually went with my clothes and completed my new, adult look. However, every time I think of shoe shopping, I can’t get this out of my head, which wasn’t helping me take shoe shopping seriously.

One pair of shoes I don’t mind shopping for are cowboy boots. They’re kind of my trademark, but the last time I bought a pair, I got a cheap, not so authentic pair, and they died over the last year because I wore them all the time. I’m picky about my cowboy boots and couldn’t find a pair I liked, until I came across an authentic leather pair made by Laredo. When I was a child, I rode horses and lived in Laredos, so I knew that they were comfortably padded and guaranteed to last, unlike my other pair. I didn’t want to spend the money on them, but I found a terrific deal and went for it. I am truly in love with these shoes, which isn’t unusual since they are cowboy boots. They’re so me.

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Then, to sweeten the pot, I found a leather jacket on clearance at Target that matches them perfectly. Since I was in the market for a new jacket, they became the perfect pair. The cutouts on the jacket are the same as the ones on my boots. This picture, for whatever reason, came across with a weird glare that caused it to look vintage, but I like it.

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Boots were the easy thing to shop for, because I was going to do that anyway. I wasn’t planning on replacing my other shoes, simply because I hate shoe shopping. I never find anything I like, so I buy cheap and go on with my day. This time, I decided I was going to buy shoes I actually liked. I knew this was going to be a disaster and a half and require a ton of online shopping, because I didn’t have the energy to scour stores, and the few I did, I hated everything. I felt like Grumpy Cat. My other problem is that, with my medical problems, I need something comfortable or I just get completely annoyed and won’t wear them. Every good woman can tell you that beautiful shoes are not comfortable. I also wasn’t willing to spend a fortune, so I was pretty much on a mission bound to fail on the principle of asking too much.

I decided to start the shoe search I didn’t want to do with sandals. This sounded easy, but royally sucked. Those things that go between your toes? I don’t do those. Apparently almost every shoe does. I had the perfect pair that didn’t do that and were as comfortable as all get out, but also just as ugly and the soul was coming detached from the part you slip your foot into. I also had another pair that broke at the buckle and had to be tossed.

I decided I didn’t want to shoe shop and only wanted one pair of sandals, so they had to be cute, go with everything, and be a little classy.They also had to be flat and easy to slide on. No one carried them, naturally. By accident, I came across a pair on Wal-Mart.com that they didn’t carry in stores. They were also Dr. Scholl’s, so they should be comfortable. Who knew Dr. Scholl’s made cute shoes that weren’t just for the retirement village folk? They were flat and soft on the feet like my one pair of old ones, but also had the pink buckle like my other pair. They were perfect. The only issue I found is that you can’t wear them if you’re going to walk all over the place like I could with my old ones, because the buckle will dig into your foot some. I was bummed about that, but learned long ago that sandals were not really made for long walks anyway, so they were sufficient for what I needed. Plus, they were only $15, so I was a happy camper. That’s more my price range. Actually, zero is my price range, but that’s how I ended up with crappy shoes I hated in the first place.

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Pink Sandals

Just like that I threw out two pairs of shoes that were falling apart and I didn’t like anyway and replaced them with one pair I did. That was great and wonderful, but I really sucked at buying high heels for several reasons. I can stand a high heel, but I can’t stand the pumps in the front part, because that’s when I fall over and either break something or kill myself. My ankles swell because of my blood disorder, so straps were completely out of the question, as they end up digging into me. I just wanted a straight, basic pair of high heels. Apparently fashion has taken a couture turn in the past couple of years, because this task started to feel more like recovering The Ring from Mordor than buying something pretty.

Let me preface this by saying that I’m very pro Taylor Swift’s adorable style and that’s the kind of girl I am, but I never wear heels. This is because mine don’t fit and I can never finds ones I like, so I just don’t do it and I end up looking frumpy and not at all how I feel on the inside. Investing in heels I loved was something I was serious about, but also didn’t want to spend $50 for a pair of heels, so I had to be cautious about finding cute and inexpensive. I was dooming myself again.

A little birdy by the name of Fate told me that Forever 21 carried some cute classic country pieces, so I stopped in and picked up a few new shirts so I wasn’t so 2000. While I was heading toward the checkout, the heavens open and I about fell tit over ass over a display with shoes on it. There, I found shoes that were so very vintage Americana, and so very me. I fell in love instantly, and these came home with me. It was meant to be. Better yet, they were only $27.99, which, men, is cheap for heels. If your woman ever comes home telling you she spent that for heels, praise her and take her out for dinner. Take her somewhere she can wear those heels to.

Cherry 1

Cherry 2

Cherry 3

I have some very pretty dresses and shirts that would go amazingly with these heels, but with the pattern, there were some things that just weren’t going to have any of that at all, meaning I needed to find a plain pair of heels for those everyday events. I wanted just a classic black pair, but nothing boring. I was hoping for something with a little lace, but all of those were peep toes, and homie don’t play that. Discouraged post trying on several pairs of shoes that I found boring, I knew I needed to change things up.

I happened to be minding my own business when an incredibly obnoxious commercial come on. Lo and behold, it was advertising shoes, so I went to the website to find out it was Rachel Zoe’s website, Shoe Dazzle. I love Rachel Zoe in a weird kind of bananas way, so I signed up and took a look-see. The shoes seemed reasonably priced, but out of my cheapo price range, so I went for the clearance rack. There, I found a flowered lace pair of black high heels, with a shiny metal toe that can be used for kicking people you don’t like strongly in places they don’t like to be kicked, at the wonderful price of $25. Done.

Romance 1

Romance 2

 

Romance 3

My only mistake here was that I had looked through all the clearance shoes while looking for this perfect pair, and there I became completely obsessed with shoes, because I found a pair so perfect, so divine, so worth obsessing over and falling in love with multiple times a day for the rest of my life that I was nearly shitting kittens. I finally, FINALLY, understood being obsessed with shoes. It was just that I didn’t need them. Unlike the black high heels, they wouldn’t go with everything. The  problem was, I was already in love, and they were also on clearance for $25, so I splurged when I knew I shouldn’t have. Once I got them, though, I officially became completely shoe obsessed like every other woman. They are that perfect. They are, single-handedly, the shoes that made me realize shoes are more fun to fall in love with than boys, and definitely the perfect fix for loveless times after you lost a love. These make me feel so classy and grown up, but still young.

Love

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Love 3

While I was ordering from Shoe Dazzle, I decided to search the clearance boots, as fashionable boots have long been a staple in my winter wardrobe, but mine had detached from their souls and found their death. All the boots I was finding were ugly and made me unhappy, but then I found a versatile pair for $13 on Shoe Dazzle. They’re so versatile because you can wear them below the knee and buttoned, or above the knee for a new look whenever you feel like it. These weren’t easy to photograph myself in since they have to be on to show the true potential, so I used stock photos from the site. Not very creative. Sorry!

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Boots 4 Boots 5

I am completely and absolutely enamored with shoes now and Shoe Dazzle. The transaction was quick and easy, I got my shoes quickly, the prices were great, and they had shoes that no one in my area is sure to have, so I can be unique. I just have to remind myself that I can’t keep buying shoes. Thank you, Shoe Dazzle and the perfect high heels for making me cray-cray about shoes, or just plain crazy. This is problematic for me. I can’t tell you how obsessed I am with heels, especially that specific pair, and shoes in general. I’m practically as obsessed with shoes as Rachel Zoe now.

Sometimes you have to invest in you. It’s not a waste of money to make yourself feel good. Buy things you love, but buy in your price range and you’ll be happier for it. How you look on the outside is just a showpiece of how you feel on the inside. If you’re going to wear it, it’s okay to spend some money to update your wardrobe so you’re absolutely you. And someone will love you for it.

On a separate note, this song makes me so happy and the video is so cute. It gives me hope and makes me completely jealous of these kids all the same. Great, now I’m jealous of eight year olds.

If none of this stuff helps you get out of your breakup rut, because you are fabulous and need a guy who appreciates you, let me help. If you’re tired of listening to Johnny Cash to make you realize that, hey, you don’t have it that bad, then I suggest My Blood by Ellie Goulding. It got me over everything, even in the roughest times.

“And God knows I’m not dying but I bleed now, And God knows it’s the only way to heal now,
 With all the blood I lost with you,
 It drowns the love I thought I knew”

Freedom Is Just Another Word For Nothing Left to Lose

I learned a very important lesson this week. You know how last week I was talking about how my life wasn’t laughing at me? Yeah, don’t do that. Now my life is laughing at me. Hysterically. Like, worse than ever.

I’ve held a lot of things back this summer, which isn’t like me. My blog has always been a stronger place, a place to inspire others and hope some girls can take something away from everything I’ve been through so that on a rainy day the sun seems just a little brighter. (That’s so cliche that I might even have to slap myself.) I am notoriously protective of my heart and anything that has to do with matters of it. I am also wildly protective of the people in my life. All of this led to me being marginally mysterious this summer. But now that it’s all said and done I realize that this blog is my place to speak, and as long as I’m not speaking bad about anyone, I have the right to say what I need to say on here. If the people I leave anonymous find this blog and don’t like it, then they can come talk to me about it, but since I’m saying nothing bad or offensive then it’s okay for me to speak my mind and share my story; my words. I’ve been hiding my blog from my friends and the outside world for quite awhile, but there’s nothing wrong with feeling anything. I just never knew that. So I’m going to share how I feel. If it bites me in the ass it will be the second time in a week, so what have I got to lose at this point?

You remember all the stuff I said in the last blog about The Boy that I was seeing? If you don’t, I will cite it again.

Needless to say, he decided to make a move. And though he does hysterical things like get stuck in trees and have us debate if we have to call the fire department to get him down like he’s a kitten, I’ll save the stories for another day. I don’t do relationships, you all know that. I’ve kicked, I’ve screamed, I’ve wondered if I was going to break up with him, I’ve talked out every possible issue one could think of and some that only I could, I’ve had one foot in and one foot out, and I’ve rejected all the cute he tries to make since he is definitely the cute one in this situation and I am definitely the man. But as I’m sitting here typing this, he’s sitting next to me doing some school work (Grad school law student. What’s up? The two year age difference is so scandalous.), so things seem pretty okay for now. And he’s definitely something special and not anything I’ve had before. (How many guys tell you that they know you’re not feeling well and they want you to gain weight because you’re too skinny and it’s unhealthy?) Hopefully we stick it out for awhile and things stay good, because there’s no need to cause issues where there are none.

Well, this just goes to prove that I am blind, deaf and dumb in relationships, because less than a week later he broke up with me. I was – and in some ways still am – completely devastated. To say I was blindsided by this would be the understatement of the century. I didn’t see it coming. I had no clue. I had no inclination whatsoever that he was unhappy. And then he just broke up with me out of nowhere…and spent the night at my house that night. You all know me. You all know I’ve never cried from being hurt by someone, and generally don’t cry. I have never cried so hard in twenty-six years and sitting here writing this is still making me cry. He was that special to me.

I’ve tried harder in the time we were together to make this work than I have tried with anything before. Every single day, every time I talked to him, it was a struggle for me not to up and run. I didn’t know how to act with someone who treated me kindly and made me as happy as he did. More than anything, I wanted this to work out. I met him and I instantly felt like we should give things a try. All I wanted was him. And in the end, he was the one that walked away.

We’ve talked about still trying to make this work. I don’t know what will come out of it. He needs some time, and I know exactly what I want is him. This leaves us in a bad place, because I feel like I deserve someone who wants to be with me as much as I want to be with them, and I just don’t know if that’s him. He had a ton of time for me when we were together, and I even spent a good deal of time helping him with his school work, which I didn’t mind. Now, he’s telling me he doesn’t have time for me for a few weeks. He backed out of a date he begged me to go on without even telling me. I showed up at his house to pick something up, and even though we had talked through text earlier about just going from there, he was in his pajamas and had no plans on going out with me that night. If he would have told me, I wouldn’t have been upset, but he didn’t forewarn me of the cancellation.

So I guess I’m single again. I guess I may be for awhile. I don’t honestly know what will come of this. I don’t know if I can learn to trust The Boy again. I had more trust for him than anyone I’ve ever been with. But when he broke up with me out of nowhere and didn’t talk to me about it or give me a chance to fix anything, he lost that trust. You all know me, getting my trust back is a nearly impossible feat. But he’s managed the impossible with me before. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to give him the chance to do it again. If he went for it now and didn’t give me two weeks to sit on it, I would surely be able to give him that. All this time he’s giving me to think will probably not turn over in his favor. I can only feel rejected and tossed aside and hurt for so long before I get enough guts to just pick up and move on. And I think that’s fair. No one wants to feel like they’re giving someone a chance who isn’t sure, when they’re ready to throw all their chips in on them.

At the end of the day, I’m not mad at him. We’ve had our fights, which is funny since I never fight with anyone. We’ve had our moments. I don’t think less of him and I’m not going to run around slinging words to our friends. I have no interest in doing that. I went into this relationship telling him I wouldn’t be the one who would do that, and I’m going out the same way. I’m a loyal girl to a fault, and I don’t say things I don’t mean. As the song goes, “I stood there and watched you walk away from everything we had, but I still mean every word I say to you.” I just know I have no ability or interest in being friends with him. I will never think of him that way. I will always want more. I will always think of him as more. It’s just such a long way to fall.

If we never see each other again and the tide never turns the way I want it to, then I’m going to take what I had with him and chalk it up to a life experience. I’ll take what I got out of the relationship and carry it with me and move on. Everything was different with him. For the first time in my life I actually felt something real, in a time where I was wondering the most if I could ever feel anything. I felt safe with him. I felt attracted to him. I felt chemistry. I felt some kind of attachment that caused me to allow myself to be close to him instead of pushing him away. Although I thought it was okay to just let myself fall for once, and in falling I got my heart shattered, I’ll know for next time that the feelings are there and ready for when the right person comes along. I don’t know if I’m counting him out as the right person, and his mom has even said we belong together. I agree. If he doesn’t, though, then none of this really matters.

I personally think he got too close to fast and is scared. But ultimately I’m not a psychologist and I don’t know what’s going on in his head, so what I think – none of it matters. And what I feel, that may not matter either anymore. Regardless of how this ends, I wish him only the best and I hope he finds someone that makes him feel loved and wanted and happy, because he deserves that. I’m just sorry if it ends up that I’m not that person.

Full disclosure? I miss him like crazy. It’s awkward, because I don’t usually miss people.

The only thing that’s getting me through this without crying constantly in my bedroom has been the following list of music. Hopefully these songs can help you out too.

Can I Go Now – Jennifer Love Hewitt: Because I was mad and felt trapped, a phase we all go through after a breakup. You just want to yell at someone and wonder why it couldn’t have been you they wanted to make things work with. You have that total moment of screw you. This is that moment of screw you.

Stronger – Jennifer Love Hewitt: Not a lot of people know about this song, but it’s really inspirational. Jennifer wrote it herself, and I appreciate her for that. There’s something to be said for the strength this woman has.

Red – Taylor Swift: This is just how I feel. Why is it that when you start to fall in love you realize that life really is a Taylor Swift song?

Brokenhearted – Karmin: You can’t listen to this song and be sad. You just can’t. I’m obsessed with Karmin.

Your Biggest Mistake – Ellie Goulding: This encompasses everything that a breakup stands for.

Lightweight – Demi Lovato: This was the last song I listened to that reminded me of him before the breakup. I was driving home after a great date night with him two Mondays ago and remember thinking, “This is where I am.”

My Goodbye – Automatic Loveletter: Every time we would fight the lyrics to the chorus of this song would play through my head.

Undiscovered – Ashlee Simpson: This song should be a staple for every girl who really misses someone and something they had and doesn’t know how to deal with it. So basically, every female on the planet.

Lasso – The Band Perry: I think the only thing more awkward than falling in love with a person is falling in love with a song. But I’ll admit that I’m madly in love with this song. The first five lines of this song fit perfectly to what I felt, and nothing could say it better. I’ve listened to them over and over again on an endless loop in the last week. Hands down, those lines will always remind me of this situation. “And I gave Him my best shot.”

On a completely unrelated note, I have my very own stalker. There’s a guy who has been interested in me for several months, but I was interested in The Boy and put him off to see if we could work out. Since things didn’t work out with The Boy, he had asked me out. Initially I told him I didn’t know, but The Boy encouraged me to go out with someone else. Though that upset me, I thought, hey, if he’s encouraging it, going out with someone else might give me some perspective on the situation. I said yes, though I really didn’t want to. I’ve known this guy for awhile and never once did he seem like a creepy stalker. As soon as I said yes, everything changed. He started texting me constantly, and if I don’t answer right away, he continually texts me and asks me where I am and what I am doing. Over and over. All day long. I went to sleep last night and woke up to texts from him asking me if I was still awake and then saying good morning and hello and what not. He just will not let up. And he keeps saying inappropriate things to me about how pretty I am and how he wants to kiss me and what not. Slow down here, buddy. I agreed to one innocent date. I told him the situation I was in and that I wasn’t really ready to date, but was giving him a chance just to hang out where there would be no kissing or hand holding. I was extremely clear, and now he will not leave me alone. Needless to say, he’s not getting a date. He is, however, getting his number blocked, and if he gets worse between now and the time I block his number, he’s also getting a nice little paper written up about him at the police station. Yes, girls, the texts are that bad. They definitely cross the stalker line.

 

 

If Someone Isn’t Laughing At My Pain, I’m Doing Something Wrong. In Other News: New Hair!

So, guys, I dyed my hair. Yeah, after that blog title, THAT’S what I’m going to start with. I like when my hair is bright red, so it was time to redye it with the original hair dye I used the first time. Spoiler alert, my hair really faded, but, other spoiler alert, I kind of liked the color it was. I just get bored if my hair is a normal color and I don’t do well when I’m bored, plus, everyone thinks I’m cute when my hair is normal, and that shit needs to stop.

That being said, I really miss when I had all the colors in my hair, so I was going back and forth about what color to add when my awesome British friend from The Historical Society pointed out that if I put blue in my hair after dying my hair red that I will be very Olympic. I agreed, so blue it was. Instead of bleaching out my hair, I got real hair extensions. Because I’m a girl who feels really stupid right now, let’s be Chatty Kathys and talk about hair and add some pictures. That seems like a sane thing to do in a time like this.

This is my hair before. I kind of dug the color, but grays were jumping out at me and my hair practically glowed red in the sunlight, except for my roots. People never believe me when I tell them I’m graying at twenty-six, and this picture does absolutely nothing to help my liar, liar status. But just know that the guy in Sprint asked me if I dropped my phone a lot today, I told him no, he bought it, and I retracted my statement and told him yes. I am that bad of a liar.

On a side note, let’s ignore my face. Yes, I beat up my lip, which, after a snake bite and a tick bite that caused Lyme disease just seems like a lame failed attempt at maiming me. No, I’m not wearing much makeup. Later I will be wearing none. If you have weak stomachs or there are children in the room, shield the eyes. I’m kidding, I look the same all the time, with or without makeup. I’m just really white. Also, yeah, I took my own pictures like it’s 1998 and this is Myspace, and yeah, I did it in my bathroom, but when there’s no one there to hold the camera and I needed the comfort of air conditioning, crap happens, then you die.

This is the color I dye my hair with, in case any of you want to use it. This is also a picture of what it looks like on, in case any of you want to use it, so that no one is running around crying because their hair is going to turn out pink and praying the salon is open late and cheap, while trying to get it off and simultaneously drown their sorrows in a bowl of Rocky Road Ice Cream. Yes, the duck face was totally necessary. I’ve never gotten to do it before. I’m done doing it now. Never again. Pinky swear.

This is my hair after. Obviously. I guess this didn’t need a caption.

In case you can’t see how bright this color actually is, voila!

As I mentioned, bleach and my hair sounded like an unhappy party, so I went to Sally Beauty Supply and bought real hair extensions. If you’re interested in getting them, they’re below.

I’ve never used clip in extensions before, and I wasn’t sure how to put them in or if they would blend. They’re super easy, you can’t see the clips no matter how hard you try to screw things up, and being real human hair you can style them. Creepy, yes. Efficient, also yes. Once they were in, I was a happy camper with hair like this. And, let’s face it, someone’s got to be a happy camper today.

For other things that make me happy, let me tell you a story. As I mentioned, I couldn’t even lie to the Sprint guy today. He was merely suggesting that if I dropped my phone a lot, and if by a lot he means three or four times a day, then I should get a phone cover because it will absorb the shock of the drop. Huh, I always thought those things were useless contraptions that made your phone look pretty. I learned something new today. He encouraged me to trek on over to a local store where I could get a cover for a couple of bucks. I got one with owls. OWLS, you guys! I have a mild obsession with things with owls on them. The other day, I wore a sticker of an owl for no other reason than it made me happy. There’s therapy for this, right? But seriously, guys, look how cute!

Although I’m sitting here trying to avoid the tagline of this blog header, I realize I can’t avoid it for too long. I have a motto, and that’s if someone isn’t laughing at my pain, I’m doing something wrong. When I get mad or really upset and hurt, I tend to go into a rant worthy of an Amy Sherman Palladino show. I can’t help it, I don’t try to do it, it just comes out. At least one time in my rant someone will, without a doubt, burst out laughing. They think I’m offended by this, but when I go back over what I said, I realize it’s pretty funny. Some highlights from tonight include:

“The obvious solution is to kill him, but I don’t agree with murder and I don’t want to get my clothes dirty, and murder involves blood and mud and car trunks and dragging and digging, and it’s too much work!”

“Maybe it’s me. I try to do things right and be kind and talk to people first when I’m unsure. If it’s me, that’s easily fixable because instead of wanting to kill the guys, I can just kill myself, and then if I get blood on my shirt, no big deal. Dead people don’t need clothes. By the way, feel free to raid my closet in the event of my untimely death.”

For those of you who know me, you know I’m the person least likely to ever commit murder, ever. I’m also the least likely person to ever kill myself, ever. Thus why these are funny.

At one point, when I thought my mom was in bed and asleep, I had a little incident with the dogs. I had no plans on ranting to anyone, but I was getting them a cookie and this happened.

“What, you don’t want this cookie? You don’t want a Quack? You’re going to be picky? Well, you know what happens when I want things? They don’t call, they don’t talk to me, they don’t say, ‘hey, what’s up.’ They don’t say, ‘hey, I’m getting back to you about that thing you asked me to get back to you about.’ They just wait until I tell them I like them, and then they seem fine with it, but they don’t call, they don’t talk to me. You know why, because you can’t always get what you want!”

I heard my mom laughing clear from the other room. She wasn’t asleep

Come On, Summer, Let’s Eat Crow Together!

Oh, hey gals. What’s happening? I know I’ve been super flaky this summer about blogging, and a few of you have been asking me what’s been going on since the last post, so I’m going to take this post to clear up why I’m as flaky as…I have no clean metaphor here. Be sure to add your own.

For those of you who know me, you know I’ve been a complete basket case this summer. This is new considering usually I’m just half a fruit loop. I passed a full fruit loop about a month and a half ago when my life got crazy. I apologize to any of you who have had to deal with me this summer, and I’ve already repeatedly ate crow and apologized to one person numerous times, but I really am sorry that I’m this crazy, because I’m not normally like this. I knew when I started to feel better around the end of April that this summer was going to explode into a menagerie of trying to catch up on the things I have gotten behind on in the last five years of being sick. But I was feeling better, so no big deal, right? Bring it on summer!

You all see where this is going, don’t you?

For one, my arm never properly healed. In case I didn’t recant the arm saga of 2012 because, well, my arm was hurting too badly to do so, let me share that with you know. A few months into the year, my arm swelled up for absolutely no reason and I could barely move it. It took a few doctors to figure out the problem, my arm was put in a splint, and that should have been the end of it. Except the doctor gave me the wrong size splint, I had to get a new one, the new one broke in less than a week, and the doctors office refused to give me a new one. I needed a prescription for another one because of the type of splint it was, and he wouldn’t write it, so after a ton of hassle I got a new one from an emergency medical center, long story short. Now, I had asked the splint debacle doctor if I could wear a splint without causing a blood clot because of my blood disorder before I even put the splint on. He said yes. He lied. My arm ended up worse off after the splint, but because of my blood disorder I couldn’t wear another one, and it wasn’t healing. I come to find out yesterday that the ligament is messed up in my arm now, but we don’t know if it’s because of the original issue being treated improperly, or if it was treated properly but my blood disorder caused issues, stressed the arm, and bye, bye good ligament. Either way, now my arm looks like this.

That’s okay. No big deal. It’s just an arm, and it’s even patriotic and is feeling very Olympic today. (Bonus points for those of you who know what movie that quote came from.) And look, I can type and such. The athletic endurance tape seems to be holding my arm okay, but who knows how long I’ll have to wear it for. It’s just that I didn’t need to spend two months arguing with my arm, especially when the original cause for the issue with my arm, as it was later discovered, was a pinched nerve in my back, but by the time we figured that out the arm had a legitimate issue. I also have to get it double checked by my autoimmune doctor to make sure this isn’t an autoimmune or arthritic issue on top of it. Yep, my life is kind of like that to me. And no, the irony of me having to wear athletic endurance tape is not lost on me.

Sneaking up on me for the win has also been this random side pain that waited until right at the beginning of June to pounce on me and be all, boo-ya! I’ve been all over the place trying to figure this out. My doctor thought it was my gallbladder. I had testing done. I went to a surgeon expecting to have it removed. I had more testing done. The surgeon decided that it stays, at least for the time being. So now I have two other appointments so that more people can poke at me and try to figure out why this pain is debilitating enough that I had to buy more air conditioners just to be in my house without getting sick, because although the pain is there without the heat, the heat makes it intolerable. I have a feeling this is going to lead to procedures and still surgery. Wish me luck?

Sadly, it’s not the heat that will kill you, it’s the humidity, which my blood disorder has been hating on lately. This summer has been painful, and quite frankly, I really don’t have time for it. Because I’ve been in pain, I’m sleeping stupid, so I’m half sleeping at night, and then napping during the day. I feel like I would fit in at the retirement home. Plus, I got bit by something, but no one knows what and why it’s not healing, so I had a blood panel done to make sure I don’t have some sort of infection. The results aren’t back yet. Are you all beginning to see why I’ve been so gosh darn cranky though? And that’s just the medical stuff.

I jam packed my summer with paranormal cases stupidly thinking my body was going to cooperate. I piled them on. I ended up canceling half of them, because I just can’t do it. Every time I canceled one, I got a new one unexpectedly. In fact, I spent all day Sunday running around on three different unexpected cases. I just can’t go anywhere without running into dead people, I’m telling you what. Who says Ghost Whisperer is just a TV show? Myself and Amy Allan would beg to differ. (Love her!)

On top of that, I volunteer for the wildlife center, which I used to only do once a week, but now it’s twice a week because of the amount of rescues we’ve been getting in. Plus I’ve also been doing rescues. In fact, look at this cute little duck I rescued the other day. I’m going to ask everyone to say a prayer for Baby Henry, of whom I did not name, even if you’re not the praying type. He’s only a few days old, but was somehow separated from his mommy and found running around in a gas station parking lot on a main road. Being so young, he may not make it, and I will be heartbroken and devastated if he doesn’t. I’m obsessed with baby ducks like the eHarmony cat lady is obsessed with cats (Okay, I don’t sob and such over them, but you get the picture.), and am very attached to this little rescue. How could you not be? Just look at all the cutes it possesses. When it’s that cute, it’s not longer just cute, but has cutes.

I’ve also been helping out the historical society this summer with their ongoing paranormal issues, just as I’ve been doing for the last year. This year has been insane, and things at the site have drastically changed. Another group of investigators had to be called in, and I now have sixteen hours of logging evidence that needs done, and has needed done, but no time to do it. (I genuinely need an assistant. I take all cases pro bono, though, and everyone wants paid.) I feel like I’m losing my mind, because I’m sincerely concerned about the one girl getting injured at the site. This isn’t something that’s going to be solved quickly, but desperately needs to be. If I were well, I’d have more time to devote to there, but I can only do what I can do and find I need to sit a lot, which is also an issue with the wildlife center. Thank God they’re both understanding of my medical issues. Of course, I guess that’s also why it’s called volunteering.

Some of you are also aware that I need to move so that I don’t lose my insurance. I already had one false start moving, where the complex wouldn’t accept my medical dog, otherwise known as the awesome Greta Hayley. Now I have to find somewhere else to live. I’m having issues with my insurance left and right because I’m still living at home, and have spent more than my fair share of time on the phone trying to figure out what’s going on. Contrary to what they think, it’s not that easy to just pick up and move. You have to find a place, be able to afford it, pack your stuff, get insurance, the list goes on.

I feel like I lost my head weeks ago and am still trying to find it. However, hopefully you can all understand why I’ve been a full fruit loop of a basket case. It’s nothing against any of you guys, it’s just that my life has never been this crazy, and I still have a bunch of appointments coming up, and things just keep rolling in. I’m beginning to become afraid that the summer is just going to eat me alive, or at least that’s what I would think if I were that dramatic, but I’m not. Hopefully things will slow down for me soon so I don’t end up in a straight jacket, mumbling things about summer being a murderer and drooling applesauce everywhere. There’s a picture for you.

For those of you who are wondering what happened with the whole debacle in the last post, please remember I was also dealing with that on top of all of this. You all know me well enough to know feelings are not something I do…at all. Forget doing them well. I did have an online dating profile. I don’t now. I took it down. I was getting an insane amount of emails, and most of the guys legitimately seemed like decent guys, but it wasn’t who I am or what I wanted. I tried talking to some of the guys, but there was nothing there for me, no connection. But I did learn I was demisexual, so I guess that’s a plus, right? (What? I always get personal on here. You all know me. I like being honest.)

As far as the guy I liked, I told him how I felt. My friend who has been helping me through this, who is also his friend, and myself were shocked when he didn’t completely shut down and stop answering my texts when I told him. We figured it would either be too late or shut him down completely. I don’t know what will happen between us, and it may end up being nothing, but now he knows how I feel and we’ll sort it out when he gets back. I learned something from that, too. If you have feelings for someone, just tell them. It’s not the end of the world if they don’t feel the same way. No one died, no one got hurt, the world is still spinning on the same axis. At worst, they don’t feel the same way, then you have to make a decision as to if you still want to be friends with them or not, but life will go on. If you tell someone, you might be able to fix the issue, but if you keep it to yourself, you’re going to get nowhere but frustrated. So was all of this worth it to learn all of these things, though extremely stressful? Yes, it was.

Owls and Adalind

Oh, guys and gals, we have so much useless stuff to talk about, and with pictures, too. So if you came to this blog looking for a useful post, this will not be your day. I’m sorry. In fact, I have so much useless sharing to do that I don’t even know where to start. Let’s just go in order of my pictures, shall we? (Not that you actually get a choice. That’s kind of just false hope.)

For those of you who don’t know, I’m all crafty and such. I like to take old things and make them new again. There’s really nothing that’s exempt from this, no matter how ridiculous or trivial it is. What can I say? When you’re sick, you learn to amuse yourself in the only ways possible.

Enter this summer. Picture it, you’re jovially getting out your lawn ornaments (pink flamingos not included) to put out for the summer and you come across one that, well, has seen better days. There’s nothing wrong with the ornament itself, except the sun has taken its toll on it and the once colorful little fella is now void of any life. Most people would go, “eh, whatever” and either toss it on out there or throw it away. Not me. What do I do with them? Paint them. Yes, I’m serious.

Before.

After. You can’t say this doesn’t look much happier.

I recently added a new addition to our family. The fish tank, rocks and food from my last fish were all just sitting there staring at me, as if to say, “yo, Lady, you’re wasting our time if you’re not going to get a fish to put in here. Give us a new home. Buy a new fish. Either one, just don’t be lame.” I obeyed the second suggestion. Meet Monroe. (And his so far unnamed decoration friend.)

I learned a very valuable lesson yesterday. Don’t go out with your friends upset. More importantly, don’t go to the mall when you need something while upset. I needed some non-dangly earrings since I only seem to have ones that are talented at dangling and dangling only. I really only wanted one pair, maybe two, maybe a little set of them. Nothing fancy. That’s exactly what didn’t happen.

I have a thing for owls. Totally platonic, I swear. I used to think I just loved owl trinkets and the thought of owls, but not actual owls. Then I started at the wildlife center and we got the sweetest little white owl in, and now I know I really just love owls. I had pre-decided that I wanted owl earrings. The store had them. The only problem was, the store had three pairs of them, all in different sets with five other pairs of earrings, and I wanted them all. What’s a girl who is thinking irrationally to do? Buy all three sets for the owl earrings. Yeah, guys, that happened. But it was so worth it, don’t you think?

I’m probably one of the most cautiously ridiculous people when it comes to falling in love. But, guys, I’ve met the love of my life. Nothing is cuter. The only problem? Her name is Adalind…and she’s a baby duckling. Yeah, so is my life. But look at how cute she is. How can you not fall totally, completely in love with her? Impossible.

Last but not least, you all know how I like to complain about Craigslist. A few weeks back I made a joke that I blamed everyone named Craig for Craigslist. I’ve learned a lesson from it. Saying that ensures that you’ll meet someone named Craig. It also ensures that they’ll be nice and you won’t be able to blame them for Craigslist, which is actually very aggravating when you hate Craiglist. Damn it, Craig(slist)!

Pretty, Girly Things

Some says blondes have more fun. Those people have obviously never been a redhead. I always said I was born a redhead, but someone forgot to tell my hair. The more bright red my hair is, the more I feel like myself. Right now, my hair looks like this.

This works for me, because I love Emma Stone. She’s completely cute and fun and classic and I’m honored my hair color turned out like hers.

This post isn’t about my hair, though. This post is about things I love that I want to share with all of you. You know, girl talk. So if you’re a guy, I’m not trying to kick you off my blog or anything, but you might be disgusted if you stay. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.

I know this is awkward, because normally my blog does one of two things. One: It uses snarkasm to make fun of the ridiculousness that are people, especially the ones on Craigslist. Two: It still uses snarkasm to tell the tales of my life, which throws the most innately unusual situations at me because it thinks it’s hilarious. I agree, so I write about it. Ever so occasionally, so much so that we won’t count it in number form, I do tell heart stories, the sentimental stories of life and love and survival. This post falls under none of those categories. In fact, in my past eight years of blogging, I don’t think I’ve really done anything like this. It’s abnormal for me. In fact, I’m a little abnormal right now, but in the good way. I’m normally snarky and cynical, but I’ll just let my friend Sandye sum up for you how I’ve been acting lately.

“Ok I don’t know how to take the new Amy. You’re all girly and I’m like wtf do I do with this? LOL!”

Look, I make a horrible girl. I might make a really good, sassy black girl, but as far as being girly and cute and soft, that’s just not me. Things can happen to give you hope. People can change. It’s a good thing. So let’s take this change and run with it. I won’t even tell you the story of the woman on Craigslist who wants what I’m selling but can’t afford it, so she keeps telling me the story of her life hoping that I will basically give her what I’m selling. Nope, not even going to go there. Instead, I give you the girly guilty pleasures that I love and that you all should check out. You know, if you want to. I’m not getting pushy with you or anything.

Red Hair – This is a no-brainer if you’ve been reading this post. However, if you’ve ever dyed your hair red, you know how difficult it is to get it bright red, especially if you have dark hair. I want to make a disclaimer stating that I have absolutely no affiliation or contract with Garnier. I’m just giving you all a tip. Garnier Nutrisse recently came out with a brand of hair dyes called Ultra-Color. They work specifically on black and dark brown hair to give you a vibrant color, and I can vouch that the red works. I used this shade specifically and went from almost black hair to Emma Stone hair in one hair color.

Hart of Dixie – I thought for sure this show was getting the ax, and I was quite honestly disappointed in this. Out of all of the shows that came out this year, this was one of two that I actually kept with all season. It’s cute, it’s girly, it’s Southern…you can see where this is going. But it didn’t get cancelled, because apparently the viewership was high enough online to keep it. Yay!

If you don’t know about the show, it’s like the new Gilmore Girls of the south. If you’re a guy and you’ve continued to read this blog despite the warning, I know you’re groaning now. I can’t help you out there now, Sir. Essentially, the show is about a young doctor, played by Rachel Bilson, who, after being refused a cardiothoracic fellowship because of her astute personality that causes her to form a personal disconnect with her patients, and being dumped by her long time boyfriend, moves from New York City to a small town in Alabama to work as a general practitioner for a year in order to find a way to bond with her patients. After arriving there, she ends up finding out dark family secrets that throw her life into a frenzy. Meanwhile, she has to learn to adjust to small town after coming straight out of New York. It’s cute, it’s funny, it’s mostly clean, and it’s honest. A lot of people don’t care for Rachel Bilson in the part, but I say phooey on them. I think she’s playing it exactly how she’s supposed to be playing it. So check it out. You might also get a case of the serious cutes. The serious cutes are contagious.

In other things I love about Hart of Dixie comes Lemon Breeland’s (Jaime King) accent. There’s two accents I do when I’m goofing off, and that’s the classic, overdone Southern Belle accent and then The Lemon Breeland. The Lemon Breeland never gets old. Maybe for the people who have to listen to me do it, but not for me. It’s fun to do.

Grimm – Okay, so this one admittedly isn’t girly, but it’s fun to watch. When it first started, I was skeptical. Grimms’ Fairy Tales are well loved. Okay, so the bastardized Disney versions of the fairy tales are well loved. I was ready for the real thing. I think the writers did an excellent job of taking a bunch of dark fairy tales from 1812 and modernizing them into a show with a cohesive storyline that runs through all of the episodes. Plus, it’s completely funny. A few episodes in, I was hooked. This and Hart of Dixie are the only shows that I stuck with this year, and I’m so glad both are getting second seasons.

In related things I love comes Monroe. Oh, dear gosh, Monroe. Without Monroe, there wouldn’t be a lot of funny in this show. To be honest, the consensus seems to be that the show wouldn’t have lasted without him. When I first saw him on the show, I recognized him as “that guy.” I just didn’t know who “that guy” was or where he came from, because he was a character actor. He typically played dark, mentally disturbed parts, as opposed to the hysterical Monroe. After watching him in Grimm, it’s clear to see this guy is extremely talented, and it’s about time he became a regular in a television show.

Ellie Goulding – I’m obsessed with her right now. Obsessed. This is far from the music I usually listen to, so I can’t explain why, but I’m just completely taken and all-consumed with her music. Her whole album is an honest take on falling in love, and it’s a raw take. Typically I would make all kinds of childish sounds about this, but for some reason I’m captivated and enamored with it. I can’t stop listening to her. Check out Starry Eyed, The Writer and Guns and Horses for those cute little songs about falling in love. If you’re really angry and not down for falling for anything, check out her title track Lights.

The Original Version of Skyscraper – Most of you know this hit song as sung by Demi Lovato. What most people don’t realize is that it was written and originally recorded by Estonian artist Kerli Koiv before she ultimately turned it over to Demi for her own album. I love Demi and her version of the song. I think it’s phenomenal. But there’s something to be said for the original version. As much as Demi was able to identify with the song and feel the lyrics, this woman wrote this song and that’s about attached as you can get to a song. Add in her beautiful Estonian accent and it brings a whole new life to the song.

Little White Lace Dresses – This is the summer alternative for the little black dress, and a must have for all the simple girls out there. The make you look pretty and classy without much effort, and even Taylor Swift and Reese Witherspoon approve.

A Cute Pair of Cowboy Boots – I know this look isn’t for everyone. I grew up in cowboy boots, back when they weren’t popular and I was riding horses. These are particularly on-trend these days and more comfortable than I remember. They’re cute to pair with a little dress, say, a white lace one, or just a pair of jeans for a casual, not-trying-too-hard look. P.S. – The cowboy boots in the picture are way cuter in person.

Selena Gomez Perfume – Let me just start by saying that I’m not a perfume person. However, I’m the nerdy twenty-six year old teenager who just had to go and vote on Selena’s new perfume in a whirlwind of boredom one night. In doing so, I got a free sample of her perfume when it came out. Naturally, the scents I voted for didn’t win, so I wasn’t sure how it was going to smell. The only real way to tell how something smells is to put it on, because each perfume mixes with your specific body chemistry differently. The raspberry scent that I wanted to see in the perfume the least was the one that ended up balancing it out the most. The raspberry is the one scent that jumps out and announces itself over all the other ones, and keeps it light and from becoming one of those musky smelling perfumes that young people really don’t like at all. It’s also a romantically mature perfume, and the longer you leave it on, the more you can envision yourself out on an alluring date in it. Then again, what do I know about romance? I wore it last night and can honestly say that I would have asked myself out with that perfume on, which is saying something since I’m not my type.

The only downside to this perfume is that it’s only sold at Macy’s and retails for $55 for 3.4 ounces. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend that much money on perfume, nor would I ever use that much before it went bad. If they start making it in smaller bottles, I’m all over it like a duck on a Junebug.

Katy Perry Purr Perfume – Before I proceed, maybe I should just explain the joke in the name of the perfume. Katy Perry has a cat named Kitty Purry, hence the perfume. I’m so disappointed that I even know that.

I didn’t know what to expect from this scent, especially seeing that I loved Selena’s so much, but seeing as it runs around $29 for one ounce, this sounded better to me. I know in the long run it’s a bit more pricey, but at the same time, I can use an ounce before it expires and won’t be wasting it.

This was one of those perfumes that I had heard smelled natural and fruity, as opposed to musky and, well, perfume like. I’ll be the first one to admit that it doesn’t smell too tasty in the bottle, and when you first spritz it on, it has a similar effect. But after leaving it on for about ten minutes I became completely obsessed with it. It truly blossoms into a light, fun, summery scent. Though not as romantic as Selena’s perfume, it’s perfect for a casual date (What do I know about dating?) and even a night in with someone special. It also works for just hanging out with friends or a quiet evening in watching movies with your dog, because yes, my dog LOVES this perfume. She keeps running over to me to smell my wrists, which isn’t usual behavior for her, and is quite ironic considering the perfume’s name. This perfume can wear many hats, but also doesn’t overwhelm you after it has been on for a little while. It’s one of those scents that could be picked up by the wind and believed to be a local flower to those who haven’t walked up and sniffed you. And honestly, if they have, that would be weird. Yes, it’s a bit youthful, but every woman needs to know that she doesn’t have to take herself too seriously, so I think it’s a plus. If that’s not enough to make you love the perfume, there’s always the bottle.

Greetings From Sick Land, Where It’s Habitually Unfun

I know it seems as if I’ve up and abandoned this blog as if it were a town overrun by monkeys trying to pull my pants down (You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve just spent the last two years watching Travel Channel bloopers. My favorites at the end of this post.), but, in truth, I’m still sick. Yeah guys, no kidding. I’m on my third 10-day round of antibiotics for a sinuses that are apparently no longer infected, but still largely inflamed to the bewilderment of my now bungling doctors. I confuse everyone up in here. So until I’m better, this is going to be kind of a half assed post. I’m sorry, but I just can’t full ass it yet.

So, Ladies, let’s just pretend that it’s not my funky medication talking and that this isn’t at all random, and let’s talk makeup. I have a tutorial waiting in the wings for someone to upload and yell, “BE A STAR!” That someone is me.

I know with being sick and all that I haven’t really gotten to talk about Christmas and makeup and such too much, so let’s talk a little about that now, minus the makeup tutorial. If you watched my original tutorial, you’d know that I was in desperate need of makeup, so for Christmas Aunt Bev took me makeup shopping. I was in need of EVERYTHING and found a kit at Wal-Mart for $15. It had six different eye shadow kits, each with six different colored eye shadows, a sparkly eye highlighter, a blush, and a lip gloss in it. Also inside was a professional pocket makeup mirror, four lipsticks, four nail polishes, four eyeliners and two foundations. The kit was distributed by Markwins International. I was skeptical about getting the kit with the price and the fact that I had never used that brand of makeup before, but since I needed a little of everything, it was the perfect kit for me, and for the price I decided to give it a try.

You guys, this stuff is awesome, and I’m not a paid reviewer. I don’t even play one on TV. I was really surprised with the quality of it, especially the eyeshadow. It looks expensive and professional. It has that hint of iridescence which makes it gorgeous and also makes it look like a wet eyeshadow, though it’s a dry one. It’s blends so very easily. It doesn’t take going back over it five times to get it to do so, and it doesn’t take but one good swipe on your makeup brush to get each color to cover. To show you how demure and flawless this is, I did my makeup today in bright blues, one of the hardest colors to put on, because it’s so bright and so easy to mess up. That being said, let’s pay more attention to the left eye than the right (Based on looking directly at the picture.), because the right eye was the poor victim of one good sneeze, so it’s a little smeared in the corner. Gesundheit. And yes, those are my actual eyelashes. They’re just super long. I can’t put on false eyelashes to save my life, mostly because I’ve never tried, so please don’t ask me how to do it.

Look how luminous!

Here’s the overall view. I know it’s super bright, and I normally don’t do bright blue eyeshadow, but for the sake of the blog, it’s totally worth it. Also, I don’t have any lipstick on in this picture to show off their awesome lipstick. Sorry, all. I didn’t have your backs there.

Last but not least, let’s talk hilarious Travel Channel bloopers, yeah? This is what happens when I’m sick. I watch television, because I don’t know what else to do with myself. But really, who needs to watch two hours of Travel channel bloopers? Me, that’s who. It’s okay, though, folks. In the past month I’ve managed to watch four seasons of Flashpoint and start into Veronica Mars. (Does anyone else just think she has the coolest dad ever or is that just me?) Anywho, beyond the point, so I digress.

This first video is not suitable for work or children, really. It is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Two monkeys pull some guy’s pants down. No, seriously. I have absolutely no way of making this up.

Here’s the Travel Channel website’s videos. If you flip through, you will find a ton of bloopers. Knock yourselves out. Not literally. If you do that, you will probably end up with a concussion at best and in the hospital at worse. Don’t do that.