Sunday, August 15, 2010

Consider this!

Well played, Glee writers. And Sue. I flippin' LOVE this. Sheer brilliance in my opinion. In my mind, the people of William McKinley High School can do no wrong. September 21st cannot come soon enough. Now please excuse me so I can go and make the most kick-ass Glee playlist ever for my iPod.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Eat, Pray, and Go Away!

So maybe I am shallow. Or maybe I am just cranky (ok, there’s really no question about that), but I get annoyed by overly introspective people who have the need to “find” themselves. This is why I love and hate the book Eat, Pray, Love. It’s a well-written memoir with a plot that, to some extent, we can all relate to. For those who haven't read the book, it's about a woman who reached her breaking point and took a year to travel to Italy, India, and Indonesia to find herself, and along the way did a lot of eating, praying, and a little loving. Hence the title. Who hasn’t reached a boiling point in life and wanted to run away for awhile? I’ve been there more than once. But the whole “Who am I?” crap just wears on my last nerve. Just look in the mirror. Surprise!! THAT’S who you are. Do you really need to go see a guru in India to figure yourself out? And the only thing you are going to find by eating your way through Italy is that you’ve doubled in size. The real you is not hidden under that 20th bowl of pasta you are about to gorge on. But maybe that’s the secret to the Olive Garden’s success … just a bunch of lost souls trying to find themselves via ravioli.

I know, I know, it’s all about the emotional journey. I get it. Some people need to see what else is out there; to put all their troubles behind them and start anew. A fresh start can indeed change one's life. But life shouldn't be so hard to figure out. I’ve had my share of hell, but one thing I know for sure is who I am. I am comfortable in my own skin and couldn’t care less what people think about me. Maybe I should care, but that would require more effort than I am willing to exert. I guess I am lucky in that sense, and I didn’t even have to join a commune or run off with some guy named Luigi Spaghetti to figure it all out. If I do ever lose myself and need to find my center, I will just get some Ben and Jerry’s, pray to the sports gods, and love my husband some more. That’s pretty much my life anyway, and so far it’s working just fine. Ciao.

*As a side note - if you really need to go on a spiritual journey, save yourself an expensive plane ticket and go pray to the "Big Butter Jesus" statue in Ohio. (Disclaimer to cover my ass: I mean no disrespect to the religious types, and I did not make this name up. The statue is affectionately known by Ohioans as "Big Butter Jesus" because of its textural resemblance to butter. But I like to call him by his other name, "Touchdown Jesus." If you have ever driven on I-75 through southern Ohio, you know exactly what I am talking about.) If you choose to take this journey, just be warned - you might learn more about yourself than you would by going to India. It's Ohio, after all - home of William McKinley High School (gratuitous Glee reference) and Lima Beans. Plus, you will have an awesome picture to post on your blog!


Tuesday, August 10, 2010

I've fallen and I don't want to get up

I’m getting old. I’m having teeth pulled. I take a handful of prescriptions daily. Something always hurts. I bitch a lot about my ass aches and have long conversations about them with friends that are in the same pathetic physical state. So what happened? When did this all begin? And how is it that at the age of 43 I feel like I’m 80? Well after very little thought, I’ve concluded that it all started when I got married. That’s right. I said it. And you married people know it’s true.

Marriage ages you and sucks your former self out of you, and I mean that in a good way. It takes a once fit and energetic person and turns you into a blobitty blob that is barely distinguishable from a couch. “Did the couch just move?” Nope, that’s just my husband. But it is all good. Being married is a good thing, and my former self was pretty boring anyway. Marriage adds a foundation of contentment to your life that you didn’t know was missing until you get married and realize that it is exactly what’s been missing. And then there’s the thing about having that person who always has your back, no matter what. I must say that it's pretty damn cool. But yeah, it ages you. The contentment ages you because time flies by so fast that before you know it you’ve just spent the last decade staring at each other (or more likely the t.v.) and you haven’t moved off the couch. You are no longer running to or from the unknown, nor are you working hard to accomplish some intangible thing that you can’t quite put your finger on. You get married and you’re good. It takes awhile to get to this point in marriage, but one day you look around and realize that you can just stop, because everything you will ever need is sitting right next to you on that couch. So I guess the getting old thing isn’t so bad after all. My better half makes my soul happy, and he’s worth every ass ache that I have.

Monday, August 2, 2010

In Conclusion? I need to be famous

It's that most charming time of year. When Target rolls out pallets of blank, shiny notebooks and packages of multicolored pens and highlighters. When colorful backpacks take over endcaps and entire aisles and lunchboxes dot shelves. When I dash down the aisles sqealing "wheee!" because I love new school and office supplies so much. It's back-to-school time! Hurrah!

Now, it doesn't matter that I'm not in school anymore. I can always find a use for shiny paper clips, cute notebooks and more blue pens. Sadly, my back-to-school glee has been slightly dampened by the fact that I work in education, so this time of year isn't so much spent buying sparkling new notebooks as much as praying that I can get everything done in preparation for the school year. So I'm a little stressed right now. And while I could use new pens and cute paperclips, I need far more than that right now. Below, is a list of things I could use more than school supplies at the moment:
  • A massage. For, like, five hours. Hell, I need an on-call masseuse.
  • A case of Riesling. Or a vineyard so I could access all the wine I'd need to help e relax at night.
  • A new haircut and color. My hair is all split end-y and the color is a cross between rust and puke. I need a salon appointment STAT. Or an on-call stylist.
  • An assistant to take care of all of the detail-work that needs to happen by mid-month.

Upon looking at this list, I realize that while some of these things might be reasonable, overall I sound like a high-maintenance diva. And I am. But this list of wants rivals Mariah Carey's rider for her concert tour (minus the M&Ms request, which is just ridic). Perhaps I should work more on my diva skills so I can have my demands met and less on my impending and huge workload. Or maybe I should stop making lists of things that would make me very happy and tackle the to-do list that looms over me. But that doesn't sound as fun. And besides--I LIKE being a diva. Now...where's my wine?!?