Monthly Archives: January 2010

Sarah’s Boyfriend & No Shame.

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My sister has a boyfriend… has had one for about 2 years now (or is it 3, who’s keeping track??). He’s pretty nice, helps me with making my tacky sweater sing, glues my sunglasses back together, puts up with my sister’s craft obsessions, drags my furniture all around Denver and doesn’t judge me based on my lack of singing ability. So, I’m thinking that we’ll keep him around for a while.

It has recently been brought to my attention (via my sister’s Facebook update),

That maybe I am a touch too comfortable with Kyle being around all the time. He’s more or less like a roommate at this point and, well, if you’re around me long enough the “don’t do that” sensor just shuts down. When I see you at all hours of the day, expected and unexpected I no longer actively think about what I’m saying or doing in front of you. It was this way in college with my friend’s boyfriends and it is now this way with my sister’s boyfriend. Whether this includes bringing up highly inappropriate topics at the dinner table or “handling” an emergency wedgie situation when required… not a second thought.

I don’t think it’s all that weird. I walk around the house in my  floral pajamas, hair Medusa style without any makeup and complain about that weird smell coming from the pantry in front of him so why not just let it roll?

Maybe you think this is a little strange, but more than that I think it may be a dead fire sign that I need to move the heck out. 6 months with the fam has clearly had its effect on me. Au Revoir, Ciao, See Ya! I’m moving out (tomorrow!!) and moving on. And with this I hope to regain my dignity and sense of boundaries. No guarantees, but I promise to try my hardest.

Oily Explosion.

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You know, there comes a time in everyone’s life where all they want to eat is a peanut butter sandwich. This peanut butter sandwich may include jelly or honey or bacon. But regardless it’s a peanut butter sandwich. Variations can be made using almond butter, but personally I’d stay away from the cocoa butter if you have a choice.

I’m, currently, at a time in my life where peanut butter sandwiches (well peanut butter and almond butter that is) are a major priority. If I decide I’m having one for dinner… I think about it the ENTIRE day. Just building up excitement for the delicious party that my mouth will be throwing.  In fact, I’ll be having one for dinner tonight and, well, I’m already fantasizing about it. Some people fantasize about men with rock hard bodies rubbing them down with oil. I fantasize about peanut butter sandwiches. That explains a lot about me.

So last night (I had again predetermined I would be having a peanut butter sandwich for dinner) I got home from work and sat down to study (for the GMAT, did I mention I’m going to take the GMAT? No? Well let’s hope I am not a complete idiot because we have to share our scores out loud tonight… Um). After about an hour or so I decided it was high time that I reward myself for my hard work with the much-anticipated sandwich delight!

I go rummaging through the cabinets looking for peanut butter, check the pantry and both shelves of the lazy susan and come up empty-handed. I do, however, stumble across a jar of almond butter and my internal dialog goes a little something like this:

Hmmm, well it’s not peanut butter, but I think it will do.

<Pulls jar out of lazy susan>

Isn’t almond butter suppose to be refrigerated after it’s opened?

<peruses label for information and finds “refrigerate after opening”>

Hmmm, I’m pretty sure this jar has been down here for at least six months. How bad can nuts get? Well, isn’t there something with the oil in nuts going rancid. Man I bet this is rancid. Look at it.

<Glances at jar of shady looking almond butter>

Well, I’m desperate and I’ll just have to suffer if this doesn’t work out because I NEED my peanut butter (well it’s really almond butter) sandwich.

I then set the jar down, pulled the honey out of the pantry and got a couple slices of bread (white bread for the record). Slowly I opened the jar to see 2 inches of oil separated out and sitting on top of the actual almond butter… and I thought to myself “eh, that’s suppose to be there right?” and proceeded to grab a knife. I turned to talk to my sister’s boyfriend and stuck the knife in the jar to stir (or combine) my soon to be dinner when…. IT EXPLODED ALL OVER ME.

I had almond butter oil all over my face, in my hair, covering my clothes from work, smeared on my shoes and now dripping on to the floor. It was oil, people… greasy oil. I was suppose to be heading out 30 minutes later (after some more studious problem solving) and am currently covered in oil with a distinctly nutty smell. There is no way getting around it. You can’t pull the “oh it’s shine serum that went a little awry” line because, unless I’m missing something, shine serum doesn’t have an overpowering nut odor. I stand there stunned for a few second before yelling “Are you freaking kidding me?!?!” and run upstairs to shower. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten ready and had laundry going so fast in my entire life.

Needless to say I’ll be investing in some “non-separating” peanut butter on my next trip to the store. That particular batch of almond butter had “bad seed” written all over it and promptly had a date with the trashcan.

Crying.

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I have many a friend that can look attractive crying. Tears seamlessly fall down their cheeks and it’s sad, but borderline picturesque. A lovely tragedy. Their faces don’t puff up, no one asks them if they’ve had their lips injected and their eyes fail to swell shut, leaving their eyes peeping out of tiny slits in their faces. Their makeup doesn’t run and their chests don’t break out in itchy, red marks. No one asks them the following day if they look tired because their eyes have yet to re-open — baby hamster style. They simply cry.

I’m sincerely envious of these people. They have something I’ll only aspire to have.

It doesn’t matter if I’m crying out of frustration at a three hour commute, pain at losing someone, joy at a joke that almost made me wet my pants. I cry. And, look like a hot mess within minutes. Sigh.

2010.

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It’s 2010, technically January 4, 2010, in case you missed the memo. I’ve been working on 2010 literature and planning (workwise) for 2010 since last spring — I should be prepared for this, but oddly I still feel a bit shocked that 2009 has ended. Where did the last decade go. It couldn’t have been 10 years ago that we were all convinced the world was ending and I sported a “Tommy Hilfiger Y2K” shirt. People storing canned goods and water believing that the end was near. I believe my mom used to fill old milk jugs with water. Milky, stale water. Gag. Now we have 2012 to look forward to… maybe that’s the scare of this decade?

So much happened in these past ten years it’s hard to wrap my head around it. 10 years. I feel like I should make some profound New Years resolution, but sadly haven’t found anything that really sets my sail. Here are few mediocre “thoughts” as I’m not quite ready to commit them to goals, but here we go:

  1. Climb 3 fourteeners this season. And try not to succumb to death in the last hour before the summit.
  2. Let go… I hold on to things a little too tight. Airline miles, drawings from when I was 6, and things from my past.
  3. Become more graceful. I’m going to take a stab at reducing my tripping, falling, spilling, and overall klutziness as well as try to live gracefully. Wouldn’t you agree I could use a little grace? Shut up.
  4. Work on my sensor. Some things that come out of my mouth (I believe there was something about Vaseline on my pants) don’t need to. I need to do a better job keeping those bad boys on lock down.
  5. Run the Bolder Boulder this spring… and try not to run like a duck because after the first, oh, four miles any sense of semblance will be lost.
  6. Make a conscious effort to be happy. Half the time it’s a choice. I’m choosing to smile and let it cause irreversible wrinkles.
  7. Botox savings plan for said wrinkles.

Ok… one can aspire to accomplish more, correct? Correct. Well, here’s to 2010, I hope yours (and mine) is better than 2009!