All You Need is....

I'm fascinated at how unaware of themselves people are.

I realize I'm not without flaw, either.

However,  I can see the effects that my words and actions and intentions have on others.

My first reaction is to react.

Grind my teeth and sling shit!

But, upon my arrival home to the midwest, my dad instilled a 5 second rule.

When something happens....breathe for 5 whole seconds.

Sounds simple, but when my gut is burning it's the 

hardest thing

in the world

to do!

The bottom line is people are who they are,

but I'm old enough and *wise* enough now to know where my limitations lie with them.

I'm so thankful to have love in my life.

At the end of the day it is

EVERYTHING.

Not even of a sexual nature, but of a 

real 

primal 

heart swelling

unselfish

love.

Of friends.

Of family,

and I just happened to be blessed enough to have the "other" kind too.

But I know it was given to me because I know what love is.

If you don't know what it is,

you cannot be open enough to receive it

because you wouldn't recognize it

if it whipped out it's dick

and slapped you in the mouth.

(Deep Breath)

Five seconds later....I feel much better.

Regis

And just when I thought I could handle it no more.....

The heavens opened up and God said,

"Bitch, get over yourself."

So I did.

I do.

I am trying to.

I got my hair cut at the mall today.

Regis to be exact.  

$33.00, what a bargain!

I tried to throw the "I'm from New York" card around

Erin, as I read on her card with the "Regis" letterhead, was thoroughly

UN

IM

PRESSED!

After the 3rd time I mentioned it she said "Oh, do you live there?"

I was like,

"shit."

But seriously, come on!  Then I remembered.....

For around 3 years I begged my mom to get my hair cut at the mall 

and NOT

in an independent place in and or around my home town.

I got my first "bob" at the mall

I got my first "shag" at the mall

I got my first "period" at the mall

actually, it was Sam's Club in O'Fallon, IL right down  the road.

Either way.  I'm shedding an ugly skele-tor skeleton right now.

With an ascot wreaking of pretention.

I left St. Clair Square with a kick in my step

mainly because the girl that cut my hair

refused to give into my ego.

Wow, I just realized that this trip home is me getting back to myself.

That should be my one woman show title, huh?

"Me Getting Back to Myself."

Oh shit.  

There's the EGO.....

again!

This might take more than the 20 days I have alotted.....

As Time Goes By

I'm driving in my car, what was once my car, now belongs to my parents, 

through the town I grew up in.  

To visit my grandparents, by the park I smoked my first cigarette in.

Windows are down and a sense of nostalgia fills the interior of the '98 Dodge Neon.

I suddenly feel ridiculously young, and simultaneously old.

Past the high school, past the car wash, past Gitcho's Gas,

who's slogan is "Gitcho Gas at Gitcho's."

Kit Gitcho is the owner and he lived 2 doors down from me growing up.

He was a dog killer, a white man with a tight afro.

The trees are gorgeous!  People here probably don't think twice about them.

Out of town.

To the mall.  The mall I once worked in.

Dillards and 5-7-9 to be exact.

The smell of each mall is strikingly similar and yet distinctively different.

I feel incredibly cool and simultaneously completely out of sorts.

At least there's a Starbucks there.

Who doesn't feel cool when they're holding a Starbucks cup?

Check the time.

Check in with the folks.

Promise to be home by 5:30

because that's when dinner will be ready.

It would be disrespectful not to.

Driving back.

To a house.

Where, after dinner,

I have

nothing

to 

do.

That's when I realize how long it's been,

since I've lived here.

Homecoming

Getting Married makes me wanna die.

REPHRASE...

Planning a wedding is like dying a slow death,

only to be resuscitated at the end.  

I hope I pull through.

The good thing about the wedding is that I'm home in this dirty little Steel Mill Town called,

Granite City, IL.  Here, the meth flows like water and the homeroom's in the High School are meant for throwing baby showers.  

Breathe.

It.

In.

Sitting on my parents screened in porch, drugged within an inch of my life on Clairitin-D, I realize something. 

I .

Am.

Bored.

And now you are too......

Fake is the newest Real

The Real Housewives of Orange County make me Real Real (really) mad.

I don't know how many people actually watch the show, but it's worth it.

It's no RHO Atlanta....(sung: There's a Tightro-ohhhhpe,) but it's a beast all unto itself.

I don't know why I feel obligated to blog about it, but I mean shit.

It makes me want money.

There I said it.

I don't want to be one of these bitchy, soul-less zombies, but I want their money.

Is that so bad?

I would do more with it.

I would still shop at the Salvation Army and look for the 50% off tags.

I would still look for the cheapest thing on the menu so I could drink more.

I would still use my grocery store savings card.

In addition to this:

I would finally get to carry a designer bag that isn't 2nd-hand

I would sit in my beautiful house on my outdoor entertainment area and write, write, write

I would be able to allow myself to buy JUST ONE Betsey Johnson dress

I would still have a job but one I've always WANTED, like owning a Vintage store where I could help girls who can't afford it have an amazing prom!

However...

I would never be able to leave the house because if those women represented on the show were the people I would have to associate with, I might just turn into one of them.  

Now, 

that

aint

too

rich.

I think I'll stay poor and happy.

Flesh Tones

Flesh, skin, dermis, epidermis.  

The rubbery substance that covers our internal organs and skeleton.

It's fucking weird if you break it down like that.  

I was riding the train "late night" last night when I realized.

Ew.  Our skin is crazy.  

That's awfully vague.

Crazy= Outer layer that is completely randomly shaped according to your parents skin and where your cartilage lies.

I mean whoa. 

 I know this is so remedial but I thought about it for a good 2o minutes, just staring at the faces of strangers.  I'm thankful for where my cartilage lies.  (PS I had to spellcheck that word.)  I thought it was cartiledge.  Nope.  Oh but here's the point.

We have the ability to really fuck with our skin!  

I mean facelifts, nose jobs, boob jobs :)

I want to tell all those crazy aped face 60 year old bitches with the liver spotted hands and smooth, shiny face skin that their organs are still old.  Their bones are STILL old.  Their minds are the oldest they have ever been, and...

You don't look young.  

You look like Dr. Zais.

On a side note....

I want a perfectly decorated apartment and a keener sense of style.

I want a social life that is more demanding than it is now, but less demanding than it is now.

I don't want my lips to be chapped.

I don't want to be sick on this gorge-mahorgeony snowy day!

I want to get my nails done

I don't want to pay for that.

I want to be rich.

I don't want to "work" for it.

I want to eat cheese without guilt.

I don't want constipation.

I want to drink at least a bottle of wine a day.

I don't want to be an alcoholic.

I want my biological clock to stand still for one goddamn moment. (Im STILL not ready!)

I don't want the pressures of 'keeping up with the Joneses.'

I want to say if it's a lip synch...it isn't a live performance.

I want to accomplish an accomplishment.

I want to stop getting pit stains in my white shirts.

I want to eat whatever I want and NEVER GET FAT!

I want to kill Cathy from the Cathy comics.  (mmmm chocolate. ew.)

I want to stop procrastinating.

Other than that....I think all is well.