Coffee or Hot Chocolate?

How about both?

Last week/weekend was horrible. In fact, it wasn't like an actual weekend, but an extension to the work week. Here is how things went.

Thursday

Work 7-6
Work 7-12
Sleep

Friday

Work 7-6
Dinner with friends 7-10
Sleep

Saturday

Move 7-2X
Work 3X-12
Sleep

Sunday

Move 8-3X
Visit with friends 3X-7
Sleep

I barely had time to eat, let alone sleep this weekend. I am still worn out. For the first time, I smelled coffee and wanted some! I don't even like coffee. I poured myself a cup and was debating over regular or hazelnut creamer. I came to the conclusion it didn't matter which I choose I would still be gagging this shit down. That's when I saw it. The box of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate? Hot chocolate! But that was too sweet! So, I did what anyone would do. I used the packet of hot chocolate as creamer so now I have a yummy coffee that tastes like it could have came from Starbucks, only it didn't cost me $6.89!!!!

YAY! I know I've said it before. I'm a genius! They should promote me!

... and Then It Hit Me

More often lately I have been thinking about kids.

Having them.
How I want mine to turn out.
Why?
When?
How many?
Gender, etc...

When I was younger. I ALWAYS wanted to have a girl. "Girls are easier," I told myself, "Boys are complicated." Shows how much a 6 year old knows. At one point I had it planned out. I would have 1 boy, wait 3 months, get pregnant, have another boy, wait 2 years, have twin girls. Then, down the road (5 or 6 years later) I would have a baby boy - If I still wanted kids. You see the 2 older boys would protect the twin girls and then the youngest boy would be my "momma's boy."

Then, I saw a psychic and she told me I would have 3 kids, which stills doesn't clarify anything for me.
Am I going to give birth to 3 kids?
Am I going to marry someone who has 3 kids?
Am I going to adopt 3 kids?
Or a combination of any of the above?

So... I have made up my mind that I definitely want a boy. I could only have boys and be completely and utterly (or is it udderly) happy. In other words... I don't want girls. Lover wants girls, but he has a daughter, Cinderella.

For the longest time I was confounded as to what changed between that 6 year old, that girl at the psychic, and the woman I see in the mirror today.

... and then it hit me. I always KNEW. I say why and am reminded by why almost EVERY day.

I never. ever. want to put any daughter of mine through half of the torture, stress, and drama that I had to endure through my childhood. No. I don't care that I was not one of "cool" kids. No. It doesn't change who I am today. But guess what? It doesn't mean that it was any easier THEN.

Girls... Are bitches.

It's true. We are a very cruel, devious, selfish, and... bitches. Let's go back to when you were in school...

Who did you want to hang out with? "The popular girls." At the same time those were the girls who would spit in your shoes, steal your lunch, and frame YOU for stealing the test answers. Who the hell did they think they were? As hard as that is, it STILL isn't the whole reason girls are bitches, there's more!

We don't care how about other's feelings and we will do/say anything we can in order to boost our selves up on the pedestal of life. It's all bull shit. I know what you are saying. "Not ALL girls" You're wrong. Yes, it is all girls because if there is a female who didn't act like I am describing, they would not be a girl - they would be a woman or a young woman.

I don't want to have a daughter who is worried about how "fat" she is, just because she hasn't grown into her body yet.

I don't want to have a daughter who is worried about wearing designer clothes and the latest trends because it's what "her friends" are doing. She looks just as beautiful in $20 jeans as she does in $100 jeans.

I don't want my daughter to be laughed at, made fun of, or cry because of those cruel girls in the world. Most importantly I don't want a daughter to make fun of, make someone cry or be one of bitchy cruel girls in the world.

I know what you are going to say next. You can raise your daughter to not be any of the above. You're wrong. It is inevitable that every girl will take this treacherous journey into the cruel and unusual punishment we call childhood. We can only guide our children, show them the right way... We cannot force them down a path. From day 1 they will be traveling alone.

Boys have it easy. No worries about what they wear or how clean it is. No preconceived notions on personality or looks. They are accepted for who they are and that's it. I want boys.

Does this mean I'm getting older quicker?

The holidays just kind of FLEW by! I mean one day it was Halloween, then the next day it was Thanksgiving and then Christmas and finally New Years.

WOW! What a week right? It actually took about 2 months. It went by crazy fast. I remember when it seemed like it took FOR.EVER before Thanksgiving came, and even LONGER to make it to Christmas!

I guess as we get older time goes by much faster. *sigh*

I am glad they came, but I am also glad to know that the holidays are OVER. It's back to normal like we go!

You can't be in the club anymore!

We interrupt this Christmas Blog for one of my tangents....

Remember back in the day when you and your friends started "secret club." The kind that met on Sunday afternoons when all the Mom's gathered for their weekly book club meeting to talk about the latest book. Only, now that you are able to read and you remember the sounds they made your questioning whether or not they were talking about a book or sex.

I bet you remember the exact Princess Barbie sheet you draped over your dresser and bed to make little fort and the exact color of gel pen you used to make the "NO BOYS ALLOWED" sign that you pinned to the Princess Barbie sheet with scotch tape, because you weren't trusted with anything else.

Remember when Becky promised she would bring cookies for everyone, and you could already feel the gooey deliciousness in your mouth, only to find that Becky didn't come to the meeting, which inadvertently left you with Sarah's crummy crackers and cheese? So, you being the leader of the group decided that Becky was kicked out of the club.

OH Ooorr! Do you remember when everyone took a task to do to help the club get better. Sarah had to bring stuffed animals to guard the fort, you had to type up the club rules (because only a REAL club had rules), and Jessica was assigned to bringing extra sheets to expand the fort in the hallway? Yea! I bet you also remember when Sarah forgot to bring the guard animals and how upset you were and that you also KICKED HER OUT OF THE CLUB!

This is a classic example of the "You hurt my feelings, so now I am going to hurt yours MORE" attitude. I thought everyone moved past this in 6th grade. Apparently, we didn't, and apparently it is following us all the way through the completion of our MBA.

The degree program I am completing requires team assignments (luckily it's the same team throughout the class). Generally, teams handle the assignment by splitting up the work, submitting it on a early date, and one person compiles it all, edits it and turns it in. It's a full proof method to an A. However, sometimes shit happens, it's inevitable and the person who SAID they wold write 300 words on cow dung, backed out and now the rest of the team has to figure out what to do next. Welcome to the real world!

What I am about to tell you happens often, and my often I mean there is always someone from one team your brings it up or suggests it.

One team member suggests that in the event someone does not complete the work he or she was assigned/volunteered to do, then he or she's name will be removed from the assignment.

Fair, right? It sounds fair. If Jane didn't do the work, why should she get credit? I'll tell you why...

BECAUSE SHE IS IN THE TEAM TOO!!!

Now, let us take out the obvious excuses as to why Jane didn't so the homework: She didn't pay her internet bill, so she couldn't submit the work? Her dog ate it? She dropped her cell phone in the toilet at the bar and hadn't gotten around to getting a new one, so there was no way she could call to tell you what happened? Wait, that was me. Anyway, now that we have all the bull shit excuses out of the way let's focus of those that have merit.

My grandma died. Some of you might be thinking that this is not really a good excuse. Well, I am close to my grandmother and if she did die, I would want some time to grieve. And I can guarantee that the LAST thing I am going to be doing is writing about cow dung OR letting my team know that I will not be writing about cow dung. The team all of a sudden takes second priority and I no longer care for their well being.

I digress...

Jane has no valid excuse and her grandmother died 3 years ago. Should her name still go on the assignment? YES! Why?

BECAUSE SHE IS IN THE TEAM TOO!!!

Let me explain further with more explanations:

1. If you think of a classroom like a business you would have the boss (the professor) and the employees (the students). By removing an employee from the workload (for lack of participation) the team would be in a sense "firing" said employee. Well, the team does not have the authority to fire the employee; that is the boss's job and should be left up to the boss. The employees' job is to inform the boss of the situation so that the boss can handle the situation properly.

2. You're reverting to your childhood self by saying, "If you are not going to bring me any cookies, then I am kicking you out of the club." You're an adult, behave like one, even when you are challenged by adults behaving like children. Stooping to their level makes you no better.

3. Regardless of which team member participates or HOW MUCH each member participates it is still a team effort. If I decided that I was going to do JACK SHIT (hypothetically of course, not physically) I am still apart of the team. I may not be acting like much of a team member, but you can't control that.

4. It's a threat, more so a scare tactic. "IF you don't do the work, you don't get your name on the paper!" Is that the best you can come up with? My NAME doesn't go onto a piece of paper? You really convinced me to write that paper on cow dung. In fact, I am so worried about my name isn't going to go on the paper, I am going to write 600 instead of 300 words. The point is... If someone is not going to do the work, it doesn't matter if you threaten them with assignment points. I'll call your bluff, and raise you a trip to the managers office where

5. An eye for an eye. We are not in the Roman days and we all know this method doesn't work. It will always end in someone's death. For example:

I take your eye.

You take my eye for taking your eye.

I take your other eye for taking my eye.

You take my other for for me taking your other eye.

The result: You and I are both left blind!

END TANGENT

18 Years, 4, Months, and 21 Days

18 years, 4 months, and 21 days...

That is how old I was when I moved away from Mom and Dad. I drove, all 1,000 miles, in one shot from Weed, Ca (my hometown) to Phoenix, AZ. It wasn't just the day I moved away from home, it was the day I moved away from my Mom, the woman who had supported me and been there for me every day for the last 18 years, 4 months, and 21 days.

Where is all of this coming from? My 2 years anniversary was on Sunday/Monday. Sunday was the day anniversary of the day I left and 1am Monday morning was the anniversary of the day I arrived in Arizona. Both days are memorable.

It was a big leap of independence. A giant one, one that I wouldn't take back, but might possibly approach in a different way.

18 is young. People who are 18 really are just beginning their baby stages of their life. They think they know the real world, but they don't, because parents try as hard and for as long as they can to shelter their children from the cruelty of the real world. I knew what bills were, paid for my own cell phone, I paid for my own insurance and my own car. Unfortunately, it's not the same.

I do cherish that day. I cried so hard before I left, that I almost didn't leave, I almost post-poned it to the next day. I hugged my Mom so tight. Part of cries wasn't because I was moving, it was because I didn't know when I would be back, when I would see my Mom again. The other part was being afraid. Afraid of failure, and the shame that would come with having to "move back" if I failed. I was confident that wouldn't happen, I have a funny way of making things work. But, the fear was still there.

Then, my Mom's boyfriend did the unthinkable, he gave me money, to help along the way. It wasn't much, but it was enough, and it was the thought that meant the most. I cried harder. Now, they were a mixture of happy tears, sad tears, and scared tears.

I cried on and off for the next three hours. It wasn't until I was south of Sacramento that the tears subsided.

The next time the tears flowed, I was about 250 miles away from Phoenix. The trigger of these tears was a Britney Spears song. (SHUT.UP I'm a female, I can't control my emotions in these times. Plus, I am trying to be sentimental). The words, "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman..." played through my speakers. It was that moment that I knew I would persevere, and succeed and that too scared the shit out of me.

I closed a chapter of my life that day, it was the journey to independence. I then started writing a new chapter... the journey of independence.

The Morning Routine

Everyone (I can say everyone, because I've studied it. It's out there. On the web. Check it out.), has a morning routine. All routines can be different, but they are there, none-the-less.

For example, my morning routine when I was 16 went something like this (mind you I was in college at the time).

Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays (Saturdays, Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays were my days off!!! I know!):

10:00(ish) - Wake up

10:10 - Shower

10:20 - Hair & Makeup

10:50 - Rush to get to class by 11:00 (It was only 10 minutes away, and there was NEVER any traffic/stop signs/traffic lights (small towns, gotta love 'em!)

Now, as I am older, hopefully wiser, and more importantly need money to survive, my morning routine goes a little like this:

6:45 - Turn off alarm and curl up with Lover

6:52 - Turn off alarm and curl back up with Lover (I have many alarms for different times set on my phone.

7:00 - Turn off alarm and try to keep my eyes open while I curl up with Lover

7:04(ish) - Rush out of bed in a hurry to get ready, and brush teeth

7:07 - Start make-up / hair (which is still wet from the shower last night, because always put it in a tight bun)

7:20 - finish getting ready. Contemplate eating breakfast, but choose to curl back up with Lover for a few more minutes.

7:30 - Turn off Lover's alarm

7:34 - Rush out of bed, get dressed

7:36 - Crawl back next to Lover, give him morning kisses (while avoiding his morning breath) He always tells me that I look sad. (I do). Then he asks why. (He always asks why!) I tell him because I don't want to go to work; that I want to stay here, with him. (I ALWAYS respond in these words). He smiles, I give him a kiss, tell him I love him and miss him (On Mondays - Wednesdays) or tell him I'll see him soon (On Thursdays and Fridays), and to have a good day.

7:38 - Rushing out the door

7:44 - Make it to the freeway, where I get to fight traffic

7:56 - Still fighting traffic

8:03 - Pull into work

8:05 - Get to my office. I am always a few minutes late. But, I don't really give a damn because they took away my overtime, forced me to take an hour lunch, and put me on a set schedule (like I'm salary), so showing up late to work makes me feel like I am getting something back.

I miss Lover. I wish I didn't have to leave him in the morning and go to work. I would much, much rather stay curled up in his arms as long as I could.

I also wish I could have the routine I did when I was 16. Things were easier back then.

For Lunch...

Lasagna and cookie dough...

because I'm an adult.

And I can! :P

Why I Should...

Lately (meaning the last 2 months or so), I have not, under any circumstances wanted to go to work. Getting out of bed to get ready for work has become a chore instead of routine. This is precisely why I had compiled this list of the top 20 reasons why I, of all people, should win the big one. Yes, I am referring to the lottery. I am not, however, referring to just the million dollar jackpot. I want the jackpot of jackpots, the big cojones!

*clears throat* So, to begin.

1. My job sucks.
2. I don't get paid enough money to do my job.
3. They took away my overtime. Thus, they took away my grocery money.
4. Number three means they LITERALLY took food from my table.
5. I am a good person.
6. I would give a lot of it away to charity/use the money for good causes.
7. I could be a stay at home Mom. This means my kids would get the love and guidance they need/deserve preventing from being a common criminals (saving tax dollars) and allowing them to be successful (giving more tax dollars).
8. I would be less cranky.
9. I could pay off my student loans.
10. Number 9 means I would be giving money BACK to the government; thus, helping the USA get out of debit.
11. Number 9 means I would no longer be taking money from the government; thus, helping USA stay out debit.
12. I could open my own business.
13. I could open my own business without taking grants from the government.
14. Another business means more money to the government.
15. I would travel within the US.
16. Number 15 would stimulate the economies of all the states.
17. I would travel internationally.
18. Number 18 would contribute positively to foreign affairs.
19. I'd give my family/close friends money to get them out of debt; giving them more disposable income. We all know the positive effects of disposable income.
20. The cosmetic products, clothing, and shoes alone that I'd buy would be enough to keep the area booming for many centuries to come.

As you can see, the economy, government, and general public would be much better off through my winning the lottery.

Sleep

I laid down for a nap yesterday at about 3:00 pm. I woke up at 10:00 pm. YIKES! So, what did I do? Showered, brushed my teeth, and went back to bed until 7 this morning.

...

I'm still tired...

It was a long weekend!

Apples and Onions?

This morning I was digging through the crisper drawer in the refrigerator; I knew I had some fruit in there and since I didn't have time to enjoy a healthy bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, I need something quick and easy. Quick. And. Easy.

AWW HA! So, THAT is where the left over "fixings" for the tacos I made last week went. Chopped up lettuce, cheese. OH! There's an orange. I'll take that. Onion, tomato. Apple, two apples. Perfect! Should I grab some peanut butter? No, no. I have some at work.

I put the new found fruit into my purse and off to work I went.

So, I get to work (mind you, I am starving at this point) and immediately reach for that apple in my purse. Mmm... Crisp. Cold. Fresh. Onion! Huh?

My apple has a suspicious amount of onion hint in it. Gross. I'm done!

Is this one of those life lessons that I get to learn and can only learn by living by myself? That HAS to be why my Mom always used one crisper for vegetables and the other fro fruits. Come to think of it, I don't even remember her putting the chopped up onion back IN the crisper, she just left it in the plastic zip-loc on the shelf.

I don't know about this whole getting older/growing up thing. Where's my Mommy when I need her most?

I Miss Recess

Remember when your school day was only 6 hours long. I wish the work day was 6 hours long. I also wish we had recess again. Companies should implement this into their schedules, it will keep employees from getting "burnt out." Not that I am getting burnt out, I just want a recess. Oh and while you are at it how about decreasing the work day to 6 hours too? Actually, I couldn't afford to only work 30 hours in a work week so that wouldn't be any good. See, where I am going with this?

Vote Yes For Recess!

The new 9-5 has become 8-5 for a total of 9 hours a day (1 hour for lunch) that you will never be able to get back. Imagine you had a recess in there somewhere. Or even split up your lunch into 2 30 minute breaks OR you could just turn your hour lunch into 2 15 minute recesses and a 30 minute lunch. This transforms your work day into:

WORK 8 - 10

RECESS 10-10:15

WORK 10:15 - 12:30

LUNCH 12:30 - 1

WORK 1 - 3:30

RECESS 3:30 - 3:45

WORK 3:45 - 5

Now, I don't know about you, but I like the new schedule. I want recess again. If I could go back to any time in my life, I think I was pretty happy in Kindergarten - where we had NAP TIME too!!!

Neosporin

For some reason I have been hurting myself lately. No, not intentionally so you can stop typing the 1-800-SUICIDE help hotline number you were going to give me, plus I appear to already have it.

I got a couple blister from wearing new heels yesterday. I sliced my finger. No, really SLICED my finger. I took off a piece of skin, A CHUNCK of skin.

When I was younger, the extent of healing such wounds extended to a bottle or peroxide followed by half a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

While at my (Ex) Step-Grandmother's house, when younger, she would send me or my sister to the bathroom for any minor scrape or cut she saw to apply Neosporin. *clears throat* After knowing what it feels like to have rubbing alcohol poured into an open wound, I was not about to discover what Neosporin felt like upon application. No, I don't care if the back says pain free, the back of the alcohol bottle said that too, but guess what? It lied!

So, I would throw a drop of water on it, to make it look wet, hide it from the witch (meaning the ex step-grandmother) and go to back to playing, which was usually a chore around her house, like cracking walnuts.

However, some co-workers were talking about how Neosporin works wonders and heals wounds in more than HALF the time.

I COULD USE THAT!

So, I sent the man to the store to buy some. I popped my blisters (it's just water so stop freaking out), put some Neosporin on the band-aid, and applied the band-aid. (I didn't look nearly as cute as the little girl on the right does).

I did all that last night. Oh my gosh! Today, the blisters aren't sore, they didn't fill back up with water and they even look a little healed!

It's a MIRACLE!

28 Day... Cycle

So we all have it (well half, more than half of us do). *sigh* Okay, I'll say it, we're all adults here... Period, shark week, Aunt Flow, bait season, rag time, monthly, personal time, menstrual, Red Sea, and the list goes on.

So, usually before this unholy event occurs, I turn into a raging Bitch. Everything seems to bother me and everyone gets on my nerves. This week has been a tad bit different; instead of getting angry I cry. WHAT?

Prime example:

You know that movie, The Parent Trap? The one with Lindsey Lohan, but not the "cracked out, alcoholic, slut" Lindsey Lohan, the "little girl, I don't know what masturbation is" Lindsey Lohan. Well, it is a movie about twin girls, who don't know they have a twin. One lives with her Mom in London, the other lives with her Dad is Napa, CA. Now WHY the parents would even TRY to do this I have no clue? I mean WHO just abandons their child? Cause regardless of anything that is what that is, abandonment.

I digress...
Anyway, these two meet at camp, figure everything out, and switch places to try and get their parents back together again to be a family.
Okay, all together now: "AAAwww....."

I've seen the movie HUNDREDS of times and could probably tell you the lines of the movie from memory. However, during this showing, every other scene was touching my heart in such a way that my eyes started leaking! I mean, I say eye leakage, because it's not really considered crying when it's against your will. At least it's not in this girls blog!

Needless to say, I am still not entirely sure which one I prefer: Eye Leakage? Or Rage Blackouts?

20 For a Month

I wish I were talking about money. Although if that were the case, I would much rather have $20 a week for a month. Maybe some day I will find my internet stalker who wants nothing more than to please me from a distance (a far, far distance) and send me money.

Today, I have offically been 20 years old for 1 month. I think I can now start referring to myself as a 20 year old, instead of saying, "I just turned 20." The reaction on faces of strangers upon hearing this is rather amusing. The shocked, "no-way," "ut uh," and "you're WAY older," are rather flattering; until I am 28 and people think I am 35; that'd be gross!

So, even though it has only been one month, it feels like 11. Only, in one more month I still will not be able to purchase alcohol... legally.

***Editors note: Umm, I don't know where my mind was at during this because, uhh... My birthday is June 11, which would have made me 20 for 2 months. I have no clue! Hence, the new tag, FAIL!***