Daddy-o

Happy Monday, kiddos!  Are you guys ready to kill me yet since I can actually say that and mean it since I don't work on Mondays.?  Yeah, well get over it, and get back to work!  (After you read this, of course.)  I had a mixed emotions weekend.  My great aunt passed away last week and her funeral was over the weekend.  My dad's side of the family happens to have nailed the whole longevity thing when it comes to living, so she got a nice solid 92 years out of life.  So, while it's horrible seeing family in pain, I think we all took comfort in knowing she got plenty out of life in every way possible.  The good thing to come out of this weekend though?

I got to hang out my absolute favorite man in the world.  I wish I could bottle the mood I'm in when I get to spend time with my dad and give it to all you guys.  The world would be all peace, love, and puppies.  Seriously.  Somebody asked me why I was in such a good mood if I had just come from a funeral, and it's because of that dude.  I just love to be around my dad.  Also, he gave me vodka, but that's not the point.

It's funny how relationships with your parents change as you get older.  I don't love my dad any differently or any more than I ever had before, our relationship is just different.  When you're finally an adult I feel like you can actually have a friendship with your parents.  My dad wasn't my friend when I was 13.  What 40 year old man would have a 13 year old friend?  Weird, right?  I'm 13, tell me to quit being a smart ass and give me some money.  Now that I'm finally an adult (or something slightly resembling one) I can have real conversations with him, I have things in common with him, and we can swap tips on how to sneak liquor into places. 

Probably some booze under his hat.

It's just nice picking up the phone and shooting the shit with my dad.  Or bumming around the living room swapping stories instead of stock conversations about school, sports, or if I'm behaving for my mom.  I have a good relationship with him because I choose to because I'm an adult (yeah, I said it again) and nobody can force me into anything.  It's interesting to discover all the things I have in common with him now and all the different ways I act and think like him. 

I hope everybody is lucky enough to get along with their parents like that.  Especially people my age, because our parents are getting older guys. Ok, he's not really that old, but you know what I mean.  Time goes by way too fast.  Those two pictures feel like they were taken a month apart, not 25 years.  Enjoy the people who gave you life.  And let them know frequently that you do.  I hope you're all lucky enough to have a dad who mixes a drink like that guy does too. 

Cheers! 

(Because I can get drunk on a Monday, suckers.)

Terrible Twos

I always assumed the 'Terrible Twos' referred to shithead human children.  Makes sense that they would start to suck when they hit two since now they can talk and walk, so not only can they talk back, but they can also walk away from you after using their new ability to form complete sentences to sass you.  That's why people get pets.  Train them right, and train them early, and you'll usually have no problems with them aside from the occasional throwing up on the carpet.  And that's more or less been the case in my household.  I mean, the pets are pretty spoiled, but they listen.  Except somebody has a birthday in exactly two weeks.  And somebody will be two years old on that birthday.  And somebody sucks now.

She's talking about me, guys.

My sweet sweet middle child has lost her mind.  Where she used to listen, she now turns her back and pretends to not hear me for a few minutes before she eventually gives in and does as she is told.  And I'm almost positive I see her roll her eyes when this happens.  This is particularly embarrassing when we're at the dog park and I tell her it's time to leave and then spend the next ten minutes as free entertainment for the other suckers dog owners there as I chase her around in circles attempting to put her leash on her.  Think about how dumb a dog looks when he's chasing his own tail and times that by a million.

Trust me guys, she looks real dumb.

I used to take a lot of pride in the fact that Joey was much much quieter than your average dog.  No obnoxious barking when I come home from work at six in the morning.  No scaring new visitors with a bark that sounds a lot more menacing than the actual dog.  No sitting in the backyard barking at a squirrel in a tree because it won't come down for hours upon hours.  Not only has Joey found her voice, she pretty much just uses it to insult people.  Wearing a regular t-shirt and shorts at the dog park?  You're safe from Joe's barks.  Anything else?  Open season.  She takes serious offense to tie dye (but who doesn't?), dreadlocks, any type of hat, skateboards, vests (don't ask), and basically any thing she doesn't see on a regular basis.  When one person is dressed the slightest bit differently, Joey makes sure to point it out to everybody within a two mile radius by following them around and barking at them.  The good news is, she'll most likely never let me leave the house dressed like an idiot.  The bad news is, I'm apparently raising an extremely intolerant dog. 

We're also still having a problem with thievery.  I don't foresee this ever getting better.  She thinks the world is her dog park and everything is her toy.  If you're playing with something, she most certainly wants it.  I can typically find her being chased by the previous owner of whatever is in her mouth at the time. 

And this is progressively getting worse too.  She will now stop playing with something just to go steal the same exact thing from another poor, unsuspecting dog. 

Am I crazy?  Or do dogs really go through 'terrible twos'?  I mean, we could just blame it on the spoiling and constant attention finally getting to her head.  But I'm choosing to believe I'm an excellent parent and she's just choosing to be an asshole right now.

Guys, did you even notice my mom is a blonde now??

No, seriously, have any of you guys had the same problem?  Also, her spots are getting darker, but I'm almost 100% sure that has nothing to do with her behavior. 

Over and out.

Fool Me Once...

Happy April Fools' Day!  This tricky little holiday is definitely my least favorite..  First of all, I am very easily tricked, so I would prefer not to own up to all the times somebody (everybody) has gotten me on this bastard of a holiday, and second of all, I'm not very good at playing jokes on people, because I usually start crying or laughing two seconds in.  So, enjoy today all you jokesters, but leave me out of it, I don't need help feeling stupid.  I am a very easy target though, if you're looking. 

This holiday was much much easier to navigate in middle school.  You could go ahead and bet your life on not believing a single word out of anybody's mouth.  Your best friend says she's moving?  Not a chance.  P.E. cancelled for the day? You bet your chubby little ass you'll still be running laps.  Brother wants to clean your room for you?  LIES.  Now that I'm an 'adult', it's not that simple.  When a fellow adult gives me some information on this day I never know what to do. 

They would be silly to play a joke today, I mean, this person has a mortgage and a baby.  GROW UP.

Wait, would I be silly to believe them?  I mean, it is a day dedicated to fooling people.

No seriously, they're in their 30s.  This isn't a joke.

But, this is how they get people, right?

Ok, no, I would bet my Disney princess shirt and Harry Potter wand that this person is too mature for an April Fools' Day joke.

...DAMMIT! Every. Time!

I can't actually be this dumb.

But I am. 

It's part of my charm.  That's what I tell myself anyways. Whatever.

You know what April Fools' Day joke I like to play on myself?  That bag of Doritos, mashed potatoes, glass of wine, half a snickers, and half a pint of ice cream I had last night for dinner isn't currently throwing a party in my thighs.  Wait, April Fools' Day joke?  I meant normal eating habits.  I also just spelled 'habit' like 'rabbit', so the real joke is that some of you guys think I'm a literate person.  That might be the best April Fools' Day joke of them all.  I was able to let that joke carry me through five years and two degrees of college, so who is actually the fool?

Me.  It's still me.

Leave me alone today, guys.  I'm too easy of a target.  Challenge yourself, and go for somebody who doesn't regularly put her shoes on the wrong feet.

My Favorite Friday

Ok, every Friday is more or less the shit, but this Friday?  Today?  Is the best one.  Remember a few months back when I whined about my best friend leaving me?  I'll catch you up:  She's a horrible best friend and left me for the frozen tundra of Montana.  Nobody moves to Montana.  She clearly just needed a break from me, which I understand, I mean, I take a lot of work.  But she's been gone for six months.  SIX MONTHS.

Hate her

If I read our best friend agreement that we signed correctly, nobody was allowed to move out of state.  Montana is a clear violation so she owes me money and a hummingbird cake, which I can get from her today because SHE'S ON A PLANE TO FLORIDA RIGHT NOW!

I'm so excited I might die.  No, seriously.  The idea of us being in the same state finally gets me eighteen different kinds of giddy, all of which are almost too much for me to handle.

We haven't even been able to Skype or FaceTime, because she's literally been that much in the middle of nowhere that the internet connection isn't good enough for basic human contact.  Or she lied to me and seriously moved to Montana to take a vacation from me.  Whatever.  I hope you enjoyed your little break and are comfortable peeing in front of me, because I not leaving your side the whole time you're in town.  You'll be lucky if I let you go back.  Actually, you won't be lucky:  Florida >Montana, so you'll actually be lucky if I'm able to lock you in my closet and cause you to miss your flight back (also known as Plan A).

Also, anybody who is reading this who wants to see Sheila while she's in town, email me and I will try to fit you into her schedule for the ten days she is here, but she will most likely be busy hanging out with me.  I don't share.  Sorry.  Maybe while I'm sleeping or at work you can sneak in a lunch or something with her, but most likely not because I plan on taking her everywhere I go, and I prefer you not come along, you'll most likely just get in the way and I'll have to ask you to leave anyways.

Sheila Shine, I know you're just as excited as I am and couldn't help but get on an earlier flight so call me when you get here.  Oh! I wrote a song for you while you were gone.

It's Friday, kids, and I'm having the best one out of all of you.

Linking up with Whitney, and hopefully I don't pee my pants, because this level of excitement would make it perfectly acceptable.

Also, Sheila, you really aren't leaving Orlando again.  I got you on the no fly list.  I KNOW PEOPLE.

****Update****

Since I'm actually toddler, I've managed to catch what is most likely pink eye (the least mature illness there is behind chicken pox) so if one of you guys could make sure Sheila gets a HAZMAT suit so she can still hang out with me, that would be great.  Also, send something with her to help me sleep, the shit is serious and I can't close my eyes long enough to get any sleep.

Help.

 ****Second Update****

It's Spring everywhere but Montana, and apparently snow storms don't make for good flying conditions, so nobody is on a plane yet, AND the boyfriend just came sick, so basically this day went from awesome to kill me real quick.

Debating on testing out if drinking an entire of wine can get rid pink eye.

Again, help.

 ***Third Update***

Sheila is actually the worst friend ever and was playing a joke on me.  Her flight isn't cancelled.  Thinking about giving her my pink eye when she gets here.

Living In Sin Is The New Thing

Ho there!  (Yes I'm still double spacing after periods.)  So, I want to talk to you about something you're all going through/have been through/will go through:  Cohabitation. 

I've been cohabitating with my better half  for about two and a half years now and it's more or less been one of the best decisions I've ever made.  I'm not here to rave about the boo putting the toilet seat down (but really he does, and it's awesome) but there are minuses to go with every plus when you decide to shack up with your significant other.  But let's bust through the pluses real quick.

1.  Beer

Boys always have beer.  ALWAYS.  When I was single, I would constantly come home after a bad night at work and need a drink but have an empty fridge.  You can't really drown your sorrows in OJ.  Boys are always beer ready.  They somehow anticipate having a bad day, so they always have beer available. 

2.  Food

Living with females provides you with broccoli, asparagus, meal replacement shakes, judgment, and more broccoli.  Boys?  They tell you you're beautiful AND give you french fries.  I have a constant supply of chips, ice cream sandwiches, and macaroni.  Sign me up.  Sure it goes straight to the ass, but boys come loaded with compliments, so it's fine.

3.  Cleaning

The bf is by no means washing dishes, but he's all over mowing the lawn and keeping the rose bushes in check.  Which is great, because I don't want dirt all over my manicure.  And I'm definitely not putting a TV stand together.  Thanks, man.

4. TV

I am a GIRL when it comes to television.  Throw me a housewife, Kardashian, a medical drama, or a small town girl trying to make it big on NBC, and I'm HOOKED.  Enter the boyfriend and I'm watching bearded men catching frogs, guys pawning civil war memorabilia, and dudes eating eight pound hamburgers and I LOVE it.

 It also SUCKS living with a dude, for all the same reasons.

1.  Beer

You know what momma really wants after a 10+ hour shift of hateful patients?  WINE.  Where are the boys who like a good Pinot Noir?  I got that dude up there to take a sip of a red wine that was so fruity it doesn't even count as wine, once.  ONCE.  And I was just thankful he didn't spit it on my shoe.  I don't always want a Bud Light, babe.  Usually, but not always.

2.  Food

I'm a girl, and as much as I would love to live off of carbohydrate and cheese, there's no pretty way to do that.  How do boys not understand that?  Calories just fly right out of their ears while they set up camp and start paying rent in our thighs.  The fuck?  Salt and vinegar chips and Oreos can't hang out in the pantry and have the same effect on us, honey.

3.Cleaning

When David and I moved in together we agreed that I would do the inside 'girl' cleaning and he would do the out side 'boy' cleaning.  And I appreciate him doing the heavy lifting, but two weeks after posting up in our current residence, he made friends with the neighbor boy and started him some cash to mow the lawn.  Smart?  Yes.  Fair?  No.  Plus, although I'm blessed with an oddly neat boy to live with, boys will always be messy.  But seriously, he puts the toilet seat down every time and it's the best.

4.  TV

I love a good Gas Monkey Garage,  but when did we all agree that the boy gets the remote?  I don't want to watch Grey's Anatomy on the laptop, or catch up with the Housewives at two o'clock in the morning.  But he somehow ALWAYS wins when it comes to family TV time.  I don't get it.  

Living with a boy is the hardest decision I've ever made, but I've never though twice about that decision.  I just wish I wore the pants.  

I Did It!

Happy Monday, kids! I wish you this from a bed I'm not moving from at all today except to get a grilled cheese sandwich later.  Hate if you will, but I deserve all kinds of lazy and cheesy things today, because I ran a stinkin' half marathon yesterday. 

That's meeee!

I know, I know, I'm  sure you're already aware since I assaulted all forms of social media with this event yesterday, but whatever, it wasn't easy, so I get to brag. 

 While I was training, my game plan was to try to finish this bad boy in two hours, and I did it in two hours and eight minutes.  Don't worry, I'm not mad at all at those extra eight minutes.  There were definite points during the race that I didn't think I was going to be able to make it, so I would have been happy finishing in three hours (that's a lie).  Annnnnnd, I placed 11th out of 42 in my age group. 

I couldn't be happier with the way it went yesterday.  It was simultaneously the best and worst thing I've ever done.  The best, because it's a pretty cool feeling being able to do something not everybody can do.  The worst, because well my feet hurt and it was cold when we started and I had to wake at 4:30 in the f-in' morning. 

Well earned beer.

That little angel up there not only woke up at that ungodly hour with me to come out there and cheer me on (and to make sure I didn't back out) but she decided last minute to bust out the 5k they had going on that morning too. 

The rest of my favorites were waiting at the finish line for me too.  To say I was happy to see them is an understatement.  And I'm not sure if it was because I was excited to see them just to see them or because seeing them meant I was finished.  Actually, I know it was because I was finished.  Don't tell them that.  You know what, I'm sure they know that. 

I assumed that I would finish and NEVER want to do this again, and right after I finished yesterday that is exactly how I felt.  Fellow racers kept approaching me asking how my first race went and giving me pointers for my next race and I would laugh and tell them this was my first and last one, and they would laugh right back and tell me I would be back.  And I think they're right.  And by 'think' I mean I've already been scouring the internet for the next race I want to do.  I still refuse to believe that a person can actually run a full marathon though.  Refuse. 

The rest of you enjoy your Monday, I will be spending mine eating every last calorie I burnt yesterday, and then some.

High-five!

Help

So, if you remember from this post I'm a giant idiot and signed up for a half marathon.  The biggest problem with that, is that it's no longer three months away, but less than two days away.

Sure I've been training, but still, 13.1 miles, man.  I've been running for about six or seven years, but I am still the most nervous I think I've ever been about something.  Sure, there is a little bit of excitement sprinkled in, but mostly I feel like I'm going to throw up every time I think about running.  And since I like to open my big mouth all the time, entirely too many people know about this for me to back out now.

I'm not going to lie, I've been crossing my fingers and toes that something, ANYTHING, would happen that would give me an excuse to get out of this bad boy.  And no, I don't know why I signed up for it.  If I remember correctly, I was a little drunk.  Apparently my confidence in my endurance is positively correlated with my blood alcohol content.  I'm not happy about it.

Anywho, I've decided to take it easy with running this last week before the half marathon, and just stick to short runs with my Joe or yoga, so I've had some spare time to come up with some scenarios that would get me out of this.

Now would be an excellent time for you to come rapture us, big guy. I'm not necessarily saying I would make the cut on who gets to head back upstairs with Jesus, but He could at least write me a note or something to get me out of this. I know a couple of notaries.

Maybe Hurricane season could show up for the party a little early this year.  These past few seasons have been weak, so Mother Nature has some serious catching up to do.  Starting in March instead of June would help you and me, lady.  I'm all about running in a light drizzle, but not in eighteen inches of rain.

I mean, I can't possibly be expected to run a half marathon after getting hit by a bus.  Maybe it just runs over my toe or something, because ya know, actually getting hit by a bus would require death.  Regina George may have survived, but I would rather not take my chances.  Although, I do really want to get out of this thing....so maybe a bicycle clips me on the sidewalk instead.

I will also be praying for a flat tire on the way there, a sprained ankle, lost keys, heavy traffic, catching pneumonia, or any other miracle.

Since I probably have a better chance of winning the lottery than any of those things happening, I should probably get to stretching/carb loading/hydrating/crying.  Also, if I do win the lottery, I will be purchasing the land this thing is being held on and setting it aflame.  And by 'carb loading' I mean I've typed most of this post with one hand because I've been stuffing cookies in my mouth with the other.  That's that Paleo diet thing, right?

Whatever.

Kill me.