2010 - A Year in Review

Empirically, this has been the biggest year of my life. Strange, emotional, frustrating, exciting, scary, I wonder if I will ever have a year like this again, or if this was the high, and it's all downhill from here.

I started 2010 in Oregon, hungover at a bar, watching the Rose Bowl. 2 weeks later I was engaged. About a week after my engagement party, my boss, who I had worked well with for 2 years, decided I was making a power play and shut it down. Hard. After a long battle with her and with HR, I left my job.

This puts us at Memorial Day. June was spent doing yoga 4-5 times a week, laying low, filing for unemployment, and booking hostels online. July was spent drinking.

August 1st, I left for Europe. The results are chronicled at alexisalive.posterous.com.

October 2nd, returned from Europe. October 7th, started at a new job. November 7th, realized the new job was a bunch of bullshit, and began looking for other work. Interviewed at Box.net.

That brings us up to this month. My boss hit on me in a hotel room in Boston, I suffered from a really bad stomach flu, and here we are. 2 weeks away from Christmas.

Where the hell did this year go?

I Quit!

There is only one way to appropriately express my enthusiasm.

How All Good Things Seem To End

Whether I want them to or not.

Sometimes I just have to wonder about the stability of my interactions with others. Things never seem to get this bad with the people that don't matter to me, but I'm always having these explosive blow-outs with the people who I care about the most. And you'd think, if these people were so damn important, I would make more of an effort to salvage things, or to avoid the moment where damage becomes irrevocable and that bridge is burned.

But I don't. Or if I do, it somehow doesn't seem to matter.

Most current applicable situation - my boss. I admired her, wanted to be like her, saw her as the logical, cynical, liberal, Bay Area successful mom that I never had, considered her a friend, spent a full hour of my engagement party drinking with her, and thought we were a team. Somehow, a few mis-steps later, we're not even talking, I am leaving the company post-haste, and she spends her time looking for reasons to fire me. It's now a race against time. Will I leave, or will I be escorted out?

How did this happen? In spite of a Liberal Arts education, several classes in Psychology, living examples of what NOT to do, and a decent brain on my shoulders, I have no clue.

When Anticipation Strikes

I am actually starting to comprehend that Europe is a reality. And I would like to board the plane right now.

Usually I have a hard time thinking about the trip without worrying that (a.) E-Bear is still without official guardian for Month 2, (b.) I will have a nervous breakdown and recreate the events from my last "visit" to Europe and (c.) being on my own won't be all it's cracked up to be or (d.) being alone WILL be all it's cracked up to be.

Today though, I am just fucking excited.

It's Right On Time

And it's time for something completely different.

After days of musing about how lonely and sad it is to be me, I'm feeling lucky I am that I don't control the Universe. I don't know who does, but it's hard not to think sometimes that there must be some plan, because things seem to happen right on time.

I think about the seemingly small incident that started it all. The fight. Yes, I got in a screaming match with DBo's crazy, hick-ville, religious fanatic aunt. And missed dinner. And ended up Hola's Mexican Cantina for their last-call half-off fried cheese plate. And got deathly ill. And called in sick. And my boss doubted said sickness. And I, of course, responded with self-righteous indigence, and a sappy letter about trust. Which apparently is frowned upon in the corporate world.

One trip to HR later, and here we are. Fat Al's European Extravaganza couldn't have come at a better time.

No I didn't get fired, but I decided that I was not being treated like a "valuable member of the team" and I could do better. So, now I've got 3 months to find a new gig, or I am prepared to come back jobless, and do some restaurant/bar work till the right gig pays off.

The practical, "success-oriented" side of me is not happy about this. However, the "me" that is frequently over-shadowed by my overly practical in-laws and my own desire for money and social status is starting to be stoked. I'm working my networks, and in the last two weeks I've talked to an author I admire, a VP at a big digital company, and the Director of PR at a major social media company. I've had to network, I've had to be resourceful, I've been pressure-prompted, and frankly, I've been thrown into the sort of situation where anything is possible.

And it's coming right on time.

Scary Admission

It's an odd day when I see my high school friends on Facebook and wonder if I am missing out.

I just saw the page of my high school idol (one of the many.) My mom would never let me hang out with her because she was "trouble" but I absolutely adored her. She was wild, romantic, spontaneous, beautiful, skinny, had two sets of parents. She had a beautiful older sister, and could speak in a somewhat educated manner about things like smoking and sex.

I'm not sure what she did those first years outside of high school but now she lives in Folsom, has all the same friends from town, and is part of the 2-3 kids club. Like a lot of the other girls I knew growing up, her pictures and status updates are filled with afternoon naps, swimming, yoga pants, 10am walks, outings with other mommies, trips to Costco, dates with much loved husbands, etc. If photos tell the story, she spends her days in jeans and cute sundresses, her friends are life-long, and she really seems to enjoy family, her mother, and the few drunk party nights she has.

Sometimes I think it would be much simpler to live that way, as opposed to being me. My constant need for newness, complexity, competition, and status make it difficult to be happy with family-land. But it's a rare day that I don't feel restless. She seems so calm and complete. It makes me wonder if there is really something to the whole 'husband and babies' thing.

Of course the flip side is that once you go down that road, there is no going back. And maybe she just looks like she's having a blast because those are the pictures on Facebook. No one ever advertises the boredom, apathy, and stagnancy of it all. I just wish I knew - does she ever look at my profile and wish she could be back on her own?

Why is Moving On So Hard?

A cliche image for a cliche lament. How does one deal with moving on, heading down that lonely open road?

I happened to read this blog post yesterday, and it eloquently expressed how I am feeling about life (today) perfectly. Like this author, I love change, I constantly talk about change, I go bat-shit insane when life is too boring, but I hate when I am forced to change before I am ready. Particularly when it comes to relationships.

Right now, I am pretty mad about some injustice done to me, so it's easier to think about leaving places and people behind, but I hate to think that my departure will be just as timely and meaningless to them as I pretend it is to me. That they'll all be better off when I leave for my new gig.

The shitty thing about moving on is this - you have to accept that the other person (or group of people) will ultimately move on too.

Business - A Practical Study of Psychology, Gender Roles, Risk, and Pathology

I wish when I was young someone had told me something about Business. To me, an artsy wanna-be intellectual type, Business was this unexplainable concept floating out in space that my mother encouraged me to succeed in - without giving me any indication of what Business actually was. To me, Business was boring, it was bleak, it was expected.

I assumed for years that all Business People did the same things - wore suits, sat in a desk, did something with numbers, and used annoying Business terms like "paradigm shift," "interfacing" and "synergy."

Little did I know that Business was actually a practical application of design, debate, writing, the art of schmooze, and a study of interpersonal relationships. As such, I am not surprised that I absolutely love it.

I imagine that for some people, a lot of this stuff doesn't come very naturally (especially the politics and persuasion aspects) and I wonder why we're not taught real business skills in school. If school is supposed to prepare you for the real world - and the world of work - then there are some subjects that need to be added to your required list. Here are just a few of my suggestions:

- - Using Microsoft Outlook (and not cc:ing your entire company on personal emails)
- - Providing constructive criticism (and taking it!)
- - Conflict management
- - Getting your way without looking like a bitch
- - Feigning compliance with obnoxious policies
- - Holding your alcohol in a business setting
- - "Office Flirting" while avoiding sexual harassment suits

Are there any others?

Sometimes I Feel Like This

The Unintentionally Creepy Dude

I spend a lot of time thinking about the unavoidable judgments that come along with boobs, blond hair, and an ass. I worry that if I don't constantly demonstrate intelligence or seem too casual I will garner zero respect. More often than I would like I worry about being disregarded or overlooked because of surface appearances.

I don't think this is simply paranoia. I've been engaged in a battle to overcome the dumb blond stereotype my entire life, and have realized that for men of a certain age, sexism is so irrevocably ingrained into their psyches that there is nothing I could do to overcome it. (Luckily most of those dudes have only about 20-30 years left.)

However, I was walking by a guy at our office today, and I realized there is a far worse stereotype than the dumb blond. The old creepy dude.


It's the dude with the nose hair and the unpredictable sweat glands. The dude with an awkward laugh who hasn't yet mastered eye contact. Maybe he's got too many pictures of his young nieces hanging up in his office. Somewhere between 30-60, he's single, and is just too weird to be passed off as your laughable "dirty old man" or lovable "office nerd."

And whenever you see that guy at the office, you can't help but cringe.

I would hate to live in fear that every comment or off-color joke I made would lead people to assume I was a pedophile, or that I had a sex dungeon in the basement.

I suppose there could be some logical discussion of what's worse - with the right connections and proper grooming the creepy dude can still have the corner office, but the dumb blond can get laid - but it doesn't matter. I would rather be anyone than the unintentionally creepy dude at my office.

I am the Oyster

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

My Movie

Isn't always turning out the way I thought it would.

At the beginning, I had very specific ideas about the art direction, about the character of the protagonist. The love interest would be eloquent, deep, and socially aware. There would be tragedy and loss and love, and somehow, it would make the conclusion seem all the more significant.

It was never intended for commercial production - for laugh tracks, and shallow lessons wrapped in smiles and civility. I intended that only a select audience would grasp its message.

The picture seems I see in front of me is much more contrived and safe than I ever thought it would be. The principal actors are so secure and safe. The drama and intensity is muted with polite discourse and good intentions. It's almost hygienic in its nature.

The colors are more muted than I expected too; there is a lot less glitter and gold, and instead the characters wear fuzzy sweaters and old jeans with holes in the knees. Costume design was less based on aesthetic, and more based on comfort.

Don't get me wrong, what I've produced is good, but all in all, something seems lost in translation.

I think it will do well in the theaters - it certainly won't win any awards - but people will walk away entertained, most likely it will be classified as a "feel good" movie. A good representation of the stable progression through life, something you don't really see now-a-days, with all that's wrong in the world. I think the general population will like it.

It's my own fault, really. Somewhere along the way, I guess I sold out. Maybe it was the promise of money, maybe it was the promise of stability.

I guess I worried it would never work if I did it my way. That my vision was unrealistic.

I think about scrapping the whole thing and going back to the start, but then I always stop. Why bother? After all, I already have a good movie on my hands.

A Boring Word Like Sad

Sad is a boring word. It doesn't do justice to the millions of complex feelings that underlie it. Like loss. Or acceptance. Or futility. But sometimes it's all just too much, and there is just no other way to describe how you feel - other than with a boring word like sad.

Bad-ass of the Week

And There Is Hope!

I was sent this today by my HR department. I am not sure how frequently I was "licked and groomed" as a child, so I am not sure whether this news bodes well for me or not. But - it is nice to know there is a possibility of avoiding the lunacy of old age:

"Some interesting research has been launched by looking more carefully at data on older people. We've all heard about how just about everything declines with age: muscle strength, memory, reflexes, balance, etc, etc. It used to be that gerontology statisticians were simply a little annoyed that the variation in these characteristics increases, that is, there is more spread in functioning as the average functioning declines. It made their graphs less attractive. Then some people said: "Hey, wait a minute. That means some of us aren't getting worse as we get older. How come?" That led to research with rats which showed that some "age successfully," and one correlating factor that has been well documented is their treatment at infancy. The ones that were handled a lot by humans, or groomed and licked a lot by their mothers, aged more successfully than average. Just when nice treatment no longer counts isn't known, but this observation does provide some hope that we can learn how to minimize old age decline. It is speculated that managing stress better may be one equivalent to being licked a lot by a mother rat."

We can hope.

A Follow Up to Wednesday's Political Rant

I wanted to share this - a friend of mine posted it on Facebook. It encapsulates everything that is crazy about the Tea Partying, Fear Mongering, Health-care hating Right.

"This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock powered by the public power monopoly regulated by the US Department of Energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the FCC regulated channels to see what the National Weather Service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of US Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined safe by the food and drug administration.

At the appropriate time as regulated by the US Congress and kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the US Naval Observatory, I get into my National Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads built by the local, state, and federal departments of transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the Environmental Protection Agency, using legal tender issued by the Federal Reserve Bank. On the way out the door, I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the US Postal Service and drop the kids off at the local public school. After work, I drive my NHTSA approved car back home on the DOT roads, to the house which has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.

I then log on to the internet which was developed by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration and post on Fox News Forums about how socialism in medicine is BAD because the government can't do anything right. Just say 'NO'!"

Where All Misogynists Eventually End Up

A tribute to my (ex) co-worker. Who spent his days alternately hitting on me, snarking on my failures, and treating me like a secretary in front of clients. He began as a lawyer, found his way to Marketing at a small-time assessment publishing company, and then was fired for using company money to pay his car insurance. Last I saw, he had joined a "Find Your Strengths with Astrology" group on Facebook.

May he find happiness with all the cake in the world.

Why I am Sick of Television

For me, the last recent opportunity for political outrage was the Obama/McCain election. I became addicted to Keith Olbermann - whose indignant rants were always mollifying - I fought with friends and acquaintances on Facebook, and I truly believed that if McCain and Palin won the election, America as I knew it would be destroyed.

All that emotion -patriotism, fear, and outrage were absolutely exhausting, and I temporarily swore off politics in November of 2008.

Then came the health care debate.

This time around, I have refused to get up-in-arms about any of the issues - I definitely wanted health care reform, but was not concerned that the world would end if it failed. I am excited to see it passed, and to see Obama sign it into law, but my excitement has been somewhat dampened by the hyperbole and hysteria of the other side.


The public is always susceptible to media messaging, and it's been disheartening to hear people with a LOT of influence (Limbaugh and Beck are the two that stand out in this case) using their influence to incite. I know that this happens on both sides, but the level of extreme and hateful things being said by the Right seems unprecedented to me. Encouraging people to do anything in their power to destroy and "crush" the Left. Saying irrational things like "Progressiveness is a Cancer that must be destroyed" - or - "these socialists must be wiped out" - or - "This is the end of prosperity in America forever." Comparing Obama to Hitler (when it seems to me that calling a group of people "a cancer" is closer to Hitler-talk than anything Obama has ever said.)

It's talk that gets people off the actual issues, encourages radicalism and violence, and whips America into a frenzy. Using words like "socialism" "communism" and "fascism" in this debate to describe what really comes down to extra regulations on insurance companies, is such a divisive and at best, unhelpful way for people who supposedly "love America" to behave. It gets us away from working toward common goals (even if our methods of achieving those goals differ) and puts us in this "us or them" mindset where nothing can ever be accomplished.

And they say I'm dangerous for the future of the country.

The Summer Time Freak Show

And no, I am not referring to the circus.

I am referring to the phenomenon that is - European grandmas at the pool.

I went lap swimming today for the first time this year, which means I also visited the pool's locker room for the first time this year.

I suppose I should lead with the admission that inherently, I am not a huge fan of public nudity. I am also not a fan of the elderly. In this, the pool locker room serves as some awful form of immersion therapy, because if you have ever participated in the 11am lap swim, you would know that it is predominantly filled with people like this:

And this.

And while I am certainly not one to begrudge the elderly their low-impact workout, I don't understand the incessant need of these people to be graphically naked before and after their swim. Amidst bushes that have NEVER seen a clipper, nipples touching belly buttons, asses the size of cars, and thighs that look like tapioca pudding, I was the only person who seemed to have any sense of modesty. I mean, I get there is a momentary need for nudity between the swimsuit and undergarments, but these women have no shame.

Today, I was brutally eye raped. Not only was I faced with the gruesome sight of an overweight octogenarian using a washcloth like toilet paper while her friend used a bathtub scrubber to clean her toes, but an older German woman with mile-long boobs asked to borrow shampoo.

In times like this, all I can say is - Thank God my grandma doesn't swim.

Why?

At this exact moment, Grandma P is upstairs watching Wendy Williams. I have also caught her watching Telemundo, Glenn Beck, mid-day infomercials, and some very wacky televangelism programs, all at a volume that is probably destroying whatever hearing she has left.

Olympic Athletes - Incredibly Focused, or Victims of Tunnel Vision?

Ok, I suppose Olympic athletes are some of the few people in the world it's probably wrong to shit on, so I am going to go with "incredibly focused." Anyways, I'm probably just jealous that there is no way I would ever be so committed to something that I could take it to the level of Olympic glory.

I wonder, did these athletes ever feel that they were missing out on a normal life? What interests/friends/pursuits did they have to abandon to become the "best" at one particular thing? They all seem to think it was worth it, does this mean that their interests were really so focused that it was a joy to do nothing but snowboard, or luge, or skate, day in and day out for most of their young lives?

The Olympics are now long gone, but I find myself still thinking about what it takes to become "the best in the world" at something. Does it all come down to natural talent? Or does the athlete's level-of-commitment actually play the biggest role?

Perfect example of natural talent paired with lack of commitment

I sometimes worry that in my frenzy to see and do it all, that I will miss out on actually becoming GOOD at something. There were the years of ballet, tap, jazz, and modern dance, the years of piano, the years of flute, the multitude of creative writing classes, basketball practice, track and field, swimming, Spanish class, a half-hearted attempt at Italian . . . . I seem to pursue subjects I enjoy and have have some natural ability in, but once the pursuit takes up too much of my time, or forces me to abandon other interests, I let it go. So at this point, I know a medium amount about a lot of things, but I can't really claim expertise in many areas (although I do on a regular basis.)

There's a lot of areas I hope to excel in - writing, business, philosophizing, cooking, wine, fitness - but if I can't pick something to focus in, I'll probably just end up being “pretty good” at a lot of things.

Unless of course they give out awards for "world's best generalist."

Say Whaaaaaat? Pt. 1

Our VP of sales is a very interesting guy. His sales team absolutely sucks, he never seems to have a clue about what the rest of the organization is doing, and like a wayward cousin or uncle, he can only be reached when he needs a favor.

BUT - it's OK, because he uses obscure words in every day settings, so he MUST be intellectual and on-his-shit.

His over-used fancy word of late: Copacetic.

You may have heard the word in the popular song, "Bound to the Floor" or you may have said it yourself in a joking manner.

What does it mean? In layman's terms, it means "OK." "Satisfactory." "Fine." For a Brit's take on the etymology click here.

Examples:

"We scheduled this meeting to make sure everyone is copacetic about the new L4 goals."

"I ordered pizza for the meeting . . . . I just want to take a minute to make sure everyone on the phones is copacetic with this."

"No one completed the task as it was assigned. I want to make sure we're all copacetic - get back to me by end of day."

Stay Tuned - the next time our VP has a hot date with the thesaurus, I'll update with his new buzzword! (If you don't currently, don't you wish you had an office job?)

On Nostalgia

"Nostalgia. It’s delicate, but potent.
In Greek, Nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound.
It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone.
This device isn’t a spaceship - it’s a time machine.
It goes backwards, forwards.
It takes us to a place where we ache to go again."
- Mad Men

This is one of the truest, and most sublime quotes I've read in some time. It really speaks to me this morning as I reflect on the past. The older I get, the more nostalgic I seem to become, and it comforts me to know that I might not be alone in it.

I've noticed that there are fewer truly new, blank-slate experiences in my daily life. As the routine events and changes of life become more familiar, they become more and more loaded with meaning. A sunny day, the wind picking up in a certain direction in my neighborhood, the smell of the Bay in the fog, all of these sensual experiences are not unique occurrences, and more and more frequently these experiences leave me momentarily frozen, lost in the past.

This morning, it was the way the sun was so bright through the cold air, a telling sign that by midday it would be warm. All at once memories - of getting up early for coffee before senior ditch day, of early morning St. Patrick's Day drink-a-thons with my best friends, of summer road trips beginning at the crack of dawn, of waiting for the early train to go to the City - came rushing into my head as I waited for the car to warm up. Momentarily I was visiting lost events from the past, completely forgetting the moment I was actually in.

I used to get sad when I felt the twinge of nostalgia, but as I've gotten older, I've begun to embrace it as a way of appreciating where I've been, and recognizing past experiences for their appropriate influence on my future. It makes me wonder what it's going to be like when I'm old, and I've truly seen it all. When every odd weather combination, every sunset, every smell, and most of the songs are familiar to me, forgotten and remembered again throughout the years of my life. Will it be comforting, reminding me of a full life well lived? Or will it still bring on that strange twinge that comes when remembering treasures so long gone?

I am at least encouraged by this thought - that every day I'm alive, I'm creating the memories that could bring me peace in my old age. It reminds me to make every day count, because one day, these memories could be my most precious possession. And nostalgia, no longer a delicate and potent pain, my fondest and most familiar friend.

On Ulysses

I love this poem. You should too.

Not only that, but you should get your ass into gear, and go see the world. I mean, things turned out great for Ulysses in spite of the Lotus Eaters, Calypso, Hades, and the lot, they can turn out great for you too!

Sections of Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson

"I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;

For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

Let My Boobies Go

In DBo's family, the tendency is to be super thin with a moderate rack. I mean, that's cool with me, I'm not one to hate on the fortune of others. I'm not particularly thin myself - I mean, I work at it, I'm fit, but I would say I am more of the "boobs-and-ass" variety than the "twig" variety. And that's generally cool with me too.

What bothers me, is that because I am curvy and they are not, I have been consistently held to a higher standard of prudish dressing than the women in DBo's family.

Whenever I wear something that is remotely cleavage-y, or a teensy bit shorter than normal, I get the same death stare I’d expect to receive if I walked in wearing stripper heels and a strap-on.

On the other hand, DBo’s sister is constantly prancing around in teeny rolled-down shorts (like she’s 13 and trying to impress a boy in PE class) spaghetti-strapped midriffs that seem to say ‘Yeah I’m slutty, who cares?” and dresses from Forever 21 that look more like slips than something one would reasonably leave the house in.

Yet somehow, this is all passable, because she’s a twig. And yes, she looks good in her outfits, but there is no way in hell I would get away with some of the shit she wears. (Proof: I have been pulled aside at family parties for wearing a v-neck.)

I decided to try and get around this issue this weekend at my engagement party, where I chose a somewhat tight/boob-a-licious Band-Aid dress.

In reality, it's the opposite of scandalous, but it shows a bit of tit. So in the eyes of the fam, it might as well be a thong.

I was super excited to wear this dress out, and spent the week before the party tanning, working out, and getting the necessary waxes. However, when I showed up on Saturday night, I saw DBo's sister in a conservative flowy dress, and his mom was in an age-appropriate skirt. Of course, I started feeling insanely self-conscious. And of course, as expected I got the surprised look from his mom that says, “You’re really wearing that!”

Long story short, I spent the first hour of the party pulling the hemline down and the neckline up, and it wasn’t until I had a couple of Flaming Dr Peppers that I began to feel like myself, and stopped giving a shit. I ended up getting quite a few compliments, a few that I didn’t hear about until after the party, and, I suppose that all-in-all it was a good outfit choice for a party that’s all about me.

What’s amazing to me though, is just how much the judgment of thin girls can turn me into an insecure wall-flower. The first hour, I was ashamed to be in pictures, I couldn't make eye contact, and I didn't feel like talking to anyone. It makes me sad that I try so hard to please people who don’t seem to understand that there are only a few years where you can wear crazy red dresses and not be called a “Cougar” or a “Home-wrecker” or a flat out "Slut" and that you need to take advantage of them.

I mostly hate the fact that I apparently need to have a minimalist body type to be able to wear what I want around my future family. Unless I develop an allergic reaction to food or boobs in the near future, this is a problem I don't see going away . . . . and I have no clue how to A. shut them up, or B. make myself stop caring. Fuck'n sucks.

An Unfortunate Symptom of Maturity

There are days when I wish I was "more mature," and had a better understanding of "it all," and there are days when I don't.

Today is the latter.

Today is one of those days when I realize that gaining perspective and wisdom is like leaving Plato's cave - once you've grasped certain truths, it's impossible to go back to the naivety you so enjoyed before. (I've also decided that seeing naivety for what it is is a big indication that you no longer possess it.)

You age with or without gaining wisdom, so I still think "wise" is the way to go, but I think it would be easier to go through life learning nothing, so you can retain the high hopes, bold courage, and open-mindedness of childhood.

Not to mention, the more you figure shit out, the more annoyed you get by everyone who hasn't.

I think about all the drunk evenings riding back on Cal train from San Francisco, not caring who saw me or if I even had a seat. Or walking down the street on a summer's day San Luis Obispo, requiring nothing but a friend and a hidden pipe to have the best day ever. Or befriending everyone I met, accepting the motives of everyone as pure.

Sometimes I even miss the times that made for the worst experiences but the best stories. Or the times when I was surprised by the way a situation turned out, for better or worse. With age, things become less volatile, and better overall, but as they say, the sweet isn't as sweet without the sour.

I find myself living now-a-days with the stifling lens of experience. I know what I like, I know what annoys me, and I generally know what warning signs to look for in any given situation, what triggers drama, what missteps could turn around and bite me, etc. With this clear sense of how situations might pan out, I have a hard time understanding or excusing people for their ignorance about "obvious" things. And I have a hard time just letting things ride, because I can see a mistake or a misstep as it's beginning to happen.

This is making planning for Europe a little bit harder than anticipated, because I know what can go wrong so I'm going a little bit crazy ensuring that it doesn't, wanting to plan things down to the last, carefully organized detail. Wanting to prove that I can "do this trip right" and without making the sorts of crazy mistakes that are probably part of most nomadic journeys across multiple countries.

It leads me to wonder, is this why so many people become "set in their ways?" Because they've done things differently or let things go in the past to their detriment? Stayed up too late and suffered at work, neglected to be on time and missed their ride, failed to pay attention and ended up in the wrong part of town, trusted the wrong person and gotten their shit stolen? Can we blame them for knowing what works, and sticking to the script? Should we look at this as stagnant rigidity, or as an awareness of outcomes?

And am I playing devil's advocate right now for everything that's wrong in the world, or have I stumbled upon an inconvenient and unsettling truth?

I Think This All The Time

Underrated Activities - Pt 1.

I know I can be a movement-driven, experience junkie. I love this (obviously) - I think it's one of the best ways to get through life. However, the flip side is that I frequently forget to take time to appreciate the subtleties of life, or find the joy balance. To correct this tendency, I am creating this segment - Underrated Activities. Hopefully, this will help me to force myself to slow down when needed, and encourage me to find value in thine little things.

This weekend, I spent Friday night alone. Totally alone.

It was the first time since November that I've had an opportunity to do so, and it was absolutely amazing. (BTW, the "alone time" is not the underrated activity here. I think everyone knows that that's amazing.)

By 8pm, I had made dinner, walked the dog, worked out, taken a shower, smoked a bowl, and was pretty much through the few unwatched items in my DVR. I suddenly got the urge to check out the local Barnes and Nobel. I was there on a mission over the holidays, but hadn't gone to a book store alone to "hang out" in . . . quite possibly years.

I always forget that a book store is not really properly titled. Yes, you purchase books, but what you're really buying is knowledge. And that's pretty awesome. In the two hours I was there, I caught up on all the recent magazine covers, memorized 2 recipes to make at my engagement party, learned how to make my own cocktail napkins, read about 20 pages in a child psychology book, and researched British castles. All for free.

Side note: If I had been in a splurgy mood I would have bought a red velvet cupcake. Mmmmm.

I imagine there are a ton of other 20-something professionals who never make time for things like the bookstore, or the public library. What a mistake! And what a mistake I had been making!

So - if you're looking for something fun, free, and rejuvenating, smoke a fat bowl (or not) and head on out the nearest bookstore. You're welcome.

Holding Yourself (And Everyone Around You) to a Higher Standard

In other posts I've mused about maturity, about finding that magic age when you're not old enough to be rigid and senile, or young enough to be an idiot. According to this article, I might be closer to that magic age than I think.

It turns out, you don't reach full maturity until age 25 - and by maturity, I mean consistency in the following areas:

• Decision making
• Use of appropriate judgment
• Rational thinking
• Integration of emotion & critical thinking
• Ability to think clearly about long-term outcomes that stem from behaviors
• Global thinking vs. self-centered thinking

I wish this research had received more publicity when it first was released in 2005, because there are many critical issues that should be viewed differently with this developmental framework in mind.

For example, what do these findings mean for the freshmen girls who bone down with 5th year seniors? How does this research impact young voters, drivers, or those 18 year old kids who run off to join the military? How does this change the way we view young criminals, especially those who commit non-violent crimes? Can we excuse them all as non-rational decision makers? Is this development time-line universal and all-encompassing?

What's more, I wonder how this research impacts my own life. According to Brain Scientists, I should now (as of November 2009) be completely equipped to be rational and successful, consistently doing all these things required to be a mature adult. It also has meant, in practice, that I have begun to see people who DON'T do these things as completely infuriating and immature. Which seems unfair, since only 3 months ago (according to the Brain Scientists) I couldn't do these things myself.

Is this part of growing up? That you suddenly have no patience for those who haven't reached the level of wisdom and maturity that you believe yourself to possess? And what does it mean if, after reaching the magical age of 25, you still do ridiculously stupid and immature things? Like make ridiculous threats in the heat of a stupid argument? Or purchase things you can't afford? Or get so shitty drunk you are unable to keep down water the next day?

Maybe reaching 25 isn't proof of maturity, but it does seem to be a place where you stop, look around, and take inventory of your life. That's certainly what I've been doing lately, and I don't think I'm alone. I just have to hope that I won't ever take my age for granted or assume that numbers on a time line will magically equate to maturity - because although I've "made it" in terms of frontal lobe development, I probably still have a lot of fucking up to do.

Three Barriers to Freedom

Fear. Attachment. Expectations.

After much thought and internal debate, I've decided that these are three of the biggest barriers to adventure, change, and everything else I yearn for while sitting at my cube, dreaming about the places I'd rather be. Three nouns that are somehow inextricable from the human experience while being detrimental to it at the same time.

Fear is a no-brainer. It’s the affliction I suffer from the most, and it can be absolutely paralyzing. Fear comes in all forms - whether it's fear that my dreams/goals are unrealistic, or fear that I'll look like an idiot. Fear that my logic is wrong. Fear of failure. Fear of pain. Fear that I can’t have it all. That by the time I arrive, the destination will no longer be where I wanted to go.

While fear is easy to recognize as unproductive and unhelpful, attachment, on the other hand, can serve as both a blessing and a curse. For example, when I was planning my trip to Europe, I originally planned to quit my job, and spend 3 months (maybe more) traveling the other side of the world. Since then, the economy tanked, and quitting has become a luxury I can't afford. Because of this attachment, I realized I couldn't possibly get away for more than 2 months, and the leave/return dates must be set in stone. I can't help it - I am attached to my job.

While that is somewhat of an unfortunate attachment, there are things I've chosen to love, and chosen to be attached to, like DBo, or my current neighborhood, or my car, or my dog and cat. Things I can't live without. While I love having all these things in my life, my need to keep them around sometimes makes it a lot harder for me to look inside my own head, and pursue the potential reality independent of it all. It seems like, the more you love, the smaller your world can become. I guess in that situation all you can do is hope that your world becomes richer.

The last roadblock - my own expectations - can be the most nefarious of the three. This idea that things will be a "certain way" can easily stop you from embracing new things or exploring life - I mean, why bother if you already know what the outcome will be. I can't remember how many times I've seen people give up on something far too soon with the excuse that "it wouldn't work out" anyway. When a projection of your own expectations stops you from trying something new, you'll live a life that never reaches it's full potential.

I wouldn't be lying if I said I thought fear, attachments, and expectations were ALL bad - I suppose there is such a thing as healthy fear . . . the kind that stops you from gambling your life away. There are the attachments we love, our friends, family, pets. And then there are the expectations that help people navigate through unfamiliar situations. The trick is to find the balance, and not let these things dictate life any more than they need to. But that's hard to do, and sometimes I wonder if I've figured it out yet.

And That's How You Know You're High

Is it weird to be tripped out about the fact that if I live long enough, I will no longer own my favorite pair of shoes? And not only will I not own them, I will have no recollection of owning them, and won't remember to miss them.

It's as if we live a million life times within our time on earth, and all of them are filled with different friends, different thoughts, different hopes, different goals, different dreams, and different shoes.

If You're Gonna be a Dick, Learn to Spell

What is the best way to lose an online argument? Misspell common words and use bad grammar.

I can not believe how many people try to get in fights with me (or with others) online, and don't double-check their punctuation, check the caps on their proper nouns, and use the right form of their, there, and they're. Don't these people know that if you're too dumb to write, you're too dumb to win an argument? At least in the eyes of the opposition.

I know not everyone was an English major, and not everyone gives a shit about the rules of the pen, but if someone can dismiss your entire argument with a "well, this person is clearly uneducated" then you're not going to be a very successful douchebag, and should probably do your best to stay out of most intellectual, political, religious, and other arguments online.

Just a suggestion.

If You're Gonna Do It, Do It Right

I got in an argument yesterday with my soon to be mother-in-law about the presence of old people at my wedding. It's not an issue on my side, I just have 2 grandmas to invite - other than that, my "family" consists of less than 10 people. On the other hand, DBo's Dad has 10 aunts + their husbands who are all over the age of 80, and apparently we "need" to include them and their old friends and family at the wedding. Oh - and apparently we shouldn't worry too much about having cool food because there will be a million old people there who won't appreciate it anyway. And we want to make sure our music choices appeal to the generations, cause they're all gonna be there. At that point, I had to resist the urge to puke in my mouth.

Here's something you should know about me. I am terrified of old people. Except for ones I know well, like Grandma P, my own grandma, and . . . well . . . that's about it.

Absolutely terrifying.

Old people smell funny, they don't know how to have fun, they still bitch about Kennedy, Ford, and Carter, they're often racist, they don't get my humor, they're shocked by anything current, they don't dance, you can't tell them anything, and, in a lot of ways, they just remind me of the inevitability of death. I don't want to be thinking about hip replacements, and caretakers, and lack of taste-buds, and widow-hood at my wedding. I want lights and beauty and friends and laughing and dancing and fun. Otherwise, what's the point?

I bitched about all of this to DBo, and he was totally awesome in reminding me that we have only been engaged for 3 weeks now, that we shouldn't be thinking about anything other than finding a location we like, and don't I have a Europe trip I should be planning instead of worrying about all this shit?

Very true, I just always envisioned my wedding being the best kick-ass party of the year, and I don't want to be reined into having this traditional, all-family-must-be-present event. I want to have the sort of wedding with the sort of guests who appreciate a wine pairing, know awesome music when they hear it, can taste awesome food when it's in front of them, and would love to get an invitation like this.

It's Not You, It's Them. Really. It's Them.

I am continually surprised by how poorly NBC does in the ratings, when they have some of the best shows on TV. All I can conclude is that there are a lot of idiots out there who don't appreciate a good thing unless it hits them over the head, shoves them into a bag, locks them into a trunk, and drives them into the river. Until then, they'll stick to Fox thanks.

NBC offers the following:

The Office:



30Rock:



Parks and Rec:



Community:



And the cherry on the top -



Conan O'Brien.

How can a line up like this fail?!

It just kills me to see Fox killing NBC week after week when Fox is obviously controlled by special interests during the day, and then offers tired, stereotypical programming that takes little risk in the evening (think American Idol.)

Even people who have been made rich by Fox knows they suck.

Fat Al's European Adventure - All Systems Are Go!

I started this blog around one central idea - living life to the fullest in an attempt to figure it out. With that in mind, I committed to making my long standing dream of European travel a reality.

Within a couple of weeks of making that commitment to myself, God, and the other 2 readers of this blog, I got engaged, and my world was temporarily occupied with Northern California Brides, engagement party planning, champagne-filled family gatherings, and a roller coaster of excitement and self doubt.

On Monday, I hit the 6 month count down until my mentally scheduled departure date and realized I was spending more time thinking about locations and dresses than I was about the immediate task at hand - getting my ass to Europe.

So - last night - I made it official. I tied the knot - so to speak - with my online travel agent, STA.com. (I link to the site with the hopes you will plan your own destination.)

Ready or Not - I'm coming to Europe! August 1st, 2010, I will arrive at Heathrow airport, and it will be my job to keep myself alive till I leave from Paris on September 30, 2010.



My future mother-in-law has asked me, "Why not go for your Honeymoon?" "Why not wait until after the wedding?" and thankfully, those comments only strengthened my resolve.

Getting engaged, and being "married" is a learning experience in and of itself, I'm sure, but there is something so much more exhilarating in the lessons you learn on your own.

Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt. 5

I wear jeans when it's NOT Casual Friday. *Gasp!*

This is something I REALLY don't feel bad about. I work in Silicon Valley. I don't talk to customers. I spend most of my time on a computer.

Most importantly, does this look like the cube of someone in a suit? I don't think so.

Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt 4.

I fake orgasms.

Not usually, but sometimes.

I know, I'm a bad feminist, and if we weren't getting married I guess you could accuse me of ruining DBo for all other women.

The thing is, sometimes I'm not in the mood and he needs a win.

The Elephant in the Room

2 weeks ago, I got engaged.

The Ring.

It was totally unexpected – as in, I thought he was joking when he pulled the ring out of his pocket - and I’ve been on somewhat of an emotional roller-coaster since. I am completely honored (and surprised) that DBo wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and I know that I’m casting my lot with a really great guy. And I love him.


Some days, I feel completely giddy and stare adoringly at my ring, but then some days I feel unsure, and confused. I question the timing, I question his motives. Some days I look at California Brides, and tear up while listening to our favorite band. Some days I can barely get the word “engaged” out of my mouth. It’s hard to admit, but I don’t know how I feel about being “a married woman.” I love DBo, and I want to be with him forever, but joining the demographic that keeps RomComs profitable is a bitter pill to swallow.


I fear that the window of “you can live your life however you want, and be who you want to be” is closing. My fate is being written. No longer will I be an adventurous, turbulent, never-satisfied seeker. I will be settled - or so I will be viewed. I worry about being seen as just a half. I am scared of losing my choices. I worry about getting old. I fear losing the thrill of loneliness. Of self-reliance. I’m concerned that this time in my life will never live up to the hype.


My biggest fear is of becoming one of “those girls.” The girls who I mock. The girls who just want to have babies and families and who don’t have internal dialogues about pursuing the opportunities of life. When you get married, you have forfeited the right to decide one day that you want to be someone completely different. When you’re married, above all, your loyalty is to each other, and while that’s an amazing thing, what if suddenly find yourself staying at that job, because it’s close to your house and his work? Suddenly you find yourself maintaining the same tired group of friends, because it’s couples you both know? Suddenly wanting babies because that's what people do?


Today I am looking at my ring, and I love it, and I am so happy to be marrying someone as loving and honest and supportive and smart as DBo. Today's a good day. Maybe I just still need some time to wrap my head around the rest.

It's Too Damn Early For This Shit

The above clip bothers me for SEVERAL reasons - some of which are my own quirks (i.e. I am principally opposed to the long standing tradition of dudes asking fathers for their daughter's hand in marriage) but some of which are valid gripes.

For example, in what era do 30 year old women live at home, move directly from their father's house to their husband's house, and have a curfew of any kind? Is it really still "normal" that a woman's living arrangements are dictated by which man is overseeing her well-being? And if we were really going to chastise this woman for being out late, was it absolutely essential to the plot that Dad was the one doing the chastising? Does Mom play some kind of role in all of this, or is the whole marriage situation truly just a transfer between Dad and Todd?

The tribe of married women over at The Nest found this commercial absolutely adorable, and didn't understand the obvious issues with it. I guess that means our culture is still full of people who drive big trucks, keep their American flag next to their Bible on the nightstand, and think that Daddies are responsible for their Little Baby Girls until their Little Baby Girls find a husband and become his problem.

Maybe this upsets me more than normal because I just got engaged and am still struggling with the societal implications of being a "married woman," but at the very least I had hoped we were past the point as a society where patriarchy is endearing enough to sell coffee.

I did some research, and discovered that Folgers has been making sexist commercials for decades. In the one below, the husband actually shakes his finger in his wife's face for sucking at her wifely coffee-making duties (as opposed to thanking her for the effort, or just making his own damn coffee!) What's even more ridiculous is that the nice man at the drug store has to illustrate what a mountain looks like, otherwise the concept of mountain grown coffee would have gone right over her pretty little crappy-coffee-making head.




And if that wasn't obnoxious enough, here's another example. If this is where Folgers began, I guess I shoulda just been glad that Dad could make his own coffee while negotiating the details of his daughter's future.

That Je Ne Sais Quoi

Richard Branson is a hero of mine.




If you need more evidence than the hotness of his sexual exploits, his company produced this - the best airline safety announcement video in existence.



The exasperated bull gets me every time.

Richard Branson has everything I want - he's got swagger, money, opportunities for travel, a kick-ass accent, friends in high places, unparalleled business savvy, and complete and total freedom. He's a living example of someone who's got "the right stuff."

In some ways, he's a motivator, in other ways, he makes me doubt that the success I want to achieve in my own lifetime is even possible, because it seems that people who achieve what he's achieved show their signs of greatness from birth. The guy established his first successful business at 16, took constant big risks at every opportunity, failed in ways that didn't make an impact, and succeeded in ways that did. There was never a time in his life when he WASN'T the face of "Go Big or Go Home." If you believe that Branson's brand of success is one part intelligence and ability, and 5 parts guts, luck, and who you know, it's a little harder to believe that a pretty average 25 year old marketer chick could aspire to reach those heights.

I often find myself cruising through life, not taking too many risks, challenging the status-quo in ways that don't ruffle anyone's feathers TOO much, and I wonder if there's something else I should be doing to position myself in a place to take that big leap. And then I wonder - if I have to think this hard about it, maybe it's just not in the cards for me. The only way I can quell the anxiety of these thoughts is to try harder, to move up, to increase my reach - sometimes I wonder if that's what this whole European tour is about. Feeling like I've got what it takes if I can just find the right place, and be there waiting at the right time.

I Have Finally Classified My Political Leanings - Time for a Beer

I would call myself fairly politically independent. Yes, I caught Obama-mania and yes I loathe Limbaugh, Beck, Hannity, born-agains, and corporate greed along with the rest of fake America, but I also am of the opinion that Ayn Rand is a brilliant thinker, that Conservatives are generally better with money, and that government-run health care could be kinda scary. In that spirit, I watch the Daily Show every morning so I can maintain a level headed cynicism of government, and start the day snarky.

If you don't watch The Daily Show, you should. Jon Stewart is a God. A hot God. I would love to have a conversation with him some day. All we'd do is talk . . . I swear.

This morning I was drinking my coffee, zoning out in front of the tv, and I made a conscious decision to join the Stewart School of Politics. This School is neither liberal nor conservative (at least, not openly) and it embraces rational and analytical thought above all, promising no loyalty to any party. In today's political atmosphere, people are often so polarized that it's impossible to have a non-heated and rational discussion anymore - even with the people you generally agree with. In contrast, Stewart is almost always maddeningly level, promoting logical ideas from either side, and shitting on the hypocrisy of both as well. He considers McCain, Huckabee, and others, as friends and worthy thought-partners in some respects, and his ability to see past party lines allows him encourage bipartisan discussion and (hopefully) understanding.

Below, Stewart mocks Keith Olbermann - a man who, in the fall of 2008 was a political hero of mine, but who has lately seemed just as loony as the crazies on the other side. Olbermann has provided me with the perfect chance to apply the Stewart School of Thought - although he is in the right camp, I can't support someone who spouts off in this manner. Stick to the facts, Sir.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Special Comment - Keith Olbermann's Name-Calling
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Crisis

Open Letter to an Ex

You’re probably surprised to be getting a letter from me. So, let me start by saying - I feel like there was never be a good time to write/send this, or any logical reason why it would be worth it to do so. However, sending this letter has been on my mind from time to time over the last year or so, and some things have happened in my life recently that made me realize ‘it’s now or never.’ So, here goes.

First of all, I wanted to say that I feel like such a moron every time I picture our last interaction in my mind (what I remember of it anyway.) I don’t want to imagine what sort of impression that left on you, that I had become just another crazy drunk girl. I guess I was for a couple of years, so, there’s that. But, I would hate it if you thought that was the forever me. I think at the time I was just still angry about all the ups and downs and impossibilities of knowing you, and, a daily diet of booze makes anyone a little bit emotional.So, sorry for that. I hope you understand where I was coming from.

I also wanted to say that I think it’s sad that our paths have diverged so completely and possibly irrevocably, but I understand why they did, and to be honest, I don’t think I would change it if I could. But I think it makes everything that transpired weigh a little more tragically in my head. That is one of those problems that has no solution, unfortunately.

Most importantly, I want you to know that when I look back on our whole fiasco/saga, I am painfully aware that it’s both the most impactful experience I’ve had in my life up till now as well as the experience I least understand, had the least amount of control over, and feel the least settled about. Perhaps one is a function of the other, but either way, I don’t like the distantly sad, confused, unsettled feeling I have whenever a song, dream, movie, reference, etc, brings something from that time to the front of my mind. What to do about any of that, I have no idea.

It’s really interesting to me now-a-days to think about how different I am from the days when you knew me. I think I’m a lot better, which I suppose is an unexpected benefit of maturity.

I remember you saying once that you thought I made all my decisions with my heart, and now I don’t think that many of my friends would say that about me. I sort of wish I had had the opportunity for you to know me as an adult because I think I finally started coming out the other end of the most difficult years of my life, and I am embarrassed frankly, that the last impression I made on someone who was so important to me at one time, was such a disaster.

I wonder if we’d even get along, if we’d even have similar world views today, or if all the commonalities are really gone. I think they might be.

I guess I don’t really know what sort of response I want from you. I’m not even necessarily looking for one. I just felt like, if I was going to tell you all of this I better just do it, so I could stop contemplating doing it and get on with my life. I got engaged last week, so I am ready to be done with you forever.

I’m sure you’ve been able to analyze everything in your head and draw some conclusion that brought closure to the whole thing, and I say, that must be nice. I just hope you know that17-23 were the most difficult, crazy years of my life, I’m sorry for most of our interactions during that time, and that, maybe in another life there will be a chance to work all the past shit out. That would be awesome.

Anyway, I hope this doesn’t seem too out of the blue. Hope all is well.

Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt 3.

I steal creamer at work.

C'MON! Look how much of it there is!



Ok, that one on the upper left is salad dressing . . . . but with just enough morning delirium in my system, I could mistake it for creamer.



And who the fuck is Mason??? I didn't think we had anyone working here by that name.



There's no way Tony drinks that much Coffeemate! Surely he wants to share . . .

Sitting on Faces, Babies, and Doorknobs

So I was reading my best friend's blog and I thought I would look around to see who else is posting to Blogger. I clicked "next blog," and found this.

And this.

And this.

In fact, in over 30 blogs browsed, only 9 were not a personal account of someone's kinky sexual exploration. (And those 9 were almost exclusively about babies, but more on that later.)

The fact that so many people are blogging about sex - and fisting/spanking/donkey sex at that - leads me to think that there must be an awful lot of sexually repressed and unfulfilled people out there.

There's also a lot of people who are into some weeeeird shit.

Sexual fulfillment is so important, but its more than just the frequency with which you fuck. Sometimes it's less about the orgasm, and more about what you get out of it, whether it's an exhibitionist thrill, an intense emotional connection, or a pass from doing the dishes. With all the shit out there that tells you what you want, there is a lot of pressure to stick to the script. But it seems that the people who claim sex is as simple as putting a dick-in-a-box are the ones who come out years later with a fetish for doorknobs, a collection of men's thongs, or whatever this is. So it's probably better to be honest from the beginning about what you want (MUCH easier said than done.)

Side note - does anyone else find it odd that Fox is covering the Tiger Woods debacle as news when there are earthquakes in Haiti to worry about?

In the name of full disclosure, I should admit that I've got sort of a weird relationship with sex myself. Growing up in a religious household with a super overprotective mother, sex was the one thing that was off limits, no matter how broke or horny I got. I knew I would smoke some day, I knew I might try drugs, but I was NOT going to have sex. Ha.

In hindsight, I hope my parents can see that the whole "abstinence thing" never works out well, especially for curious girls with a rebellious side. I mean, I'm no donkey-girl, but I still feel like I have my own shit to sort out in the sex department. I guess when it comes down to it, I'd rather be spilling my secrets to someone I can trust, rather than sharing my shit online. But who am I to judge? They're just looking for a way to fill the hole. That's what she said.

Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt 2.

I am a willing accomplice to my boyfriend's thievery of intellectual property. We have have about 500 gigs of free entertainment in our possession.

Please don't tell the authorities.