Wrap your head with this material...

I've technically only been unemployed for two days so far. I've been a busy girl. And eating really good breakfasts. Mmm. I love breakfast! If you put a bunch of pots in the fire at the same time, then something's bound to be edible come dinnertime, right? See also, starting my own diapering service. See also, that damn book I wrote that I did nothing with and might maybe sorta try to get published. See also, 2-3 jobs I'm applying for. Sure I might burn some stuff, but I just can't handle the idea of putting all my eggs in one basket either. Speaking of eggs, I went out for cocktails with a few close friends after my last day of work and ended up back at my house eating eggs and drinking wine. (Which was a little sad b/c I just worked too many hours and too hard and didn't have any down time so ended up in that weird place with a few drinks where I started to let down and thought I might cry. No one wants to hang out with a crying drunk girl. There aren...

So my brain needs some emptying. So prolly don't try to follow this as any train of thought. Ever feel like someone's words can just strike you like lightning? Like they vaporize a part of you and the ashes are just a scar and every time you see them, that's what you feel? I think women's shoulders are really sexy. At all ages too. And not floozy, trashy sexy. Sophisticated, timeless, classy sexy. Beautiful. Wrists sometimes too. Its not like tits or butts where its the obvious spot, you have to look for it. Being aware of their beauty. I'm bad with question marks. I think them. I just forget to put them in the actual sentence. I hate fake smiling. But I do it all the time. Before I started fake smiling women were always mean to me. If you have a pretty face and aren't overly ingratiating, you come off as a bitch/snob/snot/mean/whatever. It sucks. I'm pretty sure its often why I don't want to go anywhere after work. I don't feel like...

Really? I have to do this? The whole what'reyouthankfulfor? Fine, but I'm not going to like it. Here goes. Every year on Thanksgiving I go for a run. Always by myself, and always a wonderful introspective full lunged run. I love it. So I'll start there. My nephew, Collin and really my entire family of in-laws. A girl just can't get luckier. They let me cuss and be obnoxious and weird and have my wedding my weird way and be a ski bum or a writer or a delinquent or a teacher or a social worker and not only accept me but seem to like and be proud of my quirks. But back to my nephew. My family's all girls. And I'm a busy girl. I like to run and play and rough house. He does too. We went to the City Museum yesterday and played and chased and ran ragged. I'm glad I get to have a relationship with him where we do that. Get each other. His dad and my husband stood around holding coats and meeting up when and where we were supposed to. I'm thankful for them doin...

So at the bar the other night in St. Louis (I'm visiting my wonderful old friends and family,) we're talking. PPP is talking about how much she loves some new $750,000 microscope and says she loves it more than her daughter and while she starts to explain why I pop her on the top of the head. It makes a really loud noise. And the guy who owns the bar and is PPP's friend's jaw drops. (He's never met me before and I like to make an *impression*) I apologize to a laughing PPP, and he says "No I think that's exactly the strength of hit that comment warranted." "Yeah, I know just how hard you're supposed to hit. I work for Social Services." Like I said, I like to make and *impression*

So out at the bar the other night I was telling this story about how my old roomate has TERRIBLE taste in men. To illustrate the point I was talking about this dude she was kind of into for a while. One morning I was up getting ready for school and found him sleeping naked on the couch. I shrugged and went off to class, figuring I'd ask her about it later. Come to find out he pissed her bed. AND did. not. wake. up. She kicked his ass out onto the couch and cleaned things up. So as I'm telling this story I finally figure out who this guy is that I got a friend request from on Facebook and am all "Holy shit, that's who he is." So I sent him this message: "Are you the one who slept in Christine's bed and I found you sleeping naked on my couch like 10 years ago? Cuz if so I'm definitely going to have to accept your friend request. That shit was funny."

During the last election there was an event for the Democratic candidates at our local office. Senator Ken Salazar, now Secretary of the Interior, was to be there. It was a big event. Multiple people had brought items to contribute to the serve yourself, margarita bar. Now, I should mention that I don't normally drink margaritas and I don't have much of an alcohol tolerance. Also, I don't know how to make a margarita. That will become evident shortly. So, I stand in front of this bar, shrug and start throwing shit in a glass. I plopped a couple of ice cubes in, dump in some margarita mix and then some tequila. Seems harmless enough, right? I look around for lime or anything else fancy I'm supposed to do, shrug and start drinking it. "Wow its strong." I think. So I try to drink it fast to make it go away. Well, apparently the mix already had tequila in it. So next thing you know, I'm talking to the Speaker of the Colorado House, Andrew Romanoff...

So right after graduating from high school I was an exchange student in Sweden for a year. It was a very mixed bag and a very good experience. I knew no one. Being in another country all by yourself at 18 builds a lot of confidence. At the end of a year, though, I was very glad to come home. I missed my mom and round door knobs and velveeta and driving and seeing black people. In Sweden, I went to high school. Their high school system runs about a year longer than ours does and at the end you come out with more like an Associates Degree. All my high school friends in the mean time though had gone to college. We had a fantastic summer catching up. One girl had joined a sororiety, someone else had traveled the country in her car, another joined the military. And we came together for a summer of crazy adventures and reaquainting ourselves. One weekend we went out of town together for a weekend to a girlfriend's college town. We somehow managed to get into a bar and were qu...

This is too crazy/me-being-stupid a story not to tell. I was in a crazy good mood yesterday. I wanted to play in the sun all day and drink and make friends and cause trouble and and and... I did. I went with a coworker to the Frisco BBQ where we met up with another coworker, Mickey. There, I drank way too much. I was in such a good mood that I didn't notice that I drank way too much. So, when my coworker, Mickey, invited my husband and I to go to a party afterwards I thought it would be a good idea not only to go, but to buy more alcohol before going. Keep in mind that I haven't really started any trouble yet. Soooo, we go to some friends of Mickey's where I feel the itch to start trouble. Rob's downstairs being talked into a motorcycle, which I also think is a good idea. I tell him we should spend our down payment money on the motor cycle instead of buying a house. Mickey tells me this is a bad idea and I head upstairs. NOW, what I think is a good idea is rock...

So I wrote this book and I think it's pretty decent. That's the feedback I'm getting anyway, which is bitchin' really since I have a degree in Education, NOT writing. Plus, this is my first try, so really I should be happy, right? But, turns out writing the book is maybe the easy part. The publishing is another story. You have to find a Literary Agent. To do this, you have to write a 1-3 page letter to many literary agents to convince them to read a sample chapter. Send it with a Self addressed stamped envelope (SASE) and wait. there's more but I'm already experiencing a high level anxiety just writing about this part. In my letter, I'm supposed to explain who I am, what my book's about, why I'm qualified to write it, why its sicky illy good, who'll read it, and on and on. AHHHHHhhhhh! This shit scares me. Also, I'm supposed to be witty, clever, literary, and junk. Oh and explain a 300 page book in a sales pitch. I'm not a frea...

Why yes, yes he did. Muskrat sent me the following rules, which I will likely disregard 1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me." 2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions. 3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions. 4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. 5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. Then, he sent me the following questions which I may or may not answer as I see fit to make up or avoid cuz its my blog and I'll lie if I want to. Its called "creative license," look it up. 1) Where do you find your Friday quotes? Real life, blogs, both? In Sweden, live little men called Tomtes, (pronounced tom-tahs,) They have beets for ears and live exclusively by hunting mushrooms. They are fueled by a vicious hatred of being confused with yard gnomes and therefore travel all their days, murdering and behead...

So at Christmas with my in-laws we played Dirty Santa/White Elephant/Screw Your Neighbor... wait, scratch that last one, that's a drinking game. The present I ended up with, was a 3 foot tall, skinny, glass vase. I had no way to get it home, even if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to. Instead, I decided we should put beer in it. This seemed totally appropriate at the time. I started us off. Then Rob got into the game. (Sorry for the blur. All technology hates me and I am incapable of buying a decent piece of anything but shit.) Finally, my mother-in-law, Sheila, proved once again, how freakin' rockin' cool she is. You didn't know it at the time, but this was your elementary school counselor. Or could've been, if you were lucky. I love Christmas with the In-Laws

I promise I will post Wednesdays' Weirdos again next week, but the pictures for this week got trapped on my camera with a dead battery. Sorry. I suck. Instead I'll tell you a drinking story. We were in St. Louis visiting for the holidays and a rare opportunity to get annihilated with my girlfriends presented itself. I started out with two beers while I was waiting for the girls with Rob's friends. Then, when we got to the fancy-pants bar I switched to whiskey on the rocks. I'm at sea level so I think I can drink like a champ. Hmmm. After about three of these and I-don't-remember-how-many shots, I switched back to beer. Damn, I'm bright. At some point in the evening I realize that we're in a bar that used to be my favorite bar in the whole world. It was called Tangerine then. They had Go Go dancers on the bar and let you climb on it and had hand shaped chairs so your butt got held. They had trucker night where you got your drinks in mugs. They ha...