There is no time to blog.
There is time for South Beach.
There is time for Peanut Butter. 37 hours and that is what is left. #WTF
There is time for another t-shirt.
Still haven’t figured out how to fit blogging into my life.
When I do, please come back and read. I’ll share this trip’s detials
Until then I will be blogging from a cardboard box…
Down to one… and still homeless.
I hate you, Craigslist.
No, not because of the Craigslist killer, I don’t watch Lifetime. I don’t do sappy movies. I realize the keyword here folks is killer, I still don’t do Lifetime.
Remember when I was homeless? It is still happening.
I know hate is a strong word, at the moment I have strong feelings.
My present apartment hunt is my only experience with Craigslist. I am tremendously judgmental, nonetheless first impressions are important. Craigslist you need to up your game.
I simply cannot grasp…
Why do people post a listing and then never respond to the inquiry?
How hard is it to post a picture? We all know you Instagrammed your lunch. So why don’t you show me that newly renovated townhouse with the washer and dryer that iron and folds my clothes?
Then there is the posting that isn’t real. We will call it spam. Spam now stands for Scamming People, Aggravating Me Many.
Location matters people. Don’t post your available apartment located in another state. Sweet Brown.
The ultimate scam. The response to an inquiry indicating that you need a tenant because you and your husband are living in a hut, helping fight and find a cure for diseases in a third world country. Scam – Screwing common-folk, absolutely malicious.
What about the name? Does Craig not own the list? Should it not be Craig’s List? Where is the apostrophe? I know, I know, I should never comment on any sort of punctuation. I just think I might be right on this one.
I applied for a passport today…finally.
I still only have two functioning light bulbs in my bathroom and am about to be homeless, but in four to six weeks I’ll have a passport. Life is good.
One section of the passport application can be found below.
I left it blank. I have no travel plans. I have little direction in life, why would my travel itinerary or lack there of, be any different? The marriage question… left that blank too. Again that would mean I need a plan in life, far from that happening.
I applied for my passport at the library. While waiting I spent $10. I bought 5 books, each only $2 I couldn’t pass that up. One book I picked up is written by Bill McKibben, best selling author of Eaarth. The fact alone on the cover was enough to sell me. The book will be discussed on a Saturday night filled with beverages and documentaries… maybe in Europe.
I then spent $135 on my passport.
Who spends $145 at the library? I always thought the library was free entertainment. At most you would spend 35 cents because your overdue library book was lost behind the couch for the last three years?
$145… and an unknown destination.
Oh I changed into my running clothes before leaving work. 20 mph winds and 4 hours later I am still wearing those clothes and have yet to run. I don’t consider them to be dirty. I plan to repack this exact outfit for tomorrow and leave the excuses at home.
Suggestions… Where should I go first?
We could talk all day about my curves. No one wants to do that trust me. Buzz, your girlfriend…woof.
After injuring myself and myself esteem a few times one would think I would learn. Sadly this is not the case.
A successful bag class completed at the gym and the tires were rolled out. Notice the plural s on tires; don’t let that single fella fool you.
A handful of us stood around. A few completed the jump. I simply started sweating as a contemplated the idea. I told myself absolutely not. No matter what the outcome I would end up looking like a donkey and probably end up injured.
Let me be honest. I am not scared to be hurt. I am afraid to not be able to get my sweat on. My eating habits are out of control and curves will be the understatement of the century if I am unable to workout.
The tires and I went a few rounds. Of course I attempted just with minimal effort. I would jump up and barely close enough to touch them with my feet. I figured everyone including myself would be satisfied with my attempt and we could move on. Yea right. Where was the effort?
Enter my irrational decision making skills and inability to say no, yet again. More commonly referred to as my life.
The owner of the gym offered to stand behind me. The logic being I would fall on him and not the cement floor. I told him for his safety it wasn’t in his best interest; he insisted for insurance purposes that it was. I made a few more legitimate attempts, but still no luck.
One of the successful jumpers suggested I use my arms. As people started to walk away, I did just that. Result jumping so far that my shoes went inside the tires and I flew backwards.
I could possibly be over exaggerating the severity of the injury, but on the drive home I was sincerely concerned that I wouldn’t be able to get out of my car.
The only thing we are sure of that day I was injured at Curves. Please allow me to quote the gym owner, “Wow, really sorry to hear you were hurt at Curves. I hear it’s intense over there.”
What followed?
Laughter…naturally. Subconsciously, I channeled my dad’s creative cursing.
I try not to partake in reckless endangerment at my own freewill. Be that as it may, persuading me is one of the simplest tasks out there. I am unsure of where this easily convinced gene stemmed from. I choose to blame it on my older brother and his friends. Take years of them telling you what to do without an option of saying no and you’ll understand.
Granted I try not to be completely irrational. I often momentary contemplate the consequences. Yet the intrinsic pressure to participate typically outweighs the logical option of spectator. After all sitting on the bleachers probably causes hemorrhoids; so that isn’t a safe bet either.
My asinine decision making skills have injured just that. Not once, but twice.
Enter the road bike incident of summer 2012.
If you aren’t aware bicycles can have different pedals. Particular pedals require certain shoes.
I have the pedals and the shoes – I lack the required skill. This was discovered the hard way, after countless failed attempts and a significant amount of creative cursing from my dad. F-bomb was flying. I will not fail to mention the countless bruises in places I didn’t even know existed.
Who know a road bike that weights 12 pounds could dominate me from one side of the road to the other? Rough day, trust me on this one. Or as someone put it, un-f’n-believable. Tears and laughter – both happened.
Solution to the road bike dilemma: Summer 2012 – ride the mountain bike with sneakers instead. My dad determined this option is insufficient and that I will be attempting the road bike again this year. Enter again – life without an option of saying no.
I’ll let you process this stupidity and soon fill you in on the other asinine injury of mine. I know the suspense is killing you.
Some thoughts in the mean time:
Warm weather is approaching.
A trip home to visit my parents is in the near future.
My rational reasoning strategies have yet to turn up. I am sure they are out there with my ability to successful clip-in and out of bike. I doubt they will be found anytime soon.
Saying, “No.” is yet to be considered acceptable in my childhood home.
Wish me luck.
Out there.
s.
One of those days…
I skipped spin this morning. I should have known this would lead to an interesting day. Missed motivation.
Instead I sat in standstill traffic. The traffic jam led to catching up on emails. Personal emails of course because work emails, I literally Sweet Brown that.
What I learned…
Don’t open emails from friends that talk you into composting seminars on Saturday mornings. If you do the email will link you here. Who knew condoms had the ability to fertilize?
This is the same friend that convinced me while on a brewery tour at Samuel Adams, it is not only appropriate, but also expected that I drink the beer even if wheat and I aren’t friends.
I realize it would be irresponsible to turn down free beer.
What is with the weather?
It snowed yesterday. Today it was 50 degrees. As a result of the weather a slow jog happened. My outfit of choice was referred to by a friend as a costume similar to that of a Sesame Street character.
I should either be embarrassed or become a little more selective with my friend choice.
Oh and one more thought. My friends bought a house today. I added Justin Timberlake’s The 20/20 Experience to a playlist on Spotify.
Commitment – one step at a time. (Still homeless…)
Is it Friday?
Spent a lot of alone time today with one of my favorite people. She taught me a lot about myself. She has no idea, but her repetition of, what I must now assume is a phrase I use often, really got me thinking.
All right she isn’t yet two, but trust me the girl’s recall skills definitely put her in the gifted category.
Let me assure you when she asks for help, I provide the necessary assistance. More often than not, a little moral support is all the situation requires. My go-to inspirational message, “You’ve got it.” (Never said I was a sentimental individual.)
She advocates for herself with a simple, “Help you.”
She encourages herself with a mere, “You’ve got it.”
She celebrates her achievements with clapping and several shouts of, “Yay, you did it!”
She is proud, as we all should be.
Today’s achievements included: long windy walks, reading books, standing trees on her train track, devouring countless snacks, singing, alphabet flashcards, chasing the dog, and laughing – so much laughter.
Life is full of advantageous achievements. We just need to make the time to appreciate them. So what if we are still using the wrong pronoun? Obviously I’ll be struggling with grammar rules for life.
Today’s life lesson from a two-year old: “You’ve got it.”
We’ve all got it, especially on days when we feel as if we don’t.
Keep that in mind. You’re family, friends, even the stranger on the street – you’ve all got it.
Encourage one another, respect one another, and learn from one another.
Tell me how you’ve got it.
Get it trending.
#youhavegotit
(Yes, I realize I had to change you’ve to you have per hashtag rules and now my hashtag ends with tit. Life. I’ve got this… sort of.)
Thank you, CK. You’re going to be a great big sister, “You’ve got it!”
After reading I am sure you will disagree with me. Nonetheless I am not concerned, my four followers know I am preposterous. They continue to read, I owe them. If it’s your first time reading, give me some hate via a comment, but come back again sometime, please.
While using a friend’s computer this weekend I clicked on the Pinterest tab. Just one of my weekend mistakes.
Now, yes, I have my own Pinterest account. No, I don’t use it. I just had to reset my password because it has been that long since I have logged in. This weekend I was reminded why this is true.
My thoughts on Pinterest.
Pinterest and its organized chaos are following the technology trend and changing the way we solve problems. Pinterest is undeniably a valuable resource to countless users; I am not the norm (shocking). For this reason, I think my mom might be proud.
You will be surprised to know, I was not endorsed for these opinions, rather they are entirely my own.
If you disagree, please share. After all I not only bash Pinterest, but my friends too. They just roll with the punches and bring comebacks. I hope you will do the same.
Two working light bulbs above my bathroom sink.
I am not concerned; after all I am only living here two more months. Wow, 4 years down, two months left. (Typing that might be worse than saying it – deep breaths.)
Life changes, I’ll embrace it eventually. Until then I will ponder life’s insignificant challenges, allowing me to refrain from overanalyzing what the future holds.
Maybe I should unscrew one of the working bulbs, and then when that burns out I can use the other. That would require preparation; I’d rather take my chances.
Minimal light above the bathroom sink is actually pretty nice. Looking too closely at myself is often rather frightening. After all my bathroom has another light and I have plenty of candles. I just can’t see to appropriately pluck my eyebrows or pick my countless zits.
I do realize Lowe’s or Home Depot sells these light bulbs, but why bother? I doubt after four years I am getting my security deposit back, so my apartment complex can put those funds towards light bulbs. Purchasing some drywall putty for the holes might also be a security deposit well spent. The holes aren’t from my anger issues, the results of that can be found on my muffin-top – thank you binge eating.
The holes are from my one consistent relationship in the last four years. Enter my tool kit and my ability to channel my inner-Bob Villa. My tool kit and I have established a mutual appreciation. I wish I could tell you I usually get it right on the first try, but in my true fashion I am make irrational decisions and typically end up with my level indicating success after four or five attempts with the hammer and nail(s). Technically I most likely channel my inner-Tim the ToolMan Taylor more often. I prefer it that anyway. JTT anyone?
Anyway…
I don’t believe in signs or lame quotes expressing how everything happens for a reason. Consequently I will soon be living in the dark, and then I will be homeless. I am not, however taking these blown light bulbs as a sign. I am continuing to follow one of my blog sharing appropriate life mottos:
Ever been invited to a party? You know, this kind, “Just come and eat, you don’t have to buy anything.” My response is always a simple, “No, thanks.” I don’t elaborate; I have saved that for all of you.
Tupperware – I don’t need Tupperware. I don’t cook. I didn’t say I can’t, I just said I don’t. I eat eggs –five nights a week. Eggs, spinach, salsa, cheese, and mustard what more could a girl ask for. The last time I cooked was Hurricane Sandy – October 2012. My roommate can attest to this.
Thirty-One – I have a lunch box. I don’t need another one and I don’t want any bags with those absurd patterns on them. I am not a mom, I do not wear mom jeans, and I do not need a mom bag or a purse skirt. A purse skirt…. is that skirt for real?
Mary Kay – I don’t wear foundation, concealer, blush, etc. I swear by Wet n’ Wild eye shadow, the $5 green and pink Maybelline mascara, and Maybelline eyeliner. Once in a while people give me compliments.
Pampered Chef – I don’t cook. Let’s go back there. I don’t need a salad spinner. I let the kale dry on the counter before making kale chips. Please not that I only make kale chips after I have eaten everything else in my kitchen.
Trunk Show – I don’t even know what that is. I have been told it’s a purse-buying event. I have a black purse and a brown purse. They are sufficient. I don’t need another one. I also have a satchel crossover so I don’t get mugged. Or if I do get mugged at least I really notice it, probably end up with whiplash.
So no, I am not coming to your “party.” Yes, I did put it in quotes because really, a party? I am not busy. I am not pretending to make an excuse. I will be honest. I will tell you that I am not coming because I know how the old, “you don’t have to buy anything,” works. $73.46 later I have all kinds of skirt I don’t need.
Females throw Pinterest inspired parties. Entirely too much time is spent cleaning, cooking, and attempting to outshine the last bash.
Males buy beer and if their buddies are lucky, they fire up the grill.
(Un)intentional Happenings 