Sunday shopping with the finest.

Going to the grocery store on a Sunday morning always gives me a little bit of guilt. I see other shoppers in their church garb and it's obvious where they have come from. I, in contrast, am in yoga pants, a t-shirt and Converse gym shoes, my hair is leftover from the night before and, at best, I have pulled it back into some pig tails/braids concoction. It's obvious where I have come from: my bed.

This morning I was leaving the grocery store and putting my bags in my car and it started to rain...kinda hard. There was a grungy looking black woman sitting in the back seat of an old beat up car next to mine with the windows down who asked if I was alright...I think she was going to help me unload my groceries, but I told her I was fine. Here is how the rest of the conversation went. Remember, it's pouring down rain, her windows are down and I'm trying to quickly get my bags in my car.

Her: Are you by yourself?

Me: Yep.
Her: Well, I'm sure glad my friend isn't here. He would like you. He'd be all on top of you.
Me: Well, I'll be sure to hurry up and get out of here before he comes back.
Her: Thank you, Jesus.

So I may not have gone to church this morning, but I did a good deed today and it kind of involved Jesus.

And the bonus is I'm not a cracked out prostitute.

Shiny Happy People

I've been thinking about my outlook on things lately. I wonder if I'm a little too chill...relaxed...laid back...however you want to call it. I don't have strong feelings about very much in life. I find that when a choice is put upon me, I typically don't have feelings either way and find myself saying, "It really doesn't matter to me." And the truth is, it doesn't. But I wonder if I'm losing interest in things or if I am just finding that the small things really don't matter and aren't worth too much effort.

I hope it's the latter.

There are some things I am passionate about. I am passionate about everyone having their own right and free will to do or believe what they want. I take on a very liberal viewpoint, but when done constructively, and not attacking-ly, I like hearing the other side. Recently, I have had strong feelings about this...politics...or, rather, the lack thereof. I am so sick of hearing Republicans blame Democrats for everything and vice versa. I feel that the parties are "un"uniting the people. Americans feel so strongly about their political affiliation that it causes anger and more importantly, DIVISION. What if everyone quit their political party and felt as strongly about creating a united country as they do their favorite television "news" station. What if everyone stopped blaming the President for every single thing that happens in this country and instead, trust that he has our best interest in mind and is doing the best he can to take care of our country. What if the shock jocks spent more time constructing a dialogue about supporting the President instead of tearing him down because what good does talking about his approval rating do anyway?

I respect that people have different opinions and points of view. I really just don't like when it causes a heap of negativity.

I want what's best for everyone, and deep down, isn't that really what most people want.

I just want peace, man.

Peace.

Cooking for ingrates

Maybe I'm not that good of a cook. Nearly every night I make dinner, though. And I make a very conscious effort to cook healthy food. And I actually kind of like to cook and try different things. I just don't like cooking for ungrateful jerks like my family.

Tonight Emma had a friend over who ate dinner with us. That's always interesting because I'm always amused/shocked/mortified at what comes out of her mouth. I heard Emma say to her friend, "I'm a vegetarian. Are you a vegetarian or a meat eater?" First of all, she's lying. Put a Chicken McNugget in front of her and it will be gone in less than 30 seconds. Second of all, I prefer not to scare the girl and think we are a bunch of freaks, eating crazy food. And thirdly, where did she hear the term "meat eater?"

So I made Eggplant Parmesan for myself and Vegetarian Chicken Parmesan for everyone else. It's time consuming to cook. I have to go to the grocery store and then prepare it and then cook it. So it really pisses me off when this happens:

Scott walks in the kitchen and asks if I'm making real or vegetarian chicken. Well, I already told him I'm phasing meat out of the house completely. Sometimes I'd make meat for him and Emma, but really, I don't like it. And Emma thinks she wants to be a vegetarian. So guess what?

He's outnumbered.

I told Scott it's vegetarian chicken. It's actually VERY good and I know he'll like it. He sneers and makes a stupid face and I really wanted to stab him in his face. Whatever. So I make a plate for Emma and her friend. Her friend tells me she doesn't like spaghetti and actually she doesn't like spaghetti sauce so the chicken is no good for her either. She says she will have a hot dog. That's fine and easy. No problem. She's only 6 and this is all foreign to her anyway. Then, Emma says she doesn't like cheese so she doesn't want to eat the chicken either. FU is what I want to say to her, but I tell her to just eat whatever it is that is on her plate that she likes and to stop complaining. Scott sits down and starts eating...and, of course, he enjoys it. Asshole.

I sit down next to Olivia and start eating my eggplant. It's pretty good, but a little dry. That's what I get for baking it. I look over at Olivia who got both eggplant and the vegetarian chicken. That little expletive is dropping it on the floor for the dog. That fucking dog eats better than anyone in this whole stupid family.

Speaking of families, I want a new one. A vegetarian family with a husband who likes to work all day and then come home and cook. And I don't want to have to put out for it either.

Shopping for Dummies

I'm having some issues with my closet lately. I'm not happy with anything in it. I think I have a t-shirt for every day of the week for an entire year. Well...that would be 365 t-shirts, so maybe not. But it's a lot.

It's so hot here that all I can stand to wear are dresses and skirts. I'm fine with that. I don't like things sticking to me, especially "down there" so the more freedom I have, the better.

A couple of months ago, I bought a dress from Dillard's. I kinda hate department store shopping, but I was with my mother so it was either look at clothes for me or watch her. Obvious, right? So I saw a dress hanging up and tried it on. It was a little tight across the chest (I know), but still pretty cute...and super cheap. I've worn it 2 times.

Recently, I was out and saw a little girl...probably about 12 years old...wearing my dress. Ummmm....hmmm. Did I buy a dress in the "Girls 7-14" department? That would explain the tightness in the chest...

So I wore the dress again, with reluctance. It really changed things for me after I saw the little girl wearing it. While I was driving, I reached back to help Olivia with something. As I reached my arm behind my seat, my shoulder strap broke.

Either I'm the spawn of the Incredible Hulk or I bought a dress for a 12 yr old girl.

Pay it forward

This morning I was at the market. That alone makes me happy. While I was shopping the fresh produce, I got a phone call from my friend, Kim. She started telling me that a lady cut her off this morning and sped up to get in front of her. Typically, Kim is a hot head. She will punch a bitch out. And that she didn't get out of the car and tell this woman off is something I haven't wrapped my head around yet. Uncharacteristically, she nicely motioned the woman on, letting her know it's fine. The lady ended up in front of her in the drive thru line at Starbucks. When Kim got to the window to pay, the cashier let her know that the woman in front of her paid for hers. Unbelievable. See what happens when you're patient? And then the guy from the market carried my bags to my car.

Her story reminded me of my experience yesterday. I was driving out of a neighborhood onto a busy street. All of a sudden there was a little Honda Accord tightly on my ass. Whoops.  Sorry, dude. Didn't realize you were going 100 mph. He drives closely behind me and fine...whatever. But he wouldn't give it up. We came to a stoplight and he stops super close behind me. I was 1 millisecond from jumping out of my car and ripping his little 20 year old head off and punting it across the field. Where in the hell can this little punk be in such a hurry to get to. Not to mention there were cars in front of me as well. If I didn't have Olivia in my car, I would have gotten out and told that little asshole to fucking relax.

Whoops...the point of this story was to remind everyone it pays to be nice.

There, Kim. I did it for you.

Things I've learned this weekend

This weekend has been a busy one. I got back from New York on Monday and while I anticipated a week of disappointment due to the yet again realization that I'm living in a less desirable part of the country, I was pleasantly surprised with a feeling of non dread.

I mean, really, leaving NYC and coming home to Alabama isn't exactly easy.

However, I had my first crawfish boil Friday night. I know it sounds crazy, and actually the crawfish thing was pretty yucko, but the party was fantastic, and I really am appreciative of the friendships I have made here. These bitches go and go and go. I like to be busy, and I love hanging out with friends, but these girls are like, "What are we doing next?" Margarita Monday. Okay. Pool play dates. Okay. Next party at my house. Okay. Beach. Check.

I love them. But they...are killing the Yankee.

I also had my first wedding Saturday night. I was a little stressed about this. I'm so out of my element with the wedding stuff. Plus, people do things differently here. I don't mean that in a bad way...just cultural stuff, I suppose. The wedding party Saturday was a little....rough. They were all drinking before the ceremony, which makes my job a lot harder. No one cared that it was time to start. The groomsmen were hiccuping right before showtime (I believe it was something along the lines of, "Good God" or "Jesus Christ" that came out of my mouth loudly and directly.), and the girls all decided they needed to go to the bathroom as we started walking toward the beach.

Oh yeah...

Beach weddings are a bitch. Way too far to walk. Walking in the sand sucks. And you know what, weddings themselves are pretty stupid. Yep, that's right. Weddings. Are. Stupid.

As I gathered the bride and groom for the cake cutting, I realized there are two champagne glass looking things that also resembled candle holders on the cake table. I asked the bride if there's champagne for the glasses.

"Just grab two beers."

Thank you for that. You just made my night.

During the reception, a guest started humping the large pole in the middle of the dance floor. If I ever get so drunk that I lift my leg on a pole, someone better punch me hard in the face.

The company I work for is not inexpensive. The condominiums where they were staying and got married were pretty nice. I was so confused as to what was going on.

The only thing I knew of for sure was that the DJ I worked with was a Jewish actor from LA and I loved him.


Sunday, we drove to New Orleans with my brother and Katie for Veggie Fest. It was very cool. Lots of new ideas, literature, samples, hippies, and.........hairy women. I love hippies almost as much as I love Jews and gays. The difference is I don't really want to hang out with them. I was standing with my brother who was holding Olivia and the hairiest women of them all walked up to us with her unibrow, armpit hair, and bare feet and said, "You are such a beautiful family." Todd responded immediately with, "That's my sister."
Uhhh...she didn't ask for a threesome, Todd. Relax. Todd is pretty loose himself; he's totally vegan, uses nothing made with animal products, and is a bit of a tree hugger, but if anyone references the two of us together he is totally weirded out. Case in point.

And then there's Scott...Scott was miserable. It started off badly when he realized it costs $10 each to even enter. I was so pissed at myself for even thinking he should come. He convinced Emma to yell, "Where's the beef?" in her little 5 yr old voice. What a jackass. Both of them.

We left the hippy haven, and walked around New Orleans. I have a love/hate relationship with that city. It's not interesting enough to explain, but the jist of it is that it's dirty and has a lot of incense stores, which I hate. But I love that I don't care how I feel or the impression I give when I'm there.

I don't really know how to end this.

Sleepless in Alabama

I have been doing some strange things in my sleep recently.

This morning I woke myself up laughing. I was dreaming that I was in the elevator of a hotel with the girls with whom I work and every time we got out of the elevator, it was a steep downhill slope. So we would fall out of the elevator toppling over each other and eventually landing in disarray against a wall with our luggage all landing on us. I laughed every time. I'm still laughing just thinking about it. Can you imagine??

And then there's my Olivia dreams. That kid is taking years off my life. Nearly every night I jump out of bed looking for Olivia. Scott is pretty sick of this since I wake him up a few times a night by suddenly jumping up.

I'll tell you a bit about the dream he liked...

Last week I had an impromptu drunk evening with Katie. We got drunk on a Sunday night, which ended in needing someone to come pick us up. Around here, getting drunk on a Sunday night is a bit frowned upon. So is yelling "Jesus" when you get pissed off. Whoopsie.

I'm still not clear if it was the rum or earlier conversations, but my dream that night prompted me to act out, and before I knew it, I was in a compromising situation, which when I awoke led to a lot of confusion. The next morning, Scott asked, "What were YOU dreaming about last night??"

"Not you."