I’m Not Normal

“You’re not normal.”

“I know.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“It really is.”

I’m so lucky, you guys, to have someone like Brian who not only loves how weird and me I am, but encourages me to let my freak flag fly.

adorable engagement photo with board games and a picnic

Photo credit: Being Joy Photography

I wasn’t always this sparkly, shiny ray of positivity that make my coworkers think I’m in my early to mid twenties (bless their wonderful hearts-and not in a sarcastic way). But something about Brian (who is not sparkly or shiny, by the way) makes me want to be better. Makes me see the world from another angle. It gives me hope. It puts my faith in humans. It helps me believe in magic when most would say that magic isn’t possible.

My dad used to say to me, “Christine, you’re really book smart, but sometimes your common sense could use a little help from your brain.” I never took offense at this, because, let’s be honest, I’m a little bit flighty. I walk into no parking signs when I’m too busy looking at my phone. I drive my car into the middle of a snow bank. It took me three months to realize I had gotten my period. But you have to be flighty if you’re ever going to fly. Too much logic can kill imagination. And I happen to love my imagination. My little world, where skies are pink and I’m a cool girl. Where I create a snow beach in my parents’ front yard. Or where I cry at Disney World because I’m so happy and overwhelmed with memories that I can’t think straight.

Brian was baffled when I told him he was partially to blame for my rose colored glasses. “But I’m not that happy or positive.”

He doesn’t realize it’s not his demeanor that emboldens me to dream big and picture all the wonderful magical things I can do. It’s how he sees me. It’s how he tells me that I can do all these amazing things. He believes in me. He thinks I’m adorable. He encourages me, and he inspires me. And he’s everything I ever wanted or needed in a partner.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Sometimes I Think About Lighting my Hair on Fire

I picture a lot of crazy thoughts during the course of my day. These thought cause some serious anxiety. But I figure,  maybe if I put them out into the world, they definitely won’t come true.

I’d like to point out, though, that this isn’t my hypochondria thinking. Instead, it’s the S part of my Myer’s-Briggs results. The part that pictures every possible outcome of a day’s events or even just a fleeting moment.

image

So yes, sometimes I do picture lighting my hair on fire. Not like…on purpose or anything. Just in a freak accident involving cooking, candles, bonfires, or lighters. No big deal.

I’ve also imagined a hundred ways I’ll die in a possibly firey car crash. Usually it’s when I’m driving, but sometimes when Brian is driving and I’m eating snacks. I’ve envisioned cars slamming into my car from the front, back, and sides. Falling into a body of water off a bridge (this is why my car has a life hammer).

Some mornings, I see myself tripping and falling onto the train tracks. I try to stand far enough away that the worst injury to ever come from the train platform is a drunken sprained ankle (remind me to tell you THAT story).

When I shower, I just know I’m going to slip and fall one of these days. I’m actually surprised it hasn’t happened yet. I always think about what would happen afterwards. And then I think to myself, maybe I should only shower when Brian’s home. Which, honestly, isn’t a big deal because Brian’s home like 95% of the time I’m home. And I’m sure the loud thud of my body going down in the tub wouldn’t be mistaken as anything normal.

Now that I think about it, guys…maybe those thoughts are kind of morbid. Maybe I should tell you about other disasters I think about. Like the chance of my phone flying into the toilet after…well…pooping. I’m terrified of losing my Internet limb down there and never wanting it back. Years ago, when flip phones were a thing, I dropped a couple in the bathroom, but the toilets were clean.

Or the flooding basement.  I mean, my car has already been flooded. Our basement has kind of flooded. But I picture a giant pool of water rising up from the sump pump well and pouring in through the windows. This does not help me sleep at night.

And really,  sometimes, I just picture myself grabbing a pair of scissors and chopping off my hair. It’s getting so fucking long, but I’m trying to keep it that way for the wedding. We’ll see how that goes.

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What crazy things do you picture happening to you? What are you most afraid of?

PSA: If you’re in Illinois, go vote already.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

How to Dress for a Trip to Urgent Care…

I’m getting old a helluva lot faster than I thought I would.

Remember the old commercials for the Life Alert? Help! I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up?

Yeah. That was me almost two months ago. Minus the falling part.

Life alert - Help I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up

We all know my lumbar spine hasn’t exactly been the envy of all 29-year-old backs. First there was the velociraptor back jonesin’ for some queso. Then the show-offy yoga back that drank too much. And most recently, the panty-dropper back that decided I should have gone commando (and a whole bunch of other back injuries from my youth…).

So when I was nursing my L5 back to health, my doctor tried putting me back on the crazy meds…other than being the only time I’ve cried about the anxiety of wedding planning, they didn’t do shit this time around. So, I got an X-ray and referral for a chiropractor. While I was waiting for the referral to come through (this is maybe the only time an HMO sounds like a bad health insurance plan), I had a hot date to meet up with Andra Watkins, Lea Grover, and Christine Organ while Andra was visiting the Chi. I was initially planning to attend a magical-sounding literary festival in the far west ‘burbs, but woke up feeling a little pain, and even though it was definitely on the mend, I decided to take care of myself. Not to worry, I’d planned to stretch a little and rest a lot, and be ready to meet up with them for cocktails in the evening.

So I reached for a summer frock (I like to wear summer dresses in the winter as my “house clothes” because comfort, ease, and no pants) in the closet, and squealed in pain. Apparently the reaching part was a baaaaad idea. All of a sudden, the going out at all was becoming less and less a possibility. But I thought I’d wait it out a little longer.

While binge-watching Gilmore Girls, I couldn’t seem to find a single comfortable spot on the couch, and I could barely move…so I took to the only place I thought I might find comfort: The floor.

The first relief I’d had all day, I was able to have a lovely nap on the carpeted floor of our front room, while the Gilmores played on. But when I decided it was time to try getting ready for drinks with some writer friends, I realized with no uncertainty that getting off the floor was a near-impossibility. And so I texted Andra and told her to throw back an extra drink for me while I cried a little bit inside (partially because of the pain, and partially because of Andra, who is amazing and doesn’t live here like the other two ladies).

Brian heard me writhing on the floor trying to get up and came running (he doesn’t do this often because he’s so accustomed to my screams of pain). He attempted to help pull me up, but I was afraid I was either too big for him to pick me up or that he would break me. Mostly the second one, honestly. I take back everything I ever said about the previous pains I’ve experienced because this one topped the cake in an entirely different way.

Much like the past pain, I felt as if I had no control over the center of my body. The core is an integral part of functioning, people. If you lose that, you lose the ability to move. In addition to this inability to move, the muscle spasms were throbbing and nearly trying to kill me. It took 25 minutes and a LOT of effort on my end, plus help from Brian, to get myself off the floor.

As soon as I stood as best I could, I looked at Brian and said, “I need to go to urgent care.”

This from the girl who puts off going to the doctor until she really thinks she’s dying, because hypochondria makes her fear the results from the doctor. The decision was swift and immediate. Brian helped me put socks and slippers on, grabbed my purse and handed me my fleece. I was ready to do this thing. Dressed like a Polish war bride…again. I had no bra on, a summer dress, winter slippers, Brian’s man socks, and a fleece-oh and had super greasy hair. Obviously, it was perfectly appropriate for the middle of January.

I got into the car slowly, aiming to produce as little pain as possible (which was near impossible) and found a position that was only mildly debilitating. It took about 15 minutes to get to our destination, and the whole time, I was whining on the phone to my mom. My nearest urgent care clinic is on a busy road, two blocks from the downtown area of the town in which I grew up. With the speed in which I was walking, holding my back as if I were eight months pregnant, at least 40 cars whizzed past us, and I had Brian take a few candid snapshots because I was going to think it was ridiculous one day instead of painful.

How to dress when you're on your way to urgent care

It was…special.

They took me in right away, and Brian had to help me change into the gown they made me wear. I was pouting the entire time. Brian took pictures this time without my asking.

Urgent care is not fun for anyone...

Finally, the doctor came in, gave me a shit load of drugs, injected something into my thigh, and even laughed at my joke about how the last time I let a doctor give me a shot there, I gained 30 pounds and decided I was never taking a hormonal birth control again. (I actually love this part of going to the doctor. It’s like I have a captive audience to practice my own personal stand-up show.) And then she sent me on my merry way. It was just as painful to get back into the car, but at least, there was supposedly some relief coming soon.

A few days later, I was finally feeling better. And physical therapy was just around the corner (by a couple of weeks, because it takes fucking forever to get an appointment). And now, several weeks later, I’m able to laugh at my little visit to urgent care.

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Things I’m Learning About Twitter

Twitter is this magic beast; it’s quite the antithesis of Facebook, really. A lot of people shouting and pretending to listen, but no one’s really fighting (most of the time) because they’re caught up in their own jam.

Unless you’re following hashtags and that’s a whole ‘nother world. But if you’re not following hashtags, and you’re just following people, there’s a rabbit hole of awesome that you, too, can experience in the flesh.

When you're playing the Twitter game, these tips will help you make the most of this social space.

I’ve had a Twitter account for years, but I feel like a total noob, which obviously isn’t stopping me from telling you how to win at Twitter. This is what I’m learning.
1. Twitter likes you best when you’re hot, lazy, and love food. The number of people who followed me over the course of the year was completely correlated to the attractiveness of my profile picture (you know what a selfie whore I am) and the number of times I mentioned cheese. My best tweets all involve me not wanting to remove myself from bed, but desperately craving food or eating an embarrassing number of doughnuts. Whatever. Twitter, I get you. This is why we’re friends.

2. It’s all about go big or go home. The way to grow your Twitter followership? Actively immerse yourself in the Twitter. I mean, if you’re lazy and love food, you’ll love wasting your time on Twitter. I do. There are a lot of hilarious as fuck people out there. I think to myself, “can I keep you?” And then I follow them on Twitter. And I can keep them in my pocket. It’s like magic.

3. You can make friends all over the place when you’re weird. That go big thing about Twitter being a time suck? It’s because you’re supposed to socialize in the blue bird sandbox. Get crackin’ and find the people who get your humor/sentiments/anger/love/weirdness. They’ll welcome you with open retweets and faves. Unless you’re a dick. And even then, someone probably likes you. Again with the magic.

4. The pound sign is out. Remember when that was what we called the #? Hashtags are fun to make up but totally not required to make friends. Don’t worry you can still hash your heart out on Instagram. Or you can run with the Twitter pack that plays the hashtag game.

5. It’s all in the hips. Not really. I just wanted to say that. Honestly, I think it’s all about who you are. If you’re weird, like food a little too much and hate getting out of bed, you’ll probably enjoy being my Twitter friend, but if you’re the complete opposite,  I’m absolutely positive there are people who’ll get you too.

What do you like best about Twitter? Which is your favorite social network? Why?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Life is Just Plain Weird. Oh, and I Quit My Job Today

Quitting a job is absolutely bizarre. Today is my last day at my current company. In two weeks, I’ll start a new role at a new company, where I’ll learn new things and make new friends and start a new routine. But over the last week or two, things have been…weird. Because I knew I was done. But I was still getting stuff done. It’s a very surreal experience. I could say it twenty different ways and it wouldn’t feel normal.

Quitting your job is weird and awkward, and the ceremonious way in which we do everything makes it even weirder.

I’ve quit jobs before. I’ve sent e-mails to bar managers and called in to restaurant managers, but typically, I don’t just leave a job for something better. It’s never been my MO. I’ve been laid off and left jobs when they weren’t right for me, but I promised myself I’d never quit a job without a better job, this time. And so I waited it out. Until I could find a place that could offer me a new home. A place to grow. Which I did, and I’m SO excited about. But that doesn’t make leaving this job any less weird. These are just a few of the weird things I kept thinking about over the last week that make quitting a job the right way a little strange.

Two Weeks Notice

First, you’re advised to give notice. And not just like, hey tomorrow’s my last day. Instead, the norm is to offer 2 weeks of your time after you know you’re donezo. When a job lets you go, you’re out that day. Why does this tradition exist? During those two weeks, do you tell people you’re leaving? Do you keep quiet and get as much work done as you can? I fell somewhere in the middle and was wigged out the entire time. I’m proud as fuck I was able to see a contract through to completion and launched before my last day, but what if I hadn’t finished it? Would I have been expected to continue working long after my last day to finish it? Would I have left it to someone else who wasn’t in on the rest of the contract process? Fucking weird, right?

Exit Interviews

I always thought I’d leave angry with a big ole bone to pick with HR. I’d been preparing for my exit interview since I started. I documented every instance of ridiculous, crazy, and horrible things. But when push came to shove, I didn’t have anything to say. Sure there were times I was so angry I threatened to quit.  But I got a lot out of my job. I learned a ton. I explained my reasons to my boss, but mostly it was just the right time for me. I have a new job lined up that I’m so incredibly excited about, and I’m not leaving my current job on bad terms. I’ve made my peace.

Saying Goodbye

I’ve bid farewell to many a co worker in my almost 3 years with the company.  Several times, I’ve shed a few tears. Not just because everything makes me cry…but because I was genuinely sad to see people go. Now it’s my turn to go, and I’m genuinely sad to say goodbye to the people I’ve come to know here. That doesn’t make it any less awkward. I started telling some people last week that I had put in my notice, and others I didn’t tell until yesterday. Others still, I didn’t tell until I sent my last e-mail. It’s just weird. Because I didn’t want to be in the middle of contract negotiations and then tell people I’m leaving. I didn’t want to be working on a project and let people think it was going to slip between my fingers. I wanted to finish what I started and get it done properly without a thousand questions as to why…but then I felt guilty not telling them until now.

But my last day is here, and I’m not sad or angry or joyful. I just feel weird. Adulting is hard.

Have you ever quit a job for something new and exciting? What is the strangest thing about quitting a job? What other weird traditions do we stand by that should maybe be eliminated?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

My Kitchen Window – Where Everything Goes to Die, Including Creepy Baby Dolls

In this year’s edition of Chrissy’s fucked-up Halloween decor…

Dolls are creepy. Like, on a scale of one to terrifying, they top the charts. When I used to work haunted houses, I always wanted to build a room that was all creepy baby dolls. So this year, when I started planning OUR haunted house, I knew that baby dolls would play a role. I would love to have a collection of creepy zombie babies like the one below, but I was on a tighter budget than that would allow.

Zombie Baby DecorSevered Zombie Baby Head PropEvil Baby Prop with KnifeEvil Baby Prop with Teddy BearDemonica The Undead BabySpinning Head Possessed Baby
These guys are all on my dream list. Instead, I thrifted and garage sailed for some of the most terrifying dolls.

I thrifted for creepy dolls that I would use for Halloween

My criteria was simple. I was looking for eyes that stare you down. Dolls with easy-to remove limbs. Talking dolls that say things like “I’m sleepy,” which sounds like “I’m creepy.” Horrifying giggles.

Then, I had to really think about what I wanted to do with them. We all know I’m twisted as fuck when it comes to Halloween. I turned our apartment bathroom into a murder scene. I made a hanging dead body wrapped in spider webs (just wait until I show you what I did with the body this year!) in our stairwell. I love elaborate and disgusting decor. It’s a thing. So I started pinning all the baby dolls to my Halloween party board.

I finally sat down to start painting…and this guy happened.

I ran out of white paint to make this doll more grey/blue...and he turned into a creepy blue zombie babyI used a combination of blue, purple, black and white acrylic paints from my art box to create this ghostly blue color. I wanted to make him a little bit grey/bluer, but I ran out of white paint…and he turned into a creepy blue zombie baby. My friend Lily thought he needed a little more oomph, but I never did get time to add to him…

I was busy working on the other dolls…

I decided to make a lot of bloody, creepy doll parts, using the blue doll as the cannibal leader doll, a few full size dolls and a lot of doll parts.I decided to make a lot of bloody, creepy doll parts, using the blue doll as the cannibal leader doll, a few full size dolls and a lot of doll parts. For the blood, I used crimson red, yellow, and black paints mixed together.

When I sent Lily a text picture asking if I took it too far…she thought it was fantastic and took the thoughts out of my head with additional scene details. Her boyfriend was less impressed.

Halloween texts about creepy baby dolls

Then, it was time to decide where and how I wanted to display these doll parts. I have this really fantastic kitchen window, which is awesome for decorative accents, but terrible for plants (even if that’s what it’s designed for). Mostly, because I did not inherit my mom’s green thumb and I refer to this window as the place where things go to die. Honestly, our whole house/yard/property is where plant things go to die, but that’s another story for another day.

And so it was decided that I would create an eerie scene of cannibal dolls and the parts they left behind.

A scene of creepy cannibal baby dolls and bloody doll partsOf course, the best way to add even more creepiness is to use lighting. Our kitchen and family room were lit with a green glow that illuminated a lot of our home, but the babies needed something a little darker. So we put a red light above the sink to radiate around the dolls.

The green glow from the house and the red illumination from the light over the sink made these creepy baby dolls in kitchen window even worseThe green glow from the house and the red illumination from the light over the sink made these creepy baby dolls in kitchen window even worse than without the lighting. When we had people over last week, they were either horrified or impressed. I suppose that’s pretty normal.

What creepy things do you do for Halloween? What’s the most screwed-up thing you’ve done as a decoration? Would you make these creepy dolls or buy some of the zombie babies I showed you above?

Some links used in this post are affiliate links and will earn me a small commission so I can keep spending money on the important things…like Halloween decorations.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Grocery Shopping: Because Being Lazy and Proactive About My Eating Habits Are Better Than Saving Money

I read something on Pinterest the other day about things you should NEVER  buy at the grocery store. Among the items included many of our weekly (okay whenever-we-make-it-to-the-grocery-store-ly, which averages about 2-3 times a month) purchases. And so I said to myself, “Self, someone has to speak out against this insanity. Someone needs to tell these Pinterest Looney Toons to get a hold of themselves and drop the homemade spice mix. Self, that someone should probably be you.”

Okay fine, I didn’t actually say those things to myself. I was busy muttering under my breath about not wanting to put pants on and needing to eat more cheese, but whatever. I thought them. In fact, I’ve thought about this often enough I even have a Pinterest board dedicated to shit I’m never going to do. And about 60 other Pinterest boards dedicated to shit I’m probably never going to do.

Anyways, I’ve come up with a very important list of things you should buy at the grocery store because the cost outweighs the amount of time spent doing whatever it takes to make those things happen.

Whether you're trying to save money or just be the ultimate Pinterest mom, some of these "money savers" are actually not worth your time or energy.

Things you shouldn’t bother Pinteresting or forgoing because the grocery store makes it So. Much. Easier.

Spice mixes: Let’s start with this one (and ignore the fact that I do, actually, make my own taco and fajita seasoning but to be fair, I don’t really measure any of it). Sure, you can mix and match your seasonings easy enough. But ain’t nobody got time for experimentation. When you’re in a hurry, isn’t it reassuring to know that your X,Y,Z isn’t going to be fucked up because you were smart enough to use a spice mix which had the perfect blend of crushed red pepper, dried pineapple flavor and bacon bits (patent pending)? I thought so too. Also, no one makes ranch like Hidden Valley. There. I said it.

Miracle cleaning solution: Let’s talk about this “Blue Dawn and vinegar” bullshit I’ve seen all over Pinterest. I tried it when we first moved into the house. I was thinking to myself, “Self, this is going to make a great post one day. You’ll be all ‘Blue Dawn and vinegar’ was really a miracle in my stained bathtub!” And you know what? I was wrong. Because all that shit did was smell nasty. I understand cleaning with vinegar and baking soda is also supposed to help – I used it dozens of times to try cleaning my garbage disposal. It masked the odor alright…with vinegar smell. Give me Scrubbing Bubbles and a Plink drop any day.

Vinegar: We rarely use most of the vinegar in our cabinets. Brian uses the balsamic for his salad dressing (along with a pre-packaged spice mix) and I use the white vinegar when I dye eggs on Easter. And yet, there are people who make their own fermented vinegar. Dudes. You guys. This stuff is cheap. Who wants to stink up their house for a product you use a couple times a year or whatever.

Dryer sheets: I LOVE the smell of clean laundry. I hate doing laundry, but the smell of fresh from the dryer laundry makes my heart go pitter patter. On Pinterest, I ran across a pin for homemade dryer sheets which looked super cute, but sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. One of the comments on it, though, was priceless – “I tried this and my laundry smelled like vinegar!” Bring on the store-bought dryer sheets so my laundry can smell delicious.

Bottled water: Oh hell yes, I’m going here. I know this one isn’t a Pinterest thing, but I’ve seen it on the money-saving lists. Sure, I’ve got reusable bottles and travel cups and mugs galore (I usually get them free with brand names on them when I go to fancy blog conferences). We even bought fancy pants Brita water bottles (okay – these are great for traveling). But you know what I hate? When I wake up with enough time to brush my teeth, throw pants on, and MAYBE brush my hair before I race to the train…and have to spend more time filling a bottle with water than I did doing all of the getting ready part of my morning. Instead, I can grab a bottle on my way out the door and satiate my thirst while I commute into the city. Besides, when you buy them at Sam’s Club, they’re so cheap per bottle. And water is never truly free, y’all. Need I remind you about your water bill which is payment for water that comes out of your faucet?


Pre-packaged snacks: I love snack packs. A lot. And you know what? Those pre-packaged little goodies keep me from killing my poor boyfriend. Because I’m high maintenance like a freakin’ gremlin. Also, they keep me from eating the whole fucking econo bag of Doritos that I would otherwise buy at Sam’s Club in one sitting. It’s been known to happen.

So the thing is, you guys…I get it. If you’re on a money-saving kick, this might make sense to you. If you’re on an all-natural ingredient thing? I totally get that too. But before you go out to buy the necessary equipment and ingredients to pull these tricks off, don’t forget to add the math for the time it takes you to do this shit. Your hourly rate counts as money spent, doesn’t it?

What crazy DIY shit have you seen recently on Pinterest, or the Internet, or anywhere really, that would be much easier to purchase? Have you tried any of the DIY options I mentioned? Are you a die-hard DIY maven? Are you a bottled water drinker?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Hey Baby, What’s Your Myers-Briggs Type?

For the last few weeks, I’ve taken you on a little journey that started with two guys in a bar (this is the beginning of the story, so if you’re new around here, start with this post), and has led to a very serious flirting problem that included a lot more waiting than I would have preferred. Well, not that this should surprise you, based on what you know about my dating experience, but it took another month before I messaged The Grown Up again.

I had been seeing another gentleman caller, who was attractive, kind and okay to be around…I nicknamed him McDreamy during our brief time together, but he wasn’t entirely deserving of the name. He was what you might refer to as pretty, but dumb. He was about as intellectually stimulating as a carrot.

So I was looking for something a little more. Something with substance. SomeONE with substance…someone with half a brain.

And so I messaged The Grown Up.

photo credit: L1010203_v1 via photopin (license)

photo credit: L1010203_v1 via photopin (license)

This was our longest conversation to date. I think we chatted for a few hours that fateful evening.

I sent him a tongue-sticking-out emoji, because I wasn’t terribly clever when it came to starting chatversations. It was shortly after St Patrick’s Day, and I worked at an Irish bar, so it seemed logical for him to ask me about it. And for once, I was actually kind of letting him in.

TGU: How was St Patricks day? Nightmare crowd?
Me: I didn’t work.
They hate me.
TGU: ?
Me: They didn’t schedule me.
So I went out drinking all day 😀
TGU: Do you seriously think they hate you?
Me: Yes.
But, it was okay because I went to my local watering hole dive pub that was filled with people I knew and liked.
I had a happy little corner and people came to me.

Bars on St. Patrick's Day get pretty crowded...

Bars on St. Patrick’s Day get pretty crowded…

TGU: nice!

I was going to impress him with my barfly popularity. That always worked. Why I felt the need to tell him my job essentially sucked, I’ll never know. But he took it to a whole new level.

TGU: So are you Norm, or Cliff Clavin, or Sam Malone?
Me: Well, my brother is Norm.
For sure.
He walks into the bar and everyone is all “WOJ!”
TGU: Frasier? Woody?

I considered explaining to him that I was a lady and didn’t want to be a boy character…

Me: I’m more Diane
TGU: Really?
Diane was…kinda…

Dude, I chose Diane because she was the pretty nice one.

Me: Hmmm maybe Kirstie Alley’s character?

Not really, but what other ladies were on that damn show?

TGU: Umm

I know. You’re right. But I can’t even…wait! I know!

Me: nah…
Carla

TGU: She was definitely better than Diane
hahaha
Carla was awesome
Me: I’m a sassy pants.
I’m the hilarious one.
TGU: hahaha… always awesome when people think they’re the funny one… hahaha
Although I don’t remember you laughing at your own jokes, so you’re probably OK.
Me: lol
I just get told that I’m funny all the time.
I don’t always think I’m that funny…I just talk a lot
TGU: hahaha

Oooh he thinks I’m funny!

TGU: So, did you have a good time last night?

Finally! My chance to shine again. Stupid pre-dating questions.

Me: Indeed
TGU: you don’t even remember do you?
Me: I do too!
TGU: All some kind of greenish blur.
Me: I maintained a pleasant buzz throughout the evening.

Irish PrincessOkay fine, you guys, I drank all damn day…went to 4 different bars…got stupid drunk. He didn’t need to know that.

TGU: Nice.
That’s the best way to do it.
Me: Exactly.
Functional but fun.

It was at this point, I believe, The Grown Up decided he might actually be interested in me. I didn’t realize it for…well…a while. I’m not very observant…

TGU: <nerd talk>hey, did you ever take a Myers-Briggs test? </end nerd talk>
Me: LOL yes.

He was adorably nerdy. He used freakin’ code speak. I loved him. And, for the record, I generally hate personality tests. HATE. THEM. A lot. But I just went la-de-da a boy might like me la-de-da sure I’ll take your stupid test…

TGU: did I already ask you this?

Is this really a thing you do?

Me: No, I just really liked the nerd talk interjection.

True story. Loved <nerd talk>.

TGU: Hey, some people can’t handle the nerd-nitude.
Me: I <3 nerds
TGU: yay! nerd love!
There’s not enough love for the nerds out there.
Do you remember what types you were?
(MyersBriggs came up recently with friends, and so I’ve been thinking about it lately.)
Nice play, there, Grown Up. I now (as in real time NOW) see what you were doing here.
TGU: You’re probably an…EN something…because you’re very social and yet like nerds.
Me: LOL I don’t remember for sure.
I’m, like, all over the place, though.
TGU: Understandable…kinda outta nowhere…
 If you ever feel like it…
Me: Will do.
I’m not going to lie, here, guys…I went and took the damn test immediately. I was just all la-de-da…this could be interesting…la-de-da this boy is super nerdy. I should make him love me with my winning personality…
TGU: What I realized was that N’s are less common then S people.
And T’s are less common then F’s in women…
 me: What does each stand for?
TGU: so NT women are the most rare type
Me: I don’t know where I fall, but I’ve been told I’m a rare breed of girl. lol

The Grown Up went on a long discussion of personality types, but I’ll spare you the details. You’re welcome.

Me: I think I’m ENFP…but not 100% sure
Me: Oh yeah
That’s me
Hardcore!
Winning Personality
Please love me, Grown Up. I promise I’ll be really nice and stop being a serial dater.
TGU: Yay! That’s gonna be my new line… instead of “What’s your sign, baby?” I’ll say “What’s your MyersBriggs type, baby?”
For the love of GOD; we’re FINALLY getting somewhere.
Me:That’ll get you all the ladies!
You’ve got me, dude. Just ask me the fuck out.
TGU: Totally! world, look out!
Me: Okay, maybe only the intellectually nerdy ones…
TGU: Eh, they’re the only ones I want anyway
Me: Good point. pretty but dumb gets old pretty fast

And then The Grown Up started talking about a girl he dated who fell into that category (although not dumb, just an “S” versus and “N”). I refrained from talking about my “McDreamy” because I didn’t think talking about one’s current prospects with another of one’s current prospects was in good taste. I merely mentioned that I didn’t feel guilty about categorizing the “pretty but dumb.”

TGU: (the world is about 65% S people… it’s one of the few types that doesn’t have a 50/50 split in the general population)
Me: Strange.
TGU: I like to think that reality TV is their fault.
Me: LOL  probably.
God, I fucking hate reality TV. Unless I can get famous by being on reality TV. I’m not completely opposed…
TGU: So what have you been doing for fun lately?
Me: That is my least favorite question ever. I do everything fun.
TGU: Must be nice!
Me: Indeed. Just doing my Chrissy thing
TGU: heh. Threesomes with Jack Tripper?
Me: UGH!  swat
TGU: ouch!
Me: Watch it, buddy! No Threes Company references…
TGU: What Chrissy then?
 Me:  just me!
TGU: I thought your name was actually <insert personal e-mail address here>
Me: that’s a tough one for people to get on the first try, so we shortened it to Chrissy.
We continued to banter about my name for a few more minutes before he dropped the bomb.

TGU: We should hang out some night, so I can see you in person when you’re not working. What does your schedule look like next week?

Now THAT’S a sure thing. Asking about schedules means a date will finally fucking happen.

Me: I think that’s a stellar idea. At this point it’s pretty open.
TGU: How about something like Tuesday?
Me: I can do Tuesday.
TGU: Sweet.

And just like that, I had a date with The Grown Up. Honestly, it only took three fucking months. Whatever. It was game. On. We exchanged phone numbers and he promised to plan a whole date. I was impressed and excited. I was usually the one who had to come up with an itinerary. All I had to do was pick out a killer outfit and make him fall in love with me. Easy peasy, my friends.

Are you as excited for this date as I was? What’s the longest you’ve waited for someone to ask you out? Would you have even waited as long as I did? What are your thoughts on personality tests? Or better yet, what are your thoughts on personality tests before a first date?

Riding in Cars with Boys

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Things That Make You Go, Huh?

This summer, I came across one or two things that really made me scratch my head (no, it wasn’t lice). Today, I thought I’d compile a few of those images that have hung out in my head (and my camera’s photo storage).

Five Leaf Clover

I’m looking over…a five leaf clover?

I’m used to finding four leaf clovers in my parents’ front yard. There’s been a patch of them growing in the yard my entire life. But I don’t recall seeing too many five leaf clovers in my time. A rarity for me, definitely.

Giant Idaho Potato

And then there was the giant potato…

They SAY it’s a real potato. I don’t even know. But when Brian and I went to Irish Fest, this big hunk of carbohydrate was begging for a photo.

Pot tree?

Is this what I think it is?

Is this a thing? Are pot trees real? Because the parking lot of our California motel/hotel/lodge/whatever sure smelled like weed. And those leaves looked awfully ominous.

Pot tree?

Rollin’ with my homies…

When I head off to GenCon every year, I expect to encounter some strange sights. You might say I even plan for it.  But usually, I’m ready for it inside the convention hall and surrounding areas. I’m not expecting it before I even get to Indianapolis.

Dog in sunroof

This dog really made an impression on me.

As we were driving, I looked to my right and saw a dog. Holding court out the sunroof of a car driving approximately 70 mph. He reminded me of Marmaduke, in that I imagined cartoonish racing lines behind him.

Of course, once we made it to Indianapolis, our unique view of the world wasn’t a blank canvas. That shit was covered in sparkles.

Pink sparkle horseshoes

This bashful horse was either embarrassed because it was a boy horse or just playing coy.

Now, that’s a horse of a different color! If I were a horse, or had a horse, I’d totally want pink sparkle shoes. Who am I kidding. I totally want pink sparkle shoes now.

Pink sparkle horseshoes

Holy sparkly horseshoes, Batman!

I’d like to say that outside of the actual con, this was the extent of the strange…but we managed to see another amusing visual.

Angry birds and bad piggy cop car

Bad piggy?

Brian kept asking why there was an Angry Bird in the back of the cop car, so I explained to him that it was actually a bad piggy…I’m not sure if it was the cop’s own joke or a gag gift from a friend. Either way. Oy vey.

So tell me, Blog Friends, have you seen anything strange or bizarre lately? Have you e er found a four or five leaf clover? A giant potato? Sparkle horseshoes? Tell me your tales!

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Didn’t Even Go to Lollapalooza, but Still got to Encounter the Crazies

If you follow me on the media that is very social, you probably know that last weekend, some of our friends decided we should lock ourselves in a room with a zombie. You know…to practice for the inevitable. More on that later.

Of course, when you gather a group with 12 of your closest friends, scheduling becomes…slightly difficult. So we found one weekend this summer (that’s right, one) that worked for us. And we obviously needed to do this as immediately as possible. We opted for August 2. Gearing up with excitement, we quickly realized…Oh fuck. It’s the same weekend as Lollapalooza. And Bears Family Day. But mostly it was Lollapalooza. And did I mention that Trapped in a Room with a Zombie is RIGHT across the street from Lolla?

So it was.

Lollapalooza Crazies

Traintertainment

Four of us commuted into the city together via train because we’re commuters and that’s how we roll. (Fuck driving through swarms of teens in crop tops and high-waisted short shorts.) When we jumped on the train, it appeared that we were going to get some free entertainment from the guy in our train car with a guitar and a singing voice. And so we did.

In which I engaged in conversation with one of the crazies

After we got off the train, I was in need of a little something to cure my stomach ache, so we stopped at the nearest 7 Eleven (convenience store). Everyone waited outside for me, so I was on my own in this little establishment.

As I’m deciding what to get this chipper fellow in his mid to late twenties, clearly high as a kite, bounces into the 7 Eleven, grabs a couple cans of beer and heads to the register, where I got in line behind him. While I waited in line, I overheard him talking to the cashier.

“So…like…do you know anything about Lollapalooza?”

The cashier just kind of shakes his head and rings up his tall boys and smokes.

“Cuz like, I’m thinking about sneaking in.”

Here’s where I chime in with my goody two shoes. “I’ve heard that’s a bad idea.”

And then he started addressing me.

“Yeah, but like do you know if  there will be more cops than last year?”

“I have no idea.” “Because I heard it was pretty easy last year. I’m thinking I’ll just wait until it gets dark and hop the fence where no one’s looking. I don’t think the security can arrest you.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

“Well this guy that I smoked with last year told me it was really easy to do and he did it.”

“Okay then…”

At that point, his purchase was rung up and the cashier was ringing me up. Then one of the two teenagers (a girl and a guy buying Arizona iced tea) behind me chimed in.

“Are you talking about Lollapalooza?”

The guy responds, “Yeah! I’m just going to sneak in.”

“Oh cool! That’s what WE’RE going to do too!”

Oh my fucking God. 

“You guys wanna come with me? I’ve got some beers.”

Oh my fucking God.

“Yeah! That sounds awesome.”

“Okay, so if we’re going to do this, we have to  do it right. I’m from Hinsdale (a rich suburb of Chicago) and my dad knows a lot of cops. So like, we should be able to get out of trouble and stuff. I’ve been in jail once, so we  have to do this right. Just follow my lead.”

At which point I walked outside, burst out laughing and walked half a block down before I could relay the conversation back to my peers.

Sometimes I’m a little crazy or clumsy. One of those.

We made our way to one of our (my) favorite loop eateries, Elephant and Castle (I don’t like to drink here, though because booze is expeeeeeeensive), where I became one of the crazies…when I broke the motherfucking toilet paper dispenser in the family bathroom. Broke the bathroom Broke the bathroom

Cool shoes, bro

After an hour locked in a room with a zombie, we realized that Lolla was ending and ending fast. We knew we needed to hightail it outta there before the crazies made it to the train… As we were walking back to the train, this random guy starts talking to no one in particular, but maybe me. I don’t actually know. “I’m so glad I didn’t wear sandals or boots, man. Like, these shoes are awesome.” At which point Brian walks up closer.  “Dude, these shoes are the BEST. It’s like walking on yoga mats, man. They were only $9.95! You should get a pair!” Walking on yoga mats, indeed. We hightailed it across the street in a jaywalking fashion that would have been weird if 3 of the 4 of us weren’t commuters who did it everyday. Although, maybe not weird, considering the number of unobservant Lolla kids who were drunk/stoned/high/didn’t give a shit. Probably that. Lolla had screwed up the train schedule, so our train was an hour later than we planned for and by the time we left the station, it was standing room only. I was pretty thrilled we had secured a seat, but less impressed with the drunk, half-naked teenagers standing next to us.

Do you go to big festival concerts? Have you been to Lollapalooza? What crazies have you encountered lately?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!