Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Memorial Day Weekend: A cautionary tale.

This is how I spent my three day weekend:

Friday night: I really have no recollection of what I did on Friday night. And not for the reasons you may think. I am fairly positive that I did not consume a single glass of wine. But who knows. Maybe I drank an entire box. Mmmmm Franzia. But seriously I really do not remember what activities that evening consisted of. So if anyone out there was privy to my whereabouts or actions please fill me in.

EDIT: My current theory is that I took out a terrorist cell with my bare hands and some well aimed ninja stars. My previous theory is that I did laundry and fed the cat, but there is no way that I am that lame.

Saturday I do remember. (I know shocking right?) I sort of lounged around the house watching Carnivale on HBO. Until it was time to get dressed to attend a wedding. Whose wedding you ask? Well it was no one I knew. My friend Rose asked me to be her date to her childhood friend's wedding. The colors were purple and yellow ::shudder:: and the reception's theme was rubber duckys. Oh! And the bride and groom met in Bible College in Minnesota. So it goes without saying that the happy couple had saved themselves for the big night (at least other people thought it went without saying....I on the other hand asked (not the bride and groom, I do have a little more class than that, but just a little))

With all of this potential blog material I was primed and ready to go. The only thing that I did not bargain on was the lack of booze. There was not a beer in sight. The champagne toast was done with Martinelli's. But I guess when the groom is 20 that is sort of expected (to most normal people, I on the other hand protested loudly). Between the young bride and groom, the color pallet, the REALLY ugly bridesmaid dresses, and rubber duckys you would think that I could find one really funny story involving one of those subjects. But by far the tackiest story did not involve me or my keen ability to offend at the drop f a hat.

It all began at the reception (notably lacking any sort of social lubricant, as previously mentioned) when I was at our assigned table with Rose, her parents, Rose's other childhood friend and fiancé (Sarah and Rob), Sarah's parents were the last to join the table. Well half way through dinner (which was good) when Sarah's mother leaves the table and comes back laughing. She informs the entire table and and the table behind us that she is laughing because the Bride got up from the head table and went into the kitchen because she needed to take her birth control pill. She thought it was funny that the Bride was so militant about taking it at exactly the same time everyday even on her wedding day. To which Sarah responds with "Oh, I take mine between 1 and 3 everyday" her father then replies with something. What exactly he said I have no clue as I blocked it from memory because OMG EWWWWW!

This conversation disturbed me for three reasons:

1) I don't know the Bride at all but knowing the she met her husband at Bible College and the she has waited for marriage to lose her virginity (which yes, I know is a weird detail for a stranger to know, but its not like I announced it) she would probably be mortified that this was a topic of conversation at her reception.

2) Why does a father know about his adult daughter's birth control methods? I sense a weird Papa Joe Simpson relationship there. Yuck. Personally I would rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon than discuss birth control in the presence of my father. For two reasons :

::Mom, stop reading here, you can rejoin the story in a sentence or two::

a) My father would then know that I have reason to need birth control.
b) okay well I guess "a" pretty much covers it. There is just no need for your father to know that about you. None.

::Mom, resume reading here::

3) How can those people be that tacky? I am the queen of sticking my foot in my mouth. But generally I know a split second after a sentence has left my mouth if it was well received. But these people continued the discussion for several minutes while Rose, her parents and myself sat there in stunned silence.

On Sunday I had a really nice day:

Rose and I made plans to go thrift store shopping: She had to stop by her work before we got our day started. She is an Executive Assistant at a country club. For me our little stop at her place of employment meant free breakfast. While she ran around directing life guards I ate a cheese and bacon omelet lovingly prepared by the kitchen staff.

The rest of the morning and afternoon consisted of a blur of thrift stores. I did find some neat stuff. I ::heart:: vintage jewelry and was able to find some really great necklaces for cheap. I also have an unhealthy fascination with commemorative state plates. Like the ones that tourists pick out. There are always a couple of them sitting all lonely in the aisle with the dish sets. They are little cast aside memories of past family vacations in the RV. As a natural born pack rat I pick these up and look at them wondering whose house they were in and why they were deemed unworthy to keep. This weekend I'm not sure if I was PMSing or what but I purchased two. One from Colorado that is trimmed in gold with scalloped edges. And the second was from North Dakota for the states Centennial in 1989. This one is blue and also trimmed in gold. I was about two seconds away from buying a plate from Epcot Center but Rose stepped in and put her foot down.

On Monday Alicia and I went to IKEA. I have been there so much since the Grand Opening of the one in West Sacramento that I no longer bother with the upstairs. I only shop downstairs where my standard purchase always includes a three pack of scissors. Scissors have this uncanny knack for disappearing in my house. The only remotely interesting thing I purchased is an ice tray that makes your ice shaped like little wine bottles. I've decide that this is appropriate as I am one of those people who put ice in my red wine. Scoff if you must but its true.

So that brings me to Tuesday morning. Three day weekend behind me and looking forward to the coming weekend. I'm not really sure what my plans are but rest assured that it will probably involve doing dishes or something equally thrilling.

Friday, May 25, 2007

Lady Godiva, I am not.

Last weekend my friend Alicia and I drove about 5 hours south of Sacramento to haul her horse back up to Lincoln a little less than an hour north of Sacramento. All told it was a lot of driving. Progress was made a lot slower when hauling a horse and trailer. But the horse made it and is happy in his new digs.

The real adventure happened in the few hours between driving when we had a chance to do a little riding before heading back home. Personally I know very little about horses. But I have decent balance and assuming the horse does not make any sudden movements I can stay centered in a saddle. Alicia rode her horse (Mister) and I rode her father's horse (Boogie). Boogie was a hand full from the get go. I would yank on the reins, and pull and lean...but the little bastard would not listen. I would pull left and he would go right, headed straight for a clump of shrubbery. He would walk and rub up against the bushes. And I would curse and pull more. Eventually he would go left, but only because there was a fence over there. So as he is moving at a steady pace towards the fence I pull right to avoid the head on collision that I am positive is about to occur. Boogie turns and again rubs his flanks up against the fence. The only thing I can do is yell "WHOA" a lot and lift up my leg so that it is not crushed between the fence and the horse. I'm sure at this point Alicia was wondering why she let her dumb ass friend climb on the back of her Father's horse. But I look over at her and she is laughing hysterically watching me frantically try an avoid broken bones. I plead with her for some direction. Her exact words are "Kick him, he's trying to knock you off! But he is just too lazy to buck." My response was "Why in the hell would he do that?". I got my answer when Alicia showed me this picture. If I had something that looked that pretty on my back I would try like hell to knock it the fuck off. And maybe trample it a little.

Here is a little randomness for the day. This is the website (courtesy of TheBunny) of a British artist that uses the UK as his canvas. I am not an Artsy person so I can't argue the merits of his work, but I know when I like something.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

" I swear its normal, Ellen DeGeneres feels the same way I do"

Hi, my name is Emily, and I am scared of balloons. They freak me the hell out with all their floaty-ness. The sound they make when they bump together sends chills down my spine. So when I see a website like this it almost causes complete mental melt down. I am fairly positive that I should seek professional help.

In other news: I have some pictures of me riding a horse over the weekend......however I think I will have to get drunk to post them. I'm not sure the internet could handle the hotness that is me on horseback. Al Gore may have to reboot the internet after posting those photos.

Friday, May 18, 2007

This is why it sucks to be an adult

Okay...serious topic. Money.

I'm 26 years old and I have never lived on a budget. I'm not an heiress and I was not given Daddy's credit card when I was 15. I worked an after school job at the age of 16. Yet somehow the lesson on the value of the almighty dollar has eluded me for upwards of ten years. When the gravy train that was my parents came to an end at the ripe old age of 23 I was officially on my own. Fear of homelessness was a powerful motivator in the paying your rent on time game. I learned quickly that you have about 60 days after the due date on the electricity bill to pay up before power is shut off. I learned how to co-exist in a shit hole studio apartment with a group of crack addict neighbors living on the right side of me and a registered sex offender on the left. It was a tricky balance but I managed for 12 long months. While I have never been evicted and I've only had my power turned off once I have always hovered on the brink of broke.

My motto on money circa two months ago:

" I don't make enough of it to live the life I have grown accustomed. So fuck it. Have fun, make memories, and wear cute shoes doing it."

A wake up call:

"Wait, I'm how far over drawn? Why is my car making that funny noise? How long has the check engine light been on?"

Confirmation that I was indeed "up a creek without a paddle" :

Me: My car is going to cost $815 to fix.

Mom: Humph.


Mom: Would you like me to email you the bus schedule?

Fast forward to now:

My car has not been fixed but it is still running, I'm broke but I have a budget in place. Every single penny that I spend is planned out. So much so that it takes me 20 minutes to decide if I want a candy bar at the Circle K. I will not walk to a register unless my items have mathematically proven that their price tag will not throw me over the edge into a pit of financial ruin. Before you ask, yes this is tiring and I know its starting to wear on my friends nerves. But I can't help it. I would rather walk past the cutest pair of BCBG shoes and be able to buy groceries than have the hottest shoes known to human existence and be forced to eat Top Ramen. For those of you who know me personally, know that it is serious when I pass on shoes. I never pass on shoes. I tend to hoard shoes like they are going to stop making them. Like all production lines and sweat shops will come to a grinding halt.

I guess my point to the whole long rant is that I've changed how I look at money. I feel empowered. I feel like for the first time that I can make long term goals for myself. My paychecks are no longer my "Party Fund". I will never be able to give up my love for the Nordstrom's shoe department but I will be able to control my urge to dance naked around the displays crying tears of joy when their "Half Yearly Sale" is if full swing.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

So Sad.

Today I must add one more store to my list of stores I can no longer patronize because of Martha Stewart. That brings the list to TWO stores. Count em! 2.

1. K-Mart
2. Michael's

Something snaps deep in my psyche that prompts me to throw my body across displays of products that wear the Martha Stewart name yelling "Mine! Back off WHORE! I'll kick your children!" One can be forcibly thrown from K-Mart only a couple of times before starting to take it personally.

The woman has a strange power over me. I was watching her talk show yesterday and found myself suppressing an urge to make a succulent wreath. Why? I have NO CLUE! But she did it, and by definition that makes it neat-o and I. Must. Be. Like. Martha. I took a few deep breaths until the urge was manageable. I did not jump through the sun roof on my car (cause who could be bothered to open a door when there are succulents waiting to be planted. WAITING!) in a effort to shave a few seconds from the driving time to the closest Home Depot.

I made it through the commercial break and was ready for the next segment when she dropped a bombshell. Michael's is now carrying her line of craft supplies. The information barely escaped her lips when I was downstairs sliding across the hood of my Beetle reminiscent of Beau Duke (no small feat, which was weird considering its a very small car). Once in my car the race was on. I was weaving in and out of traffic, running red lights (okay not running red lights, I'm totally paranoid of the cameras that mail you traffic tickets(and yes I know the cameras do not actually MAIL you the ticket) (its the ticket fairy that lives in the camera who gets all giddy when people speed through yellow lights))).

I made it to Michael's. I skid through the automatic doors and did a face plant directly in front of the Martha Stewart display. Mothers and children scattered in all directions, and that left me gloriously alone to browse and touch every single thing on the wall-o-Martha crafts. One hour and fifteen minutes later I left the store weighed down by hole punches, stickers, paper, and glue. I walk out of the store bursting with creative ideas on how to use her $6 a roll wrapping paper for something other than gifts. The entire drive home I was debating the millions of uses for a one inch circle hole punch and how I had survived almost three decades without it. I skipped up to my apartment walked through the door and noticed that America's Next Top Model had started without me. Then of course LOST was on. Long story short. The hole punch. paper, stickers, and glue remain in a bag on my kitchen table.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Vacations and Jesus

Being friends with someone means that you accept them for who they are, you take the weird with the normal, the obsessive with the aloof, and the bizarre with the oh my fucking God you are one crazy bitch. After years of developing a relationship and nurturing a friendship you eventually begin to take on the other persons idiosyncrasies and they morph with your own creating an interesting and wonderfully dynamic quirk in your own character. Something that would not be there if you had not decided to pledge the same sorority back in 2002.

Let the normal begin:

Aimee: I took a bunch of time off this month – I’m going to be off work from May 24 – June 3.
I don’t know if I’ll want to come back after that much time off!

Me: lol...I know I wouldn't. Why are you taking all the time, just cause you can? Speaking of time off I need to request for my sisters graduation....thanks for reminding me!

Introducing the segue:

Aimee:I took time off for LA – then Mark took the week off afterward so we could hang out – so I did too.
I don’t know. Probably just because I can. I like the sound of that. LOL

Me:That sounds cool. What are you guys going to do that week? I was going to take a mental health day but feel weird requesting time off for no other reason besides sleeping in...lol I need to get over that.

Slight change in subject:

Aimee: Sometimes you just need a day of rest. Lol
Ask Jesus.

No clue what we’re planning. I’m thinking that I might get the garage totally cleaned out that week. Get organized and all that good stuff. GIANT SPRING CLEANING week. ::sad::


Me: lol...I ask Jesus many many things. Like, why he is drunk in my back seat? Or if he would stop it already with the water into wine thing. It was cool the first time but seriously its just getting old.

I would love a week of cleaning! We are getting old.

Friendly advice:

Aimee: I know! Isn’t it sad?!
And uh, you’re totally missing a money making opportunity with this water/wine thing.
I mean if I had my very own water/wine converting Jesus, well, I’d definitely be adding to my Sunglass fund.


Me: Good point. I should start peddling my Jesus wine on a freeway off ramp

Aimee: That is it’s own special brand of crazy. lol

That ladies and gentlemen, was my Tuesday morning.

::EDIT:: Did anyone else notice the abundance of "lols"? I did. Either Aimee and I really do Laugh Out Loud a lot or its a cutting edge form of punctuation. Sort of like that new fangled exclamation point everyone has been talking about! <-- See there it is!<-- There is is again!<-- And again!<-- Allright, allright I guess you get the point? <-- Ha, get it "point", arrow, bahahah. Yeah, okay, I'm done now.