Today is a rainy day..the perfect day to share dirty little secrets.
1) I sometimes keep blow drying my hair a few minutes after it is dry to get a few extra minutes of time alone in the bathroom.
2) My husband and I have been using the same roll on deodorant for about a month. I should probably buy another stick.
3)I have a slightly strange interest in Michael Alig and the "Club Kids." I have never understood women who write letters to murderers in prison and end up marrying them; however, if I had to choose a prisoner to marry I would chose Michael Alig even though he is a murderer and gay. (If you don't know the story ...Michael Alig was one of the ring leaders of a group of "club kids" in the 80s that were all sorts of fabulous and crazy in NYC. One night while high on cat tranquilizers, he hacked up a friend and threw him in the Hudson river. What a weirdo ...right? There is a movie with called Party Monster that is based on this story.)
4) I can't stand a few phrases. In fact, I hate them so much when I hear them said I want to punch some one in the throat. Here they are:
" Imagine....." Example: Person 1: "My kid had diarrhea all night long." Person 2: "Imagine having two kids with diarrhea." Person 1: "Man doing laundry for 6 people is tough." Person 2: "Imagine doing laundry for 8 people." Oh my gosh really?? REALLY? This isn't a contest. Shut it!! Shut...it.
"Must be nice." Example: Person 1: "I think I am going to get a new car." Person 2: "Must be nice."
Example: "I think I am going to go skiing this weekend." Person 2: "Must be nice." Really? Seriously....it is nice. And you are annoying.
"Real woman." Example: Sign on pinterest.....reads something like "Men like REAL women." or Example 2: Advertisement: "Clothes for REAL women." Lets not use the word REAL to differentiate between body types. It is irritating. I have breasts and a real vagina. It is not nice to insinuate I am not a REAL woman because I don't have as many curves or because I wear a different size. I mean we are all real women, we are just all different. We should appreciate each others body types and differences and not build up others by cutting a different group down.
5) I had to stop watching the Real Housewives series because I got so caught up in their drama I was super close to calling someone a prostitution whore and flipping tables.
I've said too much....
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Difficult People, Impossible Relationships
So I am going to go on a rant here. Please don't think this type of negativity will carry on. This is just something I am sure everyone deals with and I want to throw it out there.
Everyone faces difficult people and relationships in their life. We all have times in our lives where we are just stressed to the max with hard relationships. In an ideal world you only deal with people you get along with. In the real world there are times you have to deal with people that for some reason or another you can't find common ground with.
I have had a lot of great friendships and relationships in my life. I have had some not so great too. I have had my share of fighting or arguments with others but normally these blow over very quickly. I don't have a long list of people I would see in public and have to bury my head. I am pretty sure I could sit in a room with almost anyone from my past and have a civil conversation. Not just that but I feel like I have peace in all my relationships. I feel like I could sit comfortably with almost any ghosts I have.
The relationships I have had that have crashed and burned and burned every bridge in between have had a few things in common. This is not me saying I am right they are wrong this is me saying these are the things I see that lead to trouble.
1) I don't feel myself around them: Have you ever dealt with people who you felt unlike yourself around. For some reason or another you get lost in the mix and you feel like you cannot be you. This is trouble! This is the set up for disaster.
2) I don't feel like they know me: Obviously if you have a relationship with someone and you feel like you can't be you, then it is pretty apparent that they don't know you. When you feel like someone doesn't know you it leads to a problem. I have also noticed this leads to people starting to believe things about you that are completely false.
3)I feel like they want me to play their way or they will pack up their crap and go home: I cannot say that I am any different. I will admit I look out for me. Selfish? Maybe. I don't do good in relationships where people expect me to be who they want me to be, do what they want me to do. I just don't. I am not a yes person. I can say no. I will say no. If it isn't what I want to do or what is good for me, my son, or my husband, I will say no. People don't like people that can say no...people like "yes" people.
Yeah so those are the common threads to the 2-3 crash and burns I feel have happened in my life. When I break it down though I feel like my good relationships reflect the exact opposite. My many relationships with friends, with co-workers, acquaintances, etc. that have worked and continue to work are with people who I feel get me, who know me and like me for me, who I can let lose around, who I can share stories with, who I can play my way or their way and it doesn't matter because we know each other well enough to know that no offense is ever meant. Those are the good ones. Those are the ones I treasure. Those are the ones I am grateful for everyday.
If you are reading this, thanks for knowing me, getting me, and letting me be me.
Everyone faces difficult people and relationships in their life. We all have times in our lives where we are just stressed to the max with hard relationships. In an ideal world you only deal with people you get along with. In the real world there are times you have to deal with people that for some reason or another you can't find common ground with.
I have had a lot of great friendships and relationships in my life. I have had some not so great too. I have had my share of fighting or arguments with others but normally these blow over very quickly. I don't have a long list of people I would see in public and have to bury my head. I am pretty sure I could sit in a room with almost anyone from my past and have a civil conversation. Not just that but I feel like I have peace in all my relationships. I feel like I could sit comfortably with almost any ghosts I have.
The relationships I have had that have crashed and burned and burned every bridge in between have had a few things in common. This is not me saying I am right they are wrong this is me saying these are the things I see that lead to trouble.
1) I don't feel myself around them: Have you ever dealt with people who you felt unlike yourself around. For some reason or another you get lost in the mix and you feel like you cannot be you. This is trouble! This is the set up for disaster.
2) I don't feel like they know me: Obviously if you have a relationship with someone and you feel like you can't be you, then it is pretty apparent that they don't know you. When you feel like someone doesn't know you it leads to a problem. I have also noticed this leads to people starting to believe things about you that are completely false.
3)I feel like they want me to play their way or they will pack up their crap and go home: I cannot say that I am any different. I will admit I look out for me. Selfish? Maybe. I don't do good in relationships where people expect me to be who they want me to be, do what they want me to do. I just don't. I am not a yes person. I can say no. I will say no. If it isn't what I want to do or what is good for me, my son, or my husband, I will say no. People don't like people that can say no...people like "yes" people.
Yeah so those are the common threads to the 2-3 crash and burns I feel have happened in my life. When I break it down though I feel like my good relationships reflect the exact opposite. My many relationships with friends, with co-workers, acquaintances, etc. that have worked and continue to work are with people who I feel get me, who know me and like me for me, who I can let lose around, who I can share stories with, who I can play my way or their way and it doesn't matter because we know each other well enough to know that no offense is ever meant. Those are the good ones. Those are the ones I treasure. Those are the ones I am grateful for everyday.
If you are reading this, thanks for knowing me, getting me, and letting me be me.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
MMMBop
Okay. I was a Hanson fan. A big one. My husband will say "You are a Hanson fan." That is not accurate. I was one.
I might have been a super fan. I had the posters, the cds, the videos, etc. My room really looked like Teen Beat exploded on the walls. I loved Taylor the most.
The other two..ehh...whatever, but Taylor. He was my dreamboat. I was happy to realize as I am typing this post that I do not remember his middle name. Although it seems like maybe his middle name was actually Taylor. I am fighting the urge to google it. I do remember that his birthday was something like March 14, 1983. That may be off a few days, but again I am fighting the urge to google it.
There are a few examples of my Hanson infatuation that now make me realize I had really good parents.
How Hanson Has Helped Me Realize the Awesomeness of My Parents:
Instance #1:
Not only did my parents drive me to Tulsa to see a concert, they drove me around Tulsa because I was certain I could find Hanson's house. I had no address. I just felt like we could probably drive around and spot it. My parents gave it an honest shot. My dad especially must have been a real trooper to do that.
Instance #2:
My mother took me and my friend out of school in order for us to stand in the stand by line for the Oprah show when it was in town. Hanson was the guest, of course. We got there bright and early. We waited. We waited all day and night. My mother waited with us. She listened as we broke out into tween meltdowns as our dream of seeing Hanson in person became less and less likely. She listened as the 20 hangers-on set in a circle and sang Hanson songs as the sun went down (oh my god that is the most embarrassing sentence ever typed). Neither Oprah or Hanson ever even popped their head out of a car door or anything to acknowledge the people who had waited all day. That is why I still believe Oprah is a bitch.
Instance #3:
Same Oprah story...I found out years later that my dad had gotten his hand on a ticket to the show. A ticket. Just one. He knew that me and my friend were in this together and that I wouldn't want to go without her. So not wanting to put me in a situation to choose, or to think I had to turn something down, he didn't tell me. As a parent I get that and respect it very much.
Ironically now that I think about it my friend looked a lot like a Hanson brother. I am surprised that didn't get weird fast.
I might have been a super fan. I had the posters, the cds, the videos, etc. My room really looked like Teen Beat exploded on the walls. I loved Taylor the most.
The other two..ehh...whatever, but Taylor. He was my dreamboat. I was happy to realize as I am typing this post that I do not remember his middle name. Although it seems like maybe his middle name was actually Taylor. I am fighting the urge to google it. I do remember that his birthday was something like March 14, 1983. That may be off a few days, but again I am fighting the urge to google it.
There are a few examples of my Hanson infatuation that now make me realize I had really good parents.
How Hanson Has Helped Me Realize the Awesomeness of My Parents:
Instance #1:
Not only did my parents drive me to Tulsa to see a concert, they drove me around Tulsa because I was certain I could find Hanson's house. I had no address. I just felt like we could probably drive around and spot it. My parents gave it an honest shot. My dad especially must have been a real trooper to do that.
Instance #2:
My mother took me and my friend out of school in order for us to stand in the stand by line for the Oprah show when it was in town. Hanson was the guest, of course. We got there bright and early. We waited. We waited all day and night. My mother waited with us. She listened as we broke out into tween meltdowns as our dream of seeing Hanson in person became less and less likely. She listened as the 20 hangers-on set in a circle and sang Hanson songs as the sun went down (oh my god that is the most embarrassing sentence ever typed). Neither Oprah or Hanson ever even popped their head out of a car door or anything to acknowledge the people who had waited all day. That is why I still believe Oprah is a bitch.
Instance #3:
Same Oprah story...I found out years later that my dad had gotten his hand on a ticket to the show. A ticket. Just one. He knew that me and my friend were in this together and that I wouldn't want to go without her. So not wanting to put me in a situation to choose, or to think I had to turn something down, he didn't tell me. As a parent I get that and respect it very much.
Ironically now that I think about it my friend looked a lot like a Hanson brother. I am surprised that didn't get weird fast.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Run!
I have always thought it would be cool to be a runner. The clothes, the mp3 player, the sweat and determination. It all sounds cool. I could not be less of a runner. I have three moments that highlight how bad I am at running:
1) I remember vividly a time when I was swinging at day care with another girl. She did some strange, sudden tumble out of the swing and landed face first in the dirt. Awesome, I thought. Hero moment coming right up. In an honest effort to save the day, I jumped from my swing. I started to run to get her help but tripped over my own feet and landed right next to her. There we both were...face down in the dirt.
2) It was probably first grade. Recess time. For some reason I was extra excited that day to go out and play four square. I remember hitting the asphalt ready to run like the wind. I made it a couple of steps and fell, hard onto the asphalt. I beat my face up pretty good. We had pictures taken soon after, so there is actual photo proof of my injuries.
3) I was in my twenties. I had been sick. I went to my parents house to eat dinner. I had on an awful looking outfit, dirty hair hidden by a hat, and just being honest....yesterday's underwear. You will understand the importance of my lack of shower later in the story. After dinner I did something I do often, I drove around listening to music. It was around 10 or 10:30 at night. I was driving down the loop. I noticed a dog in the road. Hero moment coming right up. I stopped the car. I could tell this animal was either going to get killed or cause a wreck . Cars were swerving to miss it. Anywho....I stopped. I got close to it and it ran off. It rain right in front of a car. The same car that then hit me. I tried to run. I proved that "if my life was on the line" I still couldn't run fast enough! I made it to the side of the road before the car swerved and hit me (because the breaks locked after hitting the animal). The leg I had on the ground in mid-stride broke in to pieces. As I waited for help to arrive, all I couldn't think of was my mom telling me to always wear clean underwear. In typical Courtney style I announced to the firemen and police officers that I had not showered and that my hair was greasy and I didn't have on clean underwear. I think one of them quipped after that they wouldn't either. Either they did that or gave me a strange look. I can't remember really that part is foggy.
Now that my lower leg is a mixture of a broken bone (the small one will remain in three pieces and metal....I really cannot run. Running around the house playing with my child will leave my leg hurting for a couple of days.
So running is not my thing. To all my friends, the 5k-ers, the 10k-ers,the sports bra wearing, sweat band flaunting, awesome runner friends...I am jealous. So Jealous.
1) I remember vividly a time when I was swinging at day care with another girl. She did some strange, sudden tumble out of the swing and landed face first in the dirt. Awesome, I thought. Hero moment coming right up. In an honest effort to save the day, I jumped from my swing. I started to run to get her help but tripped over my own feet and landed right next to her. There we both were...face down in the dirt.
2) It was probably first grade. Recess time. For some reason I was extra excited that day to go out and play four square. I remember hitting the asphalt ready to run like the wind. I made it a couple of steps and fell, hard onto the asphalt. I beat my face up pretty good. We had pictures taken soon after, so there is actual photo proof of my injuries.
3) I was in my twenties. I had been sick. I went to my parents house to eat dinner. I had on an awful looking outfit, dirty hair hidden by a hat, and just being honest....yesterday's underwear. You will understand the importance of my lack of shower later in the story. After dinner I did something I do often, I drove around listening to music. It was around 10 or 10:30 at night. I was driving down the loop. I noticed a dog in the road. Hero moment coming right up. I stopped the car. I could tell this animal was either going to get killed or cause a wreck . Cars were swerving to miss it. Anywho....I stopped. I got close to it and it ran off. It rain right in front of a car. The same car that then hit me. I tried to run. I proved that "if my life was on the line" I still couldn't run fast enough! I made it to the side of the road before the car swerved and hit me (because the breaks locked after hitting the animal). The leg I had on the ground in mid-stride broke in to pieces. As I waited for help to arrive, all I couldn't think of was my mom telling me to always wear clean underwear. In typical Courtney style I announced to the firemen and police officers that I had not showered and that my hair was greasy and I didn't have on clean underwear. I think one of them quipped after that they wouldn't either. Either they did that or gave me a strange look. I can't remember really that part is foggy.
Now that my lower leg is a mixture of a broken bone (the small one will remain in three pieces and metal....I really cannot run. Running around the house playing with my child will leave my leg hurting for a couple of days.
So running is not my thing. To all my friends, the 5k-ers, the 10k-ers,the sports bra wearing, sweat band flaunting, awesome runner friends...I am jealous. So Jealous.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Rat in a Cage
My mind is seriously like a rodent on a wheel that just spins around non-stop. I am always thinking. I would like to become one of these people that can meditate for hours on end with a still mind.
Here is a sample of my mind for about 15 seconds:
" I wonder what ever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff. I could tear up some cheese fries. I wonder if I should learn to play the trombone. I hate it when people die...so sad. Did I put the meat in the fridge? Did I start the dryer? I wonder if we should get a puppy. I wonder if I should have another baby. I don't really like Jewel. It seems like I would like Jewel bu truth be told, I really don't. That spot on the wall drives me crazy. I wonder if I should paint this entire room."
That kind of random chatter goes on in my mind all day long. When I do yoga or try to quiet my mind it goes like this:
"Do yoga. Don't think. Just be in the moment. That spot on the wall drives me nuts. I really hate (insert so in so's name here). (Relive a moment that made me mad). I am over yoga. I want to think about stuff. This not thinking is really driving me nuts. I wonder what ever happened to Three Non Blondes."
I also most always go to the worst case scenario. Example the other day I woke up and my neck hurt. I am sure most everyone in the world would go "man I slept funny." I thought, "Oh my god I really hope this isn't meningitis."
I might have adhd....or something. I probably have something. Oh god I hope it isn't serious.
Here is a sample of my mind for about 15 seconds:
" I wonder what ever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff. I could tear up some cheese fries. I wonder if I should learn to play the trombone. I hate it when people die...so sad. Did I put the meat in the fridge? Did I start the dryer? I wonder if we should get a puppy. I wonder if I should have another baby. I don't really like Jewel. It seems like I would like Jewel bu truth be told, I really don't. That spot on the wall drives me crazy. I wonder if I should paint this entire room."
That kind of random chatter goes on in my mind all day long. When I do yoga or try to quiet my mind it goes like this:
"Do yoga. Don't think. Just be in the moment. That spot on the wall drives me nuts. I really hate (insert so in so's name here). (Relive a moment that made me mad). I am over yoga. I want to think about stuff. This not thinking is really driving me nuts. I wonder what ever happened to Three Non Blondes."
I also most always go to the worst case scenario. Example the other day I woke up and my neck hurt. I am sure most everyone in the world would go "man I slept funny." I thought, "Oh my god I really hope this isn't meningitis."
I might have adhd....or something. I probably have something. Oh god I hope it isn't serious.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
The Ex Factor
Thinking back on my dating life makes me make an "I just ate a sour lemon" face. It is painfully embarrassing to think back on the melodramatic verging on coo coo dater I was. That is why I don't think of it, but as far as telling my tales and getting to the goods I have to think just a little about it.
After my first love fizzled, the internet romance, I moved on to what some would call "my high school sweet heart." I will be calling him "jazz hands." "Jazz hands " was a nice person. He and I were together a long time. We became fat Elvis. If that makes sense to you, then you get it and if it doesn't I cannot explain it.
Jazz Hands and I, in hindsight, bickered a lot. I spend most of my time trying to be what I thought he would want me to be. (This was no fault of his. This was my own thing.) If he liked a band, I liked the band just as much. If he liked a movie, it was my favorite too. If he wanted to study, I wanted to study till my face fell off. Once we finally emploded, which was hard because I adore his family and I didn't want to lose them, I took a new dating approach. No more nice guys.
If a guys seemed to have a future, thanks but no thanks. Been there, done that. I decided perhaps I would have better luck with a "bad boy." Once I secured my new dream boat, who didn't have a job, a car, or an actual residence, I felt like I had met my match. We will call him "Sleeps on sister's couch." "Sleeps on sister's couch" was fun and attractive. At twenty years old that was enough. I took on the same morph into my boyfriend approach. You like to drink? Sweet, I can pound back to back jager shots and not even flinch. You like to hang out at a bar all day long, seven days a week? Awesome, just call me "Norm."
As you can predict, that fizzled quicker than it started. It was a painful, yucky,blah,gag, ending for me that lead me further down the path of being jaded. But luckily for me I met someone who didn't care that I was jaded. He didn't buy into my Miss Independent act and he called all my bluffs. And that is when being in a relationship began to not be so hard.
After my first love fizzled, the internet romance, I moved on to what some would call "my high school sweet heart." I will be calling him "jazz hands." "Jazz hands " was a nice person. He and I were together a long time. We became fat Elvis. If that makes sense to you, then you get it and if it doesn't I cannot explain it.
Jazz Hands and I, in hindsight, bickered a lot. I spend most of my time trying to be what I thought he would want me to be. (This was no fault of his. This was my own thing.) If he liked a band, I liked the band just as much. If he liked a movie, it was my favorite too. If he wanted to study, I wanted to study till my face fell off. Once we finally emploded, which was hard because I adore his family and I didn't want to lose them, I took a new dating approach. No more nice guys.
If a guys seemed to have a future, thanks but no thanks. Been there, done that. I decided perhaps I would have better luck with a "bad boy." Once I secured my new dream boat, who didn't have a job, a car, or an actual residence, I felt like I had met my match. We will call him "Sleeps on sister's couch." "Sleeps on sister's couch" was fun and attractive. At twenty years old that was enough. I took on the same morph into my boyfriend approach. You like to drink? Sweet, I can pound back to back jager shots and not even flinch. You like to hang out at a bar all day long, seven days a week? Awesome, just call me "Norm."
As you can predict, that fizzled quicker than it started. It was a painful, yucky,blah,gag, ending for me that lead me further down the path of being jaded. But luckily for me I met someone who didn't care that I was jaded. He didn't buy into my Miss Independent act and he called all my bluffs. And that is when being in a relationship began to not be so hard.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Puppy Love
Where do I even begin? Now that I am in a good relationship, it is easy for me to see just how hilarious my previous relationships were. I will start from the top. This entire story and most of the details are so embarrassing, but I am going to share them anyways. Okay, I was fifteen years old. My family got a computer and the most wonderful invention, the Internet. I could not get enough of it. I would go to chat rooms and visit with kids just my age (or so they said).
Did I meet my first boyfriend online? I wish I could say no. I feel fairly confident that I was the first, and last, person to meet someone on the Internet that was actually what they said they were. I started emailing back and forth with this guy who lived about an hour away. One day he was going to be at the mall, and I was supposed to meet him. I didn't really know what he was going to look like. I had an image in my head. I was surprised when I met him. Apparently you do not pronounce the last name "Flores" like "floors." I thought his last name was floors, as in my hardwood floors. He was not blond headed as I had assumed he would be. We ended up having a long distance relationship for more than a year.
I think it is pretty common for young girls to get their first boyfriend, "fall in love," and expect to marry them and have lots of babies. I remember a family friend telling me, "you will date a hundred guys before you find the one." I thought, "what does he know?" Of course he was the one. I mean he was perfect. We didn't live in the same town, he would not call me for a week before or after my birthday or any holiday, I mean what else could a girl ask for?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)