Guilt and The Happily Ever After

What broke my day:  Feeling guilty when I shouldn't. I have this complex that I feel guilty when someone feels bad or doesn't get what they want, even when I have no control over the situation. What made me think of this was an incident that happened today at the Coast Guard run. I didn't run the race, but I had walked quite a ways over the course of the morning (my estimate: at least 3 miles, not including the fact that I was on my feet for 4 hours) and I was sweating, tired, and my foot was really hurting me (you know, chemical burns and all). My friends that had run the race were getting a drink and something to eat before the volunteers threw the leftovers out, and I was obviously dehydrated (to the point where I was starting to feel faint, but I wouldn't admit it.) I didn't feel right taking a water, or eating something because I didn't run, I didn't pay, and I feel like that is stealing. I would have felt inexorably guilty if I had taken anything, because I didn't deserve it. I hate that I do that. I hate feeling like I let people down, and I hate when other people are let down by others. I tend to take all the blame for everything in my mind, and that leads me to feel guilty about everything I do. And I mean everything. Today for instance, I felt guilty about complaining about the heat, complaining about my foot, not wanting to go to the beach, not listening to my sister's annoying story, not wanting to eat my sister's fried gross vegetables (because I feel guilty about eating three brownies yesterday), making my parents spend money on college, and many other things, but we don't have all day. Anyway, point of the story....I constantly feel guilty about everything, and I need to get over it, other people's issues aren't my problem. I need to learn to help people, but not get all bent out of shape. But that makes me feel like I'm self-centered, and that makes me feel guilty. It's a cold, cruel, circle of bad feelings.

Bonding over Brassiers

What broke my day: Bra Shopping. What should make every woman feel sexy brings me stress, feelings of inferiority, and depressing thoughts that make me want to curl up with a pint of Chocolate Haagen-Daas. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I have knockers the size of Jupiter. I am a minority in the brassier industry, and just because I'm a white, middle class, blonde haired female, doesn't mean I'm not discriminated against or sometimes feel like a minority. I'm part of the 1% of women with DD size breasts, and let me tell you...it sucks. All the cute bras are for size A, B, C, and sometimes D. All the ones in my size: brown, white, floppy, and usually have age-defying lift. As I said yesterday, I'm 18 not 87. I'm a firm believer that cute underwear can give tons of confidence, but it's hard to find undergarments that look frickin adorable, when your a minority. What's more is that bras for the woman with hooter's are more expensive. Just because I have stripper boobs doesn't mean I have a stripper budget. And, while bra shopping today I saw my great-aunts (who are more like my grandparents), which was slightly awkward. I know that men are attracted to my minority, but when you can't find a bra that makes you feel attractive, it doesn't help anything. Today I paid and entire day's babysitting wages on a single bra at Victoria's Secret, because it was the only one out of two different stores that fit. Is it too much to ask for an affordable, adorable bra in my size? One things for sure...I see a breast reduction in my future.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your Arthritis Medication

What broke my day: Feeling bloated. Not feeling fat, but feeling so extremely bloated that you just want to go to bed. I've been feeling like that all day, and it's so annoying. Feeling bloated makes me feel all gross and lame, and lazy. My joints feel like they need to be cracked to remove the fluid, much like I feel when I wake up. Which is why I feel lazy; feeling like you just woke up every moment for a day will do that to you. I keep cracking my neck and fingers hoping that they will feel better, but instead I am left feeling like a 98 year-old woman with arthritis. I don't know if your aware, but my name isn't Benjamin Button, and I, an 18 year-old should not feel like I am 87.  I have been drinking water all day, and I am not dehydrated, but for some reason I can't shake this feeling....of being old and gross. The only thing I can hope is that as an old-woman I'm more like Betty White than Mrs. Crabtree I tried taking a bath, drinking water, working out (which is extremely hard considering I'm a gimp) but still it's just one of those days where being an old woman is how I feel. My eyes are all puffy, I mean to say they feel puffy, but they look fine, I have a dim headache, and it looks like tonight is going to be an early night, because staying up and feeling like this isn't going to help. This has turned into a laundry list of complaints, but being Betty White is okay with me...so I better start... assholes.
What made my day: For the past couple days I have been having this intense movie quote 'battle' if you will, via facebook with my friend. Back story: I have watched the movie Tangled literally 8 times within the past 3 days. 5 times with my nephew, and 3 times with another girl I babysit. This reminded me of my friend pink Sarah who watched the movie like 20 times the week of finals. So I told her that I had found her perfect child, my nephew, who will watch it with her as much as she wants. Then she quoted something from the movie, I quoted back, she requoted, I....well you get the drift. I'm running out of quotes, and am finding myself watching the movie on purpose to get more quotes, because going on IMBD feels like cheating because she knows these quotes by heart. The fact that we are two adult women, quoting a Disney princess movie like we wrote the darn thing makes me feel not only a little nerdy, but a little like I'm reliving my childhood. I mean Disney Princesses and girls go together like peanut butter and jelly. Even frat guys understand this fact. Don't believe me: go to fratmusic.com, go to the playlists under hoe'in out (derogatory, but that doesn't change the fact that they impressed me with their playlists and how they are perfectly geared towards women) and there is a playlist called DDDDIIIIISSSSNNNNEEEEYYYY. The quote battle isn't really violent or malicious, but it will decide who is more girly, and let me tell you pink Sarah is going to win. I love the fact that my friends get as geeked out about certain child-like subjects as I do. It makes me feel like I'm not a loser.  And that is why it makes my day.

Chemical Warfare and Singing in the 'Rain'

What broke my day: Caustic burns. So, I have this wart on my foot, which you totes wanted to know. But last year I had some procedures done to remove it. First we had the whole let's put liquid nitrogen on your foot and hope that works. Then we put acid on it, and then my podiatrist found out I was leaving for college so we couldn't  finish the final treatments (darn). So, chemical warfare being a failure, we went straight to the big guns. We lasered it off. That was not only painful, but it left a gaping, gross, third degree burn on the bottom of my foot for weeks. I thought that after that battle, I had won the war. Well, I was given false hope because iiiiitttttt'sssss bbbaaaacccckkkk. So, today we made the trek back to the podiatrists office to try the chemical warfare again. Yay! Every girls dream is to have some type of unidentified acid applied to the bottom of their feet. (it's so the boys can catch them) Let me tell you this one thing, chemical burns are delicious looking. It's red, raw, oozy, blistery, and if it turns out like last time, well soon form a fine layer of pus (I just gagged a little). Not only that but now I'm limping like some crippled person, and I can't keep the bandage on, making it all the more gross. I'm not looking forward to the next couple weeks of gimp-dom. But on the plus side, I don't have to run my 5k.

How are the following related? Cops, Hitler, AIDS, and Helen Keller.

What broke my day: Speeding Tickets. Okay, so technically this happened last night, but of course I'm still raving about it. I am always the one to get stopped and it is NEVER my fault. I've been driving my moms car for the summer, and I guess there is some electrical problem, and last night I got pulled over because both of my tailights were out. I was shaking I was so terrified. I hate getting in trouble, and this is definitely the epitome of getting in trouble. I think the cop realized how terrified I was and looked upon me with pity...well either that or he liked the planets. But I like to think the former. Anyways, he nicely informed me, and I'm glad he was really nice. But he ended up giving me a ticket, well not a ticket, but a ticket. It's called a something and repair or whatever, which means that if the car isn't proven fixed in ten days the ticket goes on MY record. I who doesn't speed, who hasn't gotten in a major car accident, who tries to be careful. This is the second time this has happened, the last one I had specifically asked my mother before I left if all the lights worked. I don't ever want this to happen again, because I will most definetely get a ticket, of which I don't deserve. I hate feeling naughty and stressed.

Sneaky Foxes and Saugatuck

What broke my day: smart, fox-like kids. Okay, I actually admire any three year old who can outsmart me, but as the childcare provider it does frustrate me when a three-year old keeps trying to get out of nap time and not eat lunch, and not listen to me. It's frustrating when what you say goes in one ear and out the other. But in his cute way, Ayden definitely takes the cake for being a sly little fox. There were several times today when he was a sneaky little bugger. The first was his intense bargaining when eating lunch. First off, I have never met a slower eater in my entire life. He ate one bite of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, 5 strawberries, some carrots, and 1/3 of a pudding, and do you know how long it took him? An hour and half!!!! All the while I was stuck watching that ridiculous show Yo Gabba Gabba!  I couldn't get  him to eat any more than that, and we instead went outside to the playground. After telling him we could only play for an hour and then we had to take a nap, 10 minutes before we were going to go inside he decided he really wanted to take a walk. I said yes, because I wanted to get some exercise anyway, and soon after we begun our trek he told me he wanted to go to town, which means downtown. So we walked that way and do you know where that sneaky child led me? Right to the ice cream parlor. Yeah, he knew the entire time where we were going, but I stood by my decision and I didn't let him get ice cream, and we headed back. He soon looked me straight in the eye with those big, adorable brown eyes and said, "my legs hurt, will you carry me?" So, I had to carry him for 20 minutes all the way home. On top of that he neglected to tell me that he had an accident so my entire side was wet by the time we got back. Begin nap time: he always tries to get out of nap time.I always tell him I will lay with him, and then I sneak out after 15 minutes because he's asleep. But, for the first 15 minutes he kicked the bed, played with the cats and did other things. I love this kid because he is so freaking smart, he knows how to get away with anything when I'm watching him. Other kids, I wouldn't let get away with not eating, or sleeping, or tricking me. But him, he has outsmarted me, and that simultaneously makes and breaks my day.
What made my day: going out for coffee with a good friend. Today, after work my friend Kyrie ( who is older, but not much wiser) made plans to go to Saugatuck for coffee. Well, Saugatuck is quaint, gourmet, and where "all the gays go to get their coffee." I like it a lot, it's on the beach,  stocked with cute coffee shops and art galleries, and extremely good looking men who are ALL off the market due to sexual orientation. Everyone there is friendly and creative and all around awesome. So we headed downtown, and who do we see? Kyrie's gay, autistic, brother, his boyfriend, and her mother. Have I mentioned that West Michigan is a small world full of Dutch Bingo (which is like 7 degrees of separation in the Dutch community). Of course they were also going to the coffee shop, Uncommon Grounds (see what they did there?) to have AHMAZING coffee. I got my French Guiana coffee, and we sat down to have ridiculous conversations about old people going crazy, George Takei (who Kyrie had met, and every time anything Star Trek related comes up makes sure to tell me that she has indeed met), and European boys. While I didn't get to dish on the man in my life to Kyrie (because it would have gotten back to my mom through Kyrie's mom, just another example of small town living), it was a wonderful experience. The artsy stores we could walk into, the fact that we ran into more of my mother's friends (once again...you don't understand how small the dutch community is), and that it was the ideal temperature made it all perfect. We got into town about 7, and I expected to leave around 8, but the next thing I knew it was 9:30, and I had no idea that we had been gone that long. Saugatuck is that kind of place, where you lose track of time because you are enthralled by the boutiques, the art, the culture, and the setting.  Sitting on the veranda of the coffee shop made me feel so chic, so hipster, so cool. I love pretending that I am the epitome of some french magazine for hipsters, and sitting there listening to the birds chirping and the quite streets made me feel exactly like that.  I think I will go to Saugatuck more often, because it no doubt makes me feel cool and classy, which will always make my day.

Nap time and Class time

What broke my day: Naps that turn into sleeping. I love naps, don't get me wrong, but yesterday I was feeling the intense need for a nap at around 6, so I went to bed intending to wake up in an hour or two, stay up until 11 or 12, and then go to bed. Well, fast forward four hours and I woke up. Yeah....it was really confusing to go to sleep with it being light, and then waking up and it being dark. I knew I couldn't fall asleep again (probably) and that led to me stressing out about going to bed, not sleeping, and then being extremely tired and cranky for my 6 and a half hour work the next day, which afterwards I was planning on going out for some fun with friends. I think what made me not like my extended nap was that I woke up more tired, cranky and hungry. I didn't like the confusion. I didn't like feeling lazy. And I most definitely didn't like the fact that I had to go to bed again in an hour. I think part of my problem was that I woke up dehydrated and hungry because I had slept right through dinner. Anyways, eating dinner and chugging water at 10 o'clock at night wasn't the best part of my day to stay the least. I feel like everyone has those rare occasions where they meant to take a nap, and then they woke up the next morning instead. So I know I'm not alone, it happens. But it was obviously my body that told me to sleep, and I mean I could have probably not woken up and just slept through the night which would have made me 10 times more confused, kind of like an amnesia patient. Alas, Because of the nap, and the fact that I really needed to try and go to bed, I didn't write last night. This means that I am officially a failure in the blogosphere for not writing, but oh well, you win some you lose some.
What made my day: Well, yesterday was crazy. I teach Sunday school during the summer at my church, and you can sign up in three week blocks of time. I signed up for two, three-week blocks for the same class, and I love them (the kids I mean). But it was my last Sunday teaching, and the kids were not so cooperative in their lesson. First of all they liked my helper, a ninth grade boy, better than me. We had two criers, one of which ended up having to go back to mommy and daddy to avoid screamfest 2010: part 2. On top of that, during lesson time we were learning that God can do anything, and I asked one boy, Issac, whether he had ever fallen of his bike, or fallen while running and scraped his knee. The answer: never. Okay, great.  Well moving on, I asked a little girl, Kylie whether she had ever gotten sick. Nope. No one in the class would admit that they had ever been sick. This made it very difficult, because now I had to decide whether or not to broach the subject of lying. But something during this period made all the difficultness worth it. One of my regular kids, Zander, wasn't coming to class because he was getting baptized. As I was running around, getting all the supplies ready before class, I passed him and his mom by the college student board(featuring moi). As I walked past he pointed to a picture and told his mommy, "That's my teacher." It was me. The fact that he recognized me as his teacher, even though he has had two other teachers other than me over the course of the summer, the fact that he thought of me as a teacher, and just not a body, made me smile. It was good knowing that he viewed me as someone to respect and recognize, it gave me a title. A title, of someone that is important in ones life, and instrumental to their learning. Being a teacher definitely made my day.

Sweatin' WITH the Oldies

What Broke My day: Parents. I love my parents, I really do, but sometimes my parents get on my nerves, which is why living with them is not a good idea on my part. I know it’s all that teenage angsty goodness, and the relationship will get better eventually, but right now, there are only 28 days left until I leave for college, and my parents and I are butting heads more than ever. I feel like my parents have been in a perpetually bad mood for the past two weeks. It’s quite distressing. My mother and I disagree on a lot of things but the biggest one right now is the fact that she doesn’t want to take out a Federal Parent PLUS loan for my school, because she thinks that I can live without it. Why?: because last year I didn’t really need it and now I have a job at school. What she doesn’t realize is that I still need that money, because I can’t pay for books, clothes, and supplies without it, and even though I have a job I need the supplemental government stuff.  Part of it is I have been saving really hard for my trip to Italy, and deep in my mother’s mind, that is unimportant:  I don’t deserve to have a trip. I never get to go on vacations, and I don’t go on spring breaks or anything like that, but of course, she wouldn’t dare spend money on me, so that I can use my hard earned money on something special.  We haven’t agreed on anything in days, and she has been constantly nagging me, not asking me in a nice polite way, to clean up, and do this, and do that and whatnot. When she attacks me like that, I’m not going to do it to pleasure her bad mood, and I will take my sweet time, until she nearly forgets about it, and then I’ll do it. Why?: because I’m stubborn. I just want her to stop breathing down my neck with everything I do. I don’t think I’m asking too much. But, I do admit I am a little at fault, but still: parents annoy me right now.

What made my day: Working out. No, I’m not crazy, and I am not athletic, or very good at working out. But, I love that feeling you get when you have completed it without wimping out, or of course not giving it your all. That feeling that you have accomplished something and note done it half-assed. You are glistening with sweat, or in my case, drenched, and looking like you just stepped out of a thunderstorm. You are breathing heavy, your heart beating through your chest, you take a step and your legs feel like gelatin and your arms are sore. You know that you did something effective toward your goal of a leaner body and a sexier self.  But let’s get this straight. I don’t like starting to work out; getting the motivation absolutely sucks.  The thought of working out makes me want to puke a little, and to be honest I would rather eat a toenail than start working out….actually, I take that back, toenails are gross.  But for the sake of emphasis, that’s how much I hate starting working out.  The thought of getting out of my comfy sweats  and my nice bed to get all hot and gross and then have to shower later, and then after all that change and ect, ect. It’s not appealing at all. But I did it anyway. And after I did it, I realized that it was totally worth it, because I felt great.  I don’t feel like I could pose in Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, or be a Victoria’s Secret model, but I do feel more toned and more beautiful. This leads me to feel more confident, and be in a better mood, and just be a happier person.  Yes, I do get tired and a little grumpy for a little bit after, but once I’ve showered I feel pretty. That song, “ I feel pretty, oh so pretty, oh so pretty and witty and gay..” comes to mind. I think that’s the perfect description of my mindset for the after workout feeling.  It’s true, and I do pity any girl who isn’t me today.

Coppers and Baby Showers

 I know it's posted a day late, but I didn't have internet, so I wrote it last night, and there will be two posts in one day.

What broke my day: Okay, this is officially the summer of cops. It seems like for the entirety of summer, I have seen more than the usual amount of cops around.  And for the past two weeks I have literally seen a minimum of two cop cars while driving every day. That’s at least 28 cops within the past 14 days.  Today alone I saw 6….and I don’t drive that much. Am I the only one in the Holland area that sees these police cars everywhere? Maybe they are just out to get me, it’s completely plausible.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I am glad that these noble men and woman are perusing our streets to make us a safe town. But they just get me so ridiculously nervous that I find myself making more mistakes while driving when they are close. I don’t speed all that often (and now even less because I’m terrified of getting a ticket), and I am constantly terrified of getting into an accident. But, when I see a police car, I freaking freak out.  I watch my speedometer like a hawk, while clutching the steering wheel for dear life hoping to not look like I’m driving drunk (which I would never ever do, because I find drunk driving despicable), and that stress causes me to become a terrible driver. They say you shouldn’t stress out while driving, you should be calm, cool, and, collected; but how the heck is that going to work with all these police around? The fact that if this high cop population continues, I will surely get a ticket, or in a crash, or something, makes me stress even more, and that is just depressing.

What made my day: Baby showers. Today one of my good friends Kristen was in town and she is pregnant. Kristen is like my big sister, she has guided me through my awkward high school years, and worried, spoiled, and gave me impeccable advice about anything and everything for some of the most important parts of growing up. If that doesn’t constitute a sister, than I have no idea what does. Well, a couple years ago she moved to Texas because her husband became a youth pastor, and my hair, and life have never been the same since. My life was better because of her influence, my hair, well, it has never been in a sadder state. Note: she is a hair stylist. Not only is she a hair stylist, but an amazing one, so good that if I become rich one day I will fly to Texas to get my hair done every three months.  When she was in Michigan she wasn’t sure she was having kids, so the fact that she is now having a fabulous ‘bambina’ is wonderful. Anyways, the fact that I got to pick out something pink and girly and absolutely gorgeous, and also make something to give to what will undoubtedly be the best dressed baby in the world.  She loved the hot pink and zebra trimmed hoodie towel that my mother made, along with that adorable onsie I wrote about earlier. It was wonderful catching up with her, seeing her adorable baby bump, eating good food, and winning at the shower games. I drew the best baby picture on a plate that was on my head. Not only that but I got to duck out of the gross shower game that involved tasting baby food and guessing  what it was, because one of them involved meat, and I’m a vegetarian. See, I knew it had its perks. It was a good time, and seeing the happy soon-to-be mother, made me smile.

How Hello Kitty Will Save Me from A Mental Institution

What broke my day: The, fact, that, I, use, way, too, many, commas, when, I, write. It's a problem, and I hope that you (didn't) noticed it. My extreme use of commas would be bearable if I used them correctly but I don't. I realize this, and normally it wouldn't bother me, but being a general grammar Nazi, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Yes, I do tend to be a grammar Nazi, my biggest pet peeve being the improper use of its and it's. Also, when people say 'axe' instead of 'ask?'  Oh really, you 'axed' that guy a question, that's just like saying " I took a hack saw to that guy." The fact that I, grammar Hitler, can't use correct grammar when writing, makes me a hypocrite, and I HATE hypocrites.I do however, have a theory about why I use so many commas. When I think in my head as I am writing, I have a conversation to myself in my head. I don't think about the next sentence, or how to word it, I just write what I would normally say, to make it feel more natural. When I'm having these crazy talks to myself, I use lots of pauses, which means.....you guessed it, COMMAS.  Maybe somewhere deep inside my brain, I am madly in love with commas. I try to proofread thoroughly enough to combat this addiction. But alas, Commas must be my heroin, or crack, or (since I'm classy) prescription drugs.  But for some reason, I subconsciously have this need to use commas quite excessively. For example, so far I have used 32 commas (before proofreading) in just this tiny little paragraph. I need a rehab center. I will try even harder to use my punctuation properly, but if we have learned anything from the preceding passage, it would be that I have deep psychological problems (hack sawing people, being in love with commas, addiction, etc), and someone should probably check me into a mental institution.

Brown-thumbs and Peeing my Pants

What broke my day: The fact that I am unable to keep a simple plant alive. I guess God passed me over for the green-thumb gene, because my amaryllis is looking very sad right now. What really gets me is the fact that my mother is like freaking mother earth when it comes to plants, and I feel that I should probably be just as good, but no go. I mean, my mother loves to garden, and she does it almost every day during the summer and spring time. Our backyard looks like it is out of Better Homes and Gardens, not even lying, and she is so humble about it too. But me....my garden looks like a desert, a torrid, life-sucking desert of death. My plant successfully reached a height of about 2 feet, but unfortunately it can't support itself any more and now looks all droopy and depressed and sad. I think it needs some counseling, because it's headed toward the cold, cruel road towards death. Okay, it may not be suicide, but murder on my part, but it's not my fault: the charge should be accidental plantslaughter. On top of its depressed state the leaves are starting to turn all yellow, and not the bright happy sunshine kind of yellow....the yellow of old people nearing death. I can't even keep a simple plant alive, it's amazing that people trust me with their children.

The Hiatus is Ova: Cleaning my room and the Plethora of Amazingness

Okay, So I've been a failure. I get it. But, for the first couple of days of my hiatus I literally had absolutely no time to write anything. And then I just plum forgot. You can curse me to die a slow and painful death involving clowns and dirty needles if you want, but I'm back now, so it's whatevs.

What Broke my Day: Cleaning my room, and the house. Because the craziness of the past week (on Friday I was so absolutely tired that I literally took 6 hours worth of naps, and then I went to bed at 10:30.) My house, and room especially has turned into a mix between a world war 2 battle zone, a hurricane, and an avalanche. It's disgusting to be honest. But I have two views on cleaning: If it's messy, I don't want to put the effort forth to clean, If it's clean I am willing to put forth the effort to keep it clean. This is not really helpful in any way at all. Which would explain why I'm blogging right now. Good old procrastination at it's finest. What's worse about my non-willingness to clean is that my mother insists I clean our living room. I agree that it's pretty vile at the moment, but I hate cleaning even MORE when my mom tells me to do it. I am still a teenager, so of course I want to do the opposite of what my mother says. I also can't clean when other people are around. It freaks me out, and I don't know why. I feel like they are watching me, and criticizing me while I'm doing it: stress equals more procrastination. On top of that I have a laundry list of things to do that I have to get done asap, and I don't particularly feel like doing those, because that would be cleaning also...cleaning up my life.Okay, good news. I just finished the living room while my parents were gone...well, I made it look decent enough to placate my mother. But of course that still leaves my bedroom. the floor covered in shoes, papers, and lots of dollar bills making me look like a stripper. I have my work cut out for me and I really don't want to do it. Picking up your room is like picking up your life, organizing everything and seeing what you own, but forgot you did. I don't want to pick up my life. I mean it even goes against the law of entropy....so I really should just let the planet do its thing.

Mommies know best and the PMS express

What broke my day: Warning: what you are about to read is extremely whiny, and you may just want to skip it because there will be ranting, and complaining, and bitchiness. Continue at your own discretion. Being cranky for absolutely no reason. Today I have been on an emotional roller coaster that I can't explain. I have no idea why, but one moment I'm happy and the next I'm cranky, whining, and then crying. It's like I'm 9 months pregnant or something(which I'm not, because you have to have sex to get pregnant). I don't know if it's because I'm on the PMS express, hungry, tired, or I have glandular issues. But no matter, I feel that everyone is going to get very tired of me very quickly. I've cried twice: once because I got dragged to the beach and didn't have a swimsuit and was bored, and feeling fat and unattractive and was tired of exuding confidence all the time. The second was because I didn't have enough shoes. Yeah....a little ridiculous. I don't think I've ever been this moody, but all I really wanted to do today was sit in my bed and sleep, and get a hug from my mommy. Maybe I'm just having meltdowns because I like to hide my true feelings so that others feel that they can count on me, and today I just exploded. But nevertheless all I want to do right now is go to sleep and cry and hug my mommy. I don't want to get up at 5 a.m. tomorrow at all....this is sad.

Monsoons and Babies

What broke my day: When terrifying storms rip right through your town. Now, I love thunderstorms, and I find that listening to the rain beat on the windows and the distant rumbling quite soothing. I also adore falling asleep to the crashing , and love waking up in the morning to the fresh scent left after a rain. But today, the thunderstorms we had were ridiculous...ly terrifying. I'm talking sheets and sheets of rain, combined with wind gusts like that of a hurricane, and nearby thunder and lighting so close you can almost see where it hit. For a moment, I thought it was the end of the world, and I was positive that God was about to come down any second and admonish me, but then with  a shake of his head and a cautious okay, take me up to heaven. But he didn't, which is good because there are several things I would like to experience before dying. I think what ruined my day the most about this silly little storm was the fact that in the middle of the monsoon, my dog decided that she really had to pee, and she couldn't hold it. I tried letting her out the front door, but the rain spattered her before she even set foot outside the door, and she would have none of that. She is SUCH a diva. Do you know what I had to do? I had to walk outside with her, and wait for her to go the the darn bathroom. THEN, she decided to take her sweet time about it too and choose the perfect place to go to the bathroom. By the time I got to go in the house, I was soaked, and my freshly dried hair was nowhere in sight....and I smelled like wet dog. That made me sad; well, that and the fact that half the town has a power outage, including my fav restaurants, and many people now have lovely hundred-year-old trees as new decor in their living room.

Colds and Babies

What broke my day: Being Sick. And not the I'm going to die because I can't move flu, the kind of sick where you feel miserable, but are not 'sick' (meaning throwing up or having a high fever) enough to have an excuse to spend the rest of the glorious day sitting in bed eating soup and watching chick flicks. It started a week or so ago, but it was a mild chest thingy, but it has reached a ugly, dragon-faced head of grossness. I sound like a man who has been smoking for 40 years, I can't breath through my nose, so I keep sniffling, and I just want to sleep. As for the sniffling, it's not the runny nose kind, where you can just blow and go. No, it's that annoying kind that is too far up your nasal cavity for you to clear it out with a blow horn sneeze without popping your ears; yet it is really annoying not only to me, but to the others around me, which is just fabulous. I'm now crankier than my father (which is saying something) have no desire to do anything, and am so ridiculously tired, I could fall asleep right on this computer. Yet, I still went on with my day running errands, teaching Sunday school, and pretending that I'm up for anything. I'm not doing a very good job of acting however. The worst part of being sick is that whatever you normally do during the day, with no problems, feels like it takes 10 times the energy, which makes the symptoms worse. It's lame, and I'm totally being a crybaby, but is it too much to want to cuddle up with a kitten, hot cup of tea, some bread and soup, and a chick flick? That would make me deliriously happy.
What made my day: Well Harry Potter....duh. But I do have something else that made me happy, but first comes Harry Potter. What I love today is the Harry Potter Movie Marathon on ABC Family. The best thing to ever come to television. I love knowing that there is at least SOMETHING interesting on television all day. It's a small comfort to know that no matter what, amazingness is happening on TV. Who wouldn't want to watch 8 hours of straight Harry Potter. OKAY...so I don't actually spend 8 hours in front of the TV, but it is nice to have it in the background while working out, cleaning, doing chores, and hanging out. But you don't want to hear about Harry Potter (JK....I know you do). The other thing that made my day is that Pamper's commercial. It's just so darn adorable. You know the one, that describes all different baby situations and how every child is a miracle. Well it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and makes me want to have a baby (and this is why I need to spend time with my nephew...Birth control). I mean what woman wouldn't go "awww" at adorable babies. And the fact that the commercial is all inclusive to special needs, multiples, adoptions, late babies, unplanned babies, all races, all colors.....it's beautiful. It honestly gets me all emotional that the company realized that all babies aren't roses and sugar born to a wealthy man and woman in a happy relationship. This is pretty much the first baby company that (even though it was to get us to buy their diapers) made a commercial that is appropriate to all of their audiences that would use the product. If you don't get all super sappy after watching this commercial, you are either a man, or have other problems.

Running to Harry Potter

What broke my day: Running. And Failing. This morning, in an attempt to prevent my funk from coming back again, Lori made me get up and run at 8:00 int he morning. GROSS. We had a 4-mile route planned out, and even though I kept trying to go back to bed. Well, 1 mile in to the walk, we started to run, hoping to run at LEAST a mile. Well, that was a failure. I guess I'm not as in shape as I thought. I got about .1 miles and was dying. So we walked. My stomach started to feel all rumblee in the tumblee, and I just couldn't run any further. It probably didn't help that I had a chai latte right before the run. But whatever, even though we finished the 4 miles walking/running, and I felt pretty good about it, but here's the deal: I came to the realization that I am a failure because I am supposed to be able to run 3.1 miles in a couple weeks. So I felt fat. Making me feel really bad. But that is going to change. Starting tomorrow I am only going to eat healthy fruits, vegetables, maybe some proteins, and hopefully few carbs (unless they are healthy). I'm only going to drink water for the next week, and also, I am going to devote an hour a day to walking and running. PROMISE.

W

What broke my day: Being in a funk. Not the kind of funk that makes you dance like your from a 70's disco dance party complete with bling, bell-bottoms, and booze, but the kind of funk that you get from not washing your gym clothes for 2 weeks. Actually, now that you mention it, I shouldn't use that analogy because not going to the gym is the reason for my funk. Today I found out that I have gained back every single pound I lost, probably due to the fact that I haven't had time or energy. And that put me into this idea that I'm once again a failure. So, therefore, as would any warm-blooded woman (please just let me pretend that this is true), I went home, put on sweats, got gross-looking, and stuffed my face. It was probably the single most disgusting, sad looking thing ever. When my Lori came over, she found me sitting unattractively on the couch watching THS, stuffing my face with crackers and cheese dip. Not my proudest moment. So, she forced me out of it, made me put on my hot pencil skirt, so that I would look attractive, and helped me get ready for work. I wore my nice heels, and got to go to the bike shop. It helped, but the funk isn't completely gone. I'm not going to eat unhealthily, she promised to go running with me tomorrow morning, and of course, I'm now chugging down as much cold water as a kitchen sink, so hopefully feeling hydrated, hot, and useful will whip me out of this funk. And by whip, I mean she used whips and chains, to excite me. Now I'm worried for her alter-ego.

I'm Sorry, I'm going to the Zoo.

What Broke my day(yesterday and today): The fact that I didn't post yesterday. I was doing sooooo well, and now my streak is up. I mean, at least I am posting today, I could have just given up. Also, what breaks my day is being so busy and tired that I can't even think of something better that breaks my day. I feel that I'm a failure, because I didn't post EVERY day, and it's only the second week. But, alas, at least I had a good excuse. Yesterday, I was only at my house for literally 20 minutes between the hours of 12:00 a.m. and 10:00 p.m. Sleepover, nanny, straight to babysitting, straight to delivering Thai food because I was supposed to go eat it, and then instead straight to 'work.' By the time I got home I was so unbelievably tired and perhaps a little cranky, that I was like the waking dead. I probably looked as attractive as a zombie too. I hadn't showered in 24 hours (completely nasty), and I had to get up the next morning at 5:30 to go and watch my wonderful, amazing nephew. By the time I got food in my stomach, cleaned my room, and did the necessities like brushing my teeth, it was 11:00, but then I had to do some research, and I didn't fall asleep until midnight. But, still I didn't post and that made me feel bad when I was getting ready for bed. I knew in the back of my head that if I posted, I would be writing until midnight, and then wouldn't have slept until 1 o'clock.  It's not my proudest achievement that I missed a day, but the fact that I still have things to do, and am busy, keeps me going. I will try not to be a failure on this front again, and hey, I'm posting again today, so that's a start.

Murder on a Birthday Sleepover

What Broke my day: Two things broke my day; meaning that I'll have to come up with three things that made my day so that this doesn't just become one of the annoying ranting blogs. My sister's birthday is the first. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my sister(sometimes), but every year when her birthday comes I become insanely jealous and mean towards her, it's like a freaking Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde transformation. Why? Because of the date. Yes, I would love the attention she gets, (it's the middle-child syndrome) but the fact that her birthday is the day after a huge holiday gets me. Every year she brags that she gets fireworks for her birthday, and cake two days in a row, and not only a birthday party, but a fourth of July party too....well la-di-fricking-da. Most people would say that I'm exaggerating and overreacting, and I will admit I am, but the fact that I am nice to her and bought her an AWESOME 16th birthday present shows that I do not voice my feelings about this to her and my family. Yeah, I bought her tickets to go see Beauty and the Beast, Broadway edition; and on top of that it's in the middle of the week, so she gets to skip two days of school. Best sister ever. But here's the deal, my birthday is ACTUALLY on a national holiday, but nobody ever cares about the holiday I was born on. I have more right to brag, but of course I got stuck with a lame (but important) holiday. Some people don't even realize that my birthday is a national holiday, even though they should. Veteran's Day is just as cool, but I don't get fireworks, and so that makes me feel that my sister is more important, which is why I deeply dislike today. (deep breath in preparation for rant numero deux). Yesterday I was proud to be an American, Today, I'm a little ashamed. Why? Because we in America have the nerve to let a mother who killed her child so that said mother could go party and live the "beautiful life", off on a simple sentence. Yep. I said it, Casey Anthony. Why should we give this woman, who obviously doesn't care that her child was murdered and was 'missing' for 31 days (because she herself murdered that adorable little girl), off with a slap on the wrist, and a 'don't do it again.'? We shouldn't. This mother was obviously psychotic; because any other mother, or caretaker of a child (I'm not even a mother and I couldn't do it) will tell you that what she did was not normal behavior. She had no guilt, no sense of remorse for what she did and we just let her walk away? I am not proud to be in a country in which we let a child murderer walk away, yet we imprison people for smoking weed. Great job America, great job.

Amurica and Broken Turtles

What broke my day: A broken turtle. Lori, if you haven't gotten permission from me to read this stop now, skip ahead to the happy part. I MEAN IT!  Okay, so technically I had two sad things happen today, but I'm going to write about the other one tomorrow. What really broke my day, was a broken necklace. Lori (my Italian bestie) brought me(and my other friends) a necklace from Italy. It wasn't a super expensive necklace, but I thought it was beautiful, and I treasured it. It was a silver turtle, which had these cute cubic zirconium crystals imbedded in the shell. Notice how I'm using the past tense? Poor Zippy somehow got run over by a car; poor thing. I got it 4 days ago, and I wore it every single day, except today. Yesterday, I was at the beach (yes again: Hi, my name is Beth and I have a beach addiction), and I took it off and put it in my purse so that I could go swimming. I guess that it somehow wasn't in my purse very good, and it must have fallen out of my bag when I got out of the car, because I didn't notice it was gone, and wasn't wearing it today. I forgot about it, until of course my brother comes in the house and asks who had the turtle necklace. HAD, as in past tense. Yeah, he ran over it, and now Zippy is in 10 tiny peices: 4 legs, 1 head, 1 tail, 3 crystals, and 1 shell. Insert dramatic meltdown with extreme tears here. I know it's just a necklace, and a cheap one, but it was so adorable, and it was new, and it made me feel that I break everything precious in my life. It was from my best friend, and it had some sentimental meaning, since the entire friend group all has a necklace....except me. I feel like the turtle represented our friendship, and this means our friendship got run over by a car. Perhaps I'm being super-duper melodramatic, but it was brand new, and it hurt a lot. Now, I have to figure out how to tell Lori that I ruined the necklace, the beautiful necklace.  I mean, I guess I'll get over it eventually, just look at my mom: she broke her engagement ring a long time ago, and doesn't even have a diamond in it anymore (just cubic zirconium), and she's not sad about it. But for now, R.I.P. Zippy. :(

Sleeping in and Strawberry Pie

What broke my day:When you sleep through your alarm. Begin Laziness day 2. I had intentions to not be lazy today, but I guess Murphy's law had something else to say about that one. I set my alarm for 8:30, so I could get up and go to church, and be a good Pastor's daughter. But somehow I slept through it,and I woke up at 11.  It probably didn't help that I went to bed at 1 o'clock in the morning (I have this thing where I can't fall asleep to a messy room/ house, and the house was trashed last night), whoops. But waking up that late meant that I was a heathen for the day, and now I'm going to hell ( just kidding, sorry God.)  With this late start to the day, it wasn't looking so good for the whole productive day idea I had yesterday. Waking up way too late made me feel like my whole day is wasted. And since that day was wasted, why should I be productive now? I hate to feel like I'm not good enough to even wake up for an alarm. Waking up should be a simple task,but I couldn't even manage that this morning. It's late in the day, my eating schedule is off, and it's not a great start to the day. Starting off the day on a bad foot sets the tone for the whole day, and when I sleep in, the tone for the day is laziness, and inadequacies.

Laziness and Bubble Bubble Baths

What broke my day: Being the laziest person in the world for a day. That was me today. I had such an exhausting day yesterday that I guess my subconcious drained my motivation. I mean I told myself I was going to work out at noon, but I didn't go until 9 p.m. and even then it was a half-ass workout. I just couldn't seem to get anything done today, and I hate feeling unproductive. I did two productive things today....that's it, and it amounts to about an hour of actual work. I cleaned a cage for the raccoons, because they are too big for their old one, and I worked out, for a little bit. I sat, ate too much food, and watched the ENTIRE first season of the new Dr. Who, and didn't leave my bed the entire time. Do you know how much time that is? 9 hours, 34 minutes, and 38 seconds worth of useless time that I used today. When you don't do anything all day, you tend to feel lazy, and in my case, fat, bloated, and worthless. I'm so driven, that when I have these days, I just can't shake it, and remember them for weeks. I mean, yes, I do love Dr. Who, and yes, I have been doing pretty good lately on the whole lazy deal. But unless harvesting crops all day on Farmville counts as a way to help humaity, I have failed today, and that's just not acceptable.

Sleeping Under the Planets.

What Broke my Day:  Having big boobs, and not feeling good about them. I know that no woman really appreciates her breasts, and I don't understand the dilemmas facing small-breasted women, but I do understand the ploits of those 'gifted,' or as I like to say 'cursed'. To put my size into perspective, let me give you a little story. My breasts do have names, but I did not name them. My friends and I were at school, and we were having fruit at our after school Science Olympiad meeting, and Lori said, "This orange is like the size of my boob," or something to that affect. I promptly replied, "If yours are oranges, mine must be watermelons." Lori, being smart, looked me straight in the eye and said, "No honey, yours aren't even in the realm of fruit, they are planets." And thus the planet jokes began. I'm a 19 year-old, with  a bra size of 34-DD to 32-DDD. It's depressing that my cleavage reaches up to my neck, and that no matter what I do, I can't dress in a modest way and still be fashionable. I don't want to be known as a hoochie-momma, but that is almost the only way I can dress. It's frustrating trying to be modest, and only having boys looking at your boobs, not your face. Bra shopping is also horrendous. All I want is to not have to pay an arm and a leg to buy a decent, cute, bra, because no one finds a large-chested armless woman attractive. Is it too much to want to have a bra without "age-defying lift"? I'm not joking either, the mint green bra I'm wearing at this moment has it. I'm 18, not 97.  I know I should be thankful, but boobs the size of planets are a bit excessive, and I want people to not notice the massive orbits of planets, but maybe my face, or even my butt. I would be happy with that.