Archive for the ‘I have a lot to say about myself’ Category

Rock, Cardboard, Scissors

I am the rock in rock paper scissors.  Rock beats everything.  Rock crushes scissors and it bust right through paper.  Paper is no match for rock!  If you ever play with me I will always be rock and you will NEVER beat me.  You may think you beat me, but instead you will listen to me go on and on about flimsy little girly-mon paper!

Who even made up that stupid game?  Paper covers rock?  In paper’s dreams!

Rock, Cardboard, Scissors, now that I can see.

Speaking of rock, I am totally obsessed with this game ‘Rock Band’ on Xbox.  I am soooo not a video game person but this video game has a microphone.  I am pretty much Ms. Popular on the ‘Rock Band’ circuit because even though I sing like maybe a goat sounds or something, I am able to hit all the notes.  I am in 3 bands and I have a solo career.  My rocker is named Zora and she totally looks like a crackhead.  I did that on purpose because if I wanted to be wholesome I would play some lame game like ‘Singing in his name’ which is a name I just made up about a game for people who want to have a Christian rock band (yo! I capitalized Christian so I’m not going to hell).  On ‘Rock Band’ you buy skanky stripper clothes and tattoos, but on ‘Singing in his name’ (c) (yeah, I just copyrighted it b/c if you make something up about Jesus they let you copyright it super fast-like) so, on that game you buy different goatees and crosses and you can buy piercings but only for your ears b/c you are trying to sound like a real rock band but you are still a Christian band so no Prince Alberts.  You can have long hair on ‘Singing in his name’ too b/c Jesus did.  Well, at least back when he and I were road dawgs he did.  He may have cleaned up his act now.  Anyways, Zora rocks and I am living vicariously through her.  I even left a kegorator, pool, and BBQ to go home and play rock band and the peeps I played with ended up sucking so it was a waste b/c when I wanna rock I wanna rock with some people in my league. 

Suck it spellcheck, kegorator is a word. 

I fought the law and I won! (Alternate title: I’m a badass)

OK, so I didn’t actually *fight* buuuut I have been going to court over this STUPID ticket for the past 3 months and missing a heap of work.  I worked a little of my magic and the cop dropped the charges.  Just like that.  As in, bye, you can leave now, no need to see the judge.  My bf is an attorney by day (superhero by night, duh) and she said that NEVA happens.  I maintain that I am a badass.

What a judge can’t fix a nice set of legs can, honey, haven’t you heard? 

Late Night Randomness

I just randomly remembered that my senior year, in AP English, my friends and I did the most off the wall group project.  Blame the fact that I was a little whacked out that year (note: do not let 16 year old child live on her very very own) or the fact that I had just read Watership Down but our project was about tripping rabbits.  Hear me out people.  The assignment was to write a sonnet (long ass poem) or story about a group’s trip (yeah, so we did get a little literal, it’s English, right?) through several novels and their respective time periods.  What better explanation for the random leap from so many different stories and eras than a bunch of rabbits on acid, right?  We worked diligently on a sonnet (ten pages, single spaced, and all that shit rhymed) and completed the assignment having met and exceeded all of the criteria.  We were the only group in the entire graduating class that chose to write a sonnet.  We had the most memorable project that year.  We all made a D.  This fact totally exited my memory until, the other night, when I saw something while a show on acid.  I immediately called my BF to remind her.  We laughed our asses off and then sat and talked about the fact that we had totally forgotten about the whole damn thing!  I have a feeling that out teacher didn’t.  Bitch gave us a D because we were druggies.  Geniuses, but still druggies.

I love my new tennis arms.  My tennis gals and I were having some after-tennis refreshments (read: Corona) the other 900 degree night and as per usual were doing the whole chick talk thing (which is inevitable b/c we’re chicks and we talk about chick stuff).  All of us gals were going on andon about certain things that we dislike about ourselves physically.  I made the very Oprah-like suggestion that we go around and talk about the things that we like the best (physically b/c seriously? all of my girlfriends have the personality of awesomeness so there was no need to state the obvious, which is, in case you didn’t know, we’re so very rad.  In every way.) about the current company.  My arms stole the show from the rest of my features (which? randomly enough my eyebrows are usually the show stopper).  I have neither liked nor disliked my arms particularlybut after tonight I did stand in the mirror and feign a racket swing.  I must say that my personality being A#1, my arms are a close 2nd.

Kegorators rock my world.  My mom recently got married to a younger guy.  His kids are the same age as mine which now is a blessing but at first seemed a little odd.  Since getting married he has moved in and built a kegorator.  I never new how much I loved draft beer until it was in my own mother’s home.  Pair that with the fact that she has the perfect backyard, equipped with pool, and you have just imagined what is and will be my perfect summer getaway.  Yay mom, you hubby rocks (but, um, why couldn’t you have done this a little sooner?  Like, say, when I was in high school?).

And thus completes my random post

Favored

I’m pretty much everyone’s favorite.  I’m my mother and father’s favorite child, I’m all of my grandparent’s favorite grandchild, I’m everyone’s kiddo’s favorite grown-up, I could go on but I won’t. Well, other than to say that I am now Jesus’ favorite as well, according to my co-worker.

Funny thing is I really don’t “try” to make anyone like me, or to get favor (um, certainly not Jesus, I would think he would pretty much dislike me after this weekend).  I think that is key.  My friends from high school had a particularly crazy mother who chased me with, on 2 different occasions, a baseball bat and a gun, respectively.  I was also her favorite of her daughter’s friends, not because I kissed her ass, or was a particularly good influence (just the opposite actually), but because I came back after she chased me with a bat, and then again after she chased me with a gun, and because I told her she was bat shit crazy. 

So, back to Jesus.  Some people would call it being lucky but my co-worker says that I am favored, by Jesus.  That’s deep.  Good things do happen to me, a lot.  Every day’s troubles turn into the following day’s blessings.  I ask, I receive.  I wish, it is granted.  

You hear about the power of visualization, that you imagine something in your life, or claim that something for yourself, and it will come to pass.  I totally believe that, but wouldn’t say I sit around visualizing answers to my problems.  I usually just don’t think about my problems.  A blessing and a curse.  I am concerned with things; paying my mortgage on time, making it to work when I should,  rationing out my vacation time, by you will never see me sweat if I am low on cash that month, or need to take a sick day.  Change what you can, and what you can’t leave it alone.  Have the sense to know the difference between the two.  That is my favorite Marvin Gaye song, and that’s a long list people, because I love me some Marvin Gaye.

My mom says I’m as free as a butterfly, my best friend calls me a hippy, my ex says I’m irresponsible and need to grow the hell up.  I say I’m happy, I never do without, and I’m having a great time loving my life (bad circumstances and all) and spending zero time worrying.  Worrying never paid my bills, made me heal, fed me, got me laid, brought my kitty home, or kept my children safe.  Breathing in life and allowing my mind and heart to suck every last bit of it in, the good and the bad, and then choosing to look past the bad has made me favored.  Funny thing is, being favored alone has never paid my bills, made me heal, fed me, got me laid, brought my kitty home, or kept my children safe.  What being favored has done is brought an ocean of people into my life, people that have done one or all of those things (here’s looking at you, Jesus).