Sunday, December 29, 2013

Winter vacation

Sorry I kind of disappeared on all y'all. To be completely honest, I hate using my brain when I am not at work, so I have avoided doing it.

I have been on break (vacation, whatever) for ten days now. TEN DAYS! Do you know how weird it is to be off work for this long and NOT be unemployed and job searching?! It's kind of nice, I'm not going to lie. Since I am not job searching, I have been doing a lot of awesome things.

I have seen a lot of people that I love. I went out for drinks with Katie and Missy (those of you who know me know this is a rare event these days). I saw the Saving Mr Banks movie and cried, and came home and watched Mary Poppins and cried. I played my game where I go to the music channels and try to guess the artist that is coming up next and I, for the first time ever, WON! (Patty Loveless, you my homegirl). I had Christmas dinners with my families and made everyone try my buffalo chicken dip. I bit Cooper Boone (he bit me first). I watched all of Season One of American Horror Story. I've read a lot. I've slept a lot. I got to run outside three times, and then the weather turned to shit.

2014 is almost here, and I am trying to decide whether or not I should try to make a resolution. I have kind of slid backwards on my weight loss, so I do plan on getting a little more focused on getting back down to my fighting weight. I just like to live life, and life is delicious so I eat it. I have the working out thing down, I just need to get my diet under control. So maybe I'll just work on that.

I also really want to break my addiction to my phone. That was a resolution last year, but it didn't happen. I hate how dependent I am on it. So I will work on it.

Well I guess I just made two resolutions.

Friday, December 20, 2013

The time we had to shave my mom's head

I suffer from a disorder in my life, and it's not something a doctor can help me with. It's called "Delayed Reaction Disorder". I often take news very well, and I get through tough events with ease. Then, after a certain amount of time, I slowly lose it.

This is an extreme example of a delayed reaction. 

So I'm sure at some point on this blog I have written about my mom's cancer. It was a weird situation. The cancer was never going to kill her - we just needed to get it out of her, obviously. She had a bone marrow transplant, and then had to go through radiation and chemo. 

It was terrible. The chemo made her really sick, where she wouldn't get out of bed for days and she was puking all the time. I think being depressed about her life didn't help the situation. We (the four of us) tried so hard to make her be positive about it, but we never got through to her. I guess it's hard to be positive when you feel horrible, you have cancer, and you aren't happy with your husband. 

During chemo, my mom's hair started falling out, like it was supposed to. Mom's hair was thinning and kind of a mousy brown anyway, so I tried to look at the bright side of things. One day when it was looking particularly thin, I tried to lift her spirits. 

"It could come back luscious and beautiful and thick!" I said to her. "Are you going to shave your head?"
Looking back, that was a terrible question to ask. I can be pretty insensitive sometimes, and I tend to ask a lot of questions that probably shouldn't be asked. 

But she just paused and then quietly said "Yes, will you shave it for me?"

I froze. I was obviously not okay with my mom having cancer, but I had accepted it and knew what needed to happen to get her better. I, however, didn't know if I could actually shave her head. But I couldn't admit that emotionally I couldn't handle it, so I mumbled some bullshit about the grain of hair and not knowing how to use clippers. I told her I would ask my friend Leanna to do it, as she is a hair dresser. 

We worked out a day with Leanna, who said she would go to Mom's house to do it so that it would be more private. I went with Leanna that day, of course, because I didn't want Mom to be alone during the event. 

Mom cracked jokes through the whole haircut. She already had wigs picked out, and some pretty scarves. It was actually the most positive I had seen her through the whole cancer journey. The whole thing took maybe twenty minutes, and then Leanna and I were back in my car. It went remarkably well. 

Now, over two years later, I can't believe how well she handled it. I have been watching a lot of shows/movies lately where a cancer patient has to shave their head, and the event is so dramatic and intense - it's such a hard decision, and you have to basically give in to the cancer at that point, swallow your pride and shave your hair off. I complain about my hair almost daily, but I cannot imagine having to shave it off and displaying to the world that I am a cancer patient. 

Since I ask inappropriate questions, I will probably ask her when I see her tomorrow what she was really thinking throughout that whole event. 

Thursday, December 19, 2013

More people that need to be punched

- Parents that say they are having "date night" with their kids. That's fucking creepy. When you take your daughter out to dinner, you should not post a picture saying "mommy daughter date night!" because, guess's not a fucking date when you're with your offspring. And it's gross and weird to say you are, so get a life.

- Grandparents who decide they aren't going to go by Grandma and Grandpa. Look, I get that some kids come up with nicknames for the grandparents. My cousins always called my Grandpa Papa...I never did, but I was the first grandkid so I guess I never realized you could come up with different names. The difference here is that my cousins made up those names when they were like two or three...old enough to decide for themselves what names they were going to use. It wasn't my grandpa, deciding for himself that he wanted to be called Papa. Let the fucking kids decide for themselves. It's not okay for someone to say "Oh, I'm going to be a grandma. I think I will have the kids call me MeMaw. Or Valerie." I don't think many would choose Valerie, but you get my drift here. Let the children decide, for the love of God.

- People who are up in arms about this Phil Robertson thing. I am a huge fan of the Duck Dynasty empire. I am a huge fan in particular of Phil. Does that mean I agree with everything he says? No. I think gays should be able to do whatever they want. It doesn't change or affect me, and it seems to make them pretty happy, so who gives a shit. All Phil did was answer a question. He has never spoke of his beliefs on homosexuality on the show at all. I think A&E are ridiculous fools, but it's their paycheck. And they pissed off an entire army of Duck Dynasty fans, so good job there idiots. I just really hope that the rest of the family refuses to continue with the show on that network. Also, I can't help but wonder why A&E is so against letting one man say what he thinks in a magazine that is not connected to them at all, but they air programs such as Hoarders and Intervention with no problem. It's okay to laugh and mock and stare at people who are suffering from disorders and addictions, but it's not okay to directly quote the bible? And seriously...Bonnie and Clyde? It's okay to idolize former murderers and robbers, but a man who talks about his religion gets fired? I'm not sure that network is ran by smart adults.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The time we called that celebrity

It's time.

It's time to tell this story.

I will change names to protect the innocent. One day this friend and I, we'll call her Jyll, were doing our normal routine of stalking celebrities. We used to go to this website that I will not divulge, and if you put celebrities names in it would show you where they lived, and then you could google search the address and actually look at their house. It used radar or something. We would search it in hopes of catching them outside, hanging laundry or doing something equally as interesting (I mean hell, stars are just like us, they do laundry too, right?)

Anyway. On that particular day, we realized that some of the addresses included phone numbers. We tried calling a few of them, but we couldn't get past their personal assistants, or the numbers were disconnected all together. We saw that a certain celebrity's (we'll call him Ray) number was listed, and decided we should probably try to call him. We even had a good reason - it was College World Series time in Omaha, and he was often spotted at Roosenblatt Stadium during that time. However, our stalking got interupted, so we saved his number in my phone so we could try it later when we went out drinking.

After work we went to a bar with a bunch of people from work, and drinks were consumed. That's when Jyll and I remembered we had a certain number in my phone, and we dialed that bitch up.

"Um, hello, is Ray there?" I stuttered.
"Who's calling?" The person spoke with a Spanish/Mexican (I don't know how to say that politically correctly) accent.
"Jyll." I probably should have come up with a code name, but this was all just happening too easily.
"Jyll who?"
"Jyll. From Omaha."
"Hold on." HOLD ON?! Is she seriously going to go get Ray?

Jyll was hanging on my every word. My heart was pounding. A few seconds later, his familiar voice came though the line. "Hello? Who is this?"
"It's Jyll! From Omaha!" Why, oh why, was I using Omaha as my selling point?
Silence. "I don't know a Jyll from Omaha," he said, confused and slow.
"We met at CWS a few years back. I was just seeing if you were in town?" My story was unraveling.
"No, I'm not." Annoyance. I realized this wasn't a great plan.
I quickly got him off the phone, somehow. It got awkward. I got awkward and panicky and I started sweating.

We were sitting there relishing in the fact that we actually had a celebrity on my phone when my cell started ringing.

"FUCK! It's Ray's number!" We fought over my phone for a minute, and finally I won the battle and we let it go to voicemail. I ran in the bathroom, Jyll on my heels, to listen to the voicemail.

After dialing my passcode, the voicemail started. "Hello, this is Ray's wife Martha. This voicemail says this is a Jen. Is this Jen or Jyll? Whoever it is, why are you calling my husband?"

Shit. We were in trouble. We were just staring at each other blankly when the phone rang again, displaying Ray's number.

"We have to answer it now." Jyll grabbed the phone from me. "Hello?"
It was Ray again. "Okay. Is this Jen or Jyll?"
"It's Jyll," she said. "Okay, look, we don't know you, we just found your number online and thought we would call to see if you were in Omaha for the CWS. We really are in Omaha, and we're just fans."
Ray laughed. "Would you please explain that to my wife?"
"Yes!" Jill yelled.

There was silence and arguing in the background. Ray came back on the phone. "Okay, she doesn't want to talk. Just stay safe tonight and have fun in Omaha, ladies."

Phone call ended. Number deleted. Story told one million times.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Uncle Dennis

One of the earliest memories I can remember is riding in a pickup truck with my dad's best friend, Dennis. I remember him turning up the radio up and we jammed out to Motley Crue, Poison and Guns and Roses. He always smelled like motor oil, and he always, always bought us ice cream with the ding ding man drove by. His hands were always dirty because he worked on trucks or motorcycles all. the. time.

He spent a lot of Friday nights at our house (maybe he lived with us? I am not really sure) and my sister Nicole and I would wake him up on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons with us. We weren't nice about our wake up calls - we would throw balls at his head and hit him with rubber baseball bats. We were little snots, but Dennis would always wake up, get us some breakfast and watch our shows with us.

When he ate dinner with us, Nicole would make a big mess of her food, adding ketchup where it didn't belong and mixing everything together. Dennis would eat her concoction, mostly to make us sick, but also I think because that way no one could yell at Nicole for not finishing her plate.

He and my parents were young - Mom was 19 when I was born, and Dennis and Dad were only 20. I am sure most of my parent's friends were off drinking and being ridic, but Dennis became our uncle, a staple to our family. He and my dad were always together, and Dennis loved us as his own.

As we grew older, our family changed - Mom and Dad got divorced, Dad married Peg, we all moved to Glenwood and Dennis lived in our old house in Pacific Junction. Dennis got married to a horrible woman named Lynda, and they had two daughters. We didn't see him as often, but we knew he was there when we needed him.

In 2005, Dennis and his wife were in the midst of a divorce and she was living with her new boyfriend. Something bad happened. Something inside Dennis snapped. And Feb 13, 2005 he walked into the bowling alley in Glenwood with a gun and killed Lynda's boyfriend. He fired his shots, put his gun down and surrendered. He had done what he wanted to do and he knew (clearly) there was no escaping his actions.

Dennis is now in jail for the rest of his life. He didn't say much during his trial; there was really no arguing the evidence. He got life in prison with no chance of parole. NO CHANCE. Charles Manson is eligible for parole every few years, but Uncle Dennis is not. Does that make sense? No. Is it fair? No. Do I wish I had enough money to get him a decent lawyer and reopen the case? Yes.

It's been almost nine years, but I still think about this all the time. The reason for this random, untimely blog was a dream I had the other night where I ran into him at WalMart. I followed him for awhile, and then finally got his attention and was like "dude...aren't you supposed to be in prison?"

I would never say what he did was okay, nor will I ever understand it. I will never forget the morning (Valentine's Day) when Dad called and said "Are you sitting down? Uncle Dennis lost it last night." I spent the rest of the morning watching the news, until my boy of the moment came and took me to breakfast where I couldn't eat, and I just kept sputtering "what was he thinking? what's going to happen now?"

I just worry about him. And I miss him.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Fitness review

Having health insurance is awesome, don't get me wrong, but it also comes with some suckiness. 

When I worked at Kaplan, our health insurance made us do a wellness piece of it, where we had to answer a ton of questions online and have a physical every year. I think this is pretty normal. Luckily the girlie doctor counted as the physical, so every year I would half ass answer the questions, go renew my birth control, and forget about it until the next year. 

Midland seems a little more mindful of our wellness. 

We had to answer a questionnaire similar to what we dealt with at Kaplan, but this time I decided not to half ass it, but whole ass it. I answered every question honestly. Then, we had what they dubbed a "wellness fair" that we had to attend, which included getting weighed, measured and a blood draw. 

To say I was nervous is an understatement. 

I am less skittish when it comes to blood and stuff, but let's get real...I am still a pussy. I am still terrified of needles and anything sharp. It's been a really long time since I have completely passed out (I've had two bad spells, but I didn't go down), and I really really didn't want to be the next time to be in a conference room with all my new co-workers. I am already known as "that girl who walked into a pole and cut her eye open" (oh yeah...that happened...don't ever text and walk, people), so I really didn't want to be known as "that girl who passed out, too). 

So I was a mess. My office mate Rachel went with me. Somehow, everything went fine, after I had warned everyone within listening radius that I might pass out. I also made the nurse lady promise she wouldn't call 911 or make me go to the hospital, and I also drilled her on her credentials and how long she has been drawing blood and what would she do if I passed out. 

The other day I got my results in the mail. The four things I need to work on are:

1. Lose more weight. I knew this already, although the weight they want me to get down to probably will never happen. It's basically my birth weight. 
2. Eat better. If they knew how I used to eat, trust me, they would be pleased with the strides I have made. But I know I need to make improvements here, as well. 
3. Lower my cancer risk. I'm really not sure how to do this, and it didn't really give me any information. I don't smoke or really do anything that is asking for cancer, so whatevs. 
4. Lower my blood pressure. I really don't know what to say about this one, because my blood pressure has been high for quite awhile, because getting my blood pressure taken makes me extremely nervous. I am always convinced I am going to pass out if I'm in a doctor's office or hospital, so of course I measure a bit high. Duh. 

As weird as this is to say, I am actually happy with all the bullshit my new insurance company and employer is making us go through. It's oddly comforting to know what my main problems are. Now if only they would make us all have mental health coverage as well, cause you don't want to get up inside this head. 

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Basking in the ugly

Today was the Ugly Sweater Run. I'm not even going to try to lie. I did not want to run this thing.

It's freezing out. All week I was checking the temp for 11am on Sunday. At one point I asked the people in my office to pray for freezing rain or snow or high winds, anything to get me out of this thing.

As of yesterday, I wasn't going to run. Then I realized if I didn't, Nick would forever have something over me, and would forever be saying "remember when you paid to run the ugly sweater run, then skipped it, but Hannah and I didn't and you were a lazy fat loser?"

So I went.

It wasn't that bad, I guess. Before the race I was freezing. About a mile in, I thawed out. Then I got extremely hot, and I had to take off my cute little hat and my cute little gloves. My hair was not prepared for a removal of the cap, so I looked a bit like a mess.

Regardless of how much it sucked, I made it. And I might even do it again next year.

Friday, December 13, 2013

Just weird stuff

I feel like things have just been weird lately.

1. I got rear-ended on Wednesday morning. Another first. This year has not been good for my Jeep. I was sitting at a stop light, and the lady behind me chose not to stop.
2. Normally I hate hate HATE surprises. However, that rear-ending was a complete shock because I was not looking in my rear view mirror (also shocking, I was not on my phone...I was just sitting staring straight ahead). I realized that in that case I did not mind the surprise - I think it would have been worse if I had seen her elderly ass coming and not slowing down.
3. I went to the new outlet mall in Gretna and it is I mean seriously. I pretty much robbed Coach blind and Kate Spade...there are not even words. Having an outlet mall that close to me is not going to be a good thing.
4. I have my first piece of Coach as a gift, and it was almost as awesome as recieving it!
5. I got flowers delivered to my work, and I actually didn't hate it. Maybe because they were red and white? Or maybe because I'm getting soft and I like flowers all of a sudden?
6. I got a package from Amazon the other day that was addressed to "Jen Wilson or current resident". WTF, Amazon? You're just giving my shit away?! I paid for that movie.

However, one thing is not weird...I am officially in my winter coma. You can find me under my electric blanket until Oscar night (and then I will probably still be under my blanket, but with friends) (not under the blanket with me, just in my apartment) (well, maybe under the blanket with me).

Thursday, December 12, 2013

A review on an amazing author

When I was in the Bahamas (ughhhh remember when I went to the Bahamas?! It was 81 degrees there today! 81! Guess how many degrees it was in Omaha today? 8. 8 mother-effing degrees) I read the book Dark Places by Gillian Flynn. I had never read a book like that (murder mystery crime type stuff) and I was a little nervous I wouldn't like it, but I started it and it absorbed me. I read almost the whole thing that week, and when I got home I put myself on the wait list for Gillian's book Gone Girl. When I was done with that, I put myself on the wait list for another book of hers, Sharp Objects. Now I am out of Gillian Flynn books to read and in a slight depression about it. I am going to tell you about them now, as an attempt to work through my depression.

  • Gone Girl - this book is being made into a movie, so get your shit together and read it NOW. This book is about Nick and Amy, an interesting couple. It starts on the morning of their 5th wedding anniversary. Nick leaves the house for a bit, and his wife disappears while he is gone. Just poof. Gone girl (you like what I did there). The first half of the book alternates between Nick and Amy's point of view - Nick's being present day, where the search for Amy is ongoing and stressful, and Amy's from the past, as she wrote in her diary. Amy's version of their life is very different from Nick's. The second half of the book shows the twist, which is awesome, and while the ending does leave you kind of depressed, I feel it is realistic of marriage today. I hope they don't change it for the movie, which comes out in 2014 and Ben Affleck plays Nick!
  • Dark Places - Libby Day is the lone survivor of a horrible mass murdering which left her sisters and mom a bloody pile of guts in her house. Her brother was blamed for the murders, and her word put him away for life. She was a young girl when that happened, and the book takes place when she is in her early 30's and she is a mess of a person. A group of her brother's supporters reach out to her to try to get her to change her testimony because they have reason to believe he is not guilty. The book chapter's are all told from the view of different people - Libby, her brother, her mom, her brother's good.
  • Sharp Objects - this is my favorite one. This book took over my whole life for 1.5 days (yes...I read it in 1.5 days). Camille is a reporter in Chicago, but her paper isn't exactly the most popular, so they are looking for a scoop. A murder in her hometown sends her back to Missouri for awhile, and the interesting piece of it is that a similiar murder happened in the past and here's the gross part - when the young girls were found, all of their teeth had been ripped out. I know right? Sick. Anyway, Camille does some investigating, and it brings up a lot of horrible memories and urges her to be a cutter again, which is how she got through her childhood and adult years. Her family is less than loving. The twist at the end of this book is SO FLIPPING GOOD. Don't take my word for it. Read it yourself.
I want Gillian to write more books! Not that she will read this blog, but get on it, woman!

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

I'm doing it!

Okay, so I know I have been saying for quite awhile that I want to run a half marathon. The most I have ever ran is nine miles, but I feel that I could (maybe) push myself to get to 13.1. I am nervous as all get out, but I feel like I could do it. Not finishing is not an option, but it might take me all day.

I talked to friends about this, and they all had suggestions of what halfs (halves?) I should sign up for. All of them were local. For some reason I have been completely against running the Omaha one, but there are a few in Iowa that I maybe wanted to check out. But I wasn't passionate enough about any of them to actually research them, and by then my confidence had waned, and then I decided I actually hated running anyway and so I forgot about the whole idea.


I saw this.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! A Wizard of Oz themed half?

I'm in. I'm so in.

I found a 20 week training plan, and I am running this bitch on Saturday, April 26th at 7am.

And, of course, I have started planning my outfit. Here are some ideas:

I AM SO EXCITED! I started the running plan yesterday, and it's weird how since I'm running  towards a goal, all of a sudden I am pumped about it again (even though I am on a freaking treadmill).
This is a big deal, so I will probably be blogging about it a lot, so bow out now if you are one of those people who hate listening to me talk (seeing me write) about running. 

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

People I Want to Punch

When I was in college, I had a running list of people I wanted to punch. It was a joke in my dorm room - we kept an ongoing list, and although I never actually punched anyone, I did give some deadly glares and launched mean girl campaigns against them.

I have been in a fairly aggressive mood since the Nebraska-Iowa game, and then today I saw an entire blog called "People I want to Punch in the Throat" that made me think that maybe it's time to bring back my list. And therefore, I give you...people I want to punch (I won't specify the throat, any body part will do):

1. People who are criticizing Carrie Underwood and Stephen Moyer's rendition of The Sound of Music - people are saying it doesn't hold up to the original. Hey wasn't supposed to. This is a stage version, not a freaking movie version. Plus, they never said they were trying to replace or beat out Julie Andrews...this was another version of it. You people are stupid, and you deserve to be punched. Quit being haters! Yes, I hate you haters.

2. People who want it to snow. You are dumb.

3. People who call their kids "mini-me" when their kids look nothing like them. Even if their kids look just like them, it's stupid to post all over facebook about your "mini-me". Hopefully your kids don't also replicate your dumb ass brain. I know of one person who has a kid who looks exactly like him, but other than him no one should use that stupid term.

4. While we are on that track, I also have to complain about parents who are stupid about this Elf on a Shelf thing. Now I can understand this creepy looking thing if it's just a simple Christmas hiding it somewhere, letting your kids find him and then tell them "watch your fucking back, kid, that elf reports directly to Santa every time you're a shithead." But these moms...these stupid moms who put so much time and effort into it and have to post it all over their social media outlets...give me a break, dude. Who is this elf really pleasing? Cause I bet your kids don't give a shit.

5. People who do the "pay it forward" thing, but then post online about how great and giving they are. The point of pay it forward is to do it anonymously, so shut the fuck up.

6. People who post selfies that have nothing to do with the caption. Look...I get it. I am guilty of a selfie every now and then myself. I am a big fan of pictures in general. I need a picture of you, in front of a mirror, in your bedroom, telling me "Happy Monday!" There is nothing about your face that shows me it's a Monday. Your face smiling (for, let's get real, probably the tenth take) doesn't make my Monday better. Even better are the people who say things like "It's a beautiful day!" and then post a picture of their perfect, instagrammed face. Are you telling me your face makes it a beautiful day? Cause it doesn't. And you're dumb.

7. People who talk to people on Facebook who don't have a Facebook. "Happy first birthday, baby girl, momma loves you more than you will ever know!" Oh, I'm sorry, your one year old has a Facebook? Will she add me? Or is she too busy shitting her pants and drooling to accept friend requests? Or maybe she's the smart one who hasn't been demented by social media yet and her parents are the idiots.

8. People who don't even attempt to park correctly because there is one inch of snow on the ground. Yellow lines are slightly covered? Just park that bitch where ever you want. Asshole.

Woah negative nelly! I will follow this up with a nicer blog post tomorrow.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

2013 (aka, the year I met Bret Michaels)

I have been kinda planning out a year-end blog post for awhile now. And while this may be pre-mature since it's only Dec 5th (and who knows what kind of awesome stuff could happen in the next three weeks), I am going to do it today because I have time and it's my blog and I do what I want.

As I was mentally plotting out this post, I was thinking "how am I going to beat 2012? That year kicked ass." Well, my friends (and enemies who stalk me), 2013 did the job well. This year was kick-you-in-the-face-fantastic. Let me give you a little taste of it.

I went to a lot of concerts. Maroon 5, Bon Jovi, Bush, Cheap Trick, Chicago, LL Cool J, Justin Timberlake and Jay Z, Goo, Florida Georgia Line...there may have been others, but those are the ones I have pictures of on Facebook. This is just a really good picture of one of those nights.

And of course, the best concert ever in the history of concerts...was the day I met Bret Michaels. You can read about that here.  And here's the picture, in case you have forgotten the image.

I also ran some races, which was a big deal for me because I never in my life thought I would be a race runner. I didn't really do any serious first one ever was the Shamrock Run with my aunt...
Followed by my first run ever where people just threw stuff at me...

And the first run I ever did with Leslie (I never thought I would actually be able to say I ran with Leslie Schmailzl-Martin) (I mean, we were eating cupcakes the whole time, but who are you to judge?).
A bunch of other awesome things happened this year...
I got a new nephew.
I went to the freaking Bahamas!

I went to Minnesota June for Maren's wedding, and last week for my first NFL game! Bears vs. Vikings. Yes, the Bears lost, but I was so hungry for a Juice Loosy that I didn't even care.

Miss and I went to the Iowa State Fair and rocked.

I held a freaking alligator.

Miss and I went to Chicago and it was awesome.

Also, some things happened that I didn't capture on film (okay, not film...ugh digital...air? Do kids today even know what film is?). I started the year working at Metro, not I am at Midland. Yes, sometimes it feels like all I do Monday-Thursday is drive, but other than that I love it.
I got declared tumor free and I don't have to go back for any follow up appointments unless I feel something weird. HOLLA!
2013 was a pretty amazing year, I have to say. Here's to 2014!

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Minneapolis trip

So Saturday Miss and I hit the road for Minneapolis. After a short six hour roadtrip we got there, checked into our hotel, watched the last two seconds of the Michigan/Ohio State game (suck) and then headed to the Mall of America.

Somehow I have never been to the Mall of America. I was really looking forward to it, since I kind of love shopping now. Finding parking was a bit of a hassle, but finally we did and then we walked into............

a mall. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was just a huge mall. Of course, it was awesome, don't get me wrong. I had the best time. But it was, in fact, just a mall.

We walked around the mall for like seven hours. It was awesome, but by then my feet hurt so bad and I just wanted to eat.

We met up with Adam, this boy we know, and had dinner. I had chicken and waffles for the first time ever. I must be missing something, because it was just chicken...on top of a waffle. Did I miss something? Why is this awesome?

Of course, my appetite may have been ruined because it was about ten minutes before that when I found out Paul Walker was dead. Dead. I can't deal.

Sunday was game day, and of course the Bears lost. This was just not a good weekend for my sports teams. This game didn't ruin my life as much as the Husker game, though, because I was starving and just wanted to eat, so I didn't even care who won as long as we didn't have to go into a second overtime.

After the game, we went to a bar and had a Juicy Loosie (sp?) hamburger. It's basically a huge patty with cheese in the middle. It was great, but I think the burger similiar to that at Brewburgers in Omaha is better. But it was awesome nonetheless, and I scarfed it down.

Since we had a whole evening ahead of us, we went to the movie theatre and saw Catching Fire, the second Hunger Games movie. I'm not a huge Hunger Games fan (I just couldn't get into the books) and I have only seen the first movie once (I thought it was just okay). But I LOVED this movie. I can't wait for the third one now.

We headed home yesterday and today I'm pretty exhausted. But guess who only has to work 11 days this month...this girl.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Loooooooong weekend

Hi all. Remember me? It's been a week since my last post, which sucks I know. But I have been ass-busy ever since then. Plus, with my laptop connected to my TV because I just. can't. stop. watching. Parenthood, it makes it hard to blog from home. Not that I was home much over the past five days.

My extended weekend started last Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, when campus closed at noon and we all got to go home. Confession: I can't remember what I did this day. I know I ran some errands and made cookies, but other than that I have no idea. If someone could fill in that blank, that would be great.

Thursday morning I got up early and ran a 5k with part of the Schmailzl clan. It was freezing, but I wore way too many layers and almost died halfway through. I was looking for every reason not to run that stupid race, but I was really glad when I was done and for the first time in months, I found a runners high at the end of it.

After that I spent the day with my family, duh. I almost instantly ate all the calories I burnt on my run, and then some. But who cares. It's Thanksgiving.

Friday morning I got up again and headed to Lincoln with Missy and Katie to watch the Huskers piss the game down their leg. I have never experienced anger over a football game like I did on Friday. I hated every single Iowa fan I saw. I didn't even know I had that kind of anger in me for something as ridic as a football game, but I was PISSED. It took me awhile to get over it too. What the hell!?

After that shit show, I went to Mom's for another Thanksgiving, and then I went home and went to bed because I had to get up early (again) on Saturday to head to Minneapolis with Miss. I headed to her house and we were on the road at 8:19a.

I'm sick of writing right now, so I will tell you about our roadtrip later.

Also, sorry for no pics, but I am too lazy to upload them.

In other words, this is a half ass blog entry.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Guilt trips

And cue the depressing blog entry for the week...

I have a problem, and it's getting worse as I get older.

I feel guilty all the time.

Not in my work life. I feel fairly confident in every aspect of my professional life, which makes no sense since my professional history is spotty and inconsistent.

I feel guilty all the time in my personal life. I never feel like I am helping enough, that I am a good enough friend. I think I need to always be around, to answer every text within a second of receiving it, to return every phone call. I would never ignore my friends or family. I am early to everything, even though that usually means I sit and wait because most everyone I hang out with is always late. But if I am late, I apologize profusely and feel guilty about it for hours.

This weekend I offered to help my sister by baby-sitting her kids while I am on Christmas break. Everyone in the room laughed at me, and my feelings were kinda hurt. I love my nephews, and I was just trying to be helpful.

On the drive home it was still nagging at me. I don't like being the butt of the family joke ever, let alone when it's my aunt-skills. Then I realized...I don't WANT to babysit my nephews over my Christmas break. I don't want to be responsible for anything during those two weeks off. I only offered because I felt guilty, because AJ got kicked out of his daycare (when that kid smiles I don't understand how anyone could dump him) and I knew Nicole would be in a pickle.

But it's not just that. I feel guilty if I have to cancel plans with friends. I feel bad when Nick texts me and I don't answer him right away. I feel bad if my mom calls and needs help with something and I can't help. I feel terrible when my Grandpa won't take my Grandma to buy new sweatpants, so I drive down to Glenwood to pick her up, just to turn around and drive back to Omaha to take her shopping. Then I drive her home.

It's not like this is all bad. I love spending time with my Grandma, she's in my top five favorite people. I love talking to Nick, so I want to answer his texts right away. But I don't know, something just snapped in me this weekend and I am really just done with putting extra effort into people who don't return the sentiments.

This may mean some weekends alone, but that's okay cause it's winter and my electric blanket does NOT make me feel guilty. Neither does Netflix.

Monday, November 25, 2013

The day my dream of being a writer died

When I was a kid, I kept a journal. I started when I was in middle school and I kept notebooks and notebooks of journals until I started college. I never let anyone read them, although I'm fairly certain my older brother did behind my back, and I would bet money that my mom snooped through them. I treasured my journals and knew that I would have a writing career someday.

I went to college and, of course, got started with the student newspaper right away. I loved the people I got to be involved with, I loved the late nights in Lage putting the paper together, I loved getting to know people on campus and interviewing (hot) senior boys becuase they were worthy enough of a feature. I had so much pride in The Tack (the newspaper with a point) and I eagerly took assignments and poured my heart into them.

The advisor to the paper was a man named Chuck. He had years and years of newspaper experience and he made sure we knew that. I made the mistake of taking one of his classes, and one day our lesson was to read one of his prior columns and list everything he did right. I'm serious. He seriously planned an entire class lesson around us sitting and complimenting him. I couldn't deal with that, so I IMed my friend (who was also in the class, sitting across from me) something smart-assy, and she fired back with something equally smart-assy. I giggled out loud.

"Are you seriously IM-ing someone right now?" Chuck called me out.

I stared at him like a straight-faced emoticon. And then I got seriously annoyed that I was paying a ridiculous amount of money to sit in a class and tell a man how awesome he was (his column wasn't even awesome. It was too fucking long and it bored the shit out of me).

"Yes, I am," I answered. "I finished reading your article and I have nothing to say about it."

He looked shocked. I was probably the first person in history to not bow down to him. He told me to get out of his class.

"Are you serious?" I was floored.

"Yes, get out." He pointed to the door.

"Awesome!" I grabbed my stuff. "Going back to bed!" I yelled at my classmates.

What a jackhole. The next day I was supposed to leave with Chuck-o to go to a newspaper convention. I politely bowed out. I wanted to quit the newspaper all together, especially when he pulled me off to the side and apologized for kicking me out of class, but said he had to use me as an example because he knew no one was paying attention. But I didn't quit, because I loved The Tack and I really wanted to be a writer someday. Then Mr. Chuck laid another strike and single handedly ruined my dreams of being a newspaper writer.

That year (my sophomore year) some guys in my class did a stupid thing that probably seemed like a big joke the night they did it, but it ended up having pretty bad ramifications. One drunken night, they beat a swan to death with a bat. Gross, yes, and I believe they got charged with some sort of crime. We reported on it, they served whatever sentence they got handed, and that was that. I know it's gross and it's not like I'm belittling what they did. It was fucking stupid. But whatever. The news of it faded, like news like that always does, and then the campus started talking about the next stupid thing that some stupid student did while drunk.

Several months later, one of those guys was in a horrible car accident. Like almost died. He was a football player and a popular guy, so the campus was pretty tore up about it. I got assigned to write a story on it, and I spent time creating the perfect piece, talking to his parents and his friends. It was a news story, so I kept it professional, but I worked hard to make it just emotional enough.

When Chuck was reading it over, he told me I had to include in the story that Lance was one of the guys who beat the swan to death. "You just have to mention it somewhere," he said.

I refused. He said it was the professional thing to do. I told him that I was not going to do it, that I had just spent time talking to his mother on the phone and I was not going to humiliate him or his family like that. He told me that it would not be printed if I didn't include that line.

Guess who won? And guess who spent the next several weeks getting hate mail, threats and even a nice phone call from Lance's mom, crying and asking why I would do that?

I hated Chuck. I hated the newspaper. I had no idea what to do. So I gathered up as many Tackers as I could find who felt the same way and we went to the Dean of Students to complain about how he treated us.

About a week later Chuck resigned.

I wish I could say that I overcame that and I work in newspapers today, but I didn't. He killed my dream. I did stay with The Tack during the rest of my college career, and I absolutely loved it. Jamii, who took Chuck's place, was amazing (and is still amazing, as she is still at BVU). I wouldn't trade my time with The Tack, and with the staff, and in Lage, for anything. But I knew during that time that I couldn't write for newspapers.

Which is why I blog. He may have killed my dream, but he didn't kill my writing spirit.

Friday, November 22, 2013

"Bad" luck?

During a recent conversation with my grandma, I mentioned that if my Aunt Tammy didn't have bad luck, she wouldn't have luck at all. Grandma could not figure out what I was talking about.

"You know, like she buys a new car and immediantly gets in a wreck and totals it. Then she gets another new car and it's destroyed by hail, the same week that all of her appliances break."

Grandma still couldn't believe I thought that about Tammy. "That's what I think about you!" she said pointedly.

What the deuce! I can't believe anyone would think I am that unlucky. Then I thought back to the last five years  of my life...

...that time I miscarried a baby, and of course it couldn't be a normal miscarriage, it involved emergency surgery and loss of internal organs.
...that time I got laid off from Harrah's, when I thought I was going to retire from there.
...that time I was unemployed for ten weeks, only to find a job and then get laid off again six months later.
...that time I found a huge lump in my neck and have to have it removed via surgery which equaled an entire week in the hospital.
...that time I got laid off again, after many promises of "safety".
...that time a semi went in reverse down 72nd Street in Omaha and pushed me along with it.
...that time my "guarenteed" job at Metro got pulled out from under me.

Okay, so that's some shitty situations. But here's the weird thing: I still feel incredibly lucky. I feel so so so blessed every single day. All of those things happened for a reason. I wouldn't be the person I am today had any of those events not happened. Somewhere in the middle of all of that, I developed a "whatever" attitude. Not "whatever" as in I don't care, but "whatever" as in I know I can get through anything. I can weather any storm, and I can get through anything. I'm not scared of things happening in my life (except murder...I am absolutely terrified of getting murdered and I don't think anything will change that). After the first hit (the miscarriage) when I was sad and depressed and pretty much wanted to die, I took a full year to be sad and mourn and then I said enough of that. Now I know I will never be that low again. Now I want to be healthy, and I want to live and be happy. I try not to waste days, and I try to never have a day go below a 7 (most of you know I base everything on a 1-10 scale). Every night when I lay my head down, I think of how lucky I am, and how blessed my life is.

I bet (and hope, because she's amazing) that my Aunt Tammy does that same.

Thursday, November 21, 2013


The other day at work, I was discussing retirement plans with three of my co-workers. Well, let's get real. I wasn't discussing it. I was sitting and staring like a straight-faced emoticon, and my boss was talking excitedly about all the wonders that are involved with 401(k)s and 403(b)s and Roth and dividends and interest rates.

"Man, I'm just so jazzed up about this stuff!" He exclaimed as well all stared at him. "I'm just really passionate about it."

"No, it's good to be passionate about stuff," I said. Then I asked the other two what they are passionate about.

One girl said hunting. I don't get that, but it's her passion, not mine. One girl said nothing, which made me think about exactly what mine are...and...'s not like my passions are that great.

What are some things I can get really jazzed up about when I am talking about them?

Coach purses.
Celebrity gossip.
Glenwood or Omaha.

I know that makes me sound pretty stupid, and I am not stupid. I also am passionate about my job, and, as dorky as this is, I am passionate about registrar stuff. I just don't have a lot of people that I can talk to about that kind of stuff. I wish I could say I am passionate about running, but I freaking hate it.

I hope if you are reading this that you have a passion and you get jazzed as shit about it.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

I can't do that

The other night when I was driving home from work, my jeep had a stroke.

This is exactly what happened: I was cruising along, listening to my audio book (shut up, it's cool to listen to audio books and you know it). As I made the final turn to get into Omaha, my jeep started scccccreeeeeeeeeching as it slowed down, and then it started sccccccccreeeeeeeching as it sped back up. It was ridic. I turned my book off and just listened to my heart pounding as my vehicle continued to sound like a dying dolphin. Then all of a sudden it felt like the bottom of my jeep just fell out from under me, and I started puttering. I pulled off on the side of the road, called Nick in a panic, and then called my dad.

I seriously didn't know what to do. I don't know how to handle situations like that.

Everything has somehow worked itself out. My jeep is now fine, but now, of course, I am thinking of all the things I don't know what to do that I should know how to do.

  • I should know how to handle a situation like that, but I don't. I have State Farm Insurance and I sang "like a good neighbor, State Farm is there" but nothing happened.  Do I call a tow truck? Do I call a garage? Do I call a cab? I have no idea.
  • I don't know how to change a tire. In driver's ed when I was supposed to learn, my dad just signed it for me and said girls don't need to know how to change a tire. I 100% agree with him, but that probably won't help me at some point in my life.
  • I don't know how to prepare a turkey dinner. Again, it's okay because I go home for those holidays. But maybe someday I will want to make my own turkey.
  • I don't know how to do anything with my 401(k). I am now getting signed up for my retirement account at Midland, and while doing this I realized I have accounts not only from Kaplan still, but from Ameristar. I left Astar in July 2009. Seriously Jen? Get your shit together.
  • I cannot handle any kind of medical emergency. During my neck surgery issues, I pretty much had to live with my sister/parents to get through it. Last night I took a shower that was too hot and I almost passed out. I got a splinter in my hand once and it took me a week to get out. I am a disaster.
  • I don't know how to golf. I feel like as a professional, I should at least be able to get through a couple holes.
If anyone would like to help me with any of these, please text me.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Do I have to wear a bra?

I am pretty sure I have blogged about this before, but as the temperature drops this is sure to be a hot topic in my life again.

I do not want to do anything. Ever.

When I am at work, I am ON the entire time I'm there. I am talking for 12 or 8 hours in a row, depending on what day of the week it is. I am thinking and using my brain and wearing a bra and usually uncomfortable pants.

When I am not at work, I don't want to do anything. There is no better feeling in the world than taking off your bra and knowing you are free for the next several hours. I love sleeping so much, I can't even explain it. When I have to get up in the morning and make my bed, I always look at it like it's a lover I'm leaving with blue balls. My bed wants me to crawl back in. It needs me. And I'm leaving it high and dry.

Last winter, I pretty much went into a coma. I was under an electric blanket for most of December and January. And I can feel myself migrating towards that lifestyle again.

The sad thing is, I will make plans. I even get excited for them. But the second best feeling, behing taking my bra off, is having plans get cancelled.

Don't try to lie and say you don't love this too.

You are planning on meeting someone for drinks. When you wake up in the morning, you're pumped about your plans. Then they day gets rolling, and you start thinking how  nice it would be to spend the evening in front of your tv, under your electric blanket with no where to go. It would be nice to get your DVR all caught up, huh? Maybe you could even have a little snack, take a little nap, have a glass of wine or, don't you wish you could stay home?

Your friend was thinking the same and she cancels. And it's like the clouds have parted and a colorful, bra-less bird is floating around welcoming you to her world.

It's going to be a long winter.

Monday, November 18, 2013

I wanna do what I wanna do

So my weekend was kinda a suckfest.

Everything was going wonderfully until Friday at about noon. That's when I got to Glenwood. I was there for the next ten hours, helping my mom move.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to help. Kinda.

At the end of the night, Mom told me she didn't need me to come down the next day, which was good because I wanted to watch football all day and just do what I wanted. I got home, showered, watched some tv and marked it up to just a shitty day with high hopes for the rest of the weekend.

The next morning Nick texted and asked what was on my agenda for the day. I delightfully replied that I was free as a bird.

I spoke too soon. Grandma called me ten minutes later and was upset; no one was showing up to help and the ones that were there weren't doing anything, and "things seem to happen faster when you're here Jennifer."

Mother fucker. Like I can really tell my Grandma no. So off I went, again, only this time I called in reinforcements in the forms of my three siblings. The four of us joined forces, but I was still there for ten hours. At least the Husker game I missed was a pisshole of a showing by my dear team.

On Sunday I absolutely refused to go near Glenwood or the suburb of Pacific Junction. Instead, I slept in, then ran a few errands, then laid on my couch. I didn't do anything extra special, but it was the best day.

When I laid down last night, I thought about what a great day I had. That's when it hit me. I seriously only enjoy myself when I am doing exactly what I want, when I want.

I'm a spoiled brat.

And that's number 6581351 why I need to stay single and childless foreva.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Breaking up is hard to don't.

This weekend, my mom is leaving her husband. Is it weird to just declare that in such a public forum (who am I kidding, like four people read this blog)? She has decided she's done dealing, and she's out. They have been married just shy of twenty years, and I guess she's felt this way since the beginning. She said she always knew this "wasn't a forever thing".

This is so annoying on so many levels, but if I get started on them I won't stop. I am not close to my stepdad, nor am I his biggest fan, but this is still going to be weird and be a huge adjustment for my family. So am I okay with it? I don't know yet. I guess we'll see just how needy (excuse me, how much needier) my mom gets now that she is a single lady.

This whole thing has really got me thinking about relationships, which is probably why I have been riding the guy hating train for a few weeks now. I don't adjust to change well, so yesterday I was thinking...what other couples would throw me for a loop if they decided to break up? I can only deal with so much heartbreak caused by other people's heartbreak. So, I present to you, a list of couples who are not allowed to break up:

  • Dad and Peg. Duh. Obviously this one would throw my life into the most turmoil, I would even go as far as to try to stop the break up. I would maybe chain myself to the one who decides to move out and simply not allow them to leave. Clearly our lives have been intertwined for a very long time, so breaking up would not be easy or clean. Moving one of them out of the house would also not be easy or clean, and I would protest the whole event so I wouldn't have to be involved with that. Not to mention the fact that our blended family is pretty mixed up, now that there are kids involved. But I could probably just forget John was ever around since he is only a step anyway (I kid, I kid) (Seriously I'm kidding, stop crying bro).
  • Jan and Dick. Nick's parents are not allowed to break up, and I texted Jan yesterday and told her that. She said not to worry.
  • Nancy & Randy Schmailzl  and Connie & Tom Sperling: I grew up in these houses, and I would lose my shit if either of these couples decided to break up. I honostly don't think it will ever happen, but they should probably both be warned I will protest with a fury if I even get a hint of a breakup.
  • Jill and Brad Beasley: I have never known a couple more perfect for each other than my friends Jill and Brad. If they can't make it, I will lose all faith in not only love, but humanity.
  • Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell: I dare to say these two are my favorite Hollywood couple. I LOVE how they have never gotten married and are just together. I wish I could find a guy to do that with me. No marriage, just the common knowledge that they are end game, and that's enough. If they break up, I will go into mourning and watch Overboard on repeat for several days.
  • Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. I know. I'm probably putting myself at risk for getting so emotionally attached to this couple. However, since Brad adopted her oldest kid and they have had a whole slew of kids since then, I feel pretty safe. I have always been a huge Angelina fan, and I want her to be happy. And yes, I love Jennifer Aniston (duh) but I was always Team Jolie. I even had a Team Jolie hoodie that I wore proudly until I tore it on a drunken night at the bar. (It is probably not a huge surprise to anyone that I was Team Jolie).

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

I won't.

As I was beating on my chest today, trying to cure my heart burn (side note: why do I think beating on my chest will stop heart burn?), I realized that I know, very clearly, that chocolate gives me heart burn. It happens EVERY single time I eat it. So why do I continue to take a piece (or two) (okay three) whenever it is offered to me?

Simple. I won't stop. I won't give up chocolate, even though right now all I want to do is curl up and beat my chest to death.

It's delicious. And I won't stop.

I also won't stop drinking soda even though I know I should quit. You know what else? I won't stop drinking regular, full fat, full throttle soda either. Normally I stick to Diet Dew, but sometimes there is nothing like a regular Dew, or Dr. Pepper, or Pepsi.

I also won't stop watching scary television shows and movies (Breaking Bad, American Horror Story) even though I have to watch with my eyes covered, or from the bathroom (I peak out the door). I love them, even though I know I shouldn't watch them because they give me nightmares (apparently I am a child at heart).

I also won't do burpees, even though I know they are good for you and a great full body workout. I just won't. I fucking hate them.

I also won't stop eating carbs, so don't try to make me.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

I'm single, not pathetic

This Sunday at brunch (I like to say that because it makes us sound sophisticated) my friends and I were talking about another girl who is in a crappy relationship. I realize this seems to be a theme with me lately, but it's the truth. I'm not going to get into the details because I'm not even friends with this girl, but I will say this: Life is way too short to be miserable in your own home.

Anyway, this girl is in a crappy relationship because she doesn't want to be single or go through certain things alone. "Well, she sees how I am struggling to find a guy, and she doesn't want to go through that, so she's just staying with him," my single friend said.

So let me wrap my head around this: this girl, who has been through a lot, is so afraid of not finding someone else, that she is staying with a guy who seriously treats her like ass and is probably (definitely) (without a doubt) (I would put money on it) cheating on her? And being in MY situation is what is so scary for her? Being single is a worst thing than being treated like complete shit?

I may be single, but at least I am (usually) always sure of myself and I know that the people I'm hanging out with are with me because they want to be, not because they feel guilty or are too lazy to end our relationship. I'll take that over being able to have my Facebook status say "in a relationship".

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas

Most of you probably know my family's thing with Christmas.

We are ridic.

At this point we have been ridic for so long we just continue being ridic, even though we all agree it's ridic.

Let me explain.

My dad owns the lot that his house sits on, the three lots to the right of it, and the lot behind the house. And he decorates all that for Christmas. He starts the day after Halloween and on Thanksgiving night he throws the switch and we all walk the block and stare at his masterpiece.

I usually take one day between Halloween and Thanksgiving to go down and help him. I don't know if I am actually much of a help, but I try. I am not great with electrical stuff, and I get distracted easily and tend to wander off with the kids. But I try to do a few areas of the yard to make the project a little easier for him.

Today was my volunteer day. So this is how I spent my Saturday: Got to Dad's, started my laundry (hell, I have to do laundry at some point over the weekend, and it's free there). Helped Bill by throwing reindeer and extension cords to him while he stood on the garage roof. Asked if I could get up there and was denied. Created a setlist so we could listen to music. Found a Ho Ho Ho sign that was brand new, so I put that together and hid it in the yard to see if Dad would notice. Ate snacks. Helped Kate with the bank lights (this was actually quite a job and took quite awhile). Taped clear lights to hula hoops for a project Kate wanted to do (this sucked bad). Ate Chinese food. Put lights on a bush. Made inappropriate jokes to my brothers about lighting up my bush. Taped lights on the handrails leading down the steps. Walked around with Gracie and Kaylee for far too long taking pictures of them with all the decor.Played with a huge inflatable Joy sign and made Kate take pictures of me. Made John senior picture pose with me. Dad finally made me do something, so he sent me to find a spot for the Joy sign to sit instead of on my head. He handed me a knife to do this, so I played with that for awhile and screamed when I couldn't get it down. Helped John and Bill set up candles for the driveway. Decided that was enough for the day. Caved when Dad asked me where the Ho Ho Ho sign was and showed him.

I am exhausted. Here are some pictures from my day.

Friday, November 8, 2013

That time (nope...those times) I got laid off

The other day, a co-worker and I were talking about previous jobs and our work history. Without knowing anything about mine, she declared "I don't know what I would do if I got laid off. I would probably just freak out and cry."

"Oh, I cried," I said.

"What, you've been laid off before?" she asked, with wide eyes, as if I was an alien or a mutt of some sort.

Oh, honey. I laughed out loud. "I've been laid off three times. And kind of another time. I've been laid of 3.5 times."

I admit, the first time I got laid off I freaked. I cried. I got wasted and puked on myself and I woke up the next morning feeling completely lost and sorry for myself. Each time it got easier. When it happened with Kaplan, I didn't even cry until I had to tell my dad. And even those tears ended up being laughs. Neither Dad nor I could believe my rotten luck.

Each time it got easier, although I sincerely hope no one has to go through 3.5 lay offs in their life. I sincerely hope that. I wouldn't wish something like that on even my worst enemy. I have, however, come up with a few tips to those people who are unlucky enough to get the axe.

  • Tell everyone. Seriously. You don't have to badmouth your ex-employer by any means, but you need to tell everyone possible that you are looking for work. I posted on facebook every single time I was job searching, and you would not believe the leads I got. Use Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, whatever. Just get the word out there that you are looking.
  • Take your time. When I got laid off from Ameristar, I panicked and took the first job I could get, which was the Sales Manager job at Spencers Steakhouse. I knew from the minute I walked into my first interview that I would not like the job, the people or my boss. That guy knew I was desperate and didn't want to go on unemployment so he completely fucked me over and completely lowballed my pay. It was a joke. I would have made better money on unemployment and actually taking the time to apply and interview for jobs.
  • Apply for things outside of your comfort zone. When I got laid off from Harrah's, I swore off casinos. But then I veered right back and ended up at Ameristar. When I got laid off from there, I went to Sales..which is what I was doing at the casinos at the end. On a whim and not really expecting to get hired, I applied at Kaplan, and ended up completely switching industries, and it was a great decision.
  • If you get a part time or a temp job, treat it like that. Keep applying and looking for full time positions. Even if they promise full time, don't believe anything until it's a done deal. It's your life, and you need to protect yourself.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Happy #30 NTB!

Happy 30th to my best friend Nickolis Theodore Boone. You're officially old now. But please don't start acting like it (more than you already do).

And now...a photo montage of our lives together:

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Best day ever? Not so much.

I saw this article recently about wedding days.

At 33, I realize my family and friends probably assume I will never get married. And that's fine. I can't lie - I often assume that day will never come for me. I've really been thinking lately I probably don't want it to, at least not anytime soon. I am just SO COMFORTABLE doing exactly what I want all of the time, without answering to anyone. I also greatly enjoy always knowing what is in my fridge, always knowing that things are exactly how I left them, and always knowing exactly how many rolls of toilet paper I have.

I digress. Let's just pretend for a moment that I finally do find someone who wants to marry me. I am not going to be a great fiancé.
  • First of all, I do not want a huge splashy engagement. I don't want anyone around. That's a very private moment and question, and there will only be two people in our marriage, so I don't want a crowd around to see my reaction. I will probably cry, or scream, or get really awkward, so I only want the man I love to see that.
  • Second of all, I don't want a ring. I know, for most girls that's the main point of being engaged. I just don't want it. I've been told that if I get in a situation like that, my man may insist I wear a ring. I guess that's fine, but he can't spend more than $100 on it, and I would actually prefer $50-$75. I can't deal with an amount of money any larger than that being on my finger. I will lose it. I am not a jewerly person, so I will lose it, and then my man will be pissed, and then we will probably call of the wedding anyway.
  • I am a planner. I can't help it. And the worst part about my planning skills is that I don't want help. I want to do everything myself; I don't think anyone can do it as well as I can; I don't want anyone's input. I assume most men don't really want to get involved in the wedding planning anyway.
  • Since I am such an anal planner, I can't imagine that my wedding day is really going to be that much fun for me. I will be too worried about every detail. So, with that being said, I already know I don't want a huge wedding. I want to get married on a Sunday morning, and then we all go eat brunch.
I will, however, be an amazing wife. I won't get into details here, because I think my parents may read this blog.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Still on the boy hating train

So, my guy problem solved itself, like it always does. However, I am still annoyed with the opposite sex. Why, you ask? Here are my reasons:

For some reason, as of late, I've noticed that guys really like to sleep with their ex-girlfriends. I've heard of two instances in recent history where a guy is dating someone else, and then they get caught with their ex. As most of you know, I'm not a big fan of monogamy or relationships. So I get wanting to "reheat leftover pizza" (that is a quote from the male mind I use to bounce ideas off of). However, I am not okay with this reasoning, which was given to both of my female friends by their male companions:

"I am totally into you. But I just needed to give her one more chance, to make sure there wasn't anything there. I know now, without a doubt, it's over with her."

Give me a break. That is not true. And the worst part is, my friends BELIEVE this bullshit! Friends, listen here: your guy just wanted to "snowplow her again" (another quote from the male). Now it's just up to you to decide if you want to keep them or not. But if you do keep them, just know he will probably be screwing her doors off again sometime in the future. 

Another one of my friends ended a relationship a few weeks ago. This guy was an asshat (but all guys are asshats, according to my male), but the worst part is he was MEAN to her. He would make her cry at least once a weekend and he would play into her insecurities. He was our age, but acted like he was 21 and spent his weekends wasted. During the relationship, especially towards the end, I would often ask her "what is it that you are fighting for? He isn't even nice to you and you cry all the time, and I don't even think you like him that much."

It was all set up for her to end the relationship. But what does she do? She lets him take control, so he dumps her. Now, weeks later, we are still mourning over this guy who was (and I can only assume, still is) a complete douchebag. And the worst part is, she is now sugar coating the relationship. 

"He was really nice sometimes, wasn't he? There were some good times, right? He really liked me in the beginning."

Come on, yo. He was not nice to you. Ever. 
Okay, I take that back. He was nice to you maybe twenty percent of the time. If one of my students was giving a 20% effort in one of their classes, I would encourage dropping that class.Which he did. 

And don't get me wrong, I get that it takes a long time to get over people. Trust me, I get that probably better than anyone. But I can't deal with these stupid excuses. Which is probably why I will remain single forever.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Guys drive me CRAZY

First of all, it's November. It's some sort of National Novel Writing month. I have never written a novel, although I think I could. I even had a dream the other night that I think would make a tremendously popular novel.

Since I will not be participating in the novel writing, I decided I would make every effort to blog every day. Lucky you!

Today's entry is all about guys, and the ways they drive me batshit crazy.

I remember in college, when I had a column in our student newspaper, I wrote one week about how crazy guys made me. My reasons were things such as not answering emails or MSN Instant messages fast enough, or ignoring me to play stupid football games on their Playstation.

I would like to say my reasons have matured with age, but they have not. Guys drive me BATSHIT crazy and it's pretty much for the same reasons.  So I am going to make a list of the reasons guys drive me bananas, and hopefully some of this venting helps me not kill them. Some of these aren't limited to lovers or gentleman callers, male friends and relatives are also included in the mass hatred I am experiencing right now.

1. When I try to get ahold of you, whether it is via texting, emailing, phone calls, snail mail, smoke signals, whatever...FUCKING ANSWER. It does not take long to send a text reply or check your email. If you are obsessed with your phone, I know you see my attempts for attention. So answer me.

2. I am not going to be interested in everything you are, and in reality, you shouldn't want this. Yes, I like to watch football. No, I am not interested in your fantasy draft. Just tell me if you win. And yes, it may be "so hot" for women to know all about sports, but I will never be one of those women.

3. Sometimes I just want to feel safe and small and taken care of, and that might mean you getting on top of me. (This one is only in reference to lovers.)

4. I will agree that video games aren't that dorky anymore, and I have even been known to get uber obsessed with certain games (#guitarhero #homeatingsoupforlife). However, I don't want to watch. Don't ever invite me anywhere to watch you play video games. First of all, I'm 33 and (for the most part) I don't do anything I don't want to do. Second of all, if I did go, I would just end up playing on my phone the whole time, and I can stay at home and do that.

5. When I was younger, games were played. I admit it. If I got ignored, I ignored back. I knew if I did certain things, I could get certain reactions from certain people. So I get it. When you play games on me, I know what you are doing. So stop it.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The day I gave away two cars

A few months ago, when I was applying for jobs, one of the companies I applied for had me do a video interview. I already knew I was going to get an offer from Midland and was just waiting on the legalities of it, so I wasn't going to even bother. However, I decided I really wanted to try a video interview, and, if I've learned anything from my job history, it's to never assume anything is certain until you've signed on the dotted line. So I went to the website and started my video interview.

It was ridic fun, and the questions were very interview generic (what are your strengths and weaknesses? what do you bring to a team?). It's been a really long time since I've had an interview that basic, and God knows my favorite thing to talk about is myself (hello, I have a blog where all I do is talk about myself). However, one of them made me laugh out loud...tell us about a time you made a huge mistake at work and what you did to correct it.

I could have answered the time I overbooked a room while acting as sales manager, or a time when rules weren't submitted to IRGC in time and I had to go beg for forgiveness. But since I wasn't really banking on this job, I decided to pull out my truth card and told them about the time I gave away two cars.

I still cannot believe this happened.

I was the marketing coordinator for Bluffs Run, and we were doing a car giveaway. The whole concept was a bit ridiculous. We had this ENOURMOUS entry drum - like it would literally hold tens of thousands of entries, and I am sure I could have crawled inside of it if I had tried (and I was really fat back then...still easily could have fit). Anyway, gamblers would earn entries all week long, drop them in this drum and then on drawing day, I would pick five entries. The five winners would each stand behind a box of confetti and crap, and at the sound of go, they would dig through their box. The winner was the person who found a huge car key in their box of crap. Yay. The other people would win some lowball amount of money, like $500.

Anyway, so on the night of the two car giveaway, everything was going fine at first. My boss Jill was gone, so I was handling it on my own with Johnny Ray Gomez (JRG, if you will) who was acting as the emcee. We drew the winners, they all lined up behind their boxes, and JRG told them to go. Confetti started flying. I knew the key was in box #3, so I was watching that person, camera in hand to capture their happy discovery.

All of a sudden, I hear JRG yelling "We have a winner!" and holding up the hand of Box #1. What the frick! I looked closely and that idiot was holding up the TINY entry drum key.

Beep beep back up. Did I mention that huge fucking entry drum was so huge that it would have taken me hours to clean it out every week? So instead, I enlisted the help of the graveyeard housekeeping staff, who, every week, would clean out the drum, store the entries in my office (we had to keep them all...yep, still doesn't make sense). They had their own entry drum key.

However, on that ONE week, they decided to leave the entry drum key with me, and not tell me. They dropped it in one of the promotion boxes and went on their happy way.

Meanwhile, Box #3 had found his gigantic fake car key and looked confused. I ran up to him and said "You are the winner...just hang tight." I walked over to JRG and somehow didn't punch him in the face. "That is the ENTRY DRUM key...he is not the winner." Johnny looked at me like a straight faced emoticon. The VP of Marketing (of course) was there, so she came up and I explained quickly what happened. "You deal with the winner, and I will deal with the loser."

After a few minutes of me pissing my pants and holding back tears later, VP Heidi came back to me. "Everything is fine. He gets it. He'll take his $500."

Somehow that seemed too easy. That night I went straight to my friend Renee's house, who did my job at our other property. "That seems too easy," she said.

And of course it was. The next day, after he had a few hours to realize we owed him a lot more than that, he called the gaming commission and happily came in to collect his $10,000 hush money.

A $10,000 mistake? Awesome. But kind of a funny story. And no, I didn't learn my lesson and I still let housekeeping clean out the entry drum every week. The bitch was HUGE.

And I also did not get an offer from the video interview company. They did, however, call me back to see if that story was really true.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

The day I was declared tumor free

On October 28th, 2013, I was declared tumor free** and was given the all clear from my doctors!

No need for follow up!

Suck on that, tumor!

**Nick, Missy, Nicole, Tiffany, Dad, Peg, Mom, Amanda, Katie and anyone else I have made feel up my neck...I will probably still make you do this. For the rest of my life. Sorry, just deal with it.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Go home, get stoned

Some stuff has been happening lately. It's all pretty awesome.

Nick and I went to Hinder last night (and Missy too, but she runs around a lot during shows). We were up on the side of the stage, pretty much as close to the band as you can get.

I have become ridic-obsessed with Breaking Bad. However, I still watch Netflix via my laptop being attached to my tv by an HDMI cord. So...that means no remote to rewind or fast forward. So...that means I am also getting a workout in, because anytime I get nervous or scared I jump up and run out of the room and watch the scene from behind a closet door.

My niece dressed up as Dorothy for Halloween and

I've officially given up on running outside and I'm treadmill only until spring. Oh, except for those two 5K's I signed up for on Thanksgiving morning and Dec 16th. #whatthehellamithinking
Kate and I popped some tags on Saturday and I wound up buying this adorable striped shirt. Not until this morning when I was pulling it on did I realize it is a maternity shirt. Damn.

Other than all of that, I am just dealing with working, getting jacked for my Minneapolis trip with Missy, getting jacked about planking and trying to deal with the fact that "Toby" is dating a 23 year old. (You remember Toby can read about him here and here.

What a douche.

Monday, October 21, 2013

There aren't enough days in the weekend...

...and that's saying a lot, since my job allows me to have three day weekends every weekend (I'll give you a second to be jealous...).

I crammed a lot of stuff into my weekend.

On Friday, I met with Allison (my teammate) and got all caught up with the gossip at TJ High. Oh, to be young again. (Nope...wouldn't want to be young again, especially with Facebook and Twitter and Snapchat and Instagram and whatever else they do that I don't know about).

After that, I dicked around in the afternoon and then headed to Little Big Town and Keith Urban with Missy. I had this idea in my head that I never ever ever wanted to see Keith Urban or Kenny Chesney in concert. I don't know why. Well I do know why for Kenny...I don't like that he is ugly without his hat on, I don't like how short he is, and I don't like that he married Renee Zellweger for a hot minute. But I don't know why I was so hateful towards Keith Urban. Especially since he is AMAZING and now I am OBSESSED with him and I am listening to him RIGHT NOW.

And here is a really good picture the lady behind us got of me and Miss at the concert.

Saturday I got up at the asscrack of dawn and "ran" a 5K with Leslie. It was a cupcake run, so every mile we got a mini cupcake. They tasted amazing, and I'm glad Leslie was pushing her two year old niece in a stroller so I was actually able to keep up with her (she's a speed demon). 


After that, I did the most marvelous thing...I took a two hour nap. I'm not one for napping in the middle of the day, but it was heavenly and it felt amazing. Why was I so against Keith Urban and naps? Thank God this weekend happened so I could be guided in the right direction.

After I cleaned up the drool from my nap, I headed to the wood for Grandpa's birthday party. I think he turned 78, but he kept telling everyone he was 28. Whatever. As long as he lives forever, I don't care how old he claims to be. I don't have a picture of Gramps because he's kinda a jackhole and refuses to get out of his chair. So instead I got a picture of my mom and my aunt and I toasting to him, and Grandma hugging me but refusing to drink.

Sunday morning I got up and went to a very sophisticated brunch with some ladies, where we talked about sophisticated things and we all said the word fuck a lot. Then I headed to Cooper's fourth birthday party.

I feel like I look exactly like someone from my past in that picture. If you agree, tell me who you think it is in a very private message because it kinda makes me want to die a little.