Monthly Archives: May 2011

Meeting the Family

After almost a year and a half of meeting only an uncle, I am finally meeting the family. Full scale! Sister, cousins, grandparents, babies, dad! Yikes! Is there a protocol for this? Am I suppose to come armed with presents or something? It’s been years since I have done this. I’m having a mini freakout.

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In Case of Emergency

At what point is your mother supposed to stop being your emergency contact list? THAT is the question of the day.

Here’s the deal, I’m not married or engaged but I am living with my boyfriend and we have a fantastic relationship. I don’t see it ending anytime soon. I don’t see it ending ever. I trust him completely and I know he would drop everything to be there for me. So why did I list my mom as my emergency contact when I signed up for the gym? Oh, did I mention that our apartment is about five minutes away from my gym and my mom is about an hour away? Yup, still listed my mother! Oh and my mom is also listed in my phone as ICE Mom.

I can’t help it, I freak out. I am a worst-case-scenario type of girl. I mean, WHAT IF we did break up and then I had a slip and fall at the gym and the trainers needed to call someone? Can you imagine that phone call. “Hey, this is Adam from BT Fitness, Amy just knocked herself the eff out and we need to know where we should take her.” The former bf, “I don’t give a rat’s ass, let her die!” Or something like that. I mean, even if we did break up (I HATE typing that) the former bf would probably be super sweet, but then I would be worried that he might get sad to get a call about me! Years ago I got an email from the apartment complex where I used to live with my ex, except it was addressed to his new girlfriend who had moved in the second I moved out. That was fun. No one should ever have to go through that!

I did take a big step a few weeks ago, though, and I think I might have evened out my karma. I had to renew my license and I used the address of the apartment my bf and I live! “Well, it is where you live,” was the smart response I got when I told bf what I was doing. Yes, but it’s a commitment. That license does not expire until 2016. 2016!! I will be 34. Ho.Ly. Crap. That is a long time. I think I am having palpitations. I have to go now, I need to call the DMV!

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First Timer

One of my favorite things about being in a (long-term [in parenthesis here because I am still not sure if 16 months constitutes long-term status, but for me it does!]) relationship is being there for the first time someone experiences/does something. And, I’m not talking about sexy-time firsts, I mean everyday things that one person has always done.

For example, Shaggy had never tried gnocchi before meeting me. I’ll let that sink in for a minute… I know, right?! Lucky for me he likes it because it’s my go-to cooking staple when I don’t feel like putting too much effort into dinner. He also had never tried red velvet, but he’s not a fan so I pretend he has still never tried it. I mean, who can be with a man who doesn’t like red velvet. I know I can’t, so blinders are definitely in order!

Before Shaggy. I had no idea there was a difference between Indy and NASCAR, now it’s something I correct people on all the time. Truth be told, I actually enjoy watching racing and I have had fun at almost all the races I have been “dragged” to. I’m all about statistics and strategy and racing satisfies that side of my brain…plus, some of the drivers are little pint-sized hotties!

One thing does make me a little sad though. I don’t regret anything in my life because it all led me to where I am now (blah blah blah), but it would have been pretty great if Shaggy would have been the first guy I lived with. I’m his first and sometimes I wish I hadn’t had the other experience since this one is so great. But, the flip side of the coin is that my past epic fail has taught me to really appreciate what a great roommate the current BF is. Oh and I got my sweet doggy out of my past relationship. Plus, does it REALLY count if it only last three months (yeah, that’s how dysfunctional it was!)?? Still, it’s something that occasionally crosses my mind…

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Is this how all boys store leftovers, or am I just lucky? I probably don’t have to tell you that we have about 200 plastic containers. You know how I know I am in trouble? Even things like this make me like the guy a little bit more.

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I Don’t Know What I Want to be When I Grow Up

Is almost-30 too late to start figuring out what you want to be when I grow up? How about after already receiving an advanced degree? Yeah, I figured. I know I’m late to the party, but I’m still trying to decide which shoes to wear! Sure, I mostly enjoy my current job (public relations), but it’s extremely political and I just don’t have it in me to take people out on my trek to the top. Plus, I am not sure I ever want to be management, which is probably my next step. Who aspires to be in charge of disciplining other people, sounds awful to me but my wallet would really love a management salary.

So, I have been thinking a lot about making a career move. While I would probably just tweak my current career path, it is always fun to consider something completely different. Here are some options I came up with that all sound extremely appealing, minus the whole going back to school part.

Wine Connoisseur – True story: I took a career aptitude test my senior year of high school and this was at the top of my list. It’s a shame that I was a complete square and would wait three years before tapping my first box of wine and falling in love with the drink of the gods. I will say that the aptitude test was pretty accurate as this sounds like the perfect gig: drinking, traveling, AND criticizing! LOVE it.

Math Teacher/Basketball Coach – One of my favorite high school teachers was my statistics teacher (and of course I cannot for the life of me remember his name! Any Marina Vikings out there…who taught AP Statistics in 1999-2000?) and he told me that I should become a high school math teacher slash basketball coach. Ignoring the fact that high-school-aged kids are pretty much the worst people on the planet, this also sounds pretty legit. I would have loved to get into coaching and, despite denying it and the fact that I am a girl, I really do like math. Good thing I got a master’s in communications, right?!

Consignment Shop Owner – I recently told the BF that my ultimate perfect job would be to own a consignment shop. And I’m not talking about those crappy shops that stock clothes from Forever 21 and Old Navy, I am talking about a shop that carries mainly vintage frocks. This job would let me combine three of my amazing skills – public relations/marketing, my perfect fashion eye, and my sewing skills… I figure I could offer tailoring/alteration services on my store items. Apparently, this job is for old rich women who have nothing to lose. At least that’s what the BF tells me. I’m out.

Other – Other professions I have considered: nursing, blood doesn’t bother me and I don’t get too attached to people, but I am horrible at anatomy and don’t like the idea of cutting a wittle froggy; journalist, sort of in line with my current profession except it’s way more unstable, I would get paid jack, and I have to ask people how they’re feeling after their baby just got snatched by coyotes; dog walker, Indy would get pissed when I came home every day smelling like dogs; animal shelter director, I would need to move to a farm to have enough room for all of the animals I adopt; housewife, I am way too boring to hang out with me 24-7.

So, after talking myself in circles, I end up right where I started: my job is fine. *sigh*
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Call me naive, but I don’t want to think about conspiracies. There are several people in my life who are huge believers in quite a few government conspiracies. Do I think they’re all 100% kooky? No. I mean, some of them are psycho. Many of these people are intelligent, functional members of society – not the stereotypical hermit who thinks that everyone is out to get him. They make solid cases for many things – 9/11, the pharmaceutical companies, the moon landing, Bin Laden’s death, etc. The overly-analytical portion of my brain could get lost in the movies and books dedicated to conspiracy topics.

But, the thing is, I live in denial. I feel like I have to. I know there is evil in the world, I’m not completely closed off from reality, but a lot of these theories are just too much for me. Frankly, I don’t know if I could live in a world knowing that the government sent planes into thousands of its own citizens or that there are people out there who are stifling the release of cancer-curing drugs.

How does one live in that world? Why would anyone want to bring a child into that world? Why wouldn’t I kill everyone I love to save them from the evils of that world? I would be in fear of everything. I would question everything. My heart would explode from anxiety. I just can’t even go there. So, I put on  my earmuffs and turn on my blinders. It’s me protecting myself from a lifetime of stress and pain.

Sure, it might make me naive, but it also allows me to be happy. It allows me to possibly bring a child into the world and worry about the jerk she’s going to give up college for or the bitch who is going to turn him against his mother. I can worry about whether their first word will be a swear word or if I will ever spank them. I won’t be worrying about the government trying to kill my child or constantly lying to me about what is best for my baby. I’m sorry, but that’s just too much for my almost optimistic mind to handle.

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