IDK.

2006 vs 2014

A few lessons learned:

  • Work harder
  • Write more
  • Sleep less
  • Be happier
  • Wear sunscreen
  • Everything gets better, even if it doesn’t
  • Save your money
  • Speak less, say more
  • Seriously, stop going into the sun

Morgan Freeman

Mom: I can’t stand Morgan Freeman now. I won’t watch anything he does.

Me: What? Why?

Mom: He does that awful show Teen Mom.

Me: What? No. That can’t be true.

Mom: He directs it or something. Look it up.

Me: [looks it up]

Me: It’s a different Morgan Freeman!

Mom: What?!? 

Me: How could you have thought Morgan Freeman would make Teen Mom? 

Mom: I haven’t seen him in anything for awhile. I thought his career was on the rocks.

A Lesson in Kindness

Last week I had to stop by the grocery store on my way home from work, and trying to make a right turn out of the parking lot became impossible. The street was narrowed from six lanes down to just two - each one in opposite directions - and the line of cars seemed endless. No one would let me out. And suddenly I noticed that I’d been trying to get out for over 10 minutes.

Then a woman in a huge Tahoe rolled up and seemed like she might let me get in front of her, but as soon as I tried to edge my way in, she pulled up further to block me. She sat there, waiting for the red light while I stared straight at her. Our cars were so close together that I could see her very clearly. She looked mean and old sitting there in her needlessly gigantic Tahoe, pretending to ignore me. Not old age-wise, but old in the way that I often feel old. The kind of old where you can’t remember the last time you felt excited or hopeful about anything. Where you’ve stopped believing that anything resembling ‘magic’ exists, and instead resign yourself to the possibility that you will likely live out the rest of your days suffering through one disappointment after the next. 

The longer I stared her down, the more it felt like I was looking in a mirror. At that point, I’m not sure whether it was insanity or passive aggression that took over, but I started smiling really big at her. So big that she must’ve noticed, because I saw her briefly glance at me. Next, I started waving. The way you would wave to a dear friend you were told had died several years ago. The look on her face morphed into contempt as I started laughing uncontrollably at the fact that I had now waited nearly 15 minutes to pull out of this grocery store.

The light turned green and the woman sped away angrily, but the car behind her didn’t move. I looked at the driver and saw him smiling, nodding and waving me to go in front of him. It occurred to me that he had been watching me the whole time I was watching the woman. Like he recognized that I was at my wits end and was somehow moved to help.

All at once I felt less alone in the world, more optimistic about the future, and grateful for the kindness of others. Finally being back on the road again made me thankful that I was moving in the direction of home at any speed at all. Even with the restriction of heavy traffic, I had a new appreciation for the freedom I had to go do whatever I wanted. So I decided to use that freedom to aggressively tailgate the fuck out of that mean bitch in the Tahoe for two miles straight.

7 Ways I’m a Weirdo

This is a humble brag-free zone. None of these things are cool. They’re all just weird.

1. I sleep with 7 full-sized pillows (if unaccompanied)

I basically need to be completely surrounded by things when I sleep. I think it’s because for the first 10 years I was alive, I used to roll out of bed and onto my Barbie littered floor every night. 

2. I’m a delayed bleeder

When my dermatologist cut part of my arm out and saw no blood, he decided to just put a bandaid on it. It was only on the drive home that blood started pulsing out of my arm (like at least 6 oz). 

3. My cat has 4 different food options

Look, I do pretty well about not constantly talking about my cat IRL, but in private, I’m a full on insane. We have a completely ridiculous system worked out where, depending on where she is sitting and crying, I know what kind of food she wants. 

4. I’m afraid of being outside alone when it’s dark

A combination of growing up in a cult, scary movies, and my mom loving to lie did this to me. I grew up thinking that I only had like 8 safe hours a day to be outside. Even though I don’t believe that anymore, and I do go out when it’s dark out, I still feel anxiety about it. If I’m with another person, none of this applies.

5. I’m actually pretty dumb

Here’s something I’ve never admitted to anyone: I’ve read over a hundred books that I only remember tiny slivers of. Basically, my only natural strengths are solving puzzles and reading body language. They are the least valuable things to be good at ever. So I have to work 10x harder to learn virtually anything.The greatest example of this is grammar/punctuation, except I mostly don’t care about it anymore. It’s fine if you think I’m stupid because I can do an extra hard sudoku puzzle in like 5 minutes.

6. I love to hack everything

Because I am naturally very dumb, I am obsessed with body/mind/life hacks. Little things that make every day stuff easier so I can put more of my energy into pretending to be smart. I take supplements to make my brain work better. I time myself so I can get menial tasks done quicker. The best one though? If you have a sore throat press your thumbs as hard as you can into your jaw-joints and after a minute slowly ease up. Bam. No more sore throat.

7. I let “intuition” ruin my life

There have been a handful of times when my intuition has been crazy dead on. Like doing something completely out of character for no reason that results in something life changingly great. Or last minute deciding not to go somewhere for no reason and finding out someone got shot in the place I was supposed to go at the time I should’ve been there. Stuff like that has happened enough throughout my life for me to wonder if every little thing is a sign that I should or shouldn’t do something. Have something in my eye? Better not go to that party tonight! It’s crazy and I know it and I need to stop, but also I don’t want to get shot.

My exciting life

  • Me: I am really sick.
  • Mom: WHAT IS IT?
  • Me: Sore throat, high fever, just too tired to move.
  • Mom: WHO GAVE IT TO YOU?
  • Me: I couldn't possibly know that and even if I did, what am I going to do, put a bounty on their head?
  • Mom: JUST GO TO THE DOCTOR NOW!
  • Me: Calm down. I have an appointment later today.
  • Mom: WELL GO TO THE ER! PEARL'S SON HAD A SORE THROAT AND HE DIDN'T GO TO A DOCTOR AND IT TURNED OUT HE HAD STREPTOCOCCAL MENINGITIS AND NOW HE IS PARALYZED FROM THE WAIST DOWN FOR LIFE!
  • Me: I don't believe that is true.
  • Mom: DO YOU NEED ME TO FLY THERE RIGHT NOW?
  • Me: No. You are making me so stressed out. I need a Valium.
  • Mom: ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY THAT I AM THE CAUSE OF ALL YOUR ANXIETY!?!?!!?!!?!?!?
  • Me: I have to go lay down.
  • Mom: I AM SO WORRIED I FEEL LIKE I COULD THROW UP!!!
  • [this was a phone conversation, but I felt like all caps best describes my mom's tone of voice]

Worst Massage Ever

Today I had the worst and most bizarre massage experience of my life. Initially, I had no reason to be nervous about the massage. I’ve gone to this spa several times in the last few years and although I’d never had this particular massage therapist before, she seemed very nice. 

I told her I just wanted a light to moderate pressure massage. No focus points, just relaxation. She nodded, as if she understood what I was saying. Then I undressed and got on the table. When she came back in, this was the conversation:

Were you cooking today?

Uh, earlier? Yeah.

What were you making? Smells spicy.

Sorry. I had barbacoa going in my crockpot. But I just took a shower before this.

Oh. Are you a hispanic?

[extra long silence] No.

I worked at Chipotle before this job. I love barbacoa.

[silence]

Maybe it’s your hair. It smells spicy, like a coconut.

OK.

All I could think was 1. How could anyone mistake the smell of coconut for spice? 2. I just told her about my barbacoa for no reason. 3. I will do anything to make this woman stop talking.

Next, she sat on a stool and started on my neck. After drenching my shoulders, neck and chest with enough oil to make me feel like a wet baby seal, she laid her motionless hands on my shoulders for approximately 30 minutes. Except for brief, intermittent breaks where she dug her thumbs into my neck and shoulder muscles, it just felt like she was praying over me. I gently reminded her I was looking for a light, relaxing massage, but her only response was to lovingly reposition her lifeless hands on my shoulders.

When she got up from the stool, I felt relieved. Surely things would get better in whatever time we had left together. After completely saturating my legs in oil, she sat on the table and lifted one leg all the way up into the air. She then oiled her way down my thigh to an area that was PERILOUSLY close to a definite no-touching spot. Every muscle in my body went ridged as the idea of her oil drenched hand accidentally slipping inside either Door One or Two seemed less and less far-fetched. It was even worse when she got to the other leg because I knew what to expect.

When it was time to roll over onto my front, I was coated in so much oil that the sheet beneath me got all bunched up. Instead of asking for her help straightening it, I decided to quietly feel grateful that I hadn’t just been finger blasted by an ex-Chipotle worker, and laid on the giant knots of fabric.

It didn’t seem that bad at first, but then she started digging her thumbs into my back. The feeling of her taking out her aggression on whatever critical fluid that runs along my spine was punctuated by the feeling of the fabric knots beneath me going into my stomach cavity, shifting the placement of various internal organs. For approximately 15 minutes, my only thought was that I might leave this table paralyzed or blind.

When it was over and I was getting dressed, I struggled over whether I should tip her or not. Sure, this experience left me more stressed and sore than when I arrived, but maybe I should have been more clear about what I wanted. All it took was a quick feel to see just how close the massage oil got to my perineum for me to decide to leave no tip.

Sitting here at home, eating my barbacoa, still glistening with oil, I somehow feel guilty about it.

This is a real thing/person/hairstyle that was not created to be a joke.

If I ever get married, this is the ring I want. I hate diamonds and would get tired of any colored jewel. But this is perfect. And it’s on sale. So whoever is going to marry me better get their shit together fast.

I wish life were like Candy Crush so that when you’re out of moves it automatically shuffles everything for you.