Random Thoughts for Today

/ Lesley Rebecca / Leave a comment

Every once in a while my mind kicks into overdrive and there aren’t enough Facebook statuses to compensate for all of the things I’m thinking. Today is one of those days.

First of all, ice cream is the devil. I’m a recovering foodie. Even the cheap leftover plastic-tub-birthday-party stuff that lingers in my freezer is tantamount to wafting a cold Colt 45 under the nose of a recovering alcoholic. I feel like I’m on a bender and once it’s gone, I won’t have to look at it anymore. I can quit whenever I want. I repeat this mantra to myself every morning. It’s 11:30 and I’m having my first bowl.
Trying to make friends as an adult is harder than when I was a kid. I was quicker to forgive thoughtlessness a child. Now I assume that if somebody has had 32 years to learn how to behave and they still hurt you, they’re either selfish or just not that concerned with your feelings.
My mother’s cycle was completely consistent for at least 15 years. All three of her kids birthdays happen on the 22nd or 25th of their respective months.
I’m not sure I ever want to have kids. I’m of the age that I should do it soon if I’m going to do it at all. However, the thought of never sitting outdoors, under the warm summer air listening to John Mayer riff on his guitar makes me sad in a way that I simply can not articulate.
I watched five seasons of Lost in two weeks. Now I have to wait until January for the last season. I miss my friends.
At the urging of my friends I’ve broken down and created profiles on a two internet dating sites. One of the first things I find out is where they see themselves living in 10-15 years. If they say the country or a small town, I’m out. Judgmental yes, but I’m getting too old to waste time with somebody who I know isn’t compatible. I just see my life being bigger.
I’ve always thought of myself more as a Sidalee from Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, but every once in a while I get a glimpse of Vivian.
I’m bored with two solid days of studying and homework. I don’t actually want to leave my house, but even my pretend British husband is too busy to pay attention to me today. Perhaps the gluttonous way I’m consuming cheap ice cream is off putting to somebody who aspires to see me naked one day.
I need a nap before I take my brother to the movie. My body isn’t accustomed to sugar anymore and the evil ice cream is towing me under.

Why Aren’t You Seeing Anybody

/ Lesley Rebecca / Leave a comment

I’m asked on a fairly regular basis why I’m single. I laugh it off and tell people that I enjoy being a unicorn. I’m 29, in the South, never married and I’m nobody’s baby mama.

Sure I have a (very) few friends that are (at least publicly) happily married. I don’t begrudge them their married smugness, but even the happiest couples I know sometimes look at me with longing in their eyes as I discuss the latest episode of “The Nights of My Life”. I don’t pretend that the events that transpire between the hours of 8 p.m. and 3 a.m. are the axes by which the Earth turns, but for some reason my life seems to be a never ending source of entertainment for the masses.

I enjoy the freedom that my life has right now. It’s not just the going out, it’s the staying in, it’s knowing that I don’t have to cook if I don’t want to eat. I’m not worried about doing the laundry so somebody else has clean underwear to wear to work tomorrow. I don’t think that everybody who has succumbed to domestic bliss is wrong for doing so, it’s just not where I’m supposed to be right now. At some point I’m sure I’ll meet a guy and I’ll be excited about his ex-wife (and kids) and you may even get a phone call when I get a pesky stain out of a shirt, but it’s not happening any time soon, compadre. And why would I want to? Do you have any idea what’s out there for single women right now? That’s an entirely separate blog.

One day I’ll meet a guy without a popped collar, that indulges my Dallas Cowboys habit, is smart and has a sense of humor, goes with me to listen to live music, enjoys everything from indie rock to county, knows how to get me to stop talking when I’m nervous, makes an effort to hang out with my friends after I’ve spent time with his, likes to travel just for the sake of traveling and doesn’t get mad at me for planning vacations, helps me clean up after I cook, kills bugs for me, likes it when I sing, thinks it’s amazing that I want to go to Africa, isn’t completely afraid to dance in public, knows not to pour the coffee before it’s done brewing, can handle himself when he’s drinking, knows something about red wine, doesn’t beg me to sleep with him when I say no, will just lay in bed with me at night and read and would rather lay on a bed of needles rather than ever break my heart. Until then, I’m happy working on my life and not doing some other random guy’s laundry.

Foreign Policy in the Workplace

/ Lesley Rebecca / Leave a comment

Due to the fact that I work for the state government at an undisclosed location, we have the strictest of security measures (make sure to read that with a lot of sarcasm). In moving to my new apartment, I’ve misplaced my identification badge. In all honesty, it’s probably still sitting in my ex’s apartment being held hostage by a crazy man, hoping I’ll deem it necessary to drive an hour and collect the worthless piece of plastic in person, but I digress. As the result of an error as egregious as failing to have my ID with me upon entry of the building, I have to stop at the temporary badge terminal every morning, type in some identifying information and this nifty little machine spits out a sticky badge with my grainy, unflattering picture on it.

I was running late (as usual) yesterday morning when I stopped at the terminal. There was another woman standing there finishing up the process. By finishing, I mean she was standing there applying the sticky badge to her clothes. She was hispanic and, to be honest, was dressed in such a manner that it seemed she was more likely to be a recipient of our particular governmental agency’s tax-free handout than she was to be working anywhere in the building. As she stepped away from the terminal and began to collect her belongings, I stepped up to begin my hurried, morning ritual. Apparently, I had failed to realize that she had spread every possession she had brought with her from Mexico across the counter where the terminal sat, because she turned while gathering the items to my right, nodded at all of the items to my left, looked at me and said, “Eehcksckuhse me.” Let me qualify that by saying that when she spoke, she did so with the most indignant look on her face I had seen since John Edwards was asked if there was any chance the baby was really his. It was as though she half expected me to steal the cartridge to her 10-disc changer or her sombrero (No, she didn’t really have a sombrero, but I’m painting a picture here).

I backed away from the terminal, apologized for not noticing that she had apparently brought the entire contents of her 1984 light blue Toyota Corolla and allowed her to pick up the items to my left. As she still seemed to be moving at Mexico-speed, I stepped back up to the terminal to continue with my task. After all, I have a boss upstairs who thinks I don’t do any work, regularly takes a silent roll call and I needed to get to my desk. Let me state for the record that I wasn’t blocking her from retrieving her items while standing at the terminal. All Conchita had to do was take three extra steps to step around me. Apparently all the enchiladas and nacho cheese have made her fat and extremely lazy.

As she turned to walk through me again, she looked at me like I was wearing her pantalones on my head and again said, “Eehcksckuhse me,” but this time, with a much more indignant, how-dare-you-try-to-take-away-my-healthcare-I’m-not-even-allowed-to-work-in-this-country kind of look. At that point I shot her my best, shut-up-go-make-me-a-chimichanga-and-remember-I-like-my-margaritas-strong look and took a step back from the terminal. Apparently my presence in front of that computer terminal may as well have been a border fence between her and her belongings.

As she stepped back to my right to continue packing the belongings she was able to smuggle in as she ran for the border, she mumbled something in Spanish. Since most of my Spanish comes from working in restaurants, I was able to decipher that whatever she was saying didn’t involve my boobs or how she wanted to take me home. I couldn’t understand her.

What I said in reply to her mumbled Spanish that she didn’t want me to hear, I’m sure she understood. “If you’d get your crap and get out of my way, you wouldn’t be having a problem this morning.” I smiled sweetly as I watched her walk away from me. I was tempted to yell “Andale!” across the room to her, but given the number of witnesses to what would be deemed a highly discriminatory act, I decided against it.

So remember kids, sometimes it’s better not to flaunt all the Spanish you learned from Speedy Gonzales.

Friends With Kids

/ Lesley Rebecca / Leave a comment

A lot of my friends have kids. My best friend has three under the age of 6. I love all three of them as individual entities, but there are occasions when I’m left alone with them for extended periods of time that make me question their mother’s sanity in deciding to procreate. Last weekend could best be described as watching three dogs tree a squirrel. They can be so sweet and loving at times, but you can see that they’re plotting something when you look in their eyes.

These are the kids that are going to tie up their babysitter as soon as they know where the rope is. I don’t attribute it to parenting as much as I do their mother’s youth. Karma is a bitch at best and simply has a twisted sense of humor at worst. I’m betting karma isn’t so much worried about everything I’ve done, as it is laughing till it can’t breathe where I’m concerned. Karma knows what’s coming for me.

As of right now I’m not planning on tackling raising any Mini-Me’s anytime soon. As I type these words, the oldest of these children is trying to climb up the back of my shirt, one toddler is running around in circles wearing a motorcycle helmet and the other just handed me back what was my glass of water. I’m sure the contents now consist of two solid ounces of backwash.

I don’t plan on having kids, but the idea isn’t abhorrent to me. I just want to make sure there’s a dad around to do things like discipline them, help me out, buy stock in whatever pharmaceutical company makes Xanax and go get me ice cream if I ever find myself craving some at 3 a.m. I’ve often thought about avoiding the whole pregnancy thing completely and just adopting some 17 year old that’s already potty trained. I can just send them to college and feel like I’ve given back to society.

“Congratulations on your graduation little Timmy! Have fun in college. I’ll send a check for tuition. See you at Christmas.”

When I kept the girls over night last weekend their mom called after I had them in bed to find out how things were. When asked what I was doing now that they were asleep, I told the truth.

“I just took a Xanax. Now I’m curled up in the fetal position sucking my thumb.” It all has to come full circle sometime.

My first John Mayer PDA

/ Lesley Rebecca / Leave a comment

(Update: 3/11/12) In relocating all of these early blogs to this URL, it occurred to me that I’m one month shy of purchasing the album in question below, and I’m just as in love with his music now as I was then.)

I must say that his cd is amazing. I haven’t been able to stop listening to it since I got it in April. He was incredible live, and I can’t wait to see him in September at the Ryman. I will be the first in line to get tickets the day they go on sale. I’ve turned a quite a few people onto him after seeing him at Riverstages here in Nahsville. Everytime I hear him sing a portion of the lyrics from Wonderland (see footnote below) I get the chills. He makes spending Saturday cooped up in your office tolerable.

I Fell In Love With New York

/ Lesley Rebecca / Leave a comment

Because Mondays apparently exist as a weekly test to see if I will indeed hang myself from the rafters of my office, every Monday I will reflect on a happy memory. This may be the only way I make it through Mondays, as I don’t see myself creating any very happy memories on Mondays in the near future.

New York was possibly one of the best experiences I have had in recent memory. I had waited for so long to go there. For two days I did whatever I wanted, and dragged my best friend along for all of it. Seeing as how my best friend is also my boyfriend, it was very good of him to humor me at the 5th Avenue Disney Store and Tiffany & Co.

I have yet to figure out how Geraldo Rivera was in Afghanistan, ducking gunfire at the same time he was at Serendipity enjoying a frozen hot chocolate at the table next to mine. I spent a couple of hours enjoying the Norman Rockwell exhibit at the Guggenheim, as well as a brazilian art exhibit, and making fun of art connoisseurs who were looking at what appeared to be pieces of scrap metal welded together and wigs hanging from the wall. After I’d had my fill there, I dragged the guys to the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art.

All I wanted to do there was see Van Gogh. The place was massive, and the maps weren’t helping me, as I kept confusing periods of art and wandering into the wrong hallways. By the time I found the Van Gogh works I’d lost my best friend somewhere in the building, and actually started crying because I wanted to do everything I could with him. Sometimes memories aren’t as wonderful without somebody who shares them with you.

Toys R Us in Times Square was amazing. There is a 4 story ferris wheel in the foyer and the carts are all done in different toy themes…Toy Story, Tonka, LEGOS, Barbie. The Barbie section of TRU was, in large part, housed in a large version of the Barbie Dreamhouse. There were LEGO displays scattered throughout the store that must have taken days upon days to construct and a giant T-Rex that guarded the Jurassic Park section. I feel like I’m 5 years old at times. What kind of an adult gets excited over this stuff?

I’m going to go back this fall. I need to go back to Tiffany & Co. to buy the silver heart tag necklace I left behind, eat at cheap pizzarias in the Village, and take a walk in Central Park. Two days in the city weren’t enough. It felt like home. I don’t want to forget a second of it until I can go back.

Hawaii

/ Lesley Rebecca / Leave a comment

Generally, by Friday mornings I have resigned myself to the idea that I won’t actually make any significant headway with my work and that I am destined to spend every other Saturday there for all eternity. Every other Saturday, and the week preceding it, are punishment for the sin of talking myself out of working the Saturday and Sunday immediately preceding said week. It’s scaring me that I’m starting to talk like an attorney at times…”said week”?!?! Who says stuff like that? Anyway, back to my own personal hell…I will spend all weekend trying to get caught up, and will pray that, by the time I leave for Hawaii on Thursday, that it remains as such.

That’s right people, I said Hawaii…for seven days. And just so you will hate me more than you do already, let me tell you it’s free. I won’t go into boring details about how I got the trip, although it was through a friend of a friend. We are staying at an incredible resort, and I leave for Honolulu on Thursday. God help the people on the plane around me. 18 hours of me and Dr. Phil books. I’ll have everybody on the plane in therapy before we land.