tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-364564832024-02-07T06:57:07.423-07:00From the Mixed Up Files of Happy Fun Pants...note: this blog is not about pantsHappy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.comBlogger497125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-69468121244598658642016-01-26T13:53:00.000-07:002016-01-26T13:53:47.327-07:00Goodbye and thank you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmajJmC63hMmoiZgx2Vd_1SdDAwI6_umyOttuyUvzxmoNORbZjwoWHXdu5DZ_0H0FeG4aHtUby_nZzesRK5lGIozPl6gu79-d5yC1huLU7ldL12NAqVjO-9990I1E4voHxtdIvsg/s1600/Let-Go-Of-Things-That-Are-Not-Meant-For-You.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmajJmC63hMmoiZgx2Vd_1SdDAwI6_umyOttuyUvzxmoNORbZjwoWHXdu5DZ_0H0FeG4aHtUby_nZzesRK5lGIozPl6gu79-d5yC1huLU7ldL12NAqVjO-9990I1E4voHxtdIvsg/s320/Let-Go-Of-Things-That-Are-Not-Meant-For-You.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I have two favorite musicals - Chess and Evita.<br />
<br />
Chess, because I went to see the musical in my teenage years and there is a song titled "Nobody's Side" which is heartbreaking and full of all the self-protecting angst that any teenager with my background is likely to embrace. It's like "I Am A Rock" by Simon and Garfunkel on steroids. Or more aptly, hormones.<br />
<br />
Evita, because one of my best friends in college loved the musical and dragged me to it. I know every word by heart thanks to the limited amount of CDs that I could have in my car on cross-country trips.<br /><br />There's a song in Evita titled "Goodnight and Thank You" and the song is about how Evita basically used men in her life to get her to where she wanted to be.<br />
<br />
Uplifting, no?<br /><br />This past year, I've done a lot of saying goodbye AND thank you.<br />
<br />
I quit my job in Denver where I worked for a great company and had a great management position. I picked up my tiny family (consisting of my daughter and myself) and moved to northern Colorado working for a small company with little chance of upward mobility. I've said goodbye to the career path I thought I'd always wanted and to a busier lifestyle that suited me for a while. I've unfriended all but one of the guys that I wish I would've married if I just wouldn't have been so stupid (and one guy that I met after he was married). They're all married and I got tired of seeing status updates and wondering what my life would've been like as their wife and as the mother of their kids, The last guy I should still unfriend is someone from my first semester in college I never even dated but definitely should have. We have many shared friends so the unfriending wouldn't exactly remove him from my newsfeed.<br />
<br />
I've said goodbye to unhealthy patterns and friendships that were too time-intensive and drama filled to maintain. I've stood up to people who have tried to push me around for years and have found my voice to tell my family that I don't want to raise my daughter like how I was raised. Some of these were easy to walk away from and some, like one of my very best friends from college where we realized we just had grown apart, were harder. In each friend or pattern I let go, I felt better.<br /><br />I've swapped my fast-paced and on-the-go mentality to be one that is a bit simpler. It takes 15 minutes to get to any location in the town I live in now.<br />
<br />
I've given up cable and watch the occasional show on Hulu or Netflix. I don't even have an antenna for local channels.<br />
<br />
I spend time with those few people that truly feed my soul and I spend quality moments with those that understand me at my core. <br />
<br />
I spend quality time with my daughter and the very best sound in the world is her laughing at something I'm doing to make her laugh. She is smart and has a keen sense of humor already. Well, that, and she finds farts as funny as I do. <br />
<br />
Instead of blogging, every once in a while, I email her pictures, videos, snippets of our day, or cherished memories that I know neither of us will remember by the time I give her a password to the email account. Because let's be honest, I was never going to keep up with updating a baby book.<br /><br />My evenings consist of me picking her up from day care, cooking our dinner while we sing (and she pulls out every piece of Tupperware I own), giving her a bath, reading books together, and then putting her to bed by 7:30. I'm usually asleep by 9:30.<br /><br />I'm cooking more, eating healthier, and taking care of myself much better than I ever have before.<br />
<br />
I still hope to marry. I hope that all of my chances at a great relationship weren't wasted because I was too scared to be with someone who treated me the way I'd always dreamed of being treated.<br />
<br />
I truly do love my life and I'm so thankful for the choices I made that led me to this place. I'm grateful for the people and interactions that I've had. I'm glad that I had the courage to let go of what I knew wasn't for me anymore and get to this place that feels right.<br />
<br />
My life finally feels balanced...or at least more balanced than it ever has been before.<br />
<br />
And of that, I am deeply thankful.<br />
<br />
<br />Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-26148739652840503722014-02-21T08:00:00.003-07:002014-02-21T13:06:18.637-07:00ClarificationsSo, wow! People still read this blog! Thanks for the comment and the messages to me personally - they are very nice to get!<br />
<br />
I figured that I'd clarify two things from my last post. I wrote it hurriedly while on a conference call and there were two things that probably need clarifying.<br />
<br />
First, when I said my family is happy except for my dad, I kind of need to put an asterisk next to that...because my dad doesn't really get happy about anything. He's very factual and not emotional (think Sheldon from "The Big Bang Theory"). And because he's a doctor he knows the risks of miscarrying in the first trimester so his first bit of advice was "try not to get attached." I shit you not.<br />
<br />
But he's supportive of me. He acknowledges that I'm pregnant, asks how I'm feeling, and lets me know that he's praying for me. In my dad's book, this is VERY supportive. But no, I wouldn't classify that as "happy."<br />
<br />
Secondly, when I said that some the ladies in the Single Mothers By Choice group were jealous, it came off like I was thinking that they didn't like me because I was so awesome. I mean, YOU know that I'm so awesome, but chances are these ladies haven't realized it yet. <br />
<br />
This group is made up of people that are thinking about doing this, trying to do this, or actually ARE doing this. And unfortunately, many, many people come to the group in their 40s wanting to have babies because they haven't found the right person yet. And by then (and I swear I'm not trying to scare any of you), it's too late. That's right - all the stuff people told me growing up of "You have plenty of time!" isn't true. The reality is, we kind of don't. Sure, you can look at the Halle Berry's of the world and think about how she is able to have fully healthy babies after 40. But what you don't know is what goes on behind the scene - she probably had IVF done (which is SUPER expensive to the average person) to make sure that there were no genetic defects and was monitored by lots of doctors to make sure that the pregnancy was going along as planned. Even then, you don't know how many tries it took to get her this far.<br />
<br />
The average woman doesn't have unlimited tries and resources to get pregnant.<br />
<br />
So when I say that they're jealous, what I mean is that I got pregnant on the first try. Without any drugs to trigger ovulation or beef up my egg quality. And sometimes it's hard to talk to another woman who has been trying for 5 years and has even gone down the path of egg donation (getting another woman to donate her eggs and then fertilizing it with donor sperm to put into the original woman to try to carry) and for me to say that I got pregnant on the first try.<br />
<br />
It's not that they don't like me...it's that sometimes it's hard to have a conversation with someone that doesn't realize just how lucky they are when you want that more than anything else.<br />
<br />
What they may not realize is that I get that too. Having just gone through Valentine's Day hearing about everyone's plans, gifts, cards, etc. wasn't the most fun I've ever had. Of course I want to get married and have a partner. So I get it and I at least can recognize that I am lucky to be able to be successful on the first try.<br />
<br />
So what am I most worried about? That the yogurt that I didn't realize was expired until AFTER I ate it won't cause my baby to have to wear an eye patch for his whole life. Or that because I feel fine and have no morning sickness that it means that something is wrong with my baby. I'm worried that I don't eat nutritiously enough or that the two Girl Scout cookies I had last night will cause my child to struggle with weight their whole life just as I have.<br />
<br />
From what I understand, that worry about my child doesn't go away. Ever.<br />
<br />
Even for Halle Berry.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-79167297239814079452014-02-17T14:41:00.001-07:002014-02-17T14:41:18.278-07:00I don't even know where to begin...Hi there!<br />
<br />
So much has happened since I last wrote that part of me wonders whether it's even worth continuing on this blog...<br />
<br />
First, the awesome boyfriend that I've known for years (and years) and was dating this summer? Yeah...that didn't work out. He is a fantastic person, but he has a significant drinking problem. When he contacted me via Facebook, I specifically asked how long it had been and his answer was "a long time." He also said that he and his ex had been over for "a really long time." Turns out "a long time" is relative. He stayed sober the entire time we were together, but when I left for a trip in the fall, I came back home to find him completely blotto-ed on my couch. I nursed him back to health (which was probably the most traumatic experience of my life) and then took him to his parents. He hasn't been able to stay sober for longer than 3 weeks since then and even then I think that was only one stint.<br />
<br />
In some ways, it was hard to say goodbye to him. Especially since I ostracized two people that meant something to me just to date him. But going through what I did - all that worry and drama is just not healthy. And I want a healthy relationship. I might sound cold about it but I think that's because I've processed through it and to be honest, it feels like it happened "a long time ago."<br />
<br />
Separately (and it's important that I stress that this is not linked to the breakup!), I resurfaced the thought about having a child by myself. As you might remember (hello, post below from October of 2012), I've been thinking about this for a while and I did a LOT of soul searching in late summer to figure out if this was the right choice for me.<br />
<br />
After researching lots of different methods, I found a choice that felt right to me. I planned and was finally able to get the green light to try.<br />
<br />
And I'm pregnant!<br /><br />My first attempt worked and I'll likely give birth at the end of September.<br />
<br />
I'm REALLY happy about this choice and sometimes feel overwhelmed...but from talking to my friends that have been moms, they all say it's normal.<br />
<br />
It's tough to do this by myself. I found out I was pregnant at 2 AM and called my mom and woke her up. My first ultrasound where I heard the heartbeat had me in tears and more than a little wishful that someone else was there to share in my joy and relief. I did record the heartbeat and sent it to my family. <br />
<br />
My family? They're super happy. Well, except for my dad, the doctor, whose first response after me telling him I was pregnant was, "You're kidding." To be clear, he's known that I was going through the process...but I don't think he (or anyone really) expected it to take on the first try.<br />
<br />
I'm not making it public on Facebook yet (so please refrain if you know me in real life). I'll announce after I get the 12 week ultrasound. I have a few more weeks to decide what to share and how.<br />
<br />
There is a support group that I've joined - called Single Mothers by Choice. They have a Denver chapter and almost all the women have been really supportive of me. Others are jealous or just plain old cranky. I guess they're allowed to be that way since they're pregnant too.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm happy. The baby is healthy. And life is good.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-27627490067501248862012-10-04T21:30:00.003-06:002014-08-18T10:45:46.927-06:00The truth is...The truth is...I've missed blogging. Actually, I've missed blogging a lot.<br />
<br />
So much has happened since I last wrote that sometimes it just feels easier to skip it all together. I find myself asking, "How do I give context?"<br />
<br />
But the truth is? I started this blog with no context for any of you...especially those who happened to find me somewhere along the way.<br />
<br />
So, since we're on this subject, here are many of my truths:<br />
<br />
1. I hate dating. Okay, this you probably already knew. But it feels a bit cathartic to actually write it.<br />
<br />
2. I want a baby. Badly. Not like I'm going to go all "Raising Arizona" on some unsuspecting family but bad enough that I am seriously considering sperm donors. Wow. That also feels cathartic to write that. Out loud. Ish.<br />
<br />
3. I've been in my new house for a year. One year and I'm still wondering if I did the right thing by breaking up with Joe. Because sometimes, I get lonely. And while I know firsthand that just because you're "with" someone doesn't mean that you don't ever feel lonely, it still sometimes eats at me. Because sometimes it's hard to forget the comfort and consistency that I found in his friendship.<br />
<br />
4. I've gained back every ounce of weight I've ever lost. And wow if that doesn't tend to fuck with your confidence regarding my first point. The thing is? As I get older, I'm starting to realize that guys mind a lot less than they ever have before. Unless you count my dad. Nothing's changed there...he's still a dick to women who are over 100 pounds.<br />
<br />
5. I love my job. I mean, I LURRRVE my job. For the record, I switched companies in April and I now work for a company that a certain sitcom likes to call Kabletown. Some days, I can't believe that they're paying me as well as they do to have as much fun as I have. I work in a supportive environment - one where I'm rewarded, praised, challenged, and accepted. Also, I get free cable. So yeah, I love this company.<br />
<br />
6. My first "real" boyfriend found me on FaceBook and friended me. That happened about a month ago. It's still weird. And I wonder if he's checked out my pictures, my posts, and anything about me. Don't get me wrong, I don't wonder this because there is any love for him still; he seems to be happily married and that's great. I think I feel weird because I was completely heartbroken when we broke up...and I was the one that dumped him. I just changed my mind about a day later and was an absolute mess and he knew it. I'd like to think that almost 20 years later, he's forgotten about it...but it's still kind of weird.<br />
<br />
7. I love HBO's "The Newsroom." They just finished showing their first season and it's no longer on Video On Demand. But I love it. A lot. And I want to recommend it to anyone. It's by Aaron Sorkin - the guy who brought you "The West Wing," "Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip," and "The American President." So yes, it's liberalish. But it's also fast paced, witty, and absolutely delightful.<br />
<br />
8. I have adopted two orange tabby cats in January. They're brothers. Their names? Oliver and Fat Gordon. And sometimes? I can't tell them apart. <br />
<br />
9. I have listened to "El Camino" by Amos Lee several times as I have been writing. His voice feels like it's snowing outside and I'm inside, bundled under covers, in a favorite sweatshirt and fun pants, sipping hot cocoa. Listening to his music is like being hugged...only with less groping. Probably.<br />
<br />
10. I can't think of a tenth thing.<br />
<br />
Until next time...Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-15499956348192791752012-02-13T11:38:00.000-07:002012-02-13T11:38:19.209-07:00No, it really *is* a toothbrush...Last week, I went on a business trip to a small town in North Carolina. I'd like to say that I had fun, but I like that this is a place where I can be honest. <a href="http://happyfunpants.blogspot.com/2008/10/shiny-happy-people-holding-hands.html">Like this time.</a> <br />
<br />
Anyway, right before leaving my hotel room, I usually do a sweep of the whole place to make sure that I leave nothing behind. But the day I checked out, I felt confident. I mean, I KNEW I had packed everything. <br />
<br />
Except that apparently, I didn't. <br />
<br />
I forgot my electric toothbrush. And it's an awesome one. <br />
<br />
So I called the next day (after realizing that I left it behind) and had a conversation that went like this with the lady at the front desk: <br />
<br />
Lady: Hi. Good morning. I'm in a crappy mood. I'm going to ask how I can help you, but I don't really want to help you. <br />
<br />
Me: Fabulous. Say, I checked out of your fine hotel yesterday morning and I realized last night that I left something there. I stayed in room 115. Can you tell me if your housekeeping staff noticed an electric toothbrush? <br />
<br />
Lady: Did they notice one? Well, I mean, they probably did. <br />
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Me: Great. Could someone send it to me? <br />
<br />
Lady: You really want us to mail you your toothbrush back? Can't you just buy another one? <br />
<br />
Me: Well, it's an electric toothbrush. <br />
<br />
Lady: Huh? <br />
<br />
Me: It's electric. It vibrates? So it gets your teeth really clean? It's made by SonicCare? They're not really cheap. So if they did find it, could you all send it? <br />
<br />
Lady: Wait. HA! Oh. I know what you mean. It's a vibrating "toothbrush." Hahahaha Yeah. We find those "toothbrushes" kind of often. But I've never had someone ask me to send theirs to them. <br />
<br />
Me: Um. No. I don't mean a vibrator. I mean it actually is a toothbrush. <br />
<br />
Lady: Uh-huh. Well, let me ask the housekeeping department and we'll hit you back if we found anything like what you're describing. <br />
<br />
Me: Uh...thanks. <br />
<br />
And scene.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-22486980079933148362012-01-10T10:54:00.001-07:002012-01-10T10:54:39.196-07:00Just a friendly Public Safety AnnouncementLast week, a co-worker named Stacey quit. She found a better, higher paying opportunity but the real reason she quit is that she couldn't stand her boss. In fact, no one can really stand the boss - it's not a secret.<br />
<br />
As is typical in my workplace, another co-worker sent out an email inviting people to meet up on Friday to celebrate with Stacey. <br />
<br />
So the email went out to probably 15 of us asking us to forward on to anyone else we thought was cool enough to be in attendance.<br />
<br />
One of the people invited, Chuck, wrote to Stacey and a few others this:<br />
<br />
"Alright! I'll come! And I'll bring the (insert Stacey's boss' name here) pinata!"<br />
<br />
Okay. So that's funny. Because I don't know anyone who wouldn't at least fantasize about hitting this person with a stick.<br />
<br />
But what he didn't realize is that he also sent this to Stacey's boss.<br />
<br />
Doh!<br />
<br />
Stacey's boss immediately forwarded the email on to our Human Resources person filing a grievance against Chuck stating that she felt that her life was being threatened.<br />
<br />
At Stacey's exit interview, our HR person said "Oh, and I won't be able to make it out for your going away celebration. I have other plans." Apparently SHE thought that when she was forwarded the email by Stacey's boss that she was actually being invited.<br />
<br />
Seriously. I can't make this crap up. <br />
<br />
Also? Check your To:, cc:, and bcc: fields before sending.<br />
<br />Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-80184868466541642682011-12-14T09:09:00.000-07:002011-12-14T09:09:04.849-07:00I'm a twoThis morning I had my yearly check-me-for-moles-and-skin-cancer appointment. It's important to have those appointments for everyone - but especially for us pasty people.<br />
<br />
I ended up arriving early* and got seated into the exam room pretty quickly by an overly-exuberant guy. I don't know what his function is but he's also the guy who answers the phone sometimes and also books follow up appointments. <br />
<br />
Anyway, we're in a closed room and he's asking me all the standard questions and then he looks at me critically and says, "Oh. You're a two."<br />
<br />
I must've looked a bit surprised...I mean, here I was, at 7:30 in the morning, looking as cute as I could muster without having a full mug of coffee, but wow. Honesty hurts.<br />
<br />
Because as soon as this dude leaves the door, I've got to strip down for a hot doctor to check my skin. As in every inch of my body. Under the ever so complimentary fluorescent lights. And if anything bolsters my confidence in these situations, it's having someone look at you critically and then rank you. <br />
<br />
OUT LOUD.<br />
<br />
So then he laughs and turns bright red and explains that "two" is just a way to describe people's skin color. 1 is people who are albino, 2 are people "like me", 3 are "typical" Caucasians, 4 are people who are Hispanic, and 5 are people who are "super dark." I didn't ask where Asians and any other ethnicity fell into place because I felt pretty certain I could fill in the blanks.<br />
<br />
So I made some paltry excuse of a joke like, "Wow. Sorry. I thought you meant something else at first. I just haven't had my coffee yet." And I pointed to the travel mug on the table next to me.<br />
<br />
Then, he stammers, and says, "No. You're a hottie. I definitely wasn't rating you as a two."<br />
<br />
I just blinked. Because, now what does one say?<br />
<br />
He blushes, then says, "Sorry, I'm not thinking. I haven't had any coffee yet. Can I smell yours?"<br />
<br />
Um. What?<br />
<br />
Oh! He means my coffee.<br />
<br />
Nope. That doesn't make it any less weird.<br />
<br />
I opted to laugh as if he was kidding. He laughed. And then gave me a paper gown.<br />
<br />
But you know what? I'm super appreciative of him - because no matter how compliments come about, it was nice to receive one. <br />
<br />
Even when I'm a two.<br />
<br />
<br />
* This is a huge accomplishment. The appointment was WAY down south in a hospital that is super hard to navigate. I didn't remember which suite he was in and I didn't write it down when they called for the appointment reminder. In fact, as the doors were closing on the elevator, I thought, "Crap. I should've probably looked at the little informational thing in the lobby to double check." <br />
<br />
But I got to the right suite, even though it was twisty-turny, on the first time. Early. I'm kind of my own hero.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-69465961129255858352011-12-06T10:31:00.001-07:002011-12-06T11:52:55.192-07:00Well, that sucked.Know how people are all, "Give nice guys a chance?" <br />
<br />
For the past 15 years, thought I did... but I guess I never really did. The last few months, I've had an opportunity to look back at the guys I've chosen routinely and realized that they've all had some serious issues right from the get go. <br />
<br />
The ones I've picked to stay with had issues with intimacy, issues with their moms, issues with their dads, or issues with me. But in all cases, they strummed a chord right on my heart strings - that chord being: "Stay. Help Me. Fix me."<br />
<br />
And apparently that chord always works with me.<br />
<br />
In truth, it doesn't mean that they weren't nice, but it does mean that they had some red flags.<br />
<br />
So each time, when something ended, I found myself inching the door to the possibility of a lasting love a little more closed. I have believed that those dreams - those nice things - weren't for me. <br />
<br />
The guys I passed up? They were the nice ones. The guys who treated me the way I should be treated - right from the get go. But the chord that they strummed never seemed melodic to me. I chalked it up to the chemistry not being there and moved on.<br />
<br />
Ending the relationship with Joe, was a great time to realize that the problem wasn't with ME. It's with the people I've continually picked. Which, okay, WAS with me. But hopefully you get what I mean.<br />
<br />
I took the time to re-calibrate my heart strings. And I realized that the ones that called for help weren't quite as melodic as I had thought. And the ones that offered genuine feelings of happiness and love sounded better than I ever believed.<br />
<br />
So this past month, when I had the opportunity to really look love in the eyes, I did.<br />
<br />
It started with a wonderful question - something along the lines of "Are you ready, really ready to be in love? Are you ready in your heart and your mind?"<br />
<br />
I looked within me, brushed off my newly re-vamped heart strings, and answered, "Yes."<br />
<br />
And it was WONDERFUL. The act of falling in love is an amazing feeling. It's fast, it's all consuming, and it feels beautiful. Like my blinders have been ripped off my eyes - and now I could start to see life's full beauty - which includes ME.<br />
<br />
I found myself peering through the crack in the door to lasting love. I found myself lured by it's charm. I started to (gasp!) hope. And when my brain tried to tell my heart to slow down, I reminded it that THIS type of story happens to others. Why not me? Why not us? Why not now?<br />
<br />
We even said several times that it felt like we were 15 again - to feel like the whole world was ahead of us and that we could figure out anything that came our way.<br />
<br />
To me, it felt like the first part of a drop on a roller coaster ride. I was scared, white-knuckling it...until something inside me encouraged me to just let go; to just enjoy it.<br />
<br />
And oh, how I enjoyed it. Because that feeling? It's amazing; intoxicating; heart-stoppingly beautiful.<br />
<br />
Until it wasn't.<br />
<br />
Realistically, I've recounted the weirdness of what happened many times with my friends and they all believe that something is clearly going on with him. And from the stories he told me about some of the girls that he met, they all reacted with similar disbelief when things ended. Judging from the outside looking in, this seems to be his MO.<br />
<br />
So, logically, I know it's not me. Or maybe it is. But I know that even if his opinion of me and us changed that quickly, it doesn't have anything to do with me. Yeah, yeah...maybe he got scared...but maybe he was just playing me. Maybe he's just damaged goods with entirely too high of standards. No matter how hard I try, I can't figure out what happened.<br />
<br />
Because to me, even if I got weird vibes or mixed messages, I'd want to ride the roller coaster again.<br />
<br />
But eesh. It still hurts. Just like the heartbreaks of 15 year olds.<br />
<br />
So how is it that I'm more upset about things ending with a man that I haven't known nearly long enough than ones that I've stayed with for entirely too long?<br />
<br />
Because my heart strings strummed a song that seemed to be in tune with his (and even I puked in my mouth with how cheesy that sounded). But that tune? It was one of the most amazing things I've felt and heard.<br />
<br />
So here I am. Sad, disappointed, and hurt. Maybe this is the rebound relationship effect. Or maybe it's because we really could've made it work.<br />
<br />
But I do know this: I need time to repair the damage - to my heart strings and my pride.<br />
<br />
So that the next time a nice guy asks if I'm really ready - for love and all the wonders it holds - I'll have the courage to say yes. I'll have the courage to walk through that door, down the aisle, and wherever else that path leads.<br />Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-64338956259804536552011-11-23T21:58:00.001-07:002011-11-23T22:25:54.885-07:00Oprah would totally be proud...Oh, hi there!<br />
<br />
I get it - it's been nine thousand years since I've posted and who knows if anyone still reads this thing... and maybe in some ways I kind of like that idea. I like being a little anonymous - being able to write my heart out while being completely truthful...and not worrying about who might read it and who might get their feelings hurt.<br />
<br />
Because honestly? This past year has been huge for me. While I haven't been blogging here (or anywhere else, really), I've been struggling to find my own voice.<br />
<br />
And what I found is that my voice doesn't have to be funny all the time. It doesn't need to be loved like it once did. <br />
<br />
A LOT of crap has happened this past year. Deaths, marriages, falling out with toxic people, a new job, and the cementing of new friendships. Oh, and breaking up with Joe.<br />
<br />
Those that know me IRL have probably already known that for a while. But those that didn't might be asking what the Sam Hill happened. And sometimes I really don't know.<br />
<br />
Probably we shouldn't have continued dating after some red flags were shown. Probably we shouldn't have moved in together. And probably I should've left him a year and a half ago when trust was broken. But I didn't.<br />
<br />
Sometimes it was easier to bury my head in the sand and pretend that I could will the problems to be better; that I could make it work for the both of us. I'm sure there were times when he felt the same way.<br />
<br />
But in the end, there was really only one decision - and that was to end things.<br />
<br />
And oh, how we did. Right in the middle of our couples therapist's office. Ummm...yes. We weren't married and we were already seeing a therapist together. Like I said, there were some red flags. But when you're living together and you truly love the person, wouldn't you want to try whatever it took to repair it if you could? Well, I did.<br />
<br />
Anyway, it sucked. Hard. Mostly because he was in so much pain and I knew that anything that I tried to do to mitigate it would just make it worse in the long run. So, he left. Right in the middle of the session. And I sat stunned on the couch wondering what to do next.<br />
<br />
The subsequent month or so that he didn't want to have anything to do with me was really craptastic. <br />
<br />
But my life is decidedly NOT craptastic. It's lovely. I bought a house in Sloan Lake (an area of Denver)..and I love it. Even though it's had some issues since I moved in, it's fantastic. I love the quirky kitchen and the privacy that it holds. I love the fact that it's a few blocks to the lake. I love that my stuff (which had been in storage for a year and a half) fits in it wonderfully.<br />
<br />
I love that I feel at home in my house. And after all the soul searching, I love how I feel at home in my skin.<br />
<br />
I love how free I feel and how optimistic I am about the future. And honestly? I love not worrying about Joe all the time; I love being able to feel free to do what I want when I want how I want.<br />
<br />
I'm back in El Paso for the week of Thanksgiving - hanging out with my sisters, mom, and new brother-in-law. It's lovely. For the first time in a long time, it feels like it takes less effort to be me. I can just be.<br />
<br />
And in case you're wondering, I am dating. I'm so new into it, they've pretty just been a lot of first dates. I've gotten to know a few men who seem to really enjoy getting to know what makes me unique. It's been fun to feel fresh, alive, and sexy. It feels great to be healthy enough to let the guys with issues, the ones I would've wanted to reach out and help, pass by and instead choose to interact with the ones that seem like they're not looking for someone to complete them.<br />
<br />
I may not ever be someone's wife. I may not ever be someone's mother. But I'm enough without those titles.<br />
<br />
I miss posting here. I miss writing about the crazy dates, the funny stories, and my life that doesn't have to do with living or being healthier. <br />
<br />
So perhaps I'll show up here more often.<br />
<br />
<br />Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-32565672243558903582011-02-22T15:00:00.000-07:002011-02-22T15:00:44.027-07:00Pillow talkLast night, after saying our goodnights and sweet nothings, Joe put on his CPAP mask and started to fall asleep.<br />
<br />
I, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about random stuff. <br />
<br />
One thing led to another and then I asked this question aloud before I was even really aware of it.<br />
<br />
"Do people in comas poop?"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>P.S. For the record, Joe says yes because bodily functions still happen even if you're in a coma. I get that, but after the first few residual poops, how is there anything left to poop out? I mean, aren't you pretty much just taking in saline solution with vitamins via an IV when you're in a coma? If so, wouldn't that NOT produce waste? Or do they put in a feeding tube? If so, why? I mean, wouldn't that make everyone's life harder? But if it's just IVs, does your pooper/intestines wither away without use? </em><br />
<br />
<em>P.P.S. You're welcome.</em>Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-82184173701666627182011-02-07T11:06:00.002-07:002011-02-07T11:07:16.047-07:00Fun with awlsThis morning, I woke up and took a shower, as I usually do (so far, this is the best post ever, am I right or am I right?).<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ744AcvA16Dty9U849JWgiUgCfZOb4XX-k2Dgi9U4v3egoVAydz3Ldx8yYwOnHYkCaHTs41wbz0UYu3WE3bRbIhrIg2FYK4YUUyrs23XESypjnSAXX05eR9S1PSCkXmsAhZCg7Q/s1600/Orangutan2_468x619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ744AcvA16Dty9U849JWgiUgCfZOb4XX-k2Dgi9U4v3egoVAydz3Ldx8yYwOnHYkCaHTs41wbz0UYu3WE3bRbIhrIg2FYK4YUUyrs23XESypjnSAXX05eR9S1PSCkXmsAhZCg7Q/s200/Orangutan2_468x619.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-455397/Orangutans-attend-jungle-school-returned-safe-forests.html">(source)</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>While in the shower, I noticed that the water was draining slowly. It's not a big surprise because, as I've written before, our shower pipes have enough red hair in them such that it probably looks like we shave an orangutan weekly.<br />
<br />
Which, to be clear, we do not. As far as I know. <br />
<br />
Anyway, being the wonderfully thoughtful person I am, I decided to use the Draino MAX gel solution so that the drains would flow freely by the time Joe took his shower. If you're keeping score at home, this should garner me a good 10 points.<br />
<br />
So I get out of the shower and dump 3/4 of the huge bottle into the drain in the bathtub and to my pleasant surprise, it goes down smoothly and without much of a fuss. I continue to dump the remainder of the gel down both of our sinks. He shaves which sometimes goops up the sink pipes...and since I'm doing the tub anyway, I might as well get them all done. Plus 15 points for me.<br />
<br />
Thirty minutes goes by and it's now time to rinse the drains with hot water for 15 minutes. I turn on both sink taps as well as the bathtub tap and finish doing my make-up.<br />
<br />
About two minutes go by when I realize that although both sinks are now draining as if they are brand new, the tub is sounding like I'm drawing a bath.<br />
<br />
So I peek into the tub and around then is when I gasp. Because the tub is not draining AT ALL.<br />
<br />
Know what that means? That the water in the tub is a diluted yet still highly toxic solution. <br />
<br />
Know what that means? a) Joe will likely not want to step in it and 2) there is no way in God's green earth I'm going to reach into to try to free whatever the blockage is. I like my skin on my arms thankyouverymuch.<br />
<br />
Quick! What would MacGuyver do? I quickly go to our bathroom pantry and look in there for anything that I could stick down in the drain to try to grab hair/debris to free the drain.<br />
<br />
Q-tips! Yes! That is the solution! So I grab a Q-tip and put it down in the water ... only the water is too high for me to hold the Q-tip and still have it reach to the drain. I quickly let go as I feel the water brush my fingertips and run to the sink to wash my hands of any on the Drano. Acid wash jeans may be making a comeback, but I'm too vain to acid-wash my hands.<br />
<br />
Around then is when I realize that I did, in fact, drop the Q-tip in the water and what now began as a "Dislodge the Clog" mission has spawned a side mission titled "Operation Q-tip Rescue."<br />
<br />
Using various instruments from our bathroom, I rescue the Q-tip and dispose of it in the trashcan without dropping any liquid on the floors. Plus 30 points for me.<br />
<br />
Only the drain? It's still not draining. <br />
<br />
I glance around our bathroom and realize that I can't grab any hair with anything we have in the bathroom. What I really need is a pair of rubber gloves. Only I don't know if we have any in our house. And I don't want to wake up Joe.<br />
<br />
So I figure that vice grips probably are just as good and BONUS! I know where Joe's tool box is. <br />
<br />
<em>I should probably pause here to explain that we live in a loft downtown. Like most lofts, we only have one window - and by design, the only way that light is going to spread through our loft is to not really have ceilings in our loft. So the walls of "rooms" don't go all the way to our ceiling (except in the bathroom). This means that any light in our house immediately spreads to other rooms. Because I get up earlier than Joe, I try to turn on as few lights as possible so that he can sleep as long as possible. This usually grants me between 10-15 points daily depending on if I stub my toes in the dark or not.</em><br />
<br />
I silently creep past our bedroom door into the study, reach through the closet to the toolbox where I managed to rifle around to try to find anything that feels like needle nose pliers. No such luck. Finally, I put my hands on something long, thin, and metal-y. Thinking it was a small screwdriver, I retrieved it and crept back to the bathroom.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFI8V06i_x4FIGS8YyVqPH_FkFuhmdwcHlfZrcEyd3c_v_R-3xhyphenhyphenX0LDHJde-cdksowNgqY3OPs89JpVyheU_H_oxvcbS3N46rNEfwMv7pNvTEC8LlnKT3OTjy1exhDzPcsvpWtA/s1600/awls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFI8V06i_x4FIGS8YyVqPH_FkFuhmdwcHlfZrcEyd3c_v_R-3xhyphenhyphenX0LDHJde-cdksowNgqY3OPs89JpVyheU_H_oxvcbS3N46rNEfwMv7pNvTEC8LlnKT3OTjy1exhDzPcsvpWtA/s200/awls.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.daviddarling.info/encyclopedia/A/AE_awl.html">(source)</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Turns out it was a metal thing that kind of looked like a screwdriver but had a knob on the end. The knob part was made from nice cherry wood. In other words, it's an awl. It's a nice awl...but I figured that the acid water wouldn't touch the nice wood - and the metal part would be sharp enough to actually free the drain of hair or whatever was clogging it.<br />
<br />
Turns out, after several attempts with the awl, it's not the proper tool for dislodging drains. Go figure.<br />
<br />
Out of time and options, I finally had to bite the bullet and go wake Joe up. Since I'm no dummy, I first woke him with a soft voice, a calming rub on his shoulder, and a kiss. Then I explained the problem and said that I was afraid that he'd have to shower at work or something.<br />
<br />
He got up without complaining, looked at the tub, saw that it wasn't draining and then got a plunger to unclog the drain. It worked on the first attempt (plus 500 points for him).<br />
<br />
On his way back to the cleaning closet with the plunger, he saw the awl on the bathroom counter. <br />
<br />
"What'd you use the awl for?"<br />
<br />
"Oh - I thought that maybe I could MacGuyver the drain with it."<br />
<br />
"With my awl?!?"<br />
<br />
"Well, yes. I mean, I couldn't turn the light on because I was afraid it would wake you and I couldn't find a screwdriver or needle nose pliers or-"<br />
<br />
"So, you used my AWL??!?!?!"<br />
<br />
"Yes! Aren't you proud of my ingenuity?" <br />
<br />
Turns out, not so much.<br />
<br />
Mental note: don't come between a man and his awl.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-78238749908264490932010-10-26T15:08:00.004-06:002010-10-26T15:15:27.511-06:00Because I can't make this up...<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgER0IeLymckqdDYdxiRmW76NZAh8aJgZSieihoar-n7KXyqbFlxeiVEsrWNwlj_a7tGa8p8wsRMcK8Ni3KkFywe20-u-j45D5-YAB1igQyWtxuxX1dpt1JQ5IvwqQuiwD_Vw4WiQ/s1600/people+are+like+slinkies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgER0IeLymckqdDYdxiRmW76NZAh8aJgZSieihoar-n7KXyqbFlxeiVEsrWNwlj_a7tGa8p8wsRMcK8Ni3KkFywe20-u-j45D5-YAB1igQyWtxuxX1dpt1JQ5IvwqQuiwD_Vw4WiQ/s1600/people+are+like+slinkies.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I wrote last month <a href="http://happyfunpants.blogspot.com/2010/09/lets-get-fiscal.html">about my boss and his incompetence</a>.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This morning I had my yearly review.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The only lines on the review form (written by him) say this:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"Anne has proformed very well in the ISR roll.She is willing to take on any task asked of her. "</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>(facepalm) <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">(sigh)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Well, at least I've proformed in my roll.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAmlxBipsLs8i5jG3fbaiYg7WTEvqDbzCKm8uf9jTyhDPqp24hm5uqK8BYH-5Y4y5tu7tvJZcpPq0eEsgp1DK50KU6xgRcxIu4_w51926I5XHgSuonYOSvg8K6Z723m0Khbj9CVw/s1600/i+high+fived+your+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAmlxBipsLs8i5jG3fbaiYg7WTEvqDbzCKm8uf9jTyhDPqp24hm5uqK8BYH-5Y4y5tu7tvJZcpPq0eEsgp1DK50KU6xgRcxIu4_w51926I5XHgSuonYOSvg8K6Z723m0Khbj9CVw/s1600/i+high+fived+your+face.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">He shared with me that I'm the only employee that he's marking as "exceeds expectations" and "above company standards."</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I know what they say about big fishes in little ponds...right now I feel like a genius among idiots. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Not quite as complimentary as one would think.</div>Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-36679061931859356202010-09-29T13:53:00.000-06:002010-09-29T13:53:34.167-06:00Let's just file this under the "Things that suck a whole lot" heading, shall we?So I have this THING in my uterus. (BTW, more blog posts should start out this way, no?)<br />
<br />
And it's not a baby.<br />
<br />
It's a uterine fibroid and apparently it WAS bigger than a softball, but NOW is bigger than a grapefruit. I'd like to take this moment to thank my surgeon for ruining a fruit that I actually used to like to eat.<br />
<br />
I would link to the Wikipedia page on uterine fibroids, but once you go there and see the pictures, you'll never want to eat anything again. Probably. Wait, maybe I should go there and check it out.<br />
<br />
Anyway, said fibroid makes me bleed for weeks on end and apparently is leaving me BARREN. That, by the way, is a word that I totally think should make a comeback.<br />
So I'm having surgery at the mid-end of October to get it removed. <br />
<br />
Assuming I don't die, I'll be off work for 6 weeks or so.<br />
<br />
During that time, I'll be catching up on my Harry Potter reading (I just finished book #3) and (of course) working on my never-go-wrong formula for figuring just WHO the baby daddy is on the Maury Povitch show.<br />
<br />
It's good to have goals.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-45735653926874551882010-09-14T14:52:00.000-06:002010-09-14T14:52:09.366-06:00Let's get fiscalSo it's been a long time since I've written about my work - at least anything slightly funny about work.<br />
<br />
I'd have to go back and look in the archives to see if I've mentioned it before, but Lance (the guy who used to be my co-worker and then became my boss) has a problem.<br />
<br />
One that is pretty detrimental to being a good manager.<br />
<br />
He gets his words confused. Big time.<br />
<br />
Like, almost a year ago, when they told us that we were going to be working out of a different building (another one that our company owns), he told us we were going to be working for AT&T. The part of our company has two of those letters, but not all three... you can imagine our confusion.<br />
<br />
There is a guy in our company who's name is kind of like Calvin Coolidge. He calls him Kelvin Kingston. No one knows why.<br />
<br />
We have a lady in our company who's name is kind of like Anne Botros. He calls her Amy Billings.<br />
<br />
It's like he can't hear people's names - and he doesn't retain the information. It's as if he just can't hear the difference between the words. Clarkson becomes Clarkston. Alan becomes Adam. Peaktronics becomes PeakLAtronics. Pueblo becomes Pleblo. It's SO weird. And confusing.<br />
<br />
But in this morning's meeting, he started talking about last month's numbers - which was our fiscal month #11 (our fiscal year ends this month).<br />
<br />
And he kept saying, "In FY 11, we did X amount of business." Since our fiscal year for 2011 hasn't started yet, we were a bit confused. And then he says, "Sorry...I meant in physical month 11..." Which ALSO doesn't make sense - because WHAT is a physical month?<br />
<br />
So he's going to our main headquarters today - to give a presentation. And I know that last month's numbers are going to come up. So I went into his office and asked him a few questions - ones that he answered with the same mistakes as earlier.<br />
<br />
I said, "I think you mean fiscal instead of physical." <br />
<br />
He smiled and said "Physical."<br />
<br />
Me: "Fiscal."<br />
<br />
Him: "Physical."<br />
<br />
Me: "It's spelled F-I-S-C-A-L."<br />
<br />
Him: "Okay." (He is not a good speller)<br />
<br />
Me: "You might want to learn the difference between the two words."<br />
<br />
Him: "Can't I just explain last month's numbers as FY 11?"<br />
<br />
Me: "No. The FISCAL year 2011 hasn't started yet. That starts October 1st. The abbreviation "FY" means fiscal year. So no...describing last month's numbers as FY 11 doesn't make sense."<br />
<br />
Him: "Well, how am I supposed to talk about last month's numbers?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Just say 'last month's numbers'."<br />
<br />
Him: "Okay."<br />
<br />
(sigh)<br />
<br />
THAT is the guy who manages this whole place. Nice guy. Really. Just not someone that I can really learn from, you know?Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-55196528608389254712010-09-08T14:37:00.000-06:002010-09-08T14:37:51.353-06:00It's less of an "update" and more of a "downdate."I interviewed for a job last week.<br />
<br />
I didn't get it.<br />
<br />
I'm still stuck in this hell that seems more and more like prison every day...except for the fact that there is slightly less stealing and selling of bodies. Other than that? <a href="http://happyfunpants.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-like-prison.html">JUST LIKE PRISON.</a><br />
<br />
The thing is, after the job interview, I was pretty sure that I didn't want the job - it was different than what they had explained it as. So I'm not upset that I didn't get the job as much as I'm upset that I still have this one.<br />
<br />
And yes, I SHOULD be happy that I'm gainfully employed. And I am.<br />
<br />
Only I can't believe that this is all that there is in the world for me. I don't make a difference. I have no purpose. I would be a starving artist downtown, but a) I don't do starving...have you SEEN me? and b) I don't have any "natural talent" when it comes to artistic things. Just another thing about me that is completely UNnatural.<br />
<br />
I've had several sets of guests in town this summer. Some mine, some Joe's. I've also flown out of town to visit friends. And in the end, I'm sort of sad I live here instead of where they live.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I have friends here. It's just...different than the friends that I have in the other places. Is it that when I visit them (or vice versa) we make the most of our time since we know we won't have much of it? Maybe.<br />
<br />
So, to catch you up quickly:<br />
1) I still have a job that is slowly killing me. I would say "killing me softly" but my job has nothing to do with songs. Also, I'm kind of loud and therefore there isn't a high chance of something me doing anything softly.<br />
2) I visited my best friend this weekend and we made another quilt (this time we finished the WHOLE thing this weekend). It's WAY cool and has lots of t-shirts that I thought I had misplaced until I moved this past spring and found a Rubbermaid tub of them under the stairs. <a href="http://happyfunpants.blogspot.com/2008/09/peoria.html">The last one was flannel</a> - this one is not...so I have a spring and a winter quilt. I'm lucky. Only I miss her so much that I'm pretty much cuddled in it the entire time I'm at home. It's pathetic.<br />
3) I still don't have a dog. Did I ever mention on this one that my dog died? Well, she did. June 22nd. That day can suck it. And because of where we live - in a downtown hi-rise building, we can't get a puppy. Potty training would be more of a nightmare than it already is. And I so want something else to pour my love into that I'm actually thinking of getting a cat. Someone check me into a mental hospital...I can't believe I just wrote that. <a href="http://happyfunpants.blogspot.com/2008/12/dont-let-picture-fool-you.html">I'm the person that doesn't like cats.</a> Maybe I should get a plant?<br />
4) I'm still running...in fact, today I signed up for my first race since the 5 miler that I ran in April. This one is just a 5K though, so it shouldn't kick my bootay TOO badly.<br />
5) <a href="http://happyfunpants.blogspot.com/2010/08/downtown.html">My dad still writes/talks about poop</a>. I'm so not kidding.<br />
6) I kindasorta wish I lived some place else.<br />
<br />
No...not a happy fun post, but hey, at least it IS a post.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-77017153378883931502010-08-20T11:57:00.002-06:002010-08-20T13:31:19.390-06:00Workin' it out...Last weekend, Joe and I were walking around downtown when we happened to encounter an older man with a younger woman on his arm.<br />
<br />
She was wearing a skin tight glittery outfit - with boots that had 6" platforms on them. Her hair was "teased to Jesus" as my friend Mike says...and her make-up looked like she might've been in some sort of Broadway production later that night.<br />
<br />
But oh-boy was she draped all over that man.<br />
<br />
Joking, I turned to Joe and said, "I have that outfit! In fact, I would've worn it today, but I was thinking about wearing it to work tomorrow."<br />
<br />
To which, he said, "Uh, Anne? She already IS wearing it to work."Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-80237031916610452222010-08-04T13:42:00.002-06:002010-08-04T13:43:42.447-06:00DOWNtownSo I live in downtown Denver. While there are a LOT of perks, there are some things that are just annoying. <br />
<br />
Like one time, I was walking from our parking garage to the entrance of our building, dodging pedestrians and people who seem to have just arrived on Earth. I say that because these are the people who, when normal walking protocol says they should...um...WALK, don't. Instead they slow down and look around with wide eyed amazement at all things. To be fair, maybe they're not aliens. Maybe they're just high.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I happened to be talking on the phone at the time to my dad, who is prone to discussions about diarrhea and regularity. Now, before you go and judge him, he's a doctor.<br />
<br />
Also, he isn't terribly great in what you might call "normal discussion." Obviously.<br />
<br />
So, I'm on the phone with him, hearing about his BMs* and I notice that a guy standing on the side of the street just LOOKING at me intently. It's weird - so I look at him and that's when I notice that...<br />
<br />
...YUP he's playing with himself. And I don't mean a game of solitaire. Unless by "solitaire," you mean touching his jabombies.<br />
<br />
I did what any other normal person would do. I gasped, covered my eyes and kept walking. My dad, having heard the gasp, says "I know! But that's probably normal given the fact that..." and then launched into what he had eaten to cause such a BM.<br />
<br />
It was like the grossest thing ever.<br />
<br />
And now YOU get to think about it.<br />
<br />
You're welcome.<br />
<br />
<br />
*BM = bowel movement. Which, incidentally, is what we were encouraged to call poop when we were little. Everyone else's parents would say, "Do you need to go doo doo?" and ours would be all "Have you had a BM today?" No wonder I'm odd.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-29532709218167327322010-07-29T15:06:00.003-06:002010-07-30T08:39:54.253-06:00Uh, your participle is totally dangling...I hate writing.<br />
<br />
Well, let me clarify. A lot of me hates writing.<br />
<br />
See, when I was a kidlet, I was super smart. Incidentally, however smart I was as a kid, I think I peaked. I think I just never got smarter.<br />
<br />
When we were little, my whole family moved from Colorado (where I was born) to Germany. And in Germany, someone had me tested. I was "gifted" and encouraged to leap up a few grades.<br />
<br />
My mom decided that developmentally, I probably shouldn't. She didn't want me to be teased or something. Which is funny because HELLO! I was teased like NON STOP even when I was in the correct grade. What the heck was going to stop people from doing such a thing just because I was in a grade higher than mine? Was she worried that they would use bigger words than "doo-doo head?"<br />
<br />
Anyway, the concession between teachers and my mom was that they would put me in higher math classes during part of the day. That way I could be brainy smart for some of the day but then a regular kid during most of the day. Like Peter Parker. Only without a penis. And more nerdy. And less super spidey abilities. But other than that, just like Peter Parker.*<br />
<br />
The effect of me going to the smarty math classes was that I had to skip out on the "regular" English classes. This meant that I never learned what a preposition was or why an adverb should be used in one place versus another. So by my parents trying to make me Nerdy Math Girl, they made me Nerdy Math Girl Who Doesn't Know Crap About Her Own Language. And NMGWDKCAHOL is a long abbreviation to put on a cape - no matter how big the girl.<br />
<br />
So long story short (too late), I don't know crap about writing. Anything that I do write correctly is because I know about patterns...and I can think about what I'm going to write or say, measure it against the way I've heard other people speak, and then repeat it like a parrot.<br />
<br />
Now I want a cracker.<br />
<br />
I'm worried that some person is going to pop up and comment something like, "ACTUALLY, everyone knows that an adverse adverb when pluralized belongs in the conjunction of the implied alliteration and the...." and then my head would burst into flames due to a) embarrassment and b) my brain can't take in all those English terms at once. Obviously. Because I'm pretty sure I butchered my mocking of English rules. Scratch that. I know I did.<br />
<br />
So I'll make a deal with you. I'll try to post more often here if you don't ever post a comment about how I'm using a pronoun or adjective incorrectly. Not that any of you WOULD, but I think I worry that I'm not a good enough writer. You know, good enough to blog in my own blogspot. That is free. And that no one is obligated to read. And that I don't get a grade on. (sigh) I get it. I'm irrational. But really, why else do you come here?<br />
<br />
And I know some of you. You guys are thinking, "But Happy Fun Pants! You're posting on your <a href="http://smallerfunpants.blogspot.com/">other healthy living/weight loss blog</a> almost ever day! Why do the rules of writing not apply over there?"<br />
<br />
My answer: THAT blog is for fatties. The readers over there are my homies, my people. And everyone knows that fatties stick together...it's like the one thing I DID learn in my "regular" part of school. So, the last thing they're going to do is post a snooty comment about the misplacement of a modified verb... lest I eat them.<br />
<br />
Deal?<br />
<br />
<em>*Let the record show that I originally wrote Parker Posey instead of Peter Parker. Man, I even suck at being nerdy! <a href="http://scribbinginthemargin.blogspot.com/">The Babe</a> nicely informed me that I was the most wrong ever (see comments below), but in my defense, how does she know that Parker Posey DOESN'T have a penis? Or Spidey Sense? I'm just saying it's a possibility.</em>Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-72450314116412032342010-07-28T09:09:00.015-06:002010-07-30T11:21:25.092-06:00POMably not what they had in mind...The kind folks at <a href="http://www.pomwonderful.com/">POM Wonderful</a> sent me some POM juice the other day. They actually didn't ask me to write a review...they just wanted to send me some juice. Normally, I'd shy away from this sort of thing (the whole something for nothing routine), but since they didn't pull up in my neighborhood asking me to get inside their white van, I figured I was okay. Probably just as well, chances are, <a href="http://funpants-reviews.blogspot.com/2010/07/learn-from-me-and-win-150.html">I'd have run straight into the side of it anyway</a>. *<br />
<br />
Actually, I was pretty psyched about getting the juice...I remember <a href="http://jackfit.blogspot.com/">Jack</a> (<a href="http://jackfit.blogspot.com/2009/06/pomegranate-juice-worlds-most-perfect.html">who thinks the bottle can double as a sex toy</a>) and <a href="http://www.ronisweigh.com/">Roni </a>talking about the freebies they got from the company, but they seem like such BIG bloggers...how did I get included on this list of who's who? I felt *very* cool. Which is funny...because I'm so NOT important. It's not like I'm Obama. Or Ghandi. Or Brangelina. Or even one of the Olsen Twins in their heyday (circa 1982). So basically, I got on the list via a typo by someone. Whatever, I'm totally taking it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I came home one day and Joe said that I might've received an organ in the mail. Thinking he meant a pipe organ, I gave him a quizzical look. So he said, "You know, like a heart. Not like a church organ! Who would send you that?" In my defense, he couldn't exactly think of someone who would send me a vital organ either.<br />
<br />
It turns out, he didn't know what was in the box, but he did see that it had a sticker on the side that said "REFRIGERATE IMMEDIATELY." So Joe did - without opening the box (he didn't want to violate my privacy). Thus his joke about someone shipping me organs.<br />
<br />
So I'll say this to any POM people who could or would be reading. You could really remove a lot of confusion surrounding the double meaning of the word "organ" if you would put a sticker on the side that said, "Refrigerate immediately. Don't be alarmed, though. This box does not contain any organs. Of any kind. Probably." That way if they WANTED to put organs in the box, they totally could without having to re-print stickers. Look at me, POM people. I'm totally making your shipping department more streamlined. You're welcome.<br />
<br />
When I finally got around to opening the package, there were a few bottles of <a href="http://www.pomwonderful.com/products/juice/blueberry/">POM Blueberry Pomegranate</a> juice and some great tips and info about pomegranates and its juice. All of that is at home or else I'd probably go into it here. Let's just say it's probably got a lot of health benefits. I know. I'm the worst on-the-spot reviewer ever.<br />
<br />
When we first got it, I drank some and handed the little cute-as-can-be bottle to Joe. Who took a sip and said something profound like, "meh." I liked it...it was sweet and tart, tangy and sweet. I should stop and say that I drink juice maybe once a year. I just got out of the habit years ago and never really reintroduced it. So while the POM juice was a welcome surprise and pleasant change, it's not something that I would normally pick up, just like the fate of any other juice. It's nothing personal, POM people.<br />
<br />
I WILL try cooking with it because they list a lot of great recipes on their website...and some of them look pretty tasty. <br />
<br />
But last night? I was trying to make room in the fridge for leftovers. Leftovers being something that I cooked and decided to not waste calories and stomach space on by eating. Smart right? Yes...you'd think so.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>While re-organizing the kitchen for better space usage, I saw these few little bottles of POM just waiting to be moved. Because they are weird shaped (but so cute!), I couldn't really stack them on top of each other...or stack them...or shove them in the fridge door. So I decided to drink one.<br />
<br />
But after a sip, inspiration struck me. I decided that what it would go REALLY well with was some Malibu Rum that was also in the fridge door.<br />
<br />
YIKES. What I found out was that this was the best tasting mixed drink EVAH. Tart, sweet, tangy, fruity, and YUMMY.<br />
<br />
Two little POM bottles later (16 ounces of juice, and 360 calories of JUICE) and a few shots of coconut flavored rum mixed in each time and I was happy. I even let Joe have a sip who said that I know how to mix a good drink. Right. That's me. The bartender....the one with hot-shot complicated drinks... like juice and alcohol.<br />
<br />
Good thing I passed on the leftovers...nothing like wasted calories, huh?<br />
<br />
(sigh)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">* Which reminds me, you totally need to enter that sweepstakes via the link...seriously, not many people have done so, so your chances of winning $150 are looking better each day!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">For those that double subscribe yes, this was over on <a href="http://smallerfunpants.blogspot.com/">Smaller Fun Pants</a> first. What can I say? I thought it was funny enough to be here too. :) Besides, I don't want the readers who only read this one to feel neglected... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Disclaimer: I was comped a few bottles of Blueberry Pomegranate POM Wonderful. But the honest review and tipsy-ness that ensued shortly afterwards was all me, baby!</i></span>Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-24334393567992815202010-07-21T11:58:00.000-06:002010-07-21T11:58:00.468-06:00Laugh and win!Good morning!!! I have something SO exciting to share with you.<br /><br />I was picked to write funny posts about fitness, eating, and cooking each month for six months by Laughing Cow and BlogHer. How cool is that?!?<br /><br />It's like the movie "Julie and Julia" but without Meryl Streep. And without Amy Adams. And it's not only about cooking. Also, it's not a movie. But you know, other than all that, this is JUST like that movie.<br /><br />So...since it's a sponsored thing, I can't post it on this blog. You have to <a href="http://funpants-reviews.blogspot.com/">go to my review blog to read it</a>. But please do!<br /><br />It's my first post on that blog... and I'm feeling a like I've just invited a bunch of people to a party, it's a few minutes until it starts, and no one is arriving yet. What's going through my head is the typical hostess cry, "OH MY GOSH WHAT IF PEOPLE DON'T SHOW?!?!? And what am I going to do with all of this cheese?"<br /><br />Leave a comment and you can win $150 in this month's sweepstakes. Although I don't have any control over it, I would love for the winner to be one of MY readers - because (and I may be a bit biased here) you guys are the best. If you want, you can become a follower on that blog and you won't miss another opportunity to enter the next few month's drawings as well. Also I will feel less like the kid picked last for kickball.<br /><br />Good luck and thank you in advance for checking it out!Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-42127330202125140732010-07-14T11:23:00.004-06:002010-07-14T13:30:50.950-06:00For Pete's Sake, Don't Drop the SoapI don't know when it started, but I'd miss it if it were gone.<br /><br />When I started dating Joe, over a year ago, I was struck by how...well...wholesome he was. He's *that guy* you want to take home to your mom. The one who says the right thing, who knows which fork is for what at fancy restaurants, and the one who can recite all the presidents we've had.<br /><br />But he's also a goof. <br /><br />A funny guy with a persistence unlike anyone else I've ever met when it comes to making me laugh. That's right. If I laugh once about something, you can believe that he'll make the same joke again and again until it loses it's funny. Which isn't to say that he is a one-trick pony. No. This guy is super witty and we joke about different stuff all of the time. It's just he's smart enough to know when a joke works.<br /><br />And truly, I don't know when it started, but it's been going on for a while and it still makes me break into giggle fits.<br /><br />He humps me from behind.<br /><br />Now, bear with me. This isn't another <a href="http://happyfunpants.blogspot.com/2008/10/shiny-happy-people-holding-hands.html">story about how I got felt up in church </a>or anything like that.<br /><br />What I mean is that if my back is to him and I happen to have my butt pushed out in some way, he'll <u><strong>pretend</strong></u> to hump me.<br /><br />The thing is, it cracks me up. To be fair, this only happens when he's in reasonably close proximity (he won't run across the room to "humpity," but if he's close and paying attention, watch out!) and when we're not in the presence of anyone else. AND it's not like he does this all day long. Nope, just a humpity or two in any given week. <br /><br />I guess what I'm saying is, he doesn't over-use the humpity. Not too much and not too little. The perfect amount of humpity action.<br /><br />I affix a deadpan look and usually after a few "humpity"s, he'll stop, step aside so he can see my face of complete boredom, and then look all proud of himself - like he's just given me a bunch of flowers. Sometimes he nods emphatically. It's usually then that I burst into laughter.<br /><br />So, reaching for something on top of the fridge? Humpity.<br /><br />Brushing my teeth at the sink and bending down to spit out the froth? Humpity.<br /><br />Stirring something in a pot on the stove? Humpity.<br /><br />During a long elevator ride? Humpity humpity humpity.<br /><br />Heaven help me if I bend over to tie my shoe...Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-83910441216552793352010-06-09T09:28:00.003-06:002010-06-09T09:44:15.218-06:00Venti Sized A-holeSo this morning, I was running late for work. I'm seeing a friend tonight for dinner that I haven't seen in a year or so (she actually lives in Kansas City) and I wanted to make sure that my hair didn't look like I have been grooming it with a rake in the past year. Sometimes, that takes time. I'm just saying.<br /><br />Anyway, even though I was running late, I was hungry. I decided to stop and get a Starbucks Iced Chai Tea because I wanted a bit of a splurge. Plus, it would tide me over until I got to work.<br /><br />I go into Starbucks, which is attached to the building that we live in, and there is a douche canoe apparently working the register. We'll call him "Douchey."<br /><br />Douchey is too busy doing something douchey (I don't remember what) to actually take my order at the time. So the barista (whom I LOVE but that's another story) turns to me and asks if she can get something started for me.<br /><br />Bonus points go to me for not singing "Let's Get It Started" by the Black Eyed Peas at that moment.<br /><br />And I freeze.<br /><br />Because here's the thing. There is a super secret cadence that apparently only Starbucks people know when ordering drinks. You have to say the size, the type of drink, and then anything extra that is special. But whatever order I THINK I should put it in, is wrong.<br /><br />In other words, somehow, like most things in my life, I always manage to fuck it up.<br /><br />What I want is the biggie size iced chai tea latte. I want it made with non-fat milk (because I'm watching the lbs) and with less ice (because I'm cheap - I hate it when the cup is all ice at the end and you realize you didn't get a lot of the drink). <br /><br />So I say, "I'd like a non-fat, light ice, venti chai tea latte, please."<br /><br />She nods and starts making my drink.<br /><br />I assume I ordered my drink in the right order.<br /><br />I am happy.<br /><br />The Douchey finally turns to me and asks me, "What do you want?"<br /><br />Despite the friendly greeting, I give him the same verbiage I gave the barista - because I'm in happy mood...after all, I just got the ordering part right! YAY ME!<br /><br />He looks at me and says, "So you want a venti, non-fat, light-ice, iced chai tea latte?"<br /><br />Well, yes. That's what I ordered, isnt' it? No. It must not have been...or else Douchey wouldn't have corrected me.<br /><br />So I have a light laugh and say something like, "Oh jeez. I thought I got the ordering part right, but I always mess it up!"<br /><br />And he nods and then proceeds to give me the directions of how to order it, "You're supposed to give it to us in the order that we write the instructions down the side of the cup." And then he goes and gets a cup SO HE CAN SHOW ME HOW WRONG I WAS.<br /><br />So I say, "Oh man! So now I have to memorize the side of the cup to order? I'm doomed!" again in a funny way so as to not threaten Douchey. I'm pretty sure there are a few rules in life that people should adhere to. And right next to "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!" and "Don't feed the lion" is "Don't threaten Douchey."<br /><br />Anyway, he says, "Well, only if you want it prepared the way you want!"<br /><br />So the barista says to me (as she hands my drink over and rolls her eyes at Douchey), "Or you can just remember that we get paid to understand what you want. Order it in any way you want and we'll get you taken care of. Have a great day!"<br /><br />Did I mention I love her?Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-65355790831911887342010-05-20T10:49:00.004-06:002010-05-20T11:20:40.162-06:00Vital ValuesMy company has gone through a lot of transition in the last few months. It started with the higher ups deciding to completely reorganize the structure of our company. In fact, the structure that they're now going with is a pretty bad idea. A lot of textbooks talk about how their "new" approach is doomed for failure and wastes plenty of resources. It creates multiple positions for what should be just one job. Their design <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">inherently</span> builds in conflict.<br /><br />Then they closed our facility - which was the top producer and top quality branch in the country (I'm not kidding) - only because it's lease was coming due. There was no other reason.<br /><br />Then they realized that it might be a bad idea for people like me to walk - so they kept some of us around. Only, after 6 months since they made the announcement to close our facility, they don't know where they're going to put us.<br /><br />They decided to cancel Christmas lunches, dinners, and basically any fun activities that we used to have. They downgraded the coffee and stopped providing coffee cups. They eliminated swizzle sticks (to mix your coffee with) and have started encouraging employees to bring their own pens. My boss told me that I can't move up without moving to our headquarters and that even then, I'd be passed over for consideration because (with the recent closing of our branch) I'm now a "satellite employee."<br /><br />What fun, optimism, and good cheer existed a few years ago when I joined this group is now gone. And that makes me sad.<br /><br />Today, they had a corporate wide "live" meeting (which means that the headquarters people got to have food catered in for their lunch and meet with the key decision makers in person and we got to call in hearing them belch and remark about the food) discussing our annual re-commitment to key values. <br /><br />Every year, each employee of my global company has to sign on, disclose any conflicts of interest, re-read the company policy to uphold the values that we're supposed to follow, and then take a quiz based upon what we've learned. It's a joke, but it's one that many big companies do. <br /><br />So this year, this meeting was called because the Presidents of the company wanted to make sure that we knew how important (vital even) the values of our company are. The 7 minute video, which was streamed so badly that we, the redheaded stepchildren of the company, got to see a frame update every 8 seconds or so, had a high enough production budget to save at least a few more people's jobs for the next year. It was hard for me to sit there, listening to how important the "right people are in the right jobs" when I realize that this company seems to be founded on horrible decisions.<br /><br />And while I'm dialed in to watch this presentation, I'm hearing my other line beep - I missed 15 phone calls from customers to hear my company blow smoke up my butt about how we all need to do the "right thing." Those 15 calls need to be returned, even still. My boss instructed us to work through our lunch to get the work done.<br /><br />Here's an idea - how about instead of you wasting hundreds of thousands of dollars on a film clip, you invest in another peon like me to help do the job that takes 13 hours to complete in a day but you're asking me to do in 8. <br /><br />The clincher of it all was when they had a "real world" example of inappropriate values in the workplace. They had been alluding to this during the whole presentation with phrases like "We took feedback from past years and we know some of the big issues you're facing with conflicts of interest and pressuring in the workplace. We're going to show a great example of this later." I was expecting to hear about some actual examples of the crap I'm consistently pressured to do (which is against company policy and yet high up managers are the ones doing the pressuring).<br /><br />Want to know what the biggest issue we have to face, according to our "leadership" team?<br /><br />Girl Scout Cookie sales.<br /><br />I'm not kidding. They had a workplace exercise where they had to caution us all on asking for donations to our own charities that only benefit the employee or cause. They specifically named the Girl Scouts as being an inappropriate organization.<br /><br />So then they opened it up to questions and here's what I learned.<br /><br /><ul><li>Sign up sheets for cookies or other fundraisers are inappropriate - even if you don't post it in a public place. They said it puts too much pressure on people to donate their time and resources that they may not have.</li><li>It is not appropriate to use any company resources for such charity requests. If you're going to have a sign-up on your person, please make sure to use your own pen (Hello! Who do you think is buying them these days?) not the company's pen.</li><li>The question was asked if it would be better to ask people individually at their desks to contribute. And I shit you not - the answer came back with as "Yes. As long as it's done during your lunch break." So just to be clear, a piece of paper in a lunchroom is too much pressure but having a one on one conversation with a co-worker where they're asking you to help is perfectly fine.</li><li>Another question was asked, "Is it okay to sell Avon to people?" and the person holding the meeting said "Yes, but not on company time." Alright, this one I get...but it frustrates me because it helps me see that someone in that meeting DIDN'T know the answer to that question and had to ask it. </li></ul><p>In short: I work for AND WITH a bunch of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">friggin</span>' morons.</p><p>Just so you know, I spent my time during the call applying for jobs on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">CareerBuilder</span>.com. It was, in this peon's opinion, a MUCH better use of my company's resources anyway.</p>Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-34796110447206653112010-05-03T09:54:00.004-06:002010-05-03T10:59:18.663-06:00They say it's your birthday...Today is my birthday. I'm 33 years old.<br /><br />You should know that I love the number 3, so this year is going to be my best year. I can feel it.<br /><br />How do I plan to celebrate? By going to a Weight Watchers meeting, taking my dog for a long walk, and having leftovers with a glass of wine. <br /><br />But you know what? In my mind, it's perfect. I had a great weekend - spent with someone that I love dearly and who loves me back. Yesterday, I had a massage that eased my aching back (seriously - this past week it has been HORRIBLE). I had a delightful sushi dinner on Saturday night and got to watch episodes of Arrested Development last night - all with the best companion ever.<br /><br />The leftovers I'm having are DE-LICIOUS and it makes me feel good that I'm not wasting food. The wine that I'll be enjoying reminds me of my best friend (the wine that it's from is from a vineyard close to her house). The cuddles that I'll get at the end of the night will help me feel as loved as I truly am.<br /><br />So this birthday? It may be the best ever.<br /><br />Either that, or I'm getting too old to remember a better one.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36456483.post-77735667611859766632010-04-08T09:43:00.003-06:002010-04-08T11:01:43.150-06:00Speak upI've visited the Holocaust museum in Washington DC several times in my life and whenever I read the following poem (attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller), I got chills.<br /><br />Who am I kidding? I still get chills when I read it.<br /><br /><br /><blockquote>"THEY CAME FIRST for the Communists,<br />and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.<br /><br />THEN THEY CAME for the Jews,<br />and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.<br /><br />THEN THEY CAME for the trade unionists,<br />and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist.<br /><br />THEN THEY CAME for the Catholics,<br />and I didn’t speak up because I was a Protestant.<br /><br />THEN THEY CAME for me<br />and by that time no one was left to speak up."<br /></blockquote><br /><br />You may be thinking, "Alright, Happy Fun Pants, why are you posting it now?" Because I am overcome with the injustice that has happened to the kids at a school in the Itawamba school district in Mississippi.<br /><br />Let me back up.<br /><br />Once upon a time, there was a female named Constance McMillen. She apparently had self-awareness at a young age of such a magnitude that I'm not even sure that *I* possess now at 32. Constance McMillen knew and felt that she was gay. She had the bravery to live openly gay.<br /><br />So this year, she wanted to go to her senior prom. She wanted to go with her girlfriend. She wanted to wear a tuxedo. She was told by her school officials that she couldn't go. She contacted the ACLU.<br /><br />The ACLU sent a <a href="http://www.aclu.org/files/assets/Fulton_Prom_Demand_Letter.pdf">demand letter</a> to the school.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.hrcbackstory.org/2010/03/mississippi-school-cancels-prom-rather-than-allow-same-sex-couple-to-attend/">The school cancelled prom.</a> I'm not an expert, but I'm pretty sure that when you cancel senior prom and blame it on one girl, that girl becomes pretty damn unpopular. Unpopular enough to get her butt kicked on a regular basis.<br /><br />Nice, Itawamba Agricultural High School. If you can't ban her from the prom, why don't you banish her from any social circles in high school too. That's a GREAT way to treat others.<br /><br />But it gets worse.<br /><br />Private citizens in the community decided to have their own prom. If it's a private prom, they can invite whoever they want, right? Only enough people across the nation found out about it and got mad...so the private citizens said that the prom was cancelled and a NEW prom was going to be held.<br /><br />A new prom that everyone can go to - hooray! Yes, yes...now the prom is going to be held at a *special* location. All are invited.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.hrcbackstory.org/2010/04/prom-shocker-constance-mcmillan-invited-to-fake-event-other-students-attend-secret-prom/">Only (and I'm sure you're shocked) that's not exactly what happened.</a> The cancelled prom was never really cancelled - the "regular" students went to their prom. And the students that showed up at the "fake" prom? There was only seven: Constance, her date, and five other people (two of which have learning difficulties that made them unpopular too).<br /><br />This kind of stuff HAS to stop!<br /><br />The intoleranceS we have are ones we pass on to our children. I'm furious at the people that hide behind the Bible or Book of Mormon as a way to justify the treatment of people that are openly gay. I understand that you don't think that what they're doing is right. I get it, really I do.<br /><br />BUT IT'S NOT UP TO YOU! YOU do not get to decide what happens to others.<br /><br />What happened to this passage from Matthew 22:36-40 (NIV)??<br /><br /><blockquote>36"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" 37Jesus<br />replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul<br />and with all your mind.' 38This is the first and greatest commandment. 39And the<br />second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' 40All the Law and the<br />Prophets hang on these two commandments."</blockquote><br />or this one from Matthew 7:4 (NIV):<br /><br /><blockquote>How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,'<br />when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?<br /></blockquote><br />Put down your bullhorns and your picket signs where you're protesting the existence and practice of gay people. Look on yourself for ways that you can personally improve yourself. If you believe in a God, let GOD figure out what is right and what is wrong. Let GOD handle the condemnation or exoneration.<br /><br />In the meantime, LOVE one another.<br /><br />I'm not gay. And although others may attest differently, I don't have learning disabilities. But I am choosing to stand up for those that are not treated equally. I'm choosing to sign my name to the petition that you can find at <a href="https://secure3.convio.net/hrc/site/Advocacy?cmd=display&page=UserAction&id=785">this link</a> to help send schools a <a href="http://www.hrc.org/welcomingschools/">"Welcoming Schools"</a> guide. According to the Human Rights Campaign site:<br /><blockquote>"Welcoming Schools" is a new, comprehensive guide for administrators, educators,<br />parents and guardians who want to strengthen their schools’ approach to family<br />diversity, gender stereotyping and bullying. </blockquote>I'm choosing to stand up for equal treatment.<br /><br />I hope you join me.Happy Fun Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16764438670187538319noreply@blogger.com6