UGHHHH! You know what’s the worst?

Being sick.

You know what’s worse than just being sick?

Being sick that ISN”T  hungover. Cause if your hungover  then it’s at least a little bit worth it, right?

You know what’s the most worstiest of everything? (it’s a word)

Being sick on a VERY important week.

Duh duh. Duh duh. Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh du…….

(Once again that was my very excellent version of the Jaws theme song, but you probably already knew that!)

No, I wasn’t talking about shark week though that is also very important. In fact, I deemed it so important that I sharked myself on the Discovery channel website.

The term “sharking yourself” sounds kind of dirty doesn’t it?

I know, sometimes it’s like I’m 5  years old or something.

Actually that’s not true at all. A true statement would be “I act like I’m 5 years old or something.”

But what would really be accurate would be if I said “it’s like I’m 28 years old or something,” which is precisely what I will be on this Saturday. So… Happy Birthday me! It’s also my parent’s old (dead) dog’s birthday, or maybe that’s just what they told me when I was 8.

I’m really not so sure how I feel about this Birthday. Twenty eight seems like such an insignificant age, but then again they all sort of do from here on out. Except in my case, I’ll probably count myself lucky for any year that I survive after the age of like 35… in fact I think I’m pretty lucky to have made it this far.

But really… 28.

I had a bit of a freak out the other night when I started thinking about the fact that I am officially in my late twenties. I decided last year that 27 was definitely in the “mid to late twenties category… but 28… there’s no denying it. I really try hard not to dwell on these sort of things, but there are so many things that I thought that I would be by the age of twenty eight. I thought I’d be rich, famous, married to my friend Cameron, own my own zoo, drive a limo (I used to think that was better than riding in one,) have 14 kids, star on Saturday Night Live, and also princess of a far away country. Of course I thought all of this when I was in the third grade after a game of M.A.S.H., but still… Boy was I wrong.

I mean, if I can’t even afford to take care of a pet rat, I’m certainly not on the right road to owning a zoo. Then again, there are days when I really think I’ve done it right. I’m still figuring things out and I think that’s ok. I’m not entirely sure what path I’m on- but I’m still happy with the idea that I could move to Ireland tomorrow if I wanted to. Provided I win the lottery, that is.

Birthdays are a funny thing though. I never know how to act. There are days when I think that I would like to let it simply go unnoticed (LIKE THAT ONE YEAR WHEN I WAS TEACHING DANCE IN NEW YORK AND NOBODY CALLED ME, DON”T THINK I”VE FORGOTTEN BITCHES!) but when it comes down to it- I think I can be down right bratty when it comes to my birthday. It is after all, the one day that I can call my own. I really try not to get that whiny “but it’s MY birthday” attitude… but I’m afraid I’m not very good at that.

My favorite birthday of all time was the year I turned 10. My family got up real early and took my cousins and I fishing. I caught a huge fish that snapped my fishing pole right in half. It was a carp so we didn’t get to keep it, but I didn’t have to worry about things like baiting my own hook back then. When we got home, I was surprised to find that I had gotten my very own purple bicycle, with a basket and everything. The real surprise came when my cousin presented me with a pie in my face. Only it wasn’t a surprise at all, because I had been begging asking to have a pie thrown in my face for my birthday for like 3 years. I was a weird kid who watched entirely too much Nickelodeon.

Despite being sick, this week has already been a pretty smashing birthday week. I started celebrating last Sunday with a little bit of day drinking. We hung out at my favorite dive bar (Adairs, for those of you in Dallas) with a bunch of old guys who were jamming their guitars. I even got to hold one of their glass eyes. Then on Tuesday I won last minute tickets to go see Aerosmith, and he was every bit as sparkly as I imagined he would be.

This weekend my family is coming up to spend my birthday with me for the first time in years, and we’re going to see my favorite comedian of all time – Mr Michael Ian Black.

So instead of getting a pie in my face, I think I’d like to have a Michael Ian black in my face. Or in my mouth. Either way, I’m pumped. My mom also decided that she wants to film a zombie movie, starring me as a zombie- which I’m a little on the fence about. We shall see.

I also am requesting gifts I actually need this year. My list so far:

-3 light bulbs

-pens with a plastic chewable top

-new bed sheets

-a new lap top

-new phone (since I bit and cracked mine)

-my $665 TXU electricity bill to be paid (SERIOUSLY EFFED UP)

-A new car since mine is about to die forever

-John Cusack

So now I will shut my whore mouth and clean house so that my parents don’t find out that I live like a 14 year old boy. A fourteen year old boy who drinks copious amounts of wine.

CHEERS TO YOUR FACE!

PEEE ESSSSS. : I still plan on doing a giveaway for my blog birthday… but I decided to wait until after my birthday so I can give away the gifts that I don’t want for myself.

PEEE PEEE ESSSS (teehee pee pee) If anyone in the area is interested in joining in on some shenanegans this weekend (I’ll be out both nights) just tweet me yo.

Stay tuned.

Even though I have so much I feel I need to share with you, I’ve been a bit scarce lately. As usual, I have been quite busy doing very important things. Like what, you ask?

Well first of all, I’m finally trying to follow through on a New Years Resolution I made back in 2008…. then again in 2009. I gave up making resolutions in 2010, but now I’m determined to give it another shot.

For the last 10 years I’ve lived in the Dallas area, and I’ve never really given the city a chance. I mean… I’d venture out beyond my neighborhood for the odd concert or karaoke bar, but for the most part -I’d long ago written it off as being void of culture, and have said time and again that the most notable thing that this city has going for it is the unbelievable number of Douchengoyles and $30,000 millionaires. The plan has always been to work here in DFW as long as I needed to in order to save a little bit of money, and then to take off for Chicago or New York…

But a few years ago it became clear that I wasn’t going to get discovered on a street corner, and I’m not currently motivated enough to find a job that allows me to live beyond paycheck to paycheck, much less save for a plane ticket to a far away land… Plus, it dawned on me that I really like being in a city where I know people. . I realized that just as I am sometimes quick to deem a girl driving a BMW a bitch or a guy wearing a graphic tee as a douche canoe (which, is actually usually true) I had prematurely judged Dallas as being boring and industrial, with nothing to offer. That’s when I made the decision to make friends with Dallas, to really get to know this city before I pass complete judgment on it.

After college, I interned at the then start-up newspaper Pegasus News, where my “job” consisted of driving around to different neighborhoods and trying to gather information on local restaurants, bars, and entertainment venues for our database, so I already had a vague notion that there was more out there south of Denton and Plano. The last few years I made several attempts at exploring some of these places, but it wasn’t until the last 3 months or so that I’ve really made a conscious effort to delve into my local culture.

I won’t go into detail now, but I will say that I owe a lot of my recent discoveries to twitter, and also the fact that the guy I’ve been dating lives right in the middle of Deep Ellum so it makes it a lot easier when you don’t have to go too far. In the last few weeks I’ve spent some time at local museums, historical hotels, dive bars and comedy clubs, and I’ve been surprised at how much I’ve enjoyed myself. I really wish I would have embraced this fine city years ago. But more than anything else, I’ve really gotten into some of the local music, which to be honest I wasn’t aware existed much outside of Denton. Last week we went to the Dallas Observer Music Award Showcase and had a freaking blast of a time.

My favorite show of the night just happened to coincide with my most recent obsession, and ummmm.. you might know by now what happens when I get obsessionated.

I discovered the Dallas duo  Smile Smile a while back and haven’t listened to much else since. Their new album “Truth on Tape” (that’s the link to purchase on itunes!)  is the best $10.00 I’ve spent in a while, and simultaneously makes me want to laugh and cry. Smile Smile’s is made up of Ryan and Jencey, who were once engaged.. which makes their amazing music and their undeniable chemistry  even more interesting. There’s nothing I love more in the world than genuine music that I can dance to.  Check it.

Also they are super nice and posed for pics after the show. I know. I’m such a fan girl.

I really can’t talk about local bands without mentioning my other current fave, Sleeperstar. I grew up with their bassist, and had no idea until fairly recently how much they rocked. I cannot wait to see these guys in person, and you really have no excuse for not checking them out. They are pretty much guaranteed to be the next big thing. Love.

Here is a link to their album on itunes!

As you can see I’ve neglected my blog for perfectly good reasons. I mean, what is a better way to spend time than singing and dancing your heart out?

Speaking of, I’ve also invested a little bit of time into So You Think You Can Dance. As if you’re surprised.  I’m so torn on this season. Every season before I’ve had an absolute favorite. Now I’m not so sure, but I think I’ve decided to route for Robert, because.. umm.. HELLO!!!

Mostly he just kind of sort of reminds me of Mark from a couple of seasons ago. You know, the weird one who wore guyliner but was absofreakin amaze-balls at everything he did? Here’s a little refresher. Sit back and prepare to wipe some drool from your lips.. or maybe I’m a freak.

*please note, I will now be using sarcasm. I wasn’t using sarcasm when talking about SYTYCD. It IS awesome. It doesn’t really work when I have to point that out, does it?

Besides watching and re-watching quality television, I’ve also seen a few incredibly awesome movies. Like just this week I caught an Emilio Estevez (The Mighty Duck Guy, I swear to God!) classic called Freejack.How this movie didn’t win an Oscar I will never know. And such good special effects. Have a mentioned the acting? Uh-maze-ing.

And next up? Well I can hardly contain my excitement for this one…

Alrighty, I’m out just like Lindsay Lohan’s about to be. Happy weekend!

Today is going to be a good day. Today is going to be a good day. Today is going to be a good day.

If I say that enough it’s bound to come true right?

A few months ago, I was going through a particularly tough time with some family drama. Naturally, I called my grandmother in tears – who is the last person I should call in these situations. She is a worrier at heart, and probably hasn’t slept since.

Anyboohoohoo- she told me a ritual of hers that she finds extremely helpful. She said that every morning for the last 20 years or so, she has woken up and recited the following statements:

*It will all work out.

*This will be a good day.

*Today I will have more energy.

*Treat yourself as well as you do your dog.

This morning I woke up feeling particularly grouchy, so I decided I’m going to take the advice I learned in a “Fish Training” video long ago. I will choose my attitude. I will take this day by the balls and no gentle fondling will be done. I will write today’s name down on a piece of paper and stomp on it, just like I did to my best friend in the 9th grade when she made me angry. I will be positive and cheerful and not sarcastic in the least bit. And I will recite out my grandma’s mantra and it will work.

It will all work out.

I mean clearly, duhhhh. On my way to lunch I will come across a money tree that sprouts “50 dollar bills y’all” on command. My stomach will learn how to handle the healthy mixture of curry, nilla wafers, and frozen yogurt that I put in it last night. The sandman will move into my room and read me fairy tales every night at 11:00pm. Fed-ex will deliver me a time machine from “anonymous” and I can go back to yesterday and not bite my Droid causing the screen to crack. (Yes. I bit my phone and now it is cracked.) My landlord will call and let me know that since it’s about to be my birthday, we don’t have to pay rent this month. A wizard from outer space will arrive and provide me with all of the mathematical skills that I have been lacking in my life thus far. Magically, my car will stop dying every time I’m in idle. My horoscopes will stop being so vague and start giving me direct recipes on how to live my life.

This will be a good day.

Today all sorts of good things are going to happen. My Pandora is going to be off the hook and play mostly the Beatles with a little bit of Prince and Peter Gabriel, when I psychic-ly tell it to. Cramps and all other symptoms of PMS including annoyance to the millionth degree will immediately subside. Some vendor will bring me lunch so I don’t have to move or spend money. My boyfriend John Cusack will finally tweet me back that he loves me and admit that I’m not a psycho. .I will not lock my keys in the car with the car running today. My hair will not look like I rubbed a balloon all over it. I will not sit on a beetle or step on a slug. If I happen to open a bag of pretzels, it will not explode all over my office. I will wear my underwear the right way, and not backwards causing a righteous wedgie. When it’s afternoon I will answer the phone with “Good afternoon!” and not with “good morning” or “Good Larry” like I did yesterday.

Today I will have more energy.

I will go to the gym after work. I will not use “it’s raining,” “I have cramps,” “There are smelly people in that class,” “I’m tired,” or “there are Fresh Prince reruns on” as an excuse to skip out.

Treat yourself as well as you do your dog.

I will let myself eat loads of peanut butter and cheese. And I don’t have to shower… and I think that might negate all this gym talk. Yeahhhh.. I think I’m just gonna let myself be as lazy as I want.

So yeah… this will be a good day.

I realized early on that it’s usually the  little things that hurt the most. That the seemingly insignificant words can sometimes be the most lasting. That a tiny piece of mechanical pencil lead, not only hurts like hell- but will stay embedded in the palm of your hand for 22 years.

I’ve always been a little sensitive, and that’s something that I think that I have really made a conscious effort to improve on in recent years, and I think I’ve really come a long way.

I remember when I was young, I was never really bothered when I wasn’t invited to a sleepover, or that I wasn’t the most popular girl in school. The things that had the most effect on me were the words that I suspect that no one else would remember or that others would have brushed off as a joke.

When I was in Elementary school I sometimes had to wear an eye patch because I had a lazy eye. I only had to wear it a few hours every day, so my parents usually allowed me to do my time after school hours. I also fell off a slide onto concrete and shattered my right arm so I had to have it attached to my body for several months. For the most part, neither the eye patch or the cast that made me look like I only had one arm were really a big deal to me. For the most part.

Back in those days they used to line the kids up for lunch or recess alphabetically. I’m not sure if they still do that, but it always really blew if your last name started with a letter in the middle of the alphabet, because you never got to be the leader. I always wished that my last name was “Adams” or “Zookeeper,” so that I would get to be at the front of the line. Why that was such a big deal back then, I can’t remember… but it was.

One day, I believe it was a Tuesday, my mom had forgotten to force me to wear my eye patch the afternoon before, so instead I had to wear it to school like an asshole. On this particular day, since I was in fact wearing a flesh colored patch (not even a cool black one) and was half gimp and my teacher must have felt extremely sorry for me, because for the first time in the history of my life- she decided to line us up starting with the letter “Mc.” (That’s me!)

So there I was, standing at the very front of the line, smiling my little booty off- when all of a sudden I noticed that the line that had formed in the classroom across the hall were pointing and laughing. At first I didn’t think much about it, because surely they were just laughing because someone had tooted or something, but it still made me a little self conscious. It wasn’t until I hear “It’s a one armed pirate!!!” that I knew for sure that I was the topic of discussion.

It still hurts a little.

As life went on, there are several other instances that I remember being particularly hurtful that I would (hopefully) laugh off today.

Like when my teacher asked us “how do you figure out (insert silly little word problem here)? Andwhen I called upon to answer, I replied “Well first you take a calculator….” At that point,  the class erupted into laughter, and my teacher told me I should have been blonde. In present time, I think that was a perfectly smart reply, because duh I’m going to calculate that shiz on a calculator. But at the time I really felt stupid. I even went home and cried about it.

I also remember a time when I threw up because Curtis Mack had a bloody nose at the lunch table, and everyone accused me of spilling my chocolate milk. I don’t know why I was so much more embarrassed about spilling my dirnk than I was of throwing up, but I was.

And then there was also the time when I was inexplicably jealous that Steven, who I had a crush on, threw up on my friend Kelly instead of me. Yeahhhh…. that was just weird.

But even now, as much as I’ve built up my armor, it seems that it’s still the little things- whether physical or verbal- that hurt the most.

Like…A couple of years ago, LA and I decided to paint ourselves up like Indians with a cactus fruit that we found at my farm. Who would’ve thought that we would have little pricklys stuck in our faces for months to come?

And then just this weekend, I got into my car to drive to meet my friends to get a margarita- and just happened to sit on a penny. A tiny little penny… well that fucker had been sitting in the Texas sun for 8 hours and branded the hell outta me!

This picture really doesn’t do it justice…

 

Happy Weekend people!! Let us all go out and create new wounds.