When I was a little girl, I never really thought about kids. I had a few baby dolls, but I never felt the urgency and longing to be a mother like some of my estrogen-laden peers. Honestly, dolls weren’t really my bag; I was too busy being afraid of their lifeless marble eyes to braid their hair. You can just forget it if you think I was going to wrap them up in my favorite blanket and cradle them to my chest. It wasn’t until I saw a real baby that I became fond of them. Well, "fond" might be overgenerous; I was fascinated with them.
I was twelve when my cousin Lisa was born. My family was gathered at my aunt’s house and everyone was passing the baby around more than a half-smoked joint. Tias and tios took turns holding Lisa and brushing off their baby voices. (As an aside, I never understood why people speak to babies in incoherent high-pitched voices. Everyone does it, myself included. What a strange first impression of the world to get. The first word I said may have been “ducky”, but the first words I thought were probably more along the lines of, “I didn’t have to deal with this in the womb.”)
After everyone was satisfied with their turn, my mom asked me if I wanted to hold Lisa. I was petrified. Me? I wasn’t sure if I could handle being responsible for another human life for five minutes, but I agreed because I was so excited that someone trusted me with this responsibility.
I sat on the couch as my mom set up pillows on either side of me before putting one on my lap. Secure in my pillow fort, Baby Lisa was placed on my lap. She squirmed a little before yawning and looking at me. I wrapped my arms on either side of her and stared at her. It was a stare-down; me against baby, baby against me. I should have remembered the way she smelled like powder and formula. I should have commited her big, brown eyes that were complimented by a full head of hair into my memory. I should have spent more time understanding that this tiny human, who wasn’t even a part of the earth a few days ago, was spending part of the first week of her life on my lap. Instead, all I remember was wondering when the hell someone would take this baby off of me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t immediately love Baby Lisa, it was that I was terrified that I would do something to harm her. I was worried she would stand up, salute me and dive out of the pillow fort and onto the beigh carpeting that lined the floors. I was even more scared that I would shift slightly and somehow accidentally roll over her, making an accidental couch-baby burrito. I spent that five minutes with my arms around Lisa and not moving, not even breathing deeply, lest a rabid dog sneak up and snatch her away from me when I wasn't looking.
Ten years later and I still have essentially the same fear: I don’t want to hurt my kids. I’m not concerned about physically harming them (I still have many a pillows to construct a fort), but emotionally harming them. My worst fear when it comes to having children is that I will spend my entire life raising them and they, in turn, will spend their entire life in therapy complaining about me.
“She told me she doesn’t know if God is real,” I can hear my non-existent sixteen-year-old saying. “So I stopped believing in God and started believing in Joe. Our first kid is due next month.”
I like to think my parents did a pretty good job of raising me. I’m in my early twenties and have no major felonies, DUIs, children with uncertain baby daddies, drug abuse history and only a few instances of teenage rebellion and bitchery. I’m a relatively adjusted and compassionate person, regardless of whatever you’ve heard ’round the internets. While I can sing the praises of my parents all day, I can’t say that I understand how they did it. I don’t understand what makes me different from my friends, my cousins or the guests on “The Maury Pauvich Show”. How did my parents manage to raise my brothers and I into three well-adjusted, pretty normal non-felons?
I don’t know. I don’t even think they know. From what I can gather, parenting is a club nobody is prepared for. Sure, you can read the books and talk to the Parenting Club elders, but each circumstance is unique. Nobody has the exact same childhood, although many people have similar experiences. There is common sense that every parent learns first hand, like don’t leave permanent markers and toddlers alone. It only takes one Sharpie mustache on your baby's upper lip before you make a mental note to add that to the “Things To Remember About Parenting” list.
For the most part, however, it seems like parents are just winging it. They make up some rules and their children, out of love or fear for their parents, go with it. When I was younger, my parents’ word was the law. Everything they said was, had to be, true because why would my parents lie to me? When I was a teenager, I realized that my parents can, have and will always lie to me because they want nothing more than to ruin my life. Now, as a young adult, I realize that my parents are just playing a game that didn’t come with a rule book. They have nothing but my best interests at heart, even if I still occasionally think the only joy they get out of parenting is having someone to pass the unwanted chores to. The fact of the matter is, my parents were no more ready for parenthood than any parent. New parents can prepare for a child forever. They can read all the books, go to all the classes and talk to all the other parents, but they will be just as unprepared when that baby comes as if they just woke up one day and thought, “I think I’ll have a baby today.”
As I start to reach the age where my peers are having children or wanting children, I can’t help but have babies on the mind. I wonder if I’d make a good mother. I wonder if I’ll ever find someone I want to have children with. But, most of all, I wonder if I’ll ever feel prepared for motherhood.
M and Garland are currently expecting their first baby, and while I am excited and already filled with love for my unborn nephew, I can’t help but revert back to the same twelve-year-old girl who was terrified to hold Baby Lisa. I start to get the same nervous feeling, but then I stop to think about M and Garland. M, while he may have secretly always wanted to be a father, never publicly expressed a desire to have children. Garland, on the other hand, has stated on numerous occasions that she wants a family. She is the type of woman who sets her mind to something and accomplishes it; no fuss or theatrics, just impenetrable emotional armor and determination. When she said shortly after their wedding that she wanted to have kids, it was only a matter of time before one came along.
During one of our conversations about my nephew, Garland confessed that she was scared. She was excited at the prospect of having a child, but her excitement was mixed in with a healthy shot of fear. My unborn nephew, a defenseless six-month-old fetus, had cracked Garland’s armor. I listened in awe as she explained all the reasons she was nervous about having a child. I had no advice to offer because, well, I don’t know anything about children or raising them. But it suddenly dawned on me that regardless of whether someone is ready to be a parent or not, that’s not going to stop people from having kids. People have been recreating for thousands of years and, unless there is a serious uterus shortage in the near future, will continue to do the same thing for thousands of years to come. Just because I’m afraid doesn’t mean I won’t make a good parent. I'm just going to have to have faith that my parents set up a good enough example that I won’t completely screw up my child.
I have no doubt in my mind that M and Garland will be excellent parents. And, while I may always be nervous and unready to have children of my own, it won’t stop me from being the best tia I can be to my nephew.
In three months when my nephew arrives, I’ll set up my pillow fort once again. Though this time it won’t be completely out of fear, but rather a reminder that I want nothing but comfort and safety for my children, whenever it is I decide to have them.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Vocabulary.
There is this site that will tell you the words you use the most on your blog. I'd just like to say that the word "monkey" made it onto my list of blog words. So did "van", "fuck", "bathroom" and "eyebrows".
It really leads me to question what I talk about on here. And why you continue to read. I guess we're just two peas in a really odd pod.
It really leads me to question what I talk about on here. And why you continue to read. I guess we're just two peas in a really odd pod.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Uh oh, emotions.
OH MY GOD. I hate everyone so much and stab in face and punch in head and I spit on your shoes and GODDAMNIT YOU ARE A WORTHLESS MACHINE.
Ahem, let me start from the beginning.
Deskmate has been in rare form these days, or maybe it's just me. But, guys, I'm dying over here. Don't believe me? Here's proof:
Why yes, I have been called a modern day DaVinci.
I don't want to sound ungrateful for my job, especially in these times, and I'm not. My co-workers are very relaxed and I like my job for the most part. But it's really easy, like second graders or monkeys or monkeys with a second grade education could do it. I really think it speaks volumes when you fail at a job that second grade monkeys (who probably took a break from throwing their own feces) could do.
I was wandering down the hall towards the printer, trying to get the hell away from Deskmate, when the printer starts beeping at me. It's not a friendly "Hey buddy, what's up?" beep either; it's a "I'm self aware and my only purpose on God's green earth is to annoy the holy hell out of you". What. The. Fuck. Printer. I thought we were pals. We've had some good times. I've printed out many a clip art riddled flyers on you. Do you know how much of my soul I had to repress to add clip art to those flyers?! I thought you liked all the colors and pictures of flying cakes. But you were pretending all along, weren't you? You heartless, lying succubus.
That's fine, Printer. You broke my heart. BROKE IT. And now? Now I'm going to break you.
Back up in your ass with the resurrection.
It is on, you fucking dinosaur. Welcome to the Axis of Evil, there's a seat over there next to Tyra's fat ass.
Anyway this goes down, someone is getting the stank eye from me all fucking day.
Ahem, let me start from the beginning.
Deskmate has been in rare form these days, or maybe it's just me. But, guys, I'm dying over here. Don't believe me? Here's proof:
Why yes, I have been called a modern day DaVinci.
I don't want to sound ungrateful for my job, especially in these times, and I'm not. My co-workers are very relaxed and I like my job for the most part. But it's really easy, like second graders or monkeys or monkeys with a second grade education could do it. I really think it speaks volumes when you fail at a job that second grade monkeys (who probably took a break from throwing their own feces) could do.
I was wandering down the hall towards the printer, trying to get the hell away from Deskmate, when the printer starts beeping at me. It's not a friendly "Hey buddy, what's up?" beep either; it's a "I'm self aware and my only purpose on God's green earth is to annoy the holy hell out of you". What. The. Fuck. Printer. I thought we were pals. We've had some good times. I've printed out many a clip art riddled flyers on you. Do you know how much of my soul I had to repress to add clip art to those flyers?! I thought you liked all the colors and pictures of flying cakes. But you were pretending all along, weren't you? You heartless, lying succubus.
That's fine, Printer. You broke my heart. BROKE IT. And now? Now I'm going to break you.
Back up in your ass with the resurrection.
It is on, you fucking dinosaur. Welcome to the Axis of Evil, there's a seat over there next to Tyra's fat ass.
Anyway this goes down, someone is getting the stank eye from me all fucking day.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Lazy, baby.
You guys, let me tell you a story about my weekend.
I was selfish. I did EXACTLY what I wanted and it was delightful. I've always been a team player. Need someone to take one for the team? Sign me up. It's not always pleasant or what I want to do, but I get satisfaction from seeing my friends and family happy, even if I'm not. Sick, right?
I'm not sure how it happened, but this weekend I turned it off. I had things to do, things I should have done and things I already committed to, but I didn't want to do any of them. I've been under pressure from all aspects of my life recently; school, work, losing weight, making new friends, maintaining older friendships, saving money, tuition, Vegas, parties. The summer is jam packed and although I'm looking forward to all of it, it doesn't change the fact that I've been a busy bee. This might be normal for most people, but here's a little secret about your buddy KV: I'm lazy.
There, I said it.
My ideal day consists of nothing more than eating take out, going for a walk, napping and lounging around watching movies. That's all I want out of life sometimes. I do realize, though, that's really impractical and mostly impossible.
Not this weekend, though. This weekend I had the privilege, nay, the luxury to say "fuck all that lame bullshit I don't want to do" and instead do everything I wanted to do.
Pedicures with Mama D? Hell yeah. Shopping with Red? You know it, girlfriend. Walks with M and The Boy replaced worrying and planning for the future. Chats with Garland and Thurber eased my worries about work, school and scrounging up money for a college I can't afford. Spending Sunday with my dad, watching "Rocky Balboa" and reading Cormac McCarthy relaxed and made me happier than I've been in a long time. It was as close to a perfect weekend as any other I can remember.
Today, as the last remnants of the weekend fade into the past, I feel a little nostalgic but refreshed. There same problems that I was able to tune out for two days were waiting to greet me this morning. They still suck and I'm still no closer to a solution, but I understand that my problems aren't the only things that matter in life. They are important, no doubt, but not unsolvable.
What has proven to be unsolvable is the laziness that courses through me. This weekend, however, I didn't mind it so much.
I was selfish. I did EXACTLY what I wanted and it was delightful. I've always been a team player. Need someone to take one for the team? Sign me up. It's not always pleasant or what I want to do, but I get satisfaction from seeing my friends and family happy, even if I'm not. Sick, right?
I'm not sure how it happened, but this weekend I turned it off. I had things to do, things I should have done and things I already committed to, but I didn't want to do any of them. I've been under pressure from all aspects of my life recently; school, work, losing weight, making new friends, maintaining older friendships, saving money, tuition, Vegas, parties. The summer is jam packed and although I'm looking forward to all of it, it doesn't change the fact that I've been a busy bee. This might be normal for most people, but here's a little secret about your buddy KV: I'm lazy.
There, I said it.
My ideal day consists of nothing more than eating take out, going for a walk, napping and lounging around watching movies. That's all I want out of life sometimes. I do realize, though, that's really impractical and mostly impossible.
Not this weekend, though. This weekend I had the privilege, nay, the luxury to say "fuck all that lame bullshit I don't want to do" and instead do everything I wanted to do.
Pedicures with Mama D? Hell yeah. Shopping with Red? You know it, girlfriend. Walks with M and The Boy replaced worrying and planning for the future. Chats with Garland and Thurber eased my worries about work, school and scrounging up money for a college I can't afford. Spending Sunday with my dad, watching "Rocky Balboa" and reading Cormac McCarthy relaxed and made me happier than I've been in a long time. It was as close to a perfect weekend as any other I can remember.
Today, as the last remnants of the weekend fade into the past, I feel a little nostalgic but refreshed. There same problems that I was able to tune out for two days were waiting to greet me this morning. They still suck and I'm still no closer to a solution, but I understand that my problems aren't the only things that matter in life. They are important, no doubt, but not unsolvable.
What has proven to be unsolvable is the laziness that courses through me. This weekend, however, I didn't mind it so much.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Vital information for your everyday life.
Hello kiddos. I gotta get a new nickname for you readers. Kiddos sounds like I'm trying to entice you into my windowless van. I mean, like if you wanna come into said van and eat ice cream off my waterbed, I wouldn't say no. I digress.
Today, because I feel like oversharing, I present to you 20 things you didn't know about good ol' KV.
1. I am obsessed with my eyebrows. I pluck, comb and trim them on a daily basis. I've made my lady cousins, Mama D, one of my aunts and Garland swear that if I am ever in a coma, one of them has to come pluck my eyebrows. They can get very out of control very quickly. They're like a cobra, except hairy and on my face.
2. As far as I'm concerned, I am a deaf-mute in the bathroom. No conversations shall be had while business is being handled. Just call me Helen Keller, baby.
3. I sometimes slip into accents during regular speech time. I have been known to pepper my sentences with a Jamaican, Mexican, Matisyahu, Minnesotan or Sarah Palin accents. Sometimes, during the glorious drunken hour, all the accents will combine to form one powerful, incoherant Super Accent of Drunkeness, also known as slurring.
4. I don't like it when people are angrily shouting. I start to feel sick to my stomach. Confrontation scares the shit out of me.
5. I love being loud. I know that pretty much just cancels out what I said for #4, but it's my blog and I do what I want. I especially love it when I am with my family and the decibel level rises by 50. Put a board game in the mix and someone is going to get shouted at in drunken Spanglish.
6. I judge someone based on what movies they like. I once bailed on a date because the guy didn't know who the Coen Brothers were. Check, please.
7. I hate being in college. I feel like I'm wasting my time and money. I would quit school if I had a better idea.
8. I hate that #7 is true.
9. I would shoot myself in the face if I didn't have an iPod. I realize I'm spoiled and I'm cool with it.
10. I time most things. Almost everything that I do is counted out (for example, I won't drink milk left out for more than 10 seconds, won't wash my hands for less than 6 seconds, won't brush my teeth for longer than 2 minutes, etc). Sometimes, when I have to do an unpleasant task, I count how long it takes me to do it.
11. A cold iced tea will pacify me in almost any situation.
12. I am a comedy snob; if someone can't make me laugh and/or doesn't laugh at my jokes, I will not like that person and subsequently convince myself that they are stupid.
13. Most of the time, I honestly do not understand why people like me.
14. I know exactly who my bridesmaids would be even though I am nowhere near ready to get married.
15. I don't care so much for celebrity gossip anymore. This is heresy for my friends, I'm sure. But, listen guys, I'm starting to find Perez Hilton more irritating than anything else. I'll turn in my lady card now.
16. This should probably be called 15a or be some sort of contiuation of #15, but I love gossiping. I'm not even sorry. I don't say anything behind someone's back I wouldn't say to their face and I never spread mean or hurtful secrets. I can, however, keep my lips shut when it's important.
17. I don't really care for cake. Again, here is my lady card. Just take it.
18. It's not important to me to have biological children. The more and more I think about it, the more I'd rather adopt.
19. I fall in love with a song or album and listen to it continuously until I never want to hear it again. I try not to do this often as it will completely ruin albums/songs for me.
20. I have an unnatural urge to be an audience member during a taping of "Maury". I just want to scream at slutty underage girls or good-for-nothin' baby daddies.
So, there you go. 20 things you know about me that will help you get into my good graces. Please use them wisely and not for blackmail.
Today, because I feel like oversharing, I present to you 20 things you didn't know about good ol' KV.
1. I am obsessed with my eyebrows. I pluck, comb and trim them on a daily basis. I've made my lady cousins, Mama D, one of my aunts and Garland swear that if I am ever in a coma, one of them has to come pluck my eyebrows. They can get very out of control very quickly. They're like a cobra, except hairy and on my face.
2. As far as I'm concerned, I am a deaf-mute in the bathroom. No conversations shall be had while business is being handled. Just call me Helen Keller, baby.
3. I sometimes slip into accents during regular speech time. I have been known to pepper my sentences with a Jamaican, Mexican, Matisyahu, Minnesotan or Sarah Palin accents. Sometimes, during the glorious drunken hour, all the accents will combine to form one powerful, incoherant Super Accent of Drunkeness, also known as slurring.
4. I don't like it when people are angrily shouting. I start to feel sick to my stomach. Confrontation scares the shit out of me.
5. I love being loud. I know that pretty much just cancels out what I said for #4, but it's my blog and I do what I want. I especially love it when I am with my family and the decibel level rises by 50. Put a board game in the mix and someone is going to get shouted at in drunken Spanglish.
6. I judge someone based on what movies they like. I once bailed on a date because the guy didn't know who the Coen Brothers were. Check, please.
7. I hate being in college. I feel like I'm wasting my time and money. I would quit school if I had a better idea.
8. I hate that #7 is true.
9. I would shoot myself in the face if I didn't have an iPod. I realize I'm spoiled and I'm cool with it.
10. I time most things. Almost everything that I do is counted out (for example, I won't drink milk left out for more than 10 seconds, won't wash my hands for less than 6 seconds, won't brush my teeth for longer than 2 minutes, etc). Sometimes, when I have to do an unpleasant task, I count how long it takes me to do it.
11. A cold iced tea will pacify me in almost any situation.
12. I am a comedy snob; if someone can't make me laugh and/or doesn't laugh at my jokes, I will not like that person and subsequently convince myself that they are stupid.
13. Most of the time, I honestly do not understand why people like me.
14. I know exactly who my bridesmaids would be even though I am nowhere near ready to get married.
15. I don't care so much for celebrity gossip anymore. This is heresy for my friends, I'm sure. But, listen guys, I'm starting to find Perez Hilton more irritating than anything else. I'll turn in my lady card now.
16. This should probably be called 15a or be some sort of contiuation of #15, but I love gossiping. I'm not even sorry. I don't say anything behind someone's back I wouldn't say to their face and I never spread mean or hurtful secrets. I can, however, keep my lips shut when it's important.
17. I don't really care for cake. Again, here is my lady card. Just take it.
18. It's not important to me to have biological children. The more and more I think about it, the more I'd rather adopt.
19. I fall in love with a song or album and listen to it continuously until I never want to hear it again. I try not to do this often as it will completely ruin albums/songs for me.
20. I have an unnatural urge to be an audience member during a taping of "Maury". I just want to scream at slutty underage girls or good-for-nothin' baby daddies.
So, there you go. 20 things you know about me that will help you get into my good graces. Please use them wisely and not for blackmail.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Ouch.
Yesterday was so laughably terrible that I had no other choice than to, well, laugh at it all. I spent the first part of my day drenched in the stench of mediocrity and dirty feet at the DMV, followed by numerous phone calls to unexpectedly helpful banks. Thanks for not screwing me on this one, Wells Fargo.
After spending the day running errands, I made some soup and called it a day. Poppa J came over and we rented some movies. I was enjoying just hanging out with Poppa J and Red, but I couldn't shake the headache I had. I started rubbing my temples, but that just made it hurt even more.
Oh well, I thought. It's probably because I'm wearing a hat and I've had a stressful day. I'll just sleep it off.
This morning I woke up like most other mornings: groggy and craving a muffin. I got into the shower and praised Jesus for warm water. After steaming up the bathroom, I wiped the mirror clean and saw this:
Not pictured: Ike Turner.
What the holy hell?! Where did that come from? I searched my noggin and suddenly remembered what happened. There is a shelf above my bed where sometimes things are put. Heavy things. And sometimes said things fall DIRECTLY ONTO MY HEAD.
Hello, Klutziness? It's your old friend, KV. Glad you could drop by.
I tried to cover it up lest my co-workers think I'm cooler than I am by sporting a black eye on a Wednesday.
Also not pictured: emo tears.
Sorry guys, no bar fights over here to speak of. Just a laughably terrible Tuesday.
After spending the day running errands, I made some soup and called it a day. Poppa J came over and we rented some movies. I was enjoying just hanging out with Poppa J and Red, but I couldn't shake the headache I had. I started rubbing my temples, but that just made it hurt even more.
Oh well, I thought. It's probably because I'm wearing a hat and I've had a stressful day. I'll just sleep it off.
This morning I woke up like most other mornings: groggy and craving a muffin. I got into the shower and praised Jesus for warm water. After steaming up the bathroom, I wiped the mirror clean and saw this:
Not pictured: Ike Turner.
What the holy hell?! Where did that come from? I searched my noggin and suddenly remembered what happened. There is a shelf above my bed where sometimes things are put. Heavy things. And sometimes said things fall DIRECTLY ONTO MY HEAD.
Hello, Klutziness? It's your old friend, KV. Glad you could drop by.
I tried to cover it up lest my co-workers think I'm cooler than I am by sporting a black eye on a Wednesday.
Also not pictured: emo tears.
Sorry guys, no bar fights over here to speak of. Just a laughably terrible Tuesday.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Smashing Good Time
Editor's Note: Today I'm taking a cue from one of my favorite blogs, Letters and Lists and writing a letter to some people who, unfortunately, are now near and not so much dear to me.
Dear Shitheads Who Stole My Purse Last Night,
Hey guys, what's up? I hope you're really enjoying the contents of my purse. It was so awesome the way you totally disregarded human decency and smashed The Boy's car window to steal my purse. Super cool of you. It actually works out well. I mean, I wouldn't have known what to do with my entire paycheck anyway. You guys really know all the good places to spend someone else's money, like Best Buy and the grocery store. I hope my 80 hours worth of work got you something really cool there, like the complete "Jackass" series or an iPod.
Oh, which reminds me, I hope you enjoy Rex Grayskull, my $300 iPod. He had like 2500 songs on him, so hopefully there's something on there that you'll like. Please excuse all the Abba and Justin Timberlake. Had I known someone would be stealing him, I would have loaded him up with Yanni and myself saying "fuck you in the face" over and over again. I in no way whatsoever hope he shorts out and electrocutes your ears. I would mention that sometimes the earbuds can indeed shock you, but I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise.
Boy, you guys sure did surprise me by stealing my wallet, work badge, car keys, house keys and The Boy's camera. You must've known that I wanted to feel stupid, guilty and incredibly frustrated all at the same time. Thanks! Also, just so you know, it only took me an hour at the DMV to get a new ID. And it's only going to take me one entire work day to close my accounts, open new ones and change the locks. Can you believe it?! Only one day where I have to push everything aside to deal with this. What a steal! No pun intended, cause it's obvious you guys already know so much about steals.
So, in conclusion, I hope karma drop kicks your face sometime in the very near future. Also, enjoy my favorite ghetto gold hoops and new peppermint chapstick. I hope you get rabies.
Peace fuckers,
KV
Dear Shitheads Who Stole My Purse Last Night,
Hey guys, what's up? I hope you're really enjoying the contents of my purse. It was so awesome the way you totally disregarded human decency and smashed The Boy's car window to steal my purse. Super cool of you. It actually works out well. I mean, I wouldn't have known what to do with my entire paycheck anyway. You guys really know all the good places to spend someone else's money, like Best Buy and the grocery store. I hope my 80 hours worth of work got you something really cool there, like the complete "Jackass" series or an iPod.
Oh, which reminds me, I hope you enjoy Rex Grayskull, my $300 iPod. He had like 2500 songs on him, so hopefully there's something on there that you'll like. Please excuse all the Abba and Justin Timberlake. Had I known someone would be stealing him, I would have loaded him up with Yanni and myself saying "fuck you in the face" over and over again. I in no way whatsoever hope he shorts out and electrocutes your ears. I would mention that sometimes the earbuds can indeed shock you, but I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise.
Boy, you guys sure did surprise me by stealing my wallet, work badge, car keys, house keys and The Boy's camera. You must've known that I wanted to feel stupid, guilty and incredibly frustrated all at the same time. Thanks! Also, just so you know, it only took me an hour at the DMV to get a new ID. And it's only going to take me one entire work day to close my accounts, open new ones and change the locks. Can you believe it?! Only one day where I have to push everything aside to deal with this. What a steal! No pun intended, cause it's obvious you guys already know so much about steals.
So, in conclusion, I hope karma drop kicks your face sometime in the very near future. Also, enjoy my favorite ghetto gold hoops and new peppermint chapstick. I hope you get rabies.
Peace fuckers,
KV
Monday, June 15, 2009
Jesus, dude, none of us know what to do with you.
Wow, that last blog post was a week ago, eh? Whoops.
Guys, I have a confession to make: I'm burnt out on the blogging.
It's not that I don't enjoy it (where else would I spout out my random thoughts?), it's that I don't really feel like I have much to write about.
Things have changed a lot in the past few weeks and, if I were a good blogger, I'd write about them with such zest you would think I was a lemon. (Lemon zest! Get it? Anyone?) But, here's the thing, I'm so excited and happy to be living it all that I can't properly sum it up afterwards. I feel like if I take the time to write about everything, I'll miss out on what's happening in the present. At this point, I care more about keeping the memories than writing about them. Barf, right?
Maybe I can find a way to make my new found zest for life co-exist with the writer inside of me. Compared to how rough everything was a few months ago, it's still new, exciting and pretty damn scary that everything has seemed to just fall into place.
So, because I feel like I'm completely butchering what I'm trying to convey, here is my horoscope for this week. I feel like it sums up a lot of what's been happening lately.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): In honor of the karmic cleanup phase of your astrological cycle, I invite you to do the following exercise: imagine a pit in the middle of a desert that holds everything you've ever used up, spoiled and outgrown. Your old furniture is here, along with stuff like once-favorite clothes, CDs and empty boxes of your favorite cereal. But this garbage dump also contains subtler trash, like photos that capture cherished dreams you gave up on, mementos from failed relationships and symbols of defunct beliefs and self-images you used to cling to. Everything that is dead to you is gathered here. Got that vision in your mind's eye? Now picture yourself dousing the big heap of stuff with gasoline and setting it on fire. Watch it burn.
Yep.
Guys, I have a confession to make: I'm burnt out on the blogging.
It's not that I don't enjoy it (where else would I spout out my random thoughts?), it's that I don't really feel like I have much to write about.
Things have changed a lot in the past few weeks and, if I were a good blogger, I'd write about them with such zest you would think I was a lemon. (Lemon zest! Get it? Anyone?) But, here's the thing, I'm so excited and happy to be living it all that I can't properly sum it up afterwards. I feel like if I take the time to write about everything, I'll miss out on what's happening in the present. At this point, I care more about keeping the memories than writing about them. Barf, right?
Maybe I can find a way to make my new found zest for life co-exist with the writer inside of me. Compared to how rough everything was a few months ago, it's still new, exciting and pretty damn scary that everything has seemed to just fall into place.
So, because I feel like I'm completely butchering what I'm trying to convey, here is my horoscope for this week. I feel like it sums up a lot of what's been happening lately.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): In honor of the karmic cleanup phase of your astrological cycle, I invite you to do the following exercise: imagine a pit in the middle of a desert that holds everything you've ever used up, spoiled and outgrown. Your old furniture is here, along with stuff like once-favorite clothes, CDs and empty boxes of your favorite cereal. But this garbage dump also contains subtler trash, like photos that capture cherished dreams you gave up on, mementos from failed relationships and symbols of defunct beliefs and self-images you used to cling to. Everything that is dead to you is gathered here. Got that vision in your mind's eye? Now picture yourself dousing the big heap of stuff with gasoline and setting it on fire. Watch it burn.
Yep.
Monday, June 8, 2009
This blog post won't grant you any magical wishes.
One of the coolest feelings in life is feeling pleasantly surprised. It's the best kind of surprised to be.* It sneaks up on you, but instead of punching you in the gut, it pats your back and says, "Here you go, buddy, enjoy this little treat." Thanks, Life! I will enjoy this treat. Mmm, blueberry.
I was recently pleasantly surprised by something that, for the time being, must be kept under wraps. I'm like a mummy the way I keep my shit on lockdown. Or was it like a prison guard? A mummy prison guard? I digress.
So, because I apparently can only think in list form, here is a list of pleasant surprises I'd like to receive in the near future.
1. Clive Owen
scenario: I'm sitting at home, watching a Bridezilla marathon.
::knock on door::
KV: Clive Owen?!
Clive Owen: Oh, hey there. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I thought if you weren't doing anything, we could maybe go to dinner in Paris. And then later we could get married. Also, you look awesome in those sweat pants and should wear them when I'm buying you a million dollar necklace.
KV: OKAY!
Clive Owen: Good. Let me smoulder at you while I tell you all the reasons Julia Roberts sucks.
2. $100,000 found on a street corner
scenario: I'm walking down the street and see a suitcase full of cash next to a gutter.
KV: Holy shit! $100,000! This is more money than I've ever seen at one time.
Universe: Yes, KV, yes it is. I left this here for you for all those times I was an unbelievable asshole. Use this to pay off your student loans, go to an out-of-state college and to pay all your bills and those of your family. Then, after that, take a really lavish and totally unnecessary trip to a foreign country so you can get more cultured. Also buy a hybrid car cause they're good for the environment.
3. A free neck massager
scene: Me in Sharper Image.
Salesman: Hey there, incredibly attractive lady with remarkable and frizz-free hair. How would you like a free neck massager to rid you of all your tension?
KV: Well, I don't know...
Salesman: It's made of gold and unicorn eye lashes.
KV: Sold.
4. Tucson invests in a monorail
scene: Me reading the paper.
Newspaper headline: Tucson Finally Gets Its Shit Together And Builds Monorail So People Won't Have To Take The City Bus That Always Smells Like Feet and Pee
KV: Score!
5. All the people I like in place at one time
scene: A bar in downtown Tucson.
KV: EVERYONE I LIKE IS HERE AT THE SAME TIME! Someone get me a drink.
*Other kinds of surprised include shocking ("That lady is a dude!"), tragic ("That lady is a dude."), intriguing ("That lady...is a dude?"), confusing ("That lady...is...is a...dude?"), concerned ("Brah, that lady is a dude."), frustrating ("That.Lady.Is.A.Dude.") and mild ("That lady is a dude?").
I was recently pleasantly surprised by something that, for the time being, must be kept under wraps. I'm like a mummy the way I keep my shit on lockdown. Or was it like a prison guard? A mummy prison guard? I digress.
So, because I apparently can only think in list form, here is a list of pleasant surprises I'd like to receive in the near future.
1. Clive Owen
scenario: I'm sitting at home, watching a Bridezilla marathon.
::knock on door::
KV: Clive Owen?!
Clive Owen: Oh, hey there. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I thought if you weren't doing anything, we could maybe go to dinner in Paris. And then later we could get married. Also, you look awesome in those sweat pants and should wear them when I'm buying you a million dollar necklace.
KV: OKAY!
Clive Owen: Good. Let me smoulder at you while I tell you all the reasons Julia Roberts sucks.
2. $100,000 found on a street corner
scenario: I'm walking down the street and see a suitcase full of cash next to a gutter.
KV: Holy shit! $100,000! This is more money than I've ever seen at one time.
Universe: Yes, KV, yes it is. I left this here for you for all those times I was an unbelievable asshole. Use this to pay off your student loans, go to an out-of-state college and to pay all your bills and those of your family. Then, after that, take a really lavish and totally unnecessary trip to a foreign country so you can get more cultured. Also buy a hybrid car cause they're good for the environment.
3. A free neck massager
scene: Me in Sharper Image.
Salesman: Hey there, incredibly attractive lady with remarkable and frizz-free hair. How would you like a free neck massager to rid you of all your tension?
KV: Well, I don't know...
Salesman: It's made of gold and unicorn eye lashes.
KV: Sold.
4. Tucson invests in a monorail
scene: Me reading the paper.
Newspaper headline: Tucson Finally Gets Its Shit Together And Builds Monorail So People Won't Have To Take The City Bus That Always Smells Like Feet and Pee
KV: Score!
5. All the people I like in place at one time
scene: A bar in downtown Tucson.
KV: EVERYONE I LIKE IS HERE AT THE SAME TIME! Someone get me a drink.
*Other kinds of surprised include shocking ("That lady is a dude!"), tragic ("That lady is a dude."), intriguing ("That lady...is a dude?"), confusing ("That lady...is...is a...dude?"), concerned ("Brah, that lady is a dude."), frustrating ("That.Lady.Is.A.Dude.") and mild ("That lady is a dude?").
Friday, June 5, 2009
Letters
Here are some things I've been meaning to say. Because I'm girly and mushy and you want to vomit because it's so cheesy. Well, there's a bucket right over there.
Dear M and Garland,
Happy Anniversary! You two are awesome and I love you both very much. Miles is going to be adorable and no girl will ever be good enough for my nephew. I hope you enjoyed Vegas.
Dear Simon,
Thank you for being an awesome dog and even better napping partner. However, I think you need to know, you desperately need a bath.
Dear Mom and Pop,
Happy 25th Anniversary! It's really amazing to see you guys make it through 25 years and still be really and truly in love with one another. Also, thank you for not smothering M, Red or myself, although I'm sure it was very tempting at many times, like earlier this morning.
Dear Red,
When did you get funnier than me? Thank you for trying to make me better at tennis. It is going to be a sweet, sweet day when we play a real game and I spank you.
Dear NE,
You're this blog's #1 fan. If I ever write that book, you're getting an acknowledgment.
Dear Thurber,
I'm happy for you, but OREGON CAN SUCK IT. Not really, but I'm going to miss you. I'm buying a plane ticket the day you leave. Do you think one flannel shirt will be enough to suffice? Should I buy Birkenstocks?
Dear Poppa J,
I'm glad we're cool again. Nobody else would ever put up with my daily "The Office" or "Waterboy" quotes. "Wake her ass up, we gotta win tomorrow!"
Dear Pickle,
You are an adorable cat. Why did you run away from me today? I LOVE YOU.
Dear Nikki,
Way to stick it out in school. I'm proud of you and you deserve to be happy regardless of what you're doing. I'm glad we're back to being cool too.
Dear Deezy,
You are like the coolest chick on the planet. Thanks for always giving good advice even though I openly and proudly admit to loving Justin Timberlake.
Dear Twitter,
You are more addicting than crack with much less pock marks and missing teeth.
Dear Hair,
Thanks for finally being awesome and not obnoxious.
Dear U of A Hat,
Thanks for keeping that asshole Hair in place.
Dear Boy Who I've Been Hanging Out With Recently,
The more I hang out with you, the more unbelievably awesome you become. Kudos.
Dear Dave,
YOU ARE GOING TO BE FAMOUS AND IT IS GOING TO RULE. You truly are one of my favorite people and I'm glad we met in our crazy little high school.
Dear Alison,
Why don't you hang out with us anymore?! I miss your face.
Dear Living Room,
Stop being so effing cold. A scarf doesn't really go with this outfit.
Dear Lama,
Come to Tucson immediately so we can hang out because I also miss your face.
Dear Robert Smith,
Please cool it with the lipstick. Seriously, it's weirding everyone out.
That's all for today, guys. Happy Friday!
Dear M and Garland,
Happy Anniversary! You two are awesome and I love you both very much. Miles is going to be adorable and no girl will ever be good enough for my nephew. I hope you enjoyed Vegas.
Dear Simon,
Thank you for being an awesome dog and even better napping partner. However, I think you need to know, you desperately need a bath.
Dear Mom and Pop,
Happy 25th Anniversary! It's really amazing to see you guys make it through 25 years and still be really and truly in love with one another. Also, thank you for not smothering M, Red or myself, although I'm sure it was very tempting at many times, like earlier this morning.
Dear Red,
When did you get funnier than me? Thank you for trying to make me better at tennis. It is going to be a sweet, sweet day when we play a real game and I spank you.
Dear NE,
You're this blog's #1 fan. If I ever write that book, you're getting an acknowledgment.
Dear Thurber,
I'm happy for you, but OREGON CAN SUCK IT. Not really, but I'm going to miss you. I'm buying a plane ticket the day you leave. Do you think one flannel shirt will be enough to suffice? Should I buy Birkenstocks?
Dear Poppa J,
I'm glad we're cool again. Nobody else would ever put up with my daily "The Office" or "Waterboy" quotes. "Wake her ass up, we gotta win tomorrow!"
Dear Pickle,
You are an adorable cat. Why did you run away from me today? I LOVE YOU.
Dear Nikki,
Way to stick it out in school. I'm proud of you and you deserve to be happy regardless of what you're doing. I'm glad we're back to being cool too.
Dear Deezy,
You are like the coolest chick on the planet. Thanks for always giving good advice even though I openly and proudly admit to loving Justin Timberlake.
Dear Twitter,
You are more addicting than crack with much less pock marks and missing teeth.
Dear Hair,
Thanks for finally being awesome and not obnoxious.
Dear U of A Hat,
Thanks for keeping that asshole Hair in place.
Dear Boy Who I've Been Hanging Out With Recently,
The more I hang out with you, the more unbelievably awesome you become. Kudos.
Dear Dave,
YOU ARE GOING TO BE FAMOUS AND IT IS GOING TO RULE. You truly are one of my favorite people and I'm glad we met in our crazy little high school.
Dear Alison,
Why don't you hang out with us anymore?! I miss your face.
Dear Living Room,
Stop being so effing cold. A scarf doesn't really go with this outfit.
Dear Lama,
Come to Tucson immediately so we can hang out because I also miss your face.
Dear Robert Smith,
Please cool it with the lipstick. Seriously, it's weirding everyone out.
That's all for today, guys. Happy Friday!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
I now know Ben Harper makes me sleepy.
Have you ever had so much on your plate that none of it really seems real? I have a million things to accomplish, but it's so much that my brain has reacted by skipping past stressed and overwhelmed to just a weird sort of calm. Like the eye of the storm; you know that there's still an entire fucking hurricane to get through, and you have no reason to be but you're just incredibly calm about the whole thing. I tend to panic in this sort of situation. My thought process generally goes a little something like this:
Step 1: What do I need to accomplish today?
Step 2: What can I do to accomplish that?
Step 3: Holy shit, that's a lot to do.
Step 4: Well, I guess if I plow through I can get the majority of it done.
Step 5: Oh shit, tonight is [insert social/family engagement that you already committed to].
Step 6: I'll just have to cancel.
Step 7: Oh my god, I forgot about that extra report due tomorrow.
Step 8: THERE IS NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THE DAY TO GET EVERYTHING DONE!
Step 9: Okay, okay, calm down.
Step 10: Nap
Uh, yeah. It's been busy, I guess is the point of this post. Actually, there really is no point I was hoping to get out of this. I was just kinda tired of looking at that last post. But, to make up for being lame, here is an ELEVEN MINUTE VIDEO of a song that I just can't get enough of. Yes, the song is awesome. No, I don't know what the heck the video is about. And you're probably nowhere near high enough to understand what's going on. That being said, enjoy!
Jeeeeeeeeez, did you watch the entire thing? Don't you have work to do?
Step 1: What do I need to accomplish today?
Step 2: What can I do to accomplish that?
Step 3: Holy shit, that's a lot to do.
Step 4: Well, I guess if I plow through I can get the majority of it done.
Step 5: Oh shit, tonight is [insert social/family engagement that you already committed to].
Step 6: I'll just have to cancel.
Step 7: Oh my god, I forgot about that extra report due tomorrow.
Step 8: THERE IS NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THE DAY TO GET EVERYTHING DONE!
Step 9: Okay, okay, calm down.
Step 10: Nap
Uh, yeah. It's been busy, I guess is the point of this post. Actually, there really is no point I was hoping to get out of this. I was just kinda tired of looking at that last post. But, to make up for being lame, here is an ELEVEN MINUTE VIDEO of a song that I just can't get enough of. Yes, the song is awesome. No, I don't know what the heck the video is about. And you're probably nowhere near high enough to understand what's going on. That being said, enjoy!
Jeeeeeeeeez, did you watch the entire thing? Don't you have work to do?
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Nostalgia in aisle 3
Yesterday afternoon, I slowly trudged into my house, seeking relief from the brutal Arizona sun. My work uniform was stifling and I couldn't make it to my room fast enough to strip out of the hot polyester. I made it to my room and closed the door. I wandered over to the window to pull my blinds closed and I saw my grandpa sitting on the patio, smoking a cigarette and staring off into space.
Tata has been a part of my family for seventeen years. We moved in with him when I was five and my Nana passed away. I don't know why our family was the one who moved in, but I remember being in awe of our house in Nogales. It was big with wing-backed leather chairs and tile floors. Some of my favorite memories were coming into the living room, sitting with Tata and watching old episodes of "Looney Toons" while he laughed louder than I'd ever heard a grown-man laugh. Other times, I remember him putting on his military uniform, complete with badges, stars and a white helmet, and trudging off to the cemetery to participate in burials.
When I was nine-years-old, we moved to Tucson. I was still fairly young, but I don't remember there ever being a question of whether or not Tata would come with us. Along with my parents and brothers, he was a staple in our immediate family. We hadn't been a family of five in years; we were now a proud family of six.
Our first few years in Tucson, Tata was the same as he was in Nogales. He made the same jokes, laughed at the same things and even had a girlfriend. I rarely had a real conversation with him about my life or his, but it was just assumed that we cared for each other and there really was no need to discuss it.
When I was a sophomore in high school, I brought Tata into my U.S. History class so he could speak about his time overseas during World War II. At first, he sat in front of the class and didn't say much.
I tried to encourage him to talk about the discrimination he might have faced as a Mexican man. "Tell them about the time--" I started, but Tata held his hand up and cut me off before I could finish. He took a deep breath and launched into a story about how he and his buddies used to hang out in the Burmese jungles during their down time. He told stories of the cute girls he saw overseas, the jokes him and his friends shared, and how his experiences during WWII shaped him. It was the first time I had ever been impressed by my grandfather. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride that this was my Tata who was sitting in the front of the room, cracking up my classmates.
The Tata who sat in front of my sophomore U.S. History class was not the same Tata I saw yesterday. He sat in the same patio chair he always does, smoking a GPC cigarette and staring off into space, looking at something I can't see. He's quieter these days, a little slower too. The Tata who used to watch "Looney Toons" with me is long gone and sometimes, it makes me sad to think that one day he won't be here at all.
I quickly changed my clothes and made my way into the kitchen. Tata came in from outside.
"Hi, mijita," he said. He smiled at me and pat me on the shoulder, same as he does every day. I put my hand on top of his and smiled back.
"Hi, Tata," I said. He squeezed my shoulder and shuffled back to his room.
A lot has changed since that day seventeen years ago when we moved in with Tata. Much more has changed since that day thirteen years ago when Tata moved with us to Tucson. Our family of 6 has expanded and we are all getting older. I am coming to terms with the idea that one day I will wake up and there will be nobody to squeeze my shoulder and call me mijita.
But that day is not today.
Tata has been a part of my family for seventeen years. We moved in with him when I was five and my Nana passed away. I don't know why our family was the one who moved in, but I remember being in awe of our house in Nogales. It was big with wing-backed leather chairs and tile floors. Some of my favorite memories were coming into the living room, sitting with Tata and watching old episodes of "Looney Toons" while he laughed louder than I'd ever heard a grown-man laugh. Other times, I remember him putting on his military uniform, complete with badges, stars and a white helmet, and trudging off to the cemetery to participate in burials.
When I was nine-years-old, we moved to Tucson. I was still fairly young, but I don't remember there ever being a question of whether or not Tata would come with us. Along with my parents and brothers, he was a staple in our immediate family. We hadn't been a family of five in years; we were now a proud family of six.
Our first few years in Tucson, Tata was the same as he was in Nogales. He made the same jokes, laughed at the same things and even had a girlfriend. I rarely had a real conversation with him about my life or his, but it was just assumed that we cared for each other and there really was no need to discuss it.
When I was a sophomore in high school, I brought Tata into my U.S. History class so he could speak about his time overseas during World War II. At first, he sat in front of the class and didn't say much.
I tried to encourage him to talk about the discrimination he might have faced as a Mexican man. "Tell them about the time--" I started, but Tata held his hand up and cut me off before I could finish. He took a deep breath and launched into a story about how he and his buddies used to hang out in the Burmese jungles during their down time. He told stories of the cute girls he saw overseas, the jokes him and his friends shared, and how his experiences during WWII shaped him. It was the first time I had ever been impressed by my grandfather. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride that this was my Tata who was sitting in the front of the room, cracking up my classmates.
The Tata who sat in front of my sophomore U.S. History class was not the same Tata I saw yesterday. He sat in the same patio chair he always does, smoking a GPC cigarette and staring off into space, looking at something I can't see. He's quieter these days, a little slower too. The Tata who used to watch "Looney Toons" with me is long gone and sometimes, it makes me sad to think that one day he won't be here at all.
I quickly changed my clothes and made my way into the kitchen. Tata came in from outside.
"Hi, mijita," he said. He smiled at me and pat me on the shoulder, same as he does every day. I put my hand on top of his and smiled back.
"Hi, Tata," I said. He squeezed my shoulder and shuffled back to his room.
A lot has changed since that day seventeen years ago when we moved in with Tata. Much more has changed since that day thirteen years ago when Tata moved with us to Tucson. Our family of 6 has expanded and we are all getting older. I am coming to terms with the idea that one day I will wake up and there will be nobody to squeeze my shoulder and call me mijita.
But that day is not today.
Monday, June 1, 2009
What's the haps, broseph?
Fun fact: I heard someone say just that a few minutes ago. A grown-man, I might add. Wooooof.
I know I haven't been around these parts in a while, but it's because I've been learning one very important universal truth: having a life is exhausting.
Case in point, I spent Saturday night out at a "club" filled with "people my own age" and had a jolly good time. Whoops, that last one doesn't fit with the hip kid vernacular. I had a bomb ass, hip to the mother effing Twitter Facebook time of the Apple Bottom Jeans. That's all the cool terms I could think of.
As a result of spending the evening doing what every 21-year-old in the world does every weekend, I spent all of Sunday out of commission. I did nothing but eat Chinese food, sleep and watch old episodes of "The Office".
The past few days have been busy. My summer school classes are slowly sucking the soul (and a few hundred bucks for books) out of me, work is insane in the membrane and I have been a social butterfly with friends, family and an awesome, potentially meaningful boy situation.
So, because it's rare for me to be both upbeat and eloquent at the same time, here is a list of things I am currently grateful for. Here we go.
1.) Saturday nights. Listen, all the best stories happen on Saturday nights. Lampshades get put on heads, alcohol is consumed, laughably bad decisions are made and dancing is had. Saturday night is the night of the week every other weekday is jealous of. Do you think that anyone is hooking up with a guy who looks like Geraldo Rivera on a Wednesday or eating tacos from a hut on the side of the road on a Monday? Pashaw.
Saturday night marked an important evening. My pals Deezy and Papa J officially ended their time as roommates and my friend Thurber is in town for a few days before moving to Portland. Having a trifecta of friends in town, I decided it was only necessary to take them out and get them all drunk. So, Saturday night, our group headed to one of my favorite bars for a night of drinking and debauchery. It was a blast. I have some pics that I'll put up later, but let's just say the night ended with a few new acquired phone numbers, drunken rambling, smokey hair and tacos at 3 in the morning. Verdict: success.
2.) Baby Miles. M and Garland are six months along and I get more and more excited every time I see them. M and Garland are like pioneers; my own personal Magellan into the cloudy waters of adulthood. They've handled everything beautifully so far and it makes me happy to know that, in three months, they'll have a son to add to their family. And I'll have a nephew who I already want to buy everything for. Because the baby is a boy, poor M has had to endure this question over and over:
KV: If I bought you and the baby matching hats/glasses/shoes/bowler shirts, would you wear them at the same time?
The answer every time: a shrug and a "sure". That's all I'm asking for.
3.) Laughter. Alright, before you roll your eyes and vomit on me because I just listed "laughter" as something I'm grateful for (what is this, Chicken Soup for the Cheesy Ass Soul?!), hear me out. I have laughed harder and more frequently in the past week than I have in a while. I've been hanging out with a new boy and he has me in stitches non-stop. Red is fine tuning his own sassy brand of humor with hilarious results. Even Simon, that smelly tan dog of ours, has been cracking me up. I laugh a lot as it is, but this past week has been out of control. If I keep it up, I'm pretty sure I can get abs of steel just through the magic of laughter. Suck it, P90X.
I know I haven't been around these parts in a while, but it's because I've been learning one very important universal truth: having a life is exhausting.
Case in point, I spent Saturday night out at a "club" filled with "people my own age" and had a jolly good time. Whoops, that last one doesn't fit with the hip kid vernacular. I had a bomb ass, hip to the mother effing Twitter Facebook time of the Apple Bottom Jeans. That's all the cool terms I could think of.
As a result of spending the evening doing what every 21-year-old in the world does every weekend, I spent all of Sunday out of commission. I did nothing but eat Chinese food, sleep and watch old episodes of "The Office".
The past few days have been busy. My summer school classes are slowly sucking the soul (and a few hundred bucks for books) out of me, work is insane in the membrane and I have been a social butterfly with friends, family and an awesome, potentially meaningful boy situation.
So, because it's rare for me to be both upbeat and eloquent at the same time, here is a list of things I am currently grateful for. Here we go.
1.) Saturday nights. Listen, all the best stories happen on Saturday nights. Lampshades get put on heads, alcohol is consumed, laughably bad decisions are made and dancing is had. Saturday night is the night of the week every other weekday is jealous of. Do you think that anyone is hooking up with a guy who looks like Geraldo Rivera on a Wednesday or eating tacos from a hut on the side of the road on a Monday? Pashaw.
Saturday night marked an important evening. My pals Deezy and Papa J officially ended their time as roommates and my friend Thurber is in town for a few days before moving to Portland. Having a trifecta of friends in town, I decided it was only necessary to take them out and get them all drunk. So, Saturday night, our group headed to one of my favorite bars for a night of drinking and debauchery. It was a blast. I have some pics that I'll put up later, but let's just say the night ended with a few new acquired phone numbers, drunken rambling, smokey hair and tacos at 3 in the morning. Verdict: success.
2.) Baby Miles. M and Garland are six months along and I get more and more excited every time I see them. M and Garland are like pioneers; my own personal Magellan into the cloudy waters of adulthood. They've handled everything beautifully so far and it makes me happy to know that, in three months, they'll have a son to add to their family. And I'll have a nephew who I already want to buy everything for. Because the baby is a boy, poor M has had to endure this question over and over:
KV: If I bought you and the baby matching hats/glasses/shoes/bowler shirts, would you wear them at the same time?
The answer every time: a shrug and a "sure". That's all I'm asking for.
3.) Laughter. Alright, before you roll your eyes and vomit on me because I just listed "laughter" as something I'm grateful for (what is this, Chicken Soup for the Cheesy Ass Soul?!), hear me out. I have laughed harder and more frequently in the past week than I have in a while. I've been hanging out with a new boy and he has me in stitches non-stop. Red is fine tuning his own sassy brand of humor with hilarious results. Even Simon, that smelly tan dog of ours, has been cracking me up. I laugh a lot as it is, but this past week has been out of control. If I keep it up, I'm pretty sure I can get abs of steel just through the magic of laughter. Suck it, P90X.
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