Four day weekends.

Paprika’s face clearly depicts my feelings for today. There were so many more naps to be had. Happy Tuesday, world!

Great Expectations

There was a time in my life in which I was a bit of a movie snob. My movie choices were either indie or foreign. Most of the mainstream movies I took in were a result of my three best friends. These besties taught me to appreciate the hilarity of Will Ferell and the vulgarity if Sasha Baron Cohen.

Sunday afternoons were reserved for me. I would sneak off to the theater and watch some wonderfully romantic, indie, weird ass movie all on my own. I felt such a rush being there alone about to enjoy something amazing and not having to worry about loud boy noises. Even in my previous marriage, I occasionally indulged in this ritual. That is till Matthew.

With one weekend of Marvel filled movies he knocked the snob out of me from here to next Tuesday. And it did not stop there we had weekends filled with the the Aliens trilogy and the Terminator movies. Slowly I began to love and crave the action film. If Jason Stathom is in it, I’ll probably want to watch it.

For months now at the CD Exchange I have been eyeing Mega Shark vs Crocosaurus. Matthew laughs every time I being it up because he thinks I’m kidding. Kind of like when I mention loud enough for everyone to here that they do indeed have a copy of High School musical. I have dreams of the awesomeness that is mega shark fighting a ginormous croc.

As I was channel surfacing (four day weekend, bitches!) I stumbled across the movie at the very beginning. This joy lasted about 15 minutes. I’m not sure what I was thinking but I’m not proud and little embarrassed. Jaleel White should be embarrassed too.

“Not my prison shank!”

Sometimes I mess with my face. I’ll scrub it a bit to hard with the clarisonic or I’ll pick at something (the latter I believe to be a result of lacking control in other aspects of my life). In my defense, I thought this tiny white spot by my eye was an overproduction of collagen that sometimes results from either too much moisturizer or using one that is not appropriate for your skins level of hydration. So I messed with it two days ago and today as I was trying to move my hair out of my face I scratched the crap out of it. The result is this weird red oval that I swear looks like tear drop tattoo near my eye (see pic with pink arrow).

I feel incredibly self conscious and I am sure everyone is staring. Not sure if I should right my memoir about finding Jesus and rehabilitation or if I should just sit at my desk and song Crossroads. Sigh.

Tula old…

There is this scene in the beginng of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where Tula is riding in the front seat with her father. He makes some comment to her about needing to get married soon because she looks so “old.” I feel like that scene right now. So what did I do to compensate for the feel like I’m looking old feeling- I put on way too much lipstick this morning.

I started this new workout last night-it is a 12 week strength training program. And yes, tickets to the gun show will be available within the next couple of months.

Have a fabulous Wednesday, World!

My muffin top wanted to be included in this post. As you can see we have a lot of work to do.

Et tu, Jeepte

The AC saga continues and we have all but had it. After trekking miles and miles in the sun from the auto repair place to our home (one of us forgot the checkbook…ahem) we finally had a full functioning vehicle with nice cold air. I let it blast on super high as if filming a Mariah Carey video from the front seat. Everything was splendid. Life made sense again. Until this morning…

I fought long and hard to not wake up. Not even Matthew’s sweet good morning whispers or Paprika’s annoying, incessant meowing could disturb me. The snooze alarm didn’t even phase me. Then I realized there was no way in hell I was going to make it to my meeting on time if I did not get out of bed asap.

My hair looked perfectly tousled. The time invested on pinterest this last week looking up hair ideas totally helped. My clothes did not need to be ironed and my makeup looked great.

This Monday morning was turning out to be better than all the other Monday’s in a while. We jumped in the Jeep. Matthew was asking questions about the mix cd in the car. Apparently this was the first time he heard my "Blame it on Bob Dylan" mix cd. It was in rotation three weeks ago along with "Songs for our Anniversary." Whatevs.

Matthew turned the AC on some ridiculously low speed. I could feel my perfectly wavy loose curls cringe and frizz up. "OMG it is so freaking hot!" I turned it on full blast! And the AC went from tepid to warm. WTF. We kept messing with the controls thinking may be, just perhaps it was just us. It was not. The Jeep betrayed us. In the cruelest, meanest way possible. Tomorrow, the Jeep goes back for a follow up.

And I will begin my search for the perfect Prius.

McSweaty Pants- And not in a good way either.

The AC is out in the car. And we live in San Antonio, TX also known as the hottest part of the world. I have been sweating so much the last few days that I am pretty sure my electrolites are one milligramiliter away from sending me into the hospital. My jeans are stuck to my legs and now look like skinny jeans instead of bootcut relaxed. Something needs to be done STAT. I want to lose weight but not by dying in the process. Oh and my hair is tired of blowing in the wind. It stopped being cool and sexy somewhere around 4:30 p.m. Tuesday.

Lately, I have been feeling like the absolute most uncreative, super chubby version of myself. Seriously, I have this cute blog journal with lists of things that happen throughout the day that I know must be documented in blog form. But the moment I decide to write I feel so ordinary and uninspired. Kind of like that chick from The Ring has crawled out of my TV and is now standing infront of me sucking the spectacular and awesomeness out of me. Leaving a bit or ordinary me lying on the ground. Or was that The Grudge.

Hence, the lack of postings. I am afraid that if I write everything will be negative garbage. Hmmm perhaps it is too late for that.

Yesterday I read an article, somewhere online (pinterest- brings out the ADHD in everyone) about the use of the word "I" in status updates and blogging. Apparently using "I" frequently gives off a feeling of negativity to the reader. Its makes a person seem lonely and isolated. My only thought is FUCK. What to do now?

And The Office ended last night. Change you are freaking me out. And usually I welcome you. I think I need a moment to shake my fist at life.

The Mystery is Over…

This morning has been humbiling and humilating all at once.

Let me begin by sharing our wonderful weekend. It consisted of vegging on the couch all day Saturday and getting all nice and shiney for a date and celebrating our anniversary on Sunday. Matthew picked a nice restaurant and we went out and had fun. I love just sitting with him and talking. We are both talkers. Loud talkers. And loud laughers. Seriously, we are a loud couple, the kind that everyone turns around to stare at a quiet restaurant only to realize that what sounded like a party of ten is really just two. That’s us.

It was nice and sweet and we exchanged super sweet homemade gifts (that I have yet to take pictures of…). This first year of marriage has been fun, challenging (in a positive way) and exciting. We both have learned a lot about each other and continue to learn. We have maintained a certain level of mystery. The bathroom is still off limits to the other person if the other is occupying it. And flatulance is still blamed on our evil cat Paprika and our gassy cat Chapu. But today, this morning of all mornings, a line in the mystery line was drawn and I am still cringing.

There I am watching scrolling through facebook on my phone while listening to Good Morning America in the back ground. My nose begins to itch in an awful painful way. And it’s deep inside my nose. The kind of itch that rubbing your nose with your hand can’t fix. Without thinking of the consequences and only thinking of relieving the pain- there it went, my pinky finger up my nose. Then I looked up and made eye contact with Matthew. And I wanted to die- fast.

Matthew: Yup, I saw you pick your nose.
Me: What? It was itching really bad.
Matthew: It’s okay I pick mine in the shower.
Me: You shouldn’t be standing there naked people can see you.

Then we began to discuss God only knows what because I can not remember. I was trying to control my face from turning red and focusing on playing it cool. It was horrifying!!!

Every moment that I yelled at Matthew for farting in bed or burping right before kissing completely invalidated by this act. And I know better than this! Sooooo many questions have been running through my mind since I dropped him off at work. Is he going to think I’m less attractive, less adorable (and I’m freaking adorable). Is he going to question my hygiene?

Does this make him think that he now has carte blanche to do similar things?

Will he still love me tomorrow?

And you person that just turned their nose up at this post- do not act like you have done anything like this before!

Keep it real (er, not too real though).

Cupcake and the Great One

Judy Blume stole all my blog titles…Seriously- I’m sitting here, trying to decide a title for this blog and every title happens to be a Judy Blume book. Although this is quite frustrating for me, Judy Blume should feel proud and accomplished that she made such an impact on my life that my subconcious continously reverts back to her today.

Sunday, is our one year wedding anniversary. I have been looking forward to this day since the day we exchanged vows. Why? Mostly because I am ridiuclously in love with my husband and our anniversary marks another notch in the growing older together belt. It makes this crazy dream that I never knew I wanted- real. However, I failed epically at one thing…

I forgot to order our anniversary cake. Over a month ago, I reminded myself, "don’t forget to order the cake. call the cake shop." And I forgot. This afternoon, I called the cake place and gave them my shpeel. And my eyes welled up with tears when she said the calendar was full. Then she said the sweetest, most thoughtful thing ever, " We don’t want you to go without your anniversary cake. How about we make a couple of cupcakes for you?"

The heavens parted and the voices of a thousand angels sang out, "Fuck Yeah!" So Saturday we will pick up our two cupcakes for our anniversary celebration.

The first anniversary wedding gift is supposed to be paper. The modern gift is clocks. Matthew already has an awesome Indiana Jones-esque watch that I gave him for Christmas a couple of years ago and I wanted to stay true to tradition so I decided we would exchange paper gifts. And I also said, "Hey we should make our own gifts!"

What was I thinking? Yeah, I don’t know either. I have a bazillion ideas that I can not share because Matthew reads this blog. Pictures will come later.

Thoughts of what I will create consume me- I sit at work and want to bust out the sharpies but I can’t…ugh!

I was remembering this episode of The Office, when Pam makes a comic book for Jim. I wish I was cool enough to come up with that idea first. Now, if I do that Matthew will think I’m a poser. Actually no, we both know I’m the coolest person her knows (insert smiley face).

Speaking of posers, I dressed up steam punk this weekend.

Tapping the will power reserves

Sunday.

Yesterday, in the car, driving home from the gym, Matthew and I, had an endorphin fueled conversation about out workout. Mid-January we made it our goal to make it to the gym at least four times a week.  We exceeded our goal by one day! Holler!!!

Feel badass and riding the waves of awesomeness, we decided to tackle an even bigger challenge: Lent. Dun dun dun.

Matthew says very matter of factly- “you and I have not really tapped our will power reserve.” Challenge accepted.

Traffic lights by traffic light, we began to make a list of things we were determined to live without for the upcoming forty days. Matthew’s list- alcohol, sodas, and one other item that escapes my mind. My list: soda, fried foods and bread.  Oh and we also agreed to make it to church every Sunday during Lent.  Then came the list of threats. Wait…let me take us back to fee days ago.

Matthew attended a training for work in which he learned about SWOT analysis and using threats to achieve desired results. So we have been using this threat system to accomplish things. For example: making it to the gym five times this week was a direct result of us agreeing that if we didn’t, Matthew would not be able to play Halo 4 for a week and I would have zero Greg’s anatomy reruns.

This morning.

At the wee hours of 5:30 a.m as we prepared for our morning trek to the gym, as if we had both been struck by psychic abilities- we remembered the threats.

1. Consuming the crap we decided to give up. For this epic failure of the wills- The Threat: we will be forced to workout at the gym without our ipods.  Yes- we went there. Yes, shit just got real.  For nothing sucks more than not having music to tune out the heavy, sweaty breathers all around you.  Not to mention it makes an hour workout seem like two.

2. Skipping out on Church.  We are by no means holy rollers. In fact, I think we last stepped in to the house of God in November.  I have been feeling like I need more Jesus in my life and I figure if I’m working on my fitness-might as well hit the spiritual fitness as well. What happens if we sleep in and miss mass? Our threat: No Walking Dead for that week.  Yeah…I know, wtf are we thinking but threats are supposed to help us achieve our goals.  I hope this is true.

3.  A few blogs ago, in January, I wrote about trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I have decided I want to be a writer.  However, I lack discipline…sometimes. My commitment is to write everyday for the next forty days.   Sounds easy enough right? Lord, I hope so.  My threat: Deactivate Facebook for a week. Yes, we just went from sane straight into cray cray land.

As I write this, on the eve of Lent…er Fat Tuesday, I can not help but feel excited and terrified out of my mind all at once.  Yes, perhaps we are using this time of year to fuel are weight loss goals but the truth is there has to be something therapeutic, cathartic and cleansing in the process.  So invite you reader to follow along, hold me accountable (if you want-no pressure here, I am all about holding yourself responsible to you) and laugh.  Yes, laugh at my expense, I don’t mind.  It builds character.

Let’s do this.

Those girls…the long and winding two weeks…there and back

A couple of years ago while working for a non-profit,  I was responsible for interviewing talented and skilled people to teach the students in our programs.  I interviewed all sorts of people but none made quite the impact as we will call her Lucy Lopan.

This woman walks in, mid-twenties, wearing the kind of perfume that engulfs a space and lingers long after she has left the room.  Her long hair was perfectly flowing in large waves of black that matched her outfit.  She had the kind of makeup on that covers every single pore and enough layers of eye shadow, blush and lipstick that an hour long power wash would not scrape the surface.  She was pretty…the kind of girl that you see working up and down the aisles of Sephora.

The interview was conducted by me and I had a —-oh wait— how could I forget the most important part.  She had fake lashes- the kind that look like they could be natural but are long enough to be noticeably unnatural.  Okay- so my coworker and I interview this woman.  Lucy Lopan leaves her card with her perfect photoshopped pic and walks out.  For the next ten minutes my coworker goes on and on about her.  And I let a thought slip out of my mouth- the kind of thought that you know should only be shared with your closest, bestest girl friends-not with your coworker man-child.   “I’ve always wanted to be one of those girls…”

The moment it came out of my mouth I cringed.  Loud obnoxious laughter followed.  Embarrassing, loud obnoxious laughter.  Challenge accepted.

For the next two weeks, I pulled out the big guns.  I’ve always had a love for makeup and have spent way to much money at Laura Mercier counter at Saks…and the Nars counters…and Kiehl’s because what’s the point of all that color is your skin is grody.   I digress.

Now I’ve always worn a full face of makeup but never to the max…not like those girls.  So I pulled it all out: bronzers, highlighters, tight-line, eyeliners.  I must have added like ten new products to my already expanse make up routine.  And then I topped it all off with a nice pair of eyelashes.  Yes, for two weeks this became my ritual.  Oh and I invested in this amazing volumizer.  I had the face and the hair…I became one of those girls.

How did I feel?  I loved the look but the work was too much and let’s face it- I worked for a non-proft working with inner city youth-the look was a bit much.  And the lashes everyday?  The truth is I have pretty nice lashes as it is.  I did struggle every morning to put them on, however, the last day I wore them, I put them on like a boss.

Every thing was going great till casual Friday.   I can not remember what I wore, but I remember feel great about the way I turned out.  A group of us went out for lunch to a local cafe, mind you two weeks have gone by and I am basking (not just cause of the bronzer) in my new look.  The coworker from the interview puts his hand to my face as I am about to take a bite of my sandwich, “Are you still wearing the fake lashes?”  All eyes on me.

I sit there in silence for what felt like thirty minutes, even though it was probably only a few seconds, “Yeah, and?”  I was horrified and a bit surprised that everyone seemed to have grown accustomed the new me.  Then everyone started asking questions about the lashes- “Do they hurt?” “How long does it take?” Blah, blah, blah.

That was the topic for the rest of lunch.  And that was the end of that.

I still have an unopened pack of lashes in my makeup drawer and stare at it fondly from time to time. I dream of taking them out on the town, maybe shopping for toiletries at Target or dinner at Whole Foods.  Sometimes I imagine that we are running through a waterfall and run out drenched they intact.  But it must remain a dream, at least for now.  Maybe I’ll bust them out on our wedding anniversary.  Or maybe they make an appearance at Sunday brunch. All I know is that I must not let that girl die- she had fun shellac face and all.