My First Talkie

I’m not in a typing mood, but I’m willing to talk! First update in over a month! Enjoy!

ps- watching this load on YouTube was HILARIOUS as it shows it frame by frame- I seriously make the weirdest faces EVER!

 

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I Am An Idiot.

Oy. And a little bit of Vey. Guys, if you looked up Bonehead in the dictionary, you’d see my face. BONE. HEAD. Ew, I feel squirmy just thinking about it.

Let me start at the beginning.

Yesterday Paul and I had one of our lovely, rare, days off together. We decided that we would go do some errands (I had to buy a couple of gifts- Dad’s birthday and Cousin’s Bridal Shower gift) and we wanted to go to the movies, which we could all accomplish in the same area.

We started off hitting up Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a Grill Daddy for my dad for his birthday. Lovely trip, if I must say. Then we headed over to the movie theater. We saw Bridesmaids, which, in hindsight, may have been part of the reason I freaked out. After the movie, we headed next door to the mall because I needed a few things.

It started off innocently enough: looking at BBQ’s in Sears, peaking in the Puppy Store, and grabbing a pair of white sandals to wear with a new dress. Then, the mayhem started to ensue.

Paul had made a comment about all the people at the mall when we were parking, so I can tell you right off the bat that my social anxiety was a little high. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like having to zig zag (more on that) through throngs of people. I don’t like having to maneuver to get from Point A to Point B. GO HOME, PEOPLE, AND LET ME SHOP.

Eh.

So as we were walking across the mall, we passed a Zales. I longingly glanced over at it (MISTAKE) and Paul asked if I wanted to go in and look. I replied, “no, no, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I was just looking.” He pushed the issue a little, actually, claiming he wanted just an idea of what I liked, and I agreed that we could go in and look on the way out. We headed over to Victoria’s Secret to pick up a gift card for my cousin who’s wedding shower is this Saturday, and then started back across the mall.

On a side note, I HATE Victoria’s Secret. Here’s why: A) Their stuff is wayyyy too expensive, B) They don’t make things for the girls with big boobs (i.e. me), C) every 13-year-old in the state of NJ has PINK across their butts, and I don’t want to be associated with that, and D) you can’t walk in and look without being harassed by a sales associate (take note, Bath&Body Works, I’m looking at you, too, on that one!). Our trip inside involved me screaming at Paul to run for his life like he was in the Battle of Normandy. Get in. Acquire the Target (gift card). Retreat for your lives!

So, after that lovely jaunt, I was already on high stress level. Have I mentioned that I really don’t do good in crowds like that?

Have I?

Ok, so he grabs my hand and we walk over to Zales. I know he felt my tension, because as we were walking in, he kept saying to me (I may have been protesting, I honestly can’t remember), “we’re just getting ideas”. And that was my mantra: We’re Just Looking for an Idea. I was literally, verbally, out-loud, saying that to myself as I navigated the shiny cases of MILLIONS OF DOLLARS of diamonds.

By the way, do diamonds look, I don’t know, extra shiny in the stores? It’s the lights in the cases, right? Because I felt so blinded I couldn’t even focus on the rings. Although, that could have been the anxiety.

So I was ok, starting to look for the affordable-yet-pretty ring section, when it happened: A Sales Associate Walked Over. KISS. OF. DEATH.

Me: We’re Just Looking for an Idea. We’re Just Looking for an Idea. We’re Just Looking for an Idea. (I’m saying this out loud, but mostly to myself.)

Sales Woman: Are we looking for ideas for an ENGAGEMENT?

Me: THIS IS TOO MUCH PRESSURE!!!!!

Sales Woman: It’s usually the man who says that….

She may have said more. I don’t know. I was halfway back through the mall at this point.

Yes, folks, in my infinite wisdom and maturity, I fled the Zales LIKE A BAT OUT OF HELL. I mean, I didn’t stop to let Paul catch up. I bobbed and weaved and power-walked my little self clear across the mall. Where was I headed? The BBQ department of Sears. Because that is Man Land.

Ok, so here’s the explanation of the freak-out.

I’ve wanted to get engaged for a while now, any of you who remotely read this blog of follow me on Twitter know that. And I’ve not been lacking in the obvious hints department with Paul. He knows this. I actually bring it up a lot, but in a light-hearted way. You see, EVERYONE keeps saying, “don’t talk about it to him, it might freak him out if you’re too pushy” and that, folks, is exactly what was on my mind yesterday.

I really, honestly meant it when I said I didn’t want to go in because I didn’t want to pressure him. Why was it too much pressure? Because when she said “ENGAGEMENT” (in all caps. Seriously. The woman spoke IN CAPS!), it triggered the thought that this was going to be too much for him. If, say, I point to a ring and (God Forbid) try it on, this is going to freak him out.

So, naturally, I freaked out instead.

And, naturally, the place to go to freak out is the BBQ section of Sears. Man Land. No engagement ring talk in Man Land.

And let me tell you, this was not just me being dramatic. My heart was in my throat. My pulse was racing. My hands were shaking. I was on the brink of hyperventilating. I was not ok. It was also 1000 degrees in Sears, so I then fled to the outdoor flower department, where I subsequently burst into tears under the cover of ficus’. I was literally having a Panic/Anxiety Attack. Because now at this point, it was not just “Paul is going to freak out,” but “Paul is going to be so pissed at me” was added in.

And he was, though he’ll never admit that he was “pissed”. His only comments to me were, “Thanks for leaving me standing there like an idiot while you zig-zagged through the mall so fast I couldn’t even keep up with you” and, later, once we were in the car and I was trying to (badly) explain myself, “If something like this freaks you out, what’s going to happen when the pressure of a wedding is there? Are you going to be a run-away bride?” Which, frankly, was a valid concern. I don’t blame him for that one.

As I thought (and over-thought) about the whole things, I think I’ve found the roots behind all this:

  1. It was honestly about me reacting to how I thought he was going to react instead of me waiting to see how he reacted. I have a bad habit of that. I get myself all worked up Worst-Case-Scenario-ing everything to death and things like this happen.
  2. I don’t want to pick my ring. I think that subconsciously played into it. He asked why I could go into the store with my mom and look and be ok, but I couldn’t with him. Because it is different. There is WAY more pressure when I’m with him. What if he doesn’t like it.? What if I pick something that’s too expensive? It’s a lot to handle. And I’ve always said I don’t want to be one of those girls who picks her ring. I want him to pick something he thinks is beautiful. I think I felt like I was betraying myself if I went in there and pointed to one.
  3. I’m a freaking loon.

So we went home and I curled up in bed for a grand total of 3 minutes and then marched myself out into the living room, climbed on his lap, and told him it wasn’t about the ring, or the dress, or the party; it was about our family and us, and so let’s screw the ring and the whole thing and just pick a weekend this summer and hire a Justice of the Peace and get married in my parents backyard. Yup, I basically proposed.

He thought about it, and said that I was still getting a ring and that he has a date in mind and that if I want to do the backyard thing, he’s all game for that, but I’m still getting a ring.

And then I went to the grocery store.

I made lovely roasted potatoes last night, by the way.

That’s why I love him though. He puts up with my Crazy. It doesn’t come out that often, but when it does, it usually explodes like Old Faithful, and God Bless him for putting up with it, and still, apparently, loving me afterwards.

I think that when you find the person who puts up with your Crazy, and EVERYONE has some Crazy on one level or another, you’ve found your soul mate.

And you fight like hell to keep him with you forever.

Parallel Universe

This is going to be a little random and scattered, but I think it works.

I’m almost afraid to jinx it. Actually, I’m totally afraid to jinx it. But let’s just say, things are ok at work. Boss and I had a good chat today. I think she’s slowly starting to realize I’m not the enemy. And that’s all I have to say about that.

We took our “staff” bowling today as a staff outing. I quoted staff up because only 3 of our 15 student staff attended, which kind of stinks, but we had a really nice time. One of our students has a daughter, and I spent most of our bowling time with her on my lap singing our ABCs. The best part about it is that at the end, my student came up to me and told me I’d be a really good mom. And that made me kind of warm and fuzzy on the inside.

I had a moment earlier this week when I thought I could maybe be pregnant, but for a weird reason: I was smelling things really strongly. Actually, I was smelling the liter box very strongly and Jersey’s box is not usually smelly, but I think I just went in there to clean it right after she went, so the ammonia smell was still there. I mean, ho boy, was it there. So, of course, my crazy illogical mind thinks that means I’m pregnant. Further consideration had made me realize that I’m not, because, well, I’m not. But, for the 5 minutes I thought I might be, I was totally ok with it. Not totally ok with how we could afford it (we can’t.), but ok with the idea of being a mom right now. I’ll be honest that I’m a lot jealous of LaLa and her belly and her little person that will be here soon.

In other pet related news, we’re still waiting to hear about our dog. I think I mentioned we’re trying to adopt a dog. A Boston Terrier. We’re working with a local rescue group, and have made it through the adoption process, but are just waiting for one of the foster parent’s to contact us saying that they have the perfect dog for us. Keep your fingers crossed.

And finally, I am thrilled it’s the weekend. I’m even more thrilled that next week will be quiet and easy and I go back to working a normal person 9-5. For the rest of the summer. No late nights until September. I can’t wait. My big weekend plans? Sleeping in, lounging in my pj’s, doing laundry, and doing some shopping. Sounds perfect, yes?

So Happy Friday. May your weekend be a boring as watching the grass grow. That’s a good thing. Night!

Massage

I’ve never had a massage. I mean, a real, professional massage. Not to suggest that I’ve gotten massages from random homeless men on the street, but I don’t consider Paul rubbing my shoulders when they are sore a massage.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that Paul and I have some time off together at the end of the month, and briefly considered going away together, but decided that it might be better to have a “stay-cation” and do some fun local things. One of the things I suggested was getting a couples massage. Paul, of course, immediately poo poo’d it.

I was a little upset that he so quickly shut it down without giving a reason why. I have a funny feeling it has to do with, how should I put this, the small amount of hair growing on his back. (I’m over it.) But he would never admit that. It also upset me that the only suggestion he was making was to take a hot air balloon ride with our cat Jersey in a top hat.

Seriously.

He was serious.

About the cat in a hot air balloon.

So she could “see the world”.

In a top hat.

So today I researched some massages that I could go to myself. And my area of Northern New Jersey has what appear to be some nice spas. But since I’ve never had a massage, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. Do I just want a regular Swedish massage? Hot Stone? Aromatherapy?

And then, there is a spa nearby that has “Pacific Massages” and let me tell you, they sound delightful! The Lomi Lomi! The Jamu! They sound so tropical! I LOVE tropical! I have a tattoo of a hibiscus flower on my foot! That should surely get me a discount, right??? Massages with coconut oil and ylang-ylang flower essence and aloe, oh my!

Granted, these cost $120 for an hour, but I’m sure, somewhere in the recess of my mind, I can rationalize that it’s worth it, right?

And that’s the thing. I RARELY treat myself. I do my own nails. I get my hair cut twice a year (if that). I use coupons to get make up once a century. I buy shampoo in bulk. So really, I could go out and get myself a massage.

So, since I know I’m 99.999999% likely to talk myself out of it, could you please share your massage experience, what you’d recommend, and remind me why I need to pamper myself a little?

Thanks! Happy Tuesday!

Mother’s Day and Financial Planning

Hidey-Ho! I’m off again this Monday, as I worked pretty much all day Saturday, so it’s very nice that it’s 11am and I’m still in my PJ’s and have spent the past hour reading up on my favorite bloggers. I have to say, I’m a bad blog reader. I have about 3-4 blogs that I enjoy reading on a somewhat daily basis, but I rarely comment. So I’m that stalker that knows about your life, but you don’t know me. I guess I just feel like, what I have to say, about 12 people have already said, so what’s the point? But then I get sad that no one comment’s on my posts, so it’s a vicious cycle of blogging-self-hate.

But, I also recognize I went for, like, 3 months without a single peep! And honestly, it’s ok. Sometime’s life get’s in the way of our best intentions, right? And I don’t HAVE to blog every day, because some days I don’t have anything to say.

Also, and I’m not sure who you are, but whoever is reading this random little foray into my life, thanks! I’ve had a surge of traffic on this site, which is odd given my absence, but I appreciate it and hope I can keep you entertained!

But now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, onto the topic at hand: Mother’s Day! I must say, I had a very delightful Mother’s Day, despite the fact that I did not get to see my own Mom. On Saturday, in between my time at work, I stopped off at Target to pick up Mother’s Day cards for practically every woman I know: My Mom, Paul’s Mom, Paul’s Grandma, Pau’s Mom from the dog, Paul’s Aunt from the dog, and LaLa, as she is an expectant mother. I also thought it’d be nice to get LaLa a iTunes gift-card so that she can buy music for her labor playlist, as that is apparently all the rage (when I told my mom about it, she was quite dumbstruck at the thought of listing to music while in labor). I had called over to LaLa to see if she was home to drop off her card, and she wasn’t, so we made plans to go for a walk in the park in between our houses early Sunday morning.

I should also mention, for the sake of chronological order, that Paul and I talked about the Big P (proposal) on Saturday night and he a) indicated that it would take place within the next 6-months (too long! do it tomorrow!) and b) fished around for my ring size. And by fished around, I mean be blatantly asked me what size ring to get. And I blatantly told him. Because I blatantly tell him every day to just go buy a Cracker Jack box and wipe of the plastic ring and ask me already.

But I digress.

So Sunday, which was absolutely GORGEOUS here weather-wise, starting off by meeting LaLa in the park. She is delightfully round and oh-so pregnant at 27 weeks, and I reveled in watching her walk around the park with her hand on her belly, supporting and caressing her unborn child as we lopped along. After our walk and catch-up (because I had not seen her since MARCH 12TH! So see, it wasn’t just my blog that was neglected these past few months!), she left and I decided that this was a perfect moment to RUN. Like, outside. To prepare for my Warrior Dash. Which I’ve become recently aware is going to take me 10 hours in my present state. So I ran. I ran so short a distance. But I ran.

Anyway, I returned home and spent a glorious couple of hours on the couch with my baby. She even posed for a Mother’s Day Photo Shoot:

I called my mom and she delightfully recounted her visit to Home Depot wherein her and my Dad bought a new grill. A large one. So that “when all the kids are home there is enough room on the grill for all the food.” God Bless Them, that happens about twice a summer, but I’ll happily be their excuse for a shiny new grill.

Paul came home and we, like the naive young couple we are, went to Stop&Shop to buy flowers for his Mom, Aunt, and Grandma. Only it was Flowerocolypse at Stop&Shop and it looked like a super villain had blasted all the flowers to death. But we managed to find 3 plants that looked ok, and headed back home for our Mother’s Day Extravaganza!

We went out to dinner with Paul’s parents, Aunt, and Grandma last night to a little Italian place and it was rather delightful. After dinner, we headed back to our house for desert. We were downstairs at Paul’s Aunts, just chatting and spending time together. At one point, Paul’s sister called, and one thing lead to another, and Paul ended up bringing down his Mac so that Grandma could Skype with his sister. It was actually adorable to watch Grandma be completely shell-shocked to be able to talk to her granddaughter!

After Paul’s parent’s left, we ended up hanging around talking to his Aunt for another hour. And we began talking about retirement savings. Well, basically, Paul will be able to retire and I won’t. As we speak I’m in my meager account online, and for the love of Pete I don’t understand. As it stands, I personally don’t contribute to my retirement, but my employer does give me a free 5%. This is because I’m still paying off my hefty student loans, so until they get a bit smaller, I’ll just take the free money.

But, she did suggest that we talk to a financial planner. Because, you know, we’re grown-ups, and want to do things like get married, but a house, and have kids. So it’s probably a good idea for us to plan our finances, instead of just sticking our fingers in our ears and going “la la la as long as we’re paying the bills we’re ok”. So my question is this: what are you thoughts on financial planners? How do they work? And what kind of things will I need to inquire about?

So, with all that said, I have laundry to do and an oil change to go get. Happy Monday!

Regrets

I don’t believe in regrets, in principle. I believe that every experience, every decision, every breath is important because it makes you who you are. I wouldn’t be the person sitting here writing to you today if I hadn’t experienced everything that I did.

With that said, for the sake of blogging and accepting who I am, I do have some regrets I’d like to share. Here we go:

  1. Not being a girl scout: This one really isn’t my fault, because I didn’t have the opportunity to sign myself up for brownies and girl scouts as a kid. And I don’t really blame my mother. But, along with 5th grade chorus, band, soccer, and any other opportunity that I didn’t get as a kid, I do regret that I wasn’t able to participate. I guess these are classic childhood experiences that I wish I was able to have had.
  2. Shutting people out in High School: Ok, so here’s the deal: I wasn’t particularly popular. So, by the time Senior year came around, I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder with regard to 99% of my classmates. I couldn’t be bothered. I specifically remember sitting in Senior Home room (the Cafeteria) on the first day of Senior Year tapping my foot because I did not want to be there and thinking “why can’t I just skip senior year?!” In reality, I could have, both intellectually and emotionally. But in hindsight, I wish I had not been so angst. I wish I had formed bonds instead of breaking them, and although there is part of me that still has that chip, I do wish I was on closer terms with some people from school.
  3. Hooking up with Dan: Ah, Dan. Dan was a friend in college who I had a teeny-tiny (read: ENORMOUS) crush on and I was convinced that we’d get married. Dan, however, eh, not so much. But, we spent a lot of time together and while I don’t think he was disgusted by me, I just don’t think he had mushy feeling for me. Well, one night Sophomore year, after a lovely little get together in Queen’s and my room, Queens ended up crashing next door in friend room. Dan and I ended up being the only ones in our room. Needless to say, I basically jumped him (hey, I was drunk. So was he.), and we “hooked up” that night. I’m laughing as I write this because that was the first time I’d ever touched a penis and I, in my inexperience, refused to give him a blow job, ha ha! Also, he wasn’t circumcised, so that was also awkward. After that night, we agreed it wasn’t a good idea (aka he shot me down) to do anything like that again. Fast forward about 3 weeks to a night where everyone went out to a bar/restaurant where someone knew the bar tender, so we could drink underage. (Needless to say, that place got busted shortly after this night.) After a few hours of drinking, it was time to go home. That evening had been particularly weird because not only because Dan was once again showing me attention, but I was also getting attention from another male friend, B.S. (stands for Bob Saget, who he freakishly looked like). Well, Dan and I headed out to the parking lot and started making out in the middle of the lot while we waited for Queens. (Queens, I know you will read this…) Anyway, the car ride home was about 45 minutes, and Queens was our DD. She was driving, and in the front seat was this guy Al and on his lap was this girl Krista (she’s so random, she wasn’t even friends with us) and in the back was Dan, me riding bitch, and B.S. Well, Dan and I decided this was a great place to continue our little make-out session. In the back set. Driving down the Long Island Expressway. With 4 other people in the car. And, at one point, B.S. decided he wanted to get in on the action. In my defense, I don’t remember kissing him, but I was drunk and so I can’t be certain. I do remember he tried, at the least. If I did anything with B.S., it was only kissing, I swear! That would also be the first time I ever got to, ahem, “third base” with a guy. With Dan! And when we got back to campus, we ended up going back to our room. Only this time, Queens was there. Dan and I, in our drunken stupor, didn’t have the modesty or awareness to put on the breaks, and ended up hooking up again. Nothing more than “third base,” but the next morning, a very angry Queens screamed at me when Dan left, “I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU HAD SEX 3 FEET AWAY FROM ME!”. I didn’t. It was cleared up. But I do wish I had handled it differently.
  4. Letting my boss get the better of me: Like I said in my last post, things have been ok the past few months. I’m doing everything in my power to do a good job at work. But I wish that I didn’t let her get to me so much. I wish that I could care a little less. I wish she didn’t get under my skin.

So those are my regrets, if you can call them that. Again, I don’t think, in reality, that I shouldn’t have experienced (or experienced) these things, but maybe handled them differently? But I am who I am because of these experiences, and, well, they make some good stories, right?