Let’s Go to the Movies

As promised, I wanted to share a little cultural activity with you. Last week, my husband and I went to go see Inception. If you haven't seen it yet, please go immediately. Leonardo DiCaprio is as fabulous now as he was in when I was 13 and he was wooing Clare Danes or letting that fat ass Kate Winslet stay on the door in the freezing artic ocean. She's not really a fat ass but did it ever piss anyone else off that it seemed like there was plenty of room for him up there on that GIANT door? That maybe that two timing hussy didn't need the whole thing for herself? I'm just saying…Anyway, I digress. I loved the movie. I thought the visual effects were stunning as was the concept and the story line. There was just enough suspense to keep it interesting without making me feel like I'd ridden a two hour roller coaster and every muscle in my body was tensed up which is how I feel after every episode of True Blood. I'm always waiting for some freaky supernatural creature to come flying out of a closet, a refrigerator, the laundry hamper, whatever. That show is unsettling but oh so fantastic.

Everytime I go to the movies, I think about a memory that will haunt me forever. Indulge me while I tell you this little tale. My sister (who told me today that the outfit I described in my last post sounded a little slutty) is four and a half years older than me. She is the best big sister even if sometimes I wish she would keep her opinions to herself (see aforementioned comment) and even when I was a pesky thirteen year old she would take the time to spend Saturday afternoons with me despite having, I'm sure, better things to do. One Saturday, she took me to see Good Will Hunting. First of all, I couldn't believe I was going to see such an adult movie. Second of all, I had recently cut all of my hair off (literally) and was feeling like a big badass (not the case) and this only reaffirmed that I had moved up a few cool notches (not at all). So I came sauntering into the movies and as I have always had a tiny bladder, I was instructed by my sister to go to the bathroom before the movie started. She asked me if I wanted her to wait for me and I huffily declined, informing her that I wasn't a child and that I would find her in the theater. Well, another movie had just let out and I got stuck in a longer line. By the time, I made it out of the bathroom, our theater had gone dark and I couldn't adjust my eyes. The theater wasn't that full so I called out my sister's name and heard her respond back. Still slightly disoriented, I moved forward and went to place my hands on the seat back so I could try to adjust my eyes. As my hands came down, all of a sudden I realized there was a person in that seat and I now had my two hands placed squarely on the top of this person's head!!!!!! I panicked but I didn't know what to do so after about three uncomfortable seconds of using this person's melon as a hand rest, I decided the only logical thing to do was disorient them further and make my escape. So I pushed the persons head forward with such force and took off sprinting to the other side of the theater. I could barely breathe when I told Kate what was going on and she almost wet her pants from laughing at me. She assured me that the person could not have seen what I looked like and that they wouldn't be able to tell who it was in the theater that had accosted them. We spent the next two hours trying to suppress inappropriate laughter and then when the lights came on, to my horror and my sister's delight it was just us and this older gentleman in the theater. The jig was up and I'm fairly certain he had no doubts about who his attacker was.

That feels good to get that off my chest. I must issue a public apology to the man that I gave whiplash to. Sir, I know you were probably just trying to spend a peaceful day at the movies. You had no idea that a short haired, bumbling idiot of a thirteen year old was headed your way. Sometimes bad things happen to good people and what can I say…No one's ever grabbed my head in the theater but I can assure plenty of other weird things have happened to me so Karma has come back ten-fold. I hope we can be friends and I hope you didn't have to wear that neck brace for too long.

I'm still a little wary walking into theaters even now…

If you weren’t aware

The most joyous time of the year is upon us! Going on right now, all across this great nation and the rest of the world, an event is occurring simultaneously that brings joy and excitement to many lives. It is a time for reflection, sacrifice, and giving. This is a most sacred event and I for one prepare myself for this time of year months ahead of time.

What time of year is it, you might be wondering?? It's not Christmas, or Easter, or Passover, or Yom Kippur. It's not Thanksgiving or any of the other myriad of holidays we celebrate and the moon isn't in the seventh house (or if it is, I have no idea…I don't pay attention to that kind of thing). So what could it be??

Well, I'll tell you.

It is the Nordstrom's Anniversary Sale!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Every year the retail store decides to honor its customer loyalty with a GIGANTIC sale. As if this retail giant doesn't do enough for their customers (I love Nordstroms and their amazing customer service, but that's a post for another day…), the sale isn't simply on the leftovers of last year. It is all wonderful, shiny, new FALL CLOTHES. And the discounts are pretty outrageous. I'm beyond excited about it. So far, I've done three mini shopping sprees and picked up these boots, this bracelet (in two different colors), this wonderful piece, and these yummy things. I plan on going back again this weekend. There are so many beautiful things for fall and I'm doing a closet re-vamp so this sale has come at the perfect time!

The reason for the closet re-vamp is I've discovered that my style is evolving lately. I seem to be moving away from the polo days of yore and walking confidently into what I can best describe as my Edgy Feminine stage of life. Don't worry, I'm not going Biker Chick or anything ridiculous. My ass would never look good that spread out on the back of a bike but I have developed a serious addiction to mixing rough textures with beautifully soft accessories or vice versa. I just feel like it is a surprising mix of being tough but being a lady and that seems to be my whole goal in life right now. Maybe not "watch-out-for-me-in-a-dark-alley-or-I'll-whoop-your-ass" tough, but business tough and maybe a little bit tougher in my personal life (I'll talk more about that later). I admire really strong women who stand up for what they believe in even if it isn't popular and I guess my new dress code is an outward manifestation of what I hope is occurring inside.

I have this dream outfit and I'm fairly certain I can make it happen. Imagine this: impossibly high black heels paired with a old school silk pantyhose that have the seam in the back (SO SEXY) a black leather pencil skirt and a soft cream silk blouse and red lips (I'm still looking for MY red lipstick but again that is a post for another day). I feel like if I could find this dream outfit, I could own the world. So there's a little peak into what you might be seeing in my closet this season. I've been inspired by the wonderful leather accessories that are out there this year and I'm afraid I might just like being a little bit edgy.

 

 

Where Do I Go From Here

After about a two weeks of blogging, I have discovered two things.

1. I love to write
   
2. I haven't come up with a cohesive theme of as to what my blog is going to be about.
   

   
    

So I decided to take a few days and come up with a plan. I love a good plan of action. I thought about what I like to read, what I like to do, where I like to go and I decided that I would write about all of those things. I'm not a trendsetter by any means but I love beautiful, interesting neat things and I decided if nothing else, that was a good enough reason to be qualified to write about them. Moving forward this is what you can come to expect from my blog:

Sunday/Monday – Cultural Day! When I update my blog on one of these two days you'll be guaranteed a restaurant review, a recipe review, a book review, a play review or something else along those lines.

Tuesday/Wednesday – Fashion Day! Here is where I'll show you something I've found that I think is absolutely beautiful. I have some incredibly fashionable friends with different taste that I draw a lot of inspiration from so I think this will be a lot of fun and definitely have something for everyone whether you are preppy or edgy or something in between. I do not claim to be a some fashion guru so feel free to laugh if I have a strikeout here and there J

Thursday/Friday – I'm going to reserve this day to tell you more about myself and how I've gotten to the point that I am writing a blog. I love this section and since it's about me, I will definitely claim to be an expert in this one area.

Now we're all on the same page. Let's get started!

About a week ago, my husband and I heard about a little thing called the 10:00 burger at Holeman & Finch here in Atlanta. It was featured on Food Network (LOVE THIS CHANNEL!!!) and we were intrigued. The deal with the 10:00 burger is this: at 10:00 every night Holeman & Finch makes 20 burgers and only 20 burgers. Once they are gone, they are gone and when I say you are out of luck, I mean it. There is no convincing the kitchen to make a 21^st burger. These burgers are amazing and they sell fast! There is one loop hole though. If you go on Sunday at brunch, they make 40 and you have a better chance of getting one. So my husband and I showed up early and were the first in line and man oh man were these .burgers ever delicious! They were cheesy and griddle cooked with homemade mustard and ketchup and I am fairly certain that I resembled Cookie Monster while eating one. If you haven't had one, you definitely need to go immediately! I am making it a personal rule to only go once a month otherwise I will weigh approximately 4,678 lbs but if I could I would go every day.

What I Learned in the Elevator

I walked into SCAD absolutely defeated. It was the nearing the end of the quarter and I was exhausted. I didn't particularly care about the papers I was writing or the presentations I was about to give. I had half a mind to turn around and go bury myself in my covers and watch Food Network, ignoring the hours of homework ahead of me and basking blissfully in the laziness that a rainy afternoon affords. I was tired, worried and feeling completely overwhelmed. I was getting closer and closer to D-DAY; when full time classes ended and it was time for me to find a full time job again. After not working for a year, I was ready to start again but I wasn't sure of what I wanted to do and although I loved my program, the opportunities presenting themselves were few and far between and most were unpaid. For lack of a better term, I felt defeated.

I bucked up and decided that I needed to just suck it up and go to class. No use wallowing in my own stormy ocean. I walked through the school to the elevator bank. For a time drawing close to finals, the school was surprisingly empty. I suppose other people had made the choice to stay home. The doors opened and I got in, jostling my books and my materials. The elevator doors shut and I was left to sit by my lonesome. The air was still and quiet and I was thankful for a moment of peace.

I closed my eyes and begin to silently pray. "Please God, reveal to me what it is you want me to do and where my place is. Show me where I'm supposed to grow." It was a prayer of desperation and I could feel my entire heart pouring into it. I just need some answers because I felt like I was treading water in a riptide. I didn't need a life preserver; I needed the Coast Guard. We were surviving on one salary with a student loan looming over us and no job prospects to really speak of. My husband was working his tail off and he was tired and I could see it in his eyes even though his natural optimistic demeanor would never say it out loud. I could see him calculating the numbers in his head and the worry would sneak through.

I whispered the prayer over and over and then opened my eyes. All of a sudden I noticed a small flashing light out of the corner of my eye that hadn't been there when I got in. I looked down and at the very very bottom of the numbers on the control panel of the elevator was a small round button. It was the source of the flashing and I had never noticed this button before. I looked closer to read what it said.

Help Is on the Way.

It only flashed about six times but the message was abundantly clear. My prayers had been heard and my help was on the way. I just needed to have faith; Faith in myself and faith in the One that loves me. I instantly felt a wave of relief wash over me and I took a deep breath.

I stepped out of the elevator a different person that day. When life begins to get overwhelming and complicated, when the storms begin to thunderously roll in, when my little boat seems to be capsizing; Help Is On The Way.

It might as well have been a giant neon sign, but that little button changed my life.

 

God Save the Queen

Last November, I got married. Of course in doing so, there inevitably come some very big changes, most notably your name and (bom ba bommmmmm!!!!!) your bank account. Now having had my very own bank account since I was 15 and having worked very very hard to build up a nice little nest egg, I was somewhat hesitant to combine accounts. But again I sought the counsel (do you see a theme developing here?? I can very rarely do anything without getting at least 6 opinions on the matter…it's a sick game I like to play because most of the time I listen to none of them and forge ahead with what I originally intended on doing) and this time I actually took the advice of pretty much everyone and decided to take the plunge into join account land. However, if I was going to have to share accounts, I was hell bent on making the process as difficult as possible. It's just my nature. My husband and I shared the same bank but after a particularly nasty encounter with them (a story for another day), I decided that we just needed to find a new place to call banking home. After months and months of research, we finally landed on one. The day we went in to change accounts I was horribly nervous…visibly shaken and highly irritable (a combination that will more often than not lead to what my mother likes to call a Nuclear Meltdown). My husband (God Bless His Sweet Soul) was feeling the effects of this and normally a levelheaded bloke, he became a tad unhinged as well and forgot to bring any money with him to deposit in to the new accounts and when asked what his mother's maiden name was proceeded to reply, "Rebecca." This kind of behavior threw me further into the death spin of crazy and by the time we left, I had to be by myself for a couple of hours, leaving half of the banking duties undone, to be tackled another yet to be determined day. That was a month ago. Just yesterday I was able to muster up the courage to finish the deed and close out my old account.

Now as I mentioned before, I have absolutely no feelings of love towards my old bank anymore. I equate my relationship with them to the bad boyfriend that you just cannot stand but find it damn near impossible to stop answering their phone calls. So yesterday when I made my way there, I felt almost smug as if I had accomplished a large breakthrough (I'm all about breakthroughs) and was ready to call it quits with this toxic relationship. In fact, I practiced the break up conversation on the way there. It went something like this:

Bank Rep: "And Ma'am, can you tell us why you are closing your account with us today?"

Righteous Me: "Well not that it's frankly any of your business, but I have been appalled at your treatment of a long time customer. You should be ashamed, ASHAMED, of yourselves! Now give me my money and get out of my sight you filthy animal!!!"

(Bank Rep hands me my check and scampers off wailing)

What really happened went something like this:

Bank Rep: "And Ma'am, can you tell us why you are closing your account with us today"

Me: "Ummmmmm, wellllllllll, (LONG PREGNANT PAUSE) my husband and I are moving" (I panicked…and then panicked some more as I realized this bank is EVERYWHERE)

Bank Rep: "Oh well, where are you moving to?"

Panicked Me: "London."

LONDON?!?!?! LONDON?!?!?!?! What ensued thereafter was an encounter built on lies. I would like to say I blacked out and can't remember the details, but that too would be a lie. There were more details thrown out about my new life in London and the adventures that awaited us there. I even have a few restaurant suggestions if anyone is actually headed that way sometime soon.

I guess when it comes down to it, I was too worried about hurting this strangers feelings. It's not as if her great great great grandfather had founded the stupid bank and I was spitting on his grave by telling the truth. I told my husband about it and all he had to say afterwards was "well did you get the money?" and I said "yes, but with a price. My dignity"

Anyway, the deed is done and now after entirely too much rigamaroll we share one account and I have to say, it's not that bad. In fact it's pretty comforting to know that we really are in this thing together and at least if I do have to move to London, I'm not going alone.

For now, all I have to say for myself is "God Save the Queen!"

The Beginning

I have thought for a long time about where to begin my story of my life as a social twit. I have tried to think if there was one defining moment that sealed my fate or if it was just a gradual natural progression. I have sought the counsel of my longtime peers, my husband, my parents and my harshest critic, my sister and none of them seem to think it was a meteor-striking-the-earth moment or a series of experiences that led to the ultimate final culmination of ridiculous behavior. Instead, they all seem to have the same assessment: "I think you were just born this way."

And truthfully, I believe this might be exactly what happened. After years and years of searching for answers, I finally had a breakthrough moment. I couldn't help it. I was born this way! I was born to attract all the Grade A Weirdos in the grocery store, put myself into every possible awkward scenario, and inevitably make an ass out of myself at pretty much every juncture. This revelation was one I can only adequately describe as a rebirth of sorts. I was born this way!! I could no longer be held accountable for my actions no more than a person with Terrets can be blamed for their unfortunately timed outbursts. I was a victim; an untreated patient if you will and instead of trying to hide my genetic disposition, I was now proudly going to wave my banner high.

Almost immediately, I began to embrace what I had long considered a misfortune and began to really explore the opportunities this was going to provide me. I wasn't going to seek out awkward situations or potentially embarrassing moments but if they presented themselves, I was going to meet them head on with gusto and poise and an appreciation for the unexpected in life. I was a pioneer of sorts and no social norms were going to keep me down.

So on my first day as a new pioneer, I donned my new pair of pants and a snazzy new shirt, some fantastic new MAC eyeliner and headed out the door. Feeling as though I might need all the reinforcement I could get, I stopped at the local coffee joint and patiently waited in line. Standing behind me was an older gentleman, early sixties I would say, and I noticed he was staring at me rather intently as I moved up in line. Figuring he was just one of those rude individuals who doesn't know that staring can be misconstrued as an act of aggression, I chose not to ask him if he would like to take a picture and tried to ignore him. All of a sudden I heard him mutter "Sexy" in a barely audible voice. This was enough. I can take a little staring and truth be told, enjoy it from time to time but when the cat calling and name calling begins, you know you are just mere moments away from a full on grope so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I turned around giving him my best "F Off Buddy" look and said "Excuse Me?" The gentleman (if you can even call that pervert a gentleman) said very matter of factly, "You're a six." I was appalled. Here this a-hole was, judging me like some heffer at the local county fair and grading me on my choice meat. Well, no sir. I was not going to take this sort of behavior. I quickly replied back "Yeah and I'm married so I'm someone else's six, thank you very much," and turned on my heels and stomped out of the door. Under my normal circumstances, I would have probably just let it slide and turned as red as the soles of my shoes. Instead I showed that FDA Livestock Inspector who was really in charge.

I strutted into my office feeling overly confident, proud of the start I had made to rise above my inherent circumstances and walked into the 9 AM staff meeting, ready to regale my fellow co-workers with my triumph. Just as I was beginning to strut my peacock feathers, my boss Meg came in and quietly whispered "You still have the size sticker on the side of your pants!" With that, I quickly realized the sad truth that with some things, rising above is just not an option. Better luck tomorrow I suppose.

PS – to the gentleman I have called an a-hole, a pervert, and effectively told to F- OFF, I truly do apologize. I can't be helped and they don't make medicine to treat this sort of thing. God Bless.