Head of Christ?

This past weekend, I had about an hour and a half of uninterrupted television time. It’s Easter season and I was trying to get in that cheery, “mob kills a man who then comes back from the dead to save your soul” mood. I found myself settling on the critically-acclaimed HBO series, Six Feet Under. Yes, the same Six Feet Under that premiered in 2001. I know, I’m a bit of a late bloomer.

For those of you who DON’T know what the show is about (mom), it depicts the Fischer family, who’s family business is running a funeral home. There is the overbearing wife and mother, Ruth. David, the neurotic, perfection seeking, closeted middle child. Claire, who is a late-teen/early twenty-something who’s only concern in life is getting high and living recklessly. Lastly, there’s Nate. He’s the eldest son, the one who escaped to Seattle and away from death. Alas, he didn’t get too far. Why? Oh, because (14-YEAR-LATE-SPOILER ALERT!), the patriarch of the family dies in a car accident and he now needs to run the business. Continue reading

Dr. Feelgood

Yesterday was “International Women’s Day”, so of course I made a snarky comment about celebrating in the kitchen. I don’t believe in God, or karma, or any of those things, but I woke up today feeling like a pile of poop threw up another pile of poop. I think Gloria Alred put a curse on me. I got about 3 hours of sleep total. It was awful, especially since I was laying next to my boyfriend who seemed to be having the best sleep of his life. I’m pretty sure he smiled at one point. I was miserable.

Being the independent woman I am, I woke up and dragged myself into the shower (read: I have to go to work because I don’t have a sugar daddy). Every 20 seconds or so, I had that gun-to-your-head decision: puke or poop? Absolutely awful. Somehow, I managed to get out of the house and into work. As soon as I stepped in, my coworker literally said, “Yikes. You look like you’re still asleep.” That just translates into, “You look like garbage.” Awesome. Continue reading

The Gift of the Bonsai

Holidays are tough. For me, Christmas is the worst. It’s not because of the presents. I don’t have any particularly memorable Christmas dinner memories. My family is small, so we didn’t have a huge party.

What I miss the most can be summed up in this picture:

My father, keeping it kalssy on Kristmas.

My father, keeping it klassy on Kristmas.

My dad and this amazing outfit on Christmas morning. Everyone, take note. THAT is the look on Christmas. Bathrobe, white tee, no pants, pipe. If there was a shit to give, my father did not have one. He would make his instant coffee (Sanka, of course), get his pipe, and park it on the couch where he would unceremoniously unwrap ties and homemade ashtrays.

Then, my dad suddenly of a heart attack when I was 21 years old.

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A few weeks ago, my boyfriend and I were cleaning up the house. Now, when I say “cleaning up the house”, I mean cleaning all of the pieces of garbage that his stupid dog gets everywhere. I came to the area in the bedroom where his dog bed was and stopped abruptly. “Um, babe? Could you do me a favor and just grab that stuff on the floor real quick?” I asked sweetly. Thinking there must be something heavy or gross on the floor, he came around the bed and looked down. “What? What is it?” he asked, looking very confused.

If you have read this previous post of mine, you can probably see where this is going. He, however, clearly did not read that entry. Great. I gave him the quick and dirty version of why I don’t touch foam. Normally, he is a loving and compassionate man. He’s very sweet and kind to me. So, you can just imagine my horror as he proceeded to laugh hysterically, pick up the foam, and chase me with it. I’d love to tell you all that we had a really good laugh about it, but, I’m not a liar. As I was running for dear life throughout the house, hysterical, almost on the verge of tears, he shouted “NERD!!!”

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Is That Mud On Your Face?

I’m not sure what it is about me, but I have this uncanny power to have complete strangers tell me the weirdest, most personal details of their lives within minutes of meeting them. I know this sounds like an exaggeration, but I promise you it’s true. There’s the time I was getting a pedicure and the woman pretty much told me that she was human trafficked here from Vietnam. Or the time that I was in TJ Maxx with a friend and a woman blocked our path and demanded our opinion on some crappy things she was buying. This small traffic stop resulted in a 15 minute conversation about how she is living with her ex husband, whom she hates, but loves his money. I don’t know what it is about me, but I just bring it out in people. It’s actually not a bad thing; it’s great for me because it gives me awesome stories. However, there is a time and place for a story, and when I’m laying on a table getting a facial, it’s not the time to talk about your bowel habits.

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What To Expect When You’re Not Expecting

Hey! Guess what?? My blog just turned one today! Let us all sit back and bask in the glory of this.

Ok, we’re done now. Let’s not make this weird, ok?

Speaking of turning one, I’ve had a lot of friends whose kids are having first birthdays lately. That means a lot of cute invites to parties, trying to figure out who needs what, which kids hates Thomas the Train, who loves him, can this kid play with plastic toys? Are his parents going to have real cake or some gluten free shit? Can I eat peanuts at this party?? It can all be very daunting.

While I love that most, if not all, of my friends have kids, I can’t but help feel like the walls are closing in on me as each year ticks by. (I’ll spare you the imagery that just popped into my head when I typed the former sentence). Slowly, I’ve become the one, if not only, woman in my group that doesn’t have a child. It’s been happening for a few years now. At first, I hardly noticed. In fact, for a very long period in my life, I was adamant against having kids. I didn’t feel like it was something that I needed in my life. Both my ex and I were on the same page; we would just have dogs and it would be the same thing.

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Everyone Freak Out!!

As I was getting ready for work this morning, I happened to hear a snippet from the Today show that there is a man in Texas that has a confirmed case of Ebola. The report went further to say that this unidentified man came into contact with about a handful of people, but health officials are contacting upwards of 100 people who may or may not have had contact with this dude. Of COURSE, reactionary news kicks in and they immediately start broadcasting these “what if” scenarios out on the airwaves. It always infuriates me when these stories hit because these “reporters” bring on a medical professional to get the “facts”, but then essentially back them into a corner, only allowing them to provide a WORST CASE (!!!!!!) scenario. Like, Armageddon shit. I feel bad for these poor doctors/medical people. Things can get very awkward and defensive, and they try their hardest to wrangle the rabid news hounds back into reality.

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It’s Oh So Quiet……..

Let me start this post by offering my humblest, sincerest apologies for my absence. It’s been a while, I know. I’m sure you’ve all be wondering, “What happened to this wonderful, enlightening, insightful blog?? How can I go about my life without reading the nonsense that Marie puts out there??? WHERE WILL I HEAR ABOUT EMBARRASSING TAMPON STORIES?!?!!?!?” Well…….I don’t have a very good excuse, guys. I’d like to say I’ve been waaaaaaaaaaaaay too busy to write, but that would be a lie. I won’t delude myself with that excuse. Sure, work is busy. So what? I don’t run a Fortune 500 company. I don’t have any kids, so I’m definitely not running off to soccer practice, PTA meetings, or weird play dates that require me to sit awkwardly facing another mom, sipping room temperature white wine, nibbling on stale Melba toast and American cheese (it was on sale; brie can be so EXPENSIVE!), barley having the energy to feign interest in the discussion of, “OMG!! I CAN’T wait for the new season of The Good Wife!” No, friends, I don’t have any of those excuses. I have been lazy, and, frankly, not too inspired. I decided today that I’m going to write about just that.

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