Butt plugs and rabbit holes

Ever have those days where everything all around you seems so silly and you just want to fall over and roll around laughing and then purposively throw yourself down the rabbit hole because it is the only sane thing left to do? If so then this might be a sign that letting go is a good choice for you.

I might take myself and the world too seriously most of the time. Today, feeling helplessly out of control I have decided it may be better for me to be seriously (not too seriously) amused by the stupidity of all the things that normally bother me.

The highlight of the day:

BP – Butt Plug Petroleum

I read that one strategy for plugging the “leak” (what qualifies as a leak these days?) was to shoot into the pipe a bunch of junk, but after reading commentary on BP’s new designation as Butt Plug Petroleum I can’t help but really believe that butt plugs are the answer. Obviously, first the removal of butt plugs needs to occur. Clearly, the cosmic flow of goodness is not occurring in BP executives. Then a butt plug should most definitely be inserted to stop this “leak”. I like the Pepto Bismo color of these:

Now it is time to take the red pill and leap into the rabbit hole.

No more whiskers

It’s been bothering me ever since I saw those silly Census 2010 pictures of myself. Every time I look in the mirror, I wonder is it there or is it not? That is my mustache.

I have always been self conscious about hair and facial hair in particular. My mother unluckily inherited the gene where occasionally she gets a few longer blond chin hairs. She has always been very careful to make sure they are gone at first notice. Once my sister told me she too had gotten a long chin hair. I inspect my chin frequently always ready with tweezers just in case that day of doom comes upon me.

The first time I became particularly tuned into my facial hair was in 7th grade. My friend and her mother already had a ritual of using a Nair like product on their mustache. I tried it with her the night we were to be going to a "boy/girl party". It was awful. My upper lip was red and swollen and I’m sure I had some chemical burn. That was the night I had my first kiss. It was also quite awful. Tonsil hockey…really? Someone should have warned me.

Now as I look at my mustache in the mirror my wedding day flashes before me. Will my pictures show a mustache? I wish us women could get a break on this whole hair thing because really I’m sure there is something I could be doing slightly more productive and brain creative than worrying about my facial hair...though I absolutely refuse to be running around with whiskers.

The hair must be annihilated.

Running from Texas

I seriously had to stop following a blog because the writer claimed her love for…. The Texas Roadhouse. I just can’t tolerate that.

Actually, I had a recent almost meal at the cow cruelty restaurant. I had the recent choice of getting to choose where to eat for my birthday dinner. Of course I had no idea what I wanted to eat and because I tend to feel guilty all the time I didn’t want to choose the expensive local restaurant I really wanted to eat at. Mike and I drove around for awhile trying to decide where to eat. Steak sounded good so we made the leap into the Texas Roadhouse.

We leapt out after waiting for 5 minutes. It felt soooo wrong. Not only did I question the nutritional value of the cow I might put into my mouth, but also the people around me who clearly did not have thoughts about the cow. This was not the company I wanted to keep on my birthday.

As we were sitting waiting two obnoxious boys came running down to the peanut (really we need peanuts before our 2000 calorie meals?) bin and started throwing them on the ground. We left promptly after.

The lesson? We love ourselves too much…and we are total snobs…in a very good way.

What's been going on

Sorry it’s been awhile. Time has an awful way of interfering with life. Recently, I have been forced to run earlier in the morning before I have had a chance to fully absorb the news. This does not work out well for me. I can be a slightly thoughtful and emotional person to begin with and for some reason adding running and the news in the morning puts my emotions at their peak.

It seems like it would be a good type of meditation to let your normal running thoughts keep passing you by, but I have a way of paying attention to them. Mostly, with my new early morning runs and news absorption I have experienced a more emotional rage at the world. The oil spill has brought on a sadness for the planet and a lack of understanding of the greed that drives the human race. Arizona’s immigration policy sickens me. The publicity of the murder of the woman in Mexico drives me to wonder why women seem to continue to be the victims.

Then there is the guilt. As the news rolls on and my desire to make the right choices continues I start to feel guilty about things like the amount of money I am spending on my wedding. I see all the other places it could go towards. I don’t think I have an ‘I don’t deserve anything’ complex. And I don’t think I am just young and ignorant about the world.

I just care.

Sunday Suppa: trans fat free

Once again I skipped out on the new recipe bit and decided to go for a classic. I knew I would be needing comfort food with a new temp job commencing the next day and more importantly after the stress of putting the final touches on my wedding invitations.

I love my Italian food. I cannot wait to someday travel to Italy where I can drink wine and eat delicious food followed by a nap outside in some olive grove. Unfortunately, that time is not anywhere near now. Instead, I eat my good Americanized Lasagna as quickly as possible. Someday I will join and relish in the slow food movement.

My night was not completely lost to invitations and barely tasting my dinner. We made a warm batch of brownies from a box. Fear not, the box was carefully selected to be trans fat free and the brownies were made from an egg from a chicken raised in a certified humane way.

I ate my warm brownie with a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Sundays are not the healthiest days of my week, but it makes all my impending exercise seem so worth it.

Getting over party anxiety

I received my bridal shower invitation in the mail. I was very excited, but then the panic and anxiety took over.

I have rarely had parties that celebrate me. I had one in high school and then maybe a few others in elementary school. Each time it has included a gaggle of girls and ended up in some weird girl gang where I was the outsider at my party. My feelings have always gotten hurt.

Could this happen now when I am an adult surrounded by adult friends and family? It is a bridal shower! No one has ever made the bride cry in anguish, right? Well, I have to believe that since my shower is being thrown by people that love me that I will be ok. Plus, there is already an extra perk; I need a cute new outfit for my shower so I get to shopping!

A girl, a woman, or something in between

I’m not the same girl. Am I a girl? I recently heard Christina Aguilara’s new song “Not myself tonight” where she repeats several times that she is not the same girl. Is she still a girl?

I am getting ready for my 24th birthday which means that I will be in my mid-twenties. I have given some thought to whether that means I still get the title of young woman or if I will officially become a woman with neither young or old attached to who I am. I wasn’t really entertaining the idea of being a girl still.  Am I allowed?

As a girl fantasizing about being grown up, being a woman, I did not imagine the culture of my womanhood. I imagined myself as a woman. Unfortunately the bigger breasts I had envisioned never came into fruition. I do feel a little reluctant to let go of my girlhood. I would like to take it with me as I enter my womanhood. There is something powerful in the carefree attitude that my own girlhood contained which seems unlike womanhood land, which contains even more rules and roles.

Perhaps, I should embrace the intertwining of girlhood and womanhood that this transition to adulthood elicits. It is probably why we have the term young woman. I am not the same girl because I am not solely a girl anymore as I now have some of that womanhood thrown into the mix. While womanhood land may have some rules and roles that come with being an adult I believe I will discover a freedom unlike in girlhood; the freedom that comes with the ability to make choices.