I’ve been in and out of women’s locker rooms since probably the fifth grade. That adds up to approximately 18 years of seeing half or totally naked girls/women. As I’ve transferred from the high school locker room to a locker room at a public gym I’ve noticed some things.
First of all lets be honest . . . . we all look. Whether we mean to or not, sometimes you see something surprising like nipple rings out of the corner of your eye and you do a double take. Sometimes you see someone with super ripped abs or a really nice body. I’ll be honest and admit that I’ve checked out a girls butt before because it was amazing. And more often than any of us would like you see someone who is either really old or really chubby. And it is these people who walk around butt as naked.
So with a birthday approaching in a few short hours, I have some vows for the gym I’d like to make as I age.
•I will always wear shower shoes.
•I will groom all parts of my body
•I will never wear underwear that comes up to my armpits
•I will always wear cute underwear. Or at least not grandma underwear.
•If my boobs hang down to my knees, I will wear a sports bra
•I will not have a conversation with a complete stranger while they are fully clothed and I am not.
•And when I am old and wrinkly and still going to the gym, I will strut around butt ass naked without a care in the locker room.
December 16, 2009
December 10, 2009
I Am NOT Tiger Woods
I am amazed that two weeks into the Tiger scandal, I still cannot get enough. It’s all disturbing and disappointing and yet I cannot stop reading about it. Which led me to reading an article by Jason Whitlock, whom I typically think is amusing and entertaining while giving us an interesting view into the world of sports. But I have a hard time with his recent article regarding how the Tiger scandal is about more than sex. Whitlock seems to think that it, or at least the public’s outrage, is about race.
Whitlock frequently stretches to make any issue into a race issue. He thinks that the country is upset because it was a mixed race man, who let’s face it, most of us think of as Black because it’s easier than listing all his ethnicities, cheating on a white woman. I don’t care if you’re green or purple or blue or any combination thereof, my indignation has nothing to do with the color of their skin. It has to do with the fact that a man cheated repeatedly on his wife. Even worse is that according to many of the women that have come forward, Tiger had some sort of ongoing relationship with these women.
I personally have never met either Tiger or Elin. I have no idea what they agreed to before getting married. For all I know they agreed to have an open marriage or they’re swingers. I would assume however, that even a non-traditional marriage means that you don’t publically humiliate your spouse and children. Some people want Tiger to speak up and tell us all what is and has been going on in his marriage. I have no problem with them keeping their private life private. In fact, I hope that they do. The less I hear about how good Tiger is in bed or whether or not he prefers to wear a condom the better.
Do I think that Tiger asked to be put on a Tim Tebow type shrine as Mr. Perfect? Not at all. Regardless of whether or not you asked for a pedestal, you know when you’re on one. And that means that your decisions and actions are going to be looked at and scrutinized. We as the public put Tiger on a pedestal. We helped to create that iconic image. And as always, we’re disappointed when our icons fall off those big ass pedestals. I’ve never aspired to be like Tiger Woods. I don’t even have the energy to aspire to golf like him. And despite knowing that no one is perfect, including idols, it is disappointing to find out that they’re just as human as the rest of us.
So yes, Tiger has had multiple relationships with women outside his marriage. Based on Elin’s coming after him with a golf club, which I find incredibly amusing and ironic, I’m guessing that even if the marriage was open, public humiliation wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. Here’s the thing that really gets me though. After two weeks, I still can’t get past this one tid bid. Tiger Woods went to Stanford, which is notorious for not bending its academic standards for athletes. The guy is worth a billion dollars. Yet somehow the supposedly smart guy with more money than he can possibly spend didn’t think of buying a second phone? A “little black phone,” if you will. I guess brains, money and good looks aren’t everything after all.
Whitlock frequently stretches to make any issue into a race issue. He thinks that the country is upset because it was a mixed race man, who let’s face it, most of us think of as Black because it’s easier than listing all his ethnicities, cheating on a white woman. I don’t care if you’re green or purple or blue or any combination thereof, my indignation has nothing to do with the color of their skin. It has to do with the fact that a man cheated repeatedly on his wife. Even worse is that according to many of the women that have come forward, Tiger had some sort of ongoing relationship with these women.
I personally have never met either Tiger or Elin. I have no idea what they agreed to before getting married. For all I know they agreed to have an open marriage or they’re swingers. I would assume however, that even a non-traditional marriage means that you don’t publically humiliate your spouse and children. Some people want Tiger to speak up and tell us all what is and has been going on in his marriage. I have no problem with them keeping their private life private. In fact, I hope that they do. The less I hear about how good Tiger is in bed or whether or not he prefers to wear a condom the better.
Do I think that Tiger asked to be put on a Tim Tebow type shrine as Mr. Perfect? Not at all. Regardless of whether or not you asked for a pedestal, you know when you’re on one. And that means that your decisions and actions are going to be looked at and scrutinized. We as the public put Tiger on a pedestal. We helped to create that iconic image. And as always, we’re disappointed when our icons fall off those big ass pedestals. I’ve never aspired to be like Tiger Woods. I don’t even have the energy to aspire to golf like him. And despite knowing that no one is perfect, including idols, it is disappointing to find out that they’re just as human as the rest of us.
So yes, Tiger has had multiple relationships with women outside his marriage. Based on Elin’s coming after him with a golf club, which I find incredibly amusing and ironic, I’m guessing that even if the marriage was open, public humiliation wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. Here’s the thing that really gets me though. After two weeks, I still can’t get past this one tid bid. Tiger Woods went to Stanford, which is notorious for not bending its academic standards for athletes. The guy is worth a billion dollars. Yet somehow the supposedly smart guy with more money than he can possibly spend didn’t think of buying a second phone? A “little black phone,” if you will. I guess brains, money and good looks aren’t everything after all.
When Beauty Rituals Backfire
When I was at home in Montana this past Thanksgiving, I was given the task of going through my closet there and getting rid of anything I didn’t want or boxing up what I did want for storage. Along with my American Girl doll, some prized stuffed animals, and Cabbage Patch kids were boxes full of photos. Here’s what I learned from pictures: a) I was pretty stinking cute as a toddler, b) I took a ridiculous number of pictures in junior high and high school (and still do) and c) I had the hairiest eyebrows ever!
While I didn’t appreciate it at the time, today I am eternally grateful for the beauty torture ritual my mother started me on at an early age. That’s right, the waxing of the eyebrows. I was in sixth grade when my mom took me to get it done for the first time. As I recall, I was going in for a hair cut and she somehow managed to slip this little piece of torture in at the last minute. All I remember is that it hurt like hell. Here’s the problem with waxing, I don’t dread the first side. That never seems to be an issue. But after you’re done waxing one side of whatever body part you may be waxing, you have to make it even. I think you’re body releases extra pain receptors once the first side is done because now you remember how uncomfortable or painful it really is.
Despite hating the eyebrow waxing ritual for its physical pain and the mocking I received from friends at the time (all of whom later ended up waxing their eyebrows), today I am grateful that my mom cared enough to torture me. Now days, I just wax my own eyebrows. It’s cheap and easy. The problem with this is that I am not a professional waxer. And occasionally the wax gets away from me.
Last night I decided an eyebrow waxing was in order. I had plugged in the wax and then forgot about it because I was watching a movie. Two hours later, the wax was a bit more pliable that usual. And may have gotten into more brow than I intended. You know what the problem with wax it? It’s kind of like gravity, what goes up must come down. Or in this case, what wax goes on must come off. Somehow. While I probably could have gotten it off some other way, I figured it couldn’t be that bad, right? Try telling that to the matching bald spots I now have in both my eyebrows.
What really amuses me is that I managed to ruin not one, but both eyebrows. I seriously have a little bald spot in the middle of each brow. While it’s probably not noticeable to someone who isn’t observant (i.e. boys), if you’re looking at them it is definitely noticeable.
Alas, the good thing about hair is that is always grows back. Unless you have alopecia. In the meantime, I’m stealing a move from the “I’m going bald but don’t want to own up to it” play book. That’s right, I am calling in . . . . the comb over. Where I am desperately trying to get the remaining eyebrow hair to strategically cover up the bald spots.
Alas, there is nothing I can do but will my hair to grow faster. And really, it could have been worse. I could be missing the whole brow. Now wouldn’t that make for an interesting photo to find years down the road?
While I didn’t appreciate it at the time, today I am eternally grateful for the beauty torture ritual my mother started me on at an early age. That’s right, the waxing of the eyebrows. I was in sixth grade when my mom took me to get it done for the first time. As I recall, I was going in for a hair cut and she somehow managed to slip this little piece of torture in at the last minute. All I remember is that it hurt like hell. Here’s the problem with waxing, I don’t dread the first side. That never seems to be an issue. But after you’re done waxing one side of whatever body part you may be waxing, you have to make it even. I think you’re body releases extra pain receptors once the first side is done because now you remember how uncomfortable or painful it really is.
Despite hating the eyebrow waxing ritual for its physical pain and the mocking I received from friends at the time (all of whom later ended up waxing their eyebrows), today I am grateful that my mom cared enough to torture me. Now days, I just wax my own eyebrows. It’s cheap and easy. The problem with this is that I am not a professional waxer. And occasionally the wax gets away from me.
Last night I decided an eyebrow waxing was in order. I had plugged in the wax and then forgot about it because I was watching a movie. Two hours later, the wax was a bit more pliable that usual. And may have gotten into more brow than I intended. You know what the problem with wax it? It’s kind of like gravity, what goes up must come down. Or in this case, what wax goes on must come off. Somehow. While I probably could have gotten it off some other way, I figured it couldn’t be that bad, right? Try telling that to the matching bald spots I now have in both my eyebrows.
What really amuses me is that I managed to ruin not one, but both eyebrows. I seriously have a little bald spot in the middle of each brow. While it’s probably not noticeable to someone who isn’t observant (i.e. boys), if you’re looking at them it is definitely noticeable.
Alas, the good thing about hair is that is always grows back. Unless you have alopecia. In the meantime, I’m stealing a move from the “I’m going bald but don’t want to own up to it” play book. That’s right, I am calling in . . . . the comb over. Where I am desperately trying to get the remaining eyebrow hair to strategically cover up the bald spots.
Alas, there is nothing I can do but will my hair to grow faster. And really, it could have been worse. I could be missing the whole brow. Now wouldn’t that make for an interesting photo to find years down the road?
December 9, 2009
Everything I Need to Know About Shopping I Learned From My Mother
Two of the best skills I have in life I learned from my mother. One – always look for the rack that says “SALE” on it. Two – how to do sale math.
My mom once told me a story about shopping when my brother and I were pretty little. After entering the department store, I told my brother that we had to find the racks that had S-A-L-E on them. That lesson went down pretty easy. The next lesson was slightly more intimidating.
Growing up, math was not my strong suit. In fact, I sucked at it. So I remember being super annoyed while shopping with my mother and her deciding to teach me how to figure out the sale price of an item when it only had the 25% off sign on the rack. Really Mom? I have to suck at math all week long in school and now you’re trying to make me do it on the weekend too?
As it turns out, sale math is not that difficult. And the little tricks she taught me have served me well throughout my life. Of course, I still calculate sale prices using elementary school math. I figure out what 10% off would be, because all you have to do is move a decimal, and double or triple accordingly. Yes, I could do 30% in my head but it is so much easier elementary school style.
To this day, I have no idea what time Train A and B will meet when they leave their respective stations going some unknown mph. I remember nothing from calculus and couldn’t calculate the sine of something if I had a gun to my head. I can however, do sale math like a champ.
My mom once told me a story about shopping when my brother and I were pretty little. After entering the department store, I told my brother that we had to find the racks that had S-A-L-E on them. That lesson went down pretty easy. The next lesson was slightly more intimidating.
Growing up, math was not my strong suit. In fact, I sucked at it. So I remember being super annoyed while shopping with my mother and her deciding to teach me how to figure out the sale price of an item when it only had the 25% off sign on the rack. Really Mom? I have to suck at math all week long in school and now you’re trying to make me do it on the weekend too?
As it turns out, sale math is not that difficult. And the little tricks she taught me have served me well throughout my life. Of course, I still calculate sale prices using elementary school math. I figure out what 10% off would be, because all you have to do is move a decimal, and double or triple accordingly. Yes, I could do 30% in my head but it is so much easier elementary school style.
To this day, I have no idea what time Train A and B will meet when they leave their respective stations going some unknown mph. I remember nothing from calculus and couldn’t calculate the sine of something if I had a gun to my head. I can however, do sale math like a champ.
November 23, 2009
Civil War 09
I have a friend who thinks that his being able to see the Beavs play, either from the stands or at home in his living room, has an effect on the outcome. Often during tense moments, he disappears, returning only once things have settled down again. He may just have a weak bladder and truly has to use the bathroom during these nerve-racking plays, but personally I think he really can’t handle the pressure. And up until this past Saturday, I tended to make fun of him for this.
What happened on Saturday you ask? Only the second biggest game of the Pac-10 2009 season. Oregon v. Arizona . . . the team that wins out goes to the Rose Bowl. But if Arizona loses a game, and the Beavs win out, guess who’s spending New Years in Pasadena? After two over times, Oregon managed to squeak one out over Arizona. And just when I managed to calm myself down from watching such a good game, a major realization hit me. Winner of Civil War now goes to the Rose Bowl. Either I am spending New Years in Pasadena, or the Duck fan who sits next to me at work is.
The chance to go to the Rose Bowl is always exciting, unless you’re USC and the Rose Bowl is your consolation prize and all you have to do is drive across town to play. And after last year’s Civil War, I’m already nervous. This is the second year in a row that the Beavs have held their bowl destiny in their own hands. Win out and you see roses. Lose and go to some obscure bowl. And last year the Beavs took a beating during Civil War . . . one that happened to be the worst beating ever on their home turf.
I spent a lot of Sunday running scenarios in my head. Could the Beavs pull out a win at Autzen? It’s been done before. But the Ducks look pretty darn good. Up until Saturday, the lowest number of points they had posted against competitors was 42. And while the Beavs have some solid defense, we haven’t been putting up those kinds of numbers on offense. The trick will be to shut down Masoli and James. And this was the point in my thought process that I realized I knew too much about football for a girl.
As much as I make fun of my friend who thinks he controls the outcome of a play by leaving the room, I am already nervous for the game. It really could go either way. And I really want to spend New Years in sunny Southern California rather than snowy Montana. I realize that my being nervous or what I wear will have exactly zero out come on the game. Deep down I am completely rational. But there is something about being a fan that caters to the irrational. Something inside us that says if I wear orange for the next week and a half, I can somehow control the outcome of the biggest Civil War in history.
If wearing orange or knocking on wood or sending happy thoughts into the universe gives the Beavs even an ounce of advantage on the 3rd . . . . well then I am perfectly happy to be a crazy fan. Go Beavs.
What happened on Saturday you ask? Only the second biggest game of the Pac-10 2009 season. Oregon v. Arizona . . . the team that wins out goes to the Rose Bowl. But if Arizona loses a game, and the Beavs win out, guess who’s spending New Years in Pasadena? After two over times, Oregon managed to squeak one out over Arizona. And just when I managed to calm myself down from watching such a good game, a major realization hit me. Winner of Civil War now goes to the Rose Bowl. Either I am spending New Years in Pasadena, or the Duck fan who sits next to me at work is.
The chance to go to the Rose Bowl is always exciting, unless you’re USC and the Rose Bowl is your consolation prize and all you have to do is drive across town to play. And after last year’s Civil War, I’m already nervous. This is the second year in a row that the Beavs have held their bowl destiny in their own hands. Win out and you see roses. Lose and go to some obscure bowl. And last year the Beavs took a beating during Civil War . . . one that happened to be the worst beating ever on their home turf.
I spent a lot of Sunday running scenarios in my head. Could the Beavs pull out a win at Autzen? It’s been done before. But the Ducks look pretty darn good. Up until Saturday, the lowest number of points they had posted against competitors was 42. And while the Beavs have some solid defense, we haven’t been putting up those kinds of numbers on offense. The trick will be to shut down Masoli and James. And this was the point in my thought process that I realized I knew too much about football for a girl.
As much as I make fun of my friend who thinks he controls the outcome of a play by leaving the room, I am already nervous for the game. It really could go either way. And I really want to spend New Years in sunny Southern California rather than snowy Montana. I realize that my being nervous or what I wear will have exactly zero out come on the game. Deep down I am completely rational. But there is something about being a fan that caters to the irrational. Something inside us that says if I wear orange for the next week and a half, I can somehow control the outcome of the biggest Civil War in history.
If wearing orange or knocking on wood or sending happy thoughts into the universe gives the Beavs even an ounce of advantage on the 3rd . . . . well then I am perfectly happy to be a crazy fan. Go Beavs.
November 20, 2009
Rough Life
You know your life is rough when the biggest decision you’re trying to make is how to fit all your travel plans into the next year. Seriously. This is my biggest conundrum right now.
I travel a lot. So much in fact that when making small talk with me, people always ask “so where is your next trip to?” Some might say that the travel is excessive, but I am young and single. What better way to spend my disposable income than on travel and wine? And the occasional designer handbag? This year alone I had five major trips. Not major as in overseas, but I did five very cool vacations: Hawaii, Lake Shasta, Priest Lake, Vegas and Alaska.
As the remainder of my travel for this year is simply going home to Montana for the holidays, I’ve begun to ponder my trips for 2010. I turn 30 next year. The number itself doesn’t bother me, but I feel like I should do something awesome to celebrate it. And I’ve decided that Greece would be awesome. I’ve even found a travel group that doesn’t charge the single person surcharge. The problem is that between my other already scheduled travel and work, I’m finding it difficult to make the dates work.
Do I try to “squeeze” in a trip to Greece next year? Or do I wait an extra year so I can go during the time of year that I’d like to go? If I don’t go to Greece, I have a free place to stay in Hawaii during April and May and a discounted plane ticket. And who doesn’t love Hawaii?
I also have an amazing family trip planned for June. The whole family, aunts, uncles, cousins, first cousins once removed (cousins kids), are taking a boat and exploring the area where my dad and his sisters grew up in BC. Since it is only accessible by boat, this is pretty much a once in a lifetime opportunity. Twenty some odd family members on a boat together for a week? Good thing we all get along!
Before you know it, it’s time for Hood to Coast and then its football season. So we’re back to the Greece or no Greece dilemma. Like I said, sometimes life is pretty rough.
I travel a lot. So much in fact that when making small talk with me, people always ask “so where is your next trip to?” Some might say that the travel is excessive, but I am young and single. What better way to spend my disposable income than on travel and wine? And the occasional designer handbag? This year alone I had five major trips. Not major as in overseas, but I did five very cool vacations: Hawaii, Lake Shasta, Priest Lake, Vegas and Alaska.
As the remainder of my travel for this year is simply going home to Montana for the holidays, I’ve begun to ponder my trips for 2010. I turn 30 next year. The number itself doesn’t bother me, but I feel like I should do something awesome to celebrate it. And I’ve decided that Greece would be awesome. I’ve even found a travel group that doesn’t charge the single person surcharge. The problem is that between my other already scheduled travel and work, I’m finding it difficult to make the dates work.
Do I try to “squeeze” in a trip to Greece next year? Or do I wait an extra year so I can go during the time of year that I’d like to go? If I don’t go to Greece, I have a free place to stay in Hawaii during April and May and a discounted plane ticket. And who doesn’t love Hawaii?
I also have an amazing family trip planned for June. The whole family, aunts, uncles, cousins, first cousins once removed (cousins kids), are taking a boat and exploring the area where my dad and his sisters grew up in BC. Since it is only accessible by boat, this is pretty much a once in a lifetime opportunity. Twenty some odd family members on a boat together for a week? Good thing we all get along!
Before you know it, it’s time for Hood to Coast and then its football season. So we’re back to the Greece or no Greece dilemma. Like I said, sometimes life is pretty rough.
November 19, 2009
Boys
I love boys. For many reasons, but mostly because they aren’t girls. They tend to lack the drama and emotions that girls have, thus making friendships with guys somewhat easier. Of course I also don’t expect nearly as much from my guy friendships as I do my girl friendships. I don’t expect them to remember it’s my birthday or notice that I got my hair cut or complement me on an outfit. And despite my telling them a million times that a girl does not want to hear this, I am never surprised when they say “you look tired today.”
Because I have lower expectations from guys, it tends to catch me off guard when they do something nice or thoughtful all on their own accord. The first time this happened, one of the guys was dropping me off at my home. He insisted on waiting until I got inside before pulling away. I tried to tell him that it was 20 feet and well lit, but to this day, he still waits until I get inside the building before taking off.
It is important for every girl, especially single girls, to have at least one guy friend with a truck. I feel a little bit bad for him, because within our group of friends, there are two single girls. And we have both moved at least once. And anytime I need a truck for something, guess who I call. He’s pretty great about it though, always willing to lend his truck and his muscles. You gotta love the guys who are willing to help you out no matter how much it sucks, because as hard as I try, I cannot move a couch by myself.
One of my really good girlfriends got married a year or so ago. I’ve met her husband on several occasions, but it’s always been in big groups and we’re both quiet people so there hasn’t been a lot of chatting. I ended up driving to a Beaver game with them this season, which means multiple hours in the car and plenty of time to bond. After spending some quality time with my girl friend and her hubby in the car, I decided that he’s pretty great. What made him awesome however came at the end of the night. I had a table in the back of their car and after pulling up to my place, he immediately hops out to help me carry the table inside, with no prompting from his wife. Major kudos to the guy who automatically helps someone out.
Apparently I also love boys for their thoughtfulness. They don’t necessarily notice a hair cut or new shoes, but my guys step up when it matters. It might be saving me a seat at a function, carrying something heavy or making sure I get home safely. Sometimes I have to remind myself of their good traits, but at the end of the day, guys aren’t so bad.
Because I have lower expectations from guys, it tends to catch me off guard when they do something nice or thoughtful all on their own accord. The first time this happened, one of the guys was dropping me off at my home. He insisted on waiting until I got inside before pulling away. I tried to tell him that it was 20 feet and well lit, but to this day, he still waits until I get inside the building before taking off.
It is important for every girl, especially single girls, to have at least one guy friend with a truck. I feel a little bit bad for him, because within our group of friends, there are two single girls. And we have both moved at least once. And anytime I need a truck for something, guess who I call. He’s pretty great about it though, always willing to lend his truck and his muscles. You gotta love the guys who are willing to help you out no matter how much it sucks, because as hard as I try, I cannot move a couch by myself.
One of my really good girlfriends got married a year or so ago. I’ve met her husband on several occasions, but it’s always been in big groups and we’re both quiet people so there hasn’t been a lot of chatting. I ended up driving to a Beaver game with them this season, which means multiple hours in the car and plenty of time to bond. After spending some quality time with my girl friend and her hubby in the car, I decided that he’s pretty great. What made him awesome however came at the end of the night. I had a table in the back of their car and after pulling up to my place, he immediately hops out to help me carry the table inside, with no prompting from his wife. Major kudos to the guy who automatically helps someone out.
Apparently I also love boys for their thoughtfulness. They don’t necessarily notice a hair cut or new shoes, but my guys step up when it matters. It might be saving me a seat at a function, carrying something heavy or making sure I get home safely. Sometimes I have to remind myself of their good traits, but at the end of the day, guys aren’t so bad.
November 5, 2009
Things that Grind My Gears
Things that grind my gears . . .
My normal day to day activities do not require the use of a car. I drive very infrequently. And in this pedestrian friendly city, I’m very annoyed at how often cars will not stop for a pedestrian in a crosswalk. There is a crosswalk on my way home that is notorious for the fact that you have to walk into traffic before anyone will stop for you.
The crosswalk is probably only a year or two old. That intersection was enough of an issue that a crosswalk has been put in since I’ve been living downtown. And still cars do not stop. I’ll forgive the one lone car blazing through not paying attention. Lucky for them, and my health insurance carrier, I am paying attention. What irritates me is when there is a steady stream of cars, I am clearly visible waiting to cross and no one slows down. I will step in front of you and your car and force you to stop. And then I will proceed to walk slower than an old lady who needs hip replacement surgery.
In fact, the majority of the times I use this crosswalk, I have to step into the middle of the street before anyone will stop. One time I even had a guy swerve around me while I was in the middle of the crosswalk because he couldn’t wait for five seconds. And what are sometimes worse than cars are the bikers. Bikers, if you want to be respected on the road and treated like a car, then you have to follow the rules of the road too. Which means that you have to stop for pedestrians at crosswalks. And stoplights, but that is a whole new rant. To the people that do stop and let me use the crosswalk as needed, I not only hustle across the street, I give a courtesy wave and thank you.
The other thing that really grinds my gears . . . rudeness. I am a modern girl, I don’t expect you to hold the door open for me, but I do expect that you won’t trample me trying to get through it first. I have literally been shoved out of the way by a business man trying to board public transportation before me. On the flip side, I have homeless people telling me good morning and to have a nice day when I walk past them on my commute to work. If people that have very little can be polite and courteous, I don’t see why everyone can’t.
The gym is another place that seems to grow rudeness like a Petri dish grows bacteria. Yesterday I was at the gym headed upstairs to the cardio machines. A guy cut me off on the stairs and then cut me off again to take the machine I was headed towards. I hate waiting for a machine as much as the next person, but is it really worth knocking someone out of the way for? And what always makes it worse is the person who cuts you off for a machine only stays on there for an average of two minutes. Really buddy? Two whole minutes? Don’t burn yourself out. The weight area is another place without manners. Just because you leave a water bottle by a machine doesn’t mean it’s yours. There is this thing called sharing. Most of us learned it as toddlers. Some of you need a refresher on the concept.
And those are just a few of the things that grind my gears.
My normal day to day activities do not require the use of a car. I drive very infrequently. And in this pedestrian friendly city, I’m very annoyed at how often cars will not stop for a pedestrian in a crosswalk. There is a crosswalk on my way home that is notorious for the fact that you have to walk into traffic before anyone will stop for you.
The crosswalk is probably only a year or two old. That intersection was enough of an issue that a crosswalk has been put in since I’ve been living downtown. And still cars do not stop. I’ll forgive the one lone car blazing through not paying attention. Lucky for them, and my health insurance carrier, I am paying attention. What irritates me is when there is a steady stream of cars, I am clearly visible waiting to cross and no one slows down. I will step in front of you and your car and force you to stop. And then I will proceed to walk slower than an old lady who needs hip replacement surgery.
In fact, the majority of the times I use this crosswalk, I have to step into the middle of the street before anyone will stop. One time I even had a guy swerve around me while I was in the middle of the crosswalk because he couldn’t wait for five seconds. And what are sometimes worse than cars are the bikers. Bikers, if you want to be respected on the road and treated like a car, then you have to follow the rules of the road too. Which means that you have to stop for pedestrians at crosswalks. And stoplights, but that is a whole new rant. To the people that do stop and let me use the crosswalk as needed, I not only hustle across the street, I give a courtesy wave and thank you.
The other thing that really grinds my gears . . . rudeness. I am a modern girl, I don’t expect you to hold the door open for me, but I do expect that you won’t trample me trying to get through it first. I have literally been shoved out of the way by a business man trying to board public transportation before me. On the flip side, I have homeless people telling me good morning and to have a nice day when I walk past them on my commute to work. If people that have very little can be polite and courteous, I don’t see why everyone can’t.
The gym is another place that seems to grow rudeness like a Petri dish grows bacteria. Yesterday I was at the gym headed upstairs to the cardio machines. A guy cut me off on the stairs and then cut me off again to take the machine I was headed towards. I hate waiting for a machine as much as the next person, but is it really worth knocking someone out of the way for? And what always makes it worse is the person who cuts you off for a machine only stays on there for an average of two minutes. Really buddy? Two whole minutes? Don’t burn yourself out. The weight area is another place without manners. Just because you leave a water bottle by a machine doesn’t mean it’s yours. There is this thing called sharing. Most of us learned it as toddlers. Some of you need a refresher on the concept.
And those are just a few of the things that grind my gears.
October 23, 2009
Black & White Make Gray
My mom once joked that I have been thirty-five years old since I was three. She’s absolutely right; I am definitely an old soul. Whether that is good or bad, who knows, it just simply is for me. I’ve had my version of life figured out for a very long time. What I’ve had to learn along the way however is that not everyone does. And much to my consternation at the time I came upon this realization, we aren’t all old souls. Despite being wise to this information in my old age, one of the hardest lessons I have to learn over and over again is that life isn’t black and white. Much to my dismay, I keep stumbling upon large shades of gray in various life situations.
Like I said, as an old soul, I’ve had my version of life figured out since forever. Part of this and my being a black and white person includes a high moral standard that I hold myself to, and unfortunately tend to hold others to. I’m so black and white, that I never even mixed the two colors in art class as a child. As I’ve gotten older that the moral issues that have to be dealt with have changed, and with that change comes gray. We move from the black of its wrong to cheat on a test to the gray of cheating significant others.
I am adamantly against cheating on a significant other. Whether you are married and cheating or single with a married person, I think it is unacceptable. My friends all know this about me. Which is why I found myself surprised on multiple occasions when friends have told me that they were a cheater or a cheatee. (Cheatee: a single person who is canoodling with a married person.) What do you say to a friend who tells you something like that? Is there a right thing to say in that situation? I don’t know, but stuck with I care about you but don’t agree with that decision. When you see people cheat in movies, you tend to think less of them. Have you see the movie “Unfaithful?” Nobody likes Diane Lane at the end of that movie. Oddly enough, real life isn’t as black and white as the movies. I found shades of gray in a situation where I never expected there to be any. Because at the end of the day, these people were still my good friends. Making what I considered to be a poor choice didn’t change who these people were deep down or the reasons why we were friends.
On a lighter note, I had recently decided to do a spending diet, where I attempted not to eat out or shop on line for thirty days. What I realized after a week of being good and sticking to the plan was that things come up. I had an unplanned birthday happy hour to attend and another friends going away party. Things that I hadn’t planned for but were important and I needed to be at because they were for really good friends. I’d already missed one friends wedding, all hell was going to break lose if I missed her going away party. Things like that are important. And the world didn’t cave in because I broke my spending diet, which I had intended to be a black and white issue. Although not super significant in the grand scheme of things, it was a good reminder that life isn’t set in stone or perfect. That entering the gray zone is okay every now and again.
Being an old soul, I know exactly what is right and wrong for me. What is black and what is white. For me. That’s the distinction that I need to remember. That life isn’t black and white for everyone. And that it’s good to surround myself with people who aren’t afraid to dip in to the gray. Turns out you learn something about yourself when dipped into the gray, willing or not. And the gray can be fun. So despite my better judgment, bring on the gray. In appropriate amounts of course.
Like I said, as an old soul, I’ve had my version of life figured out since forever. Part of this and my being a black and white person includes a high moral standard that I hold myself to, and unfortunately tend to hold others to. I’m so black and white, that I never even mixed the two colors in art class as a child. As I’ve gotten older that the moral issues that have to be dealt with have changed, and with that change comes gray. We move from the black of its wrong to cheat on a test to the gray of cheating significant others.
I am adamantly against cheating on a significant other. Whether you are married and cheating or single with a married person, I think it is unacceptable. My friends all know this about me. Which is why I found myself surprised on multiple occasions when friends have told me that they were a cheater or a cheatee. (Cheatee: a single person who is canoodling with a married person.) What do you say to a friend who tells you something like that? Is there a right thing to say in that situation? I don’t know, but stuck with I care about you but don’t agree with that decision. When you see people cheat in movies, you tend to think less of them. Have you see the movie “Unfaithful?” Nobody likes Diane Lane at the end of that movie. Oddly enough, real life isn’t as black and white as the movies. I found shades of gray in a situation where I never expected there to be any. Because at the end of the day, these people were still my good friends. Making what I considered to be a poor choice didn’t change who these people were deep down or the reasons why we were friends.
On a lighter note, I had recently decided to do a spending diet, where I attempted not to eat out or shop on line for thirty days. What I realized after a week of being good and sticking to the plan was that things come up. I had an unplanned birthday happy hour to attend and another friends going away party. Things that I hadn’t planned for but were important and I needed to be at because they were for really good friends. I’d already missed one friends wedding, all hell was going to break lose if I missed her going away party. Things like that are important. And the world didn’t cave in because I broke my spending diet, which I had intended to be a black and white issue. Although not super significant in the grand scheme of things, it was a good reminder that life isn’t set in stone or perfect. That entering the gray zone is okay every now and again.
Being an old soul, I know exactly what is right and wrong for me. What is black and what is white. For me. That’s the distinction that I need to remember. That life isn’t black and white for everyone. And that it’s good to surround myself with people who aren’t afraid to dip in to the gray. Turns out you learn something about yourself when dipped into the gray, willing or not. And the gray can be fun. So despite my better judgment, bring on the gray. In appropriate amounts of course.
October 19, 2009
Ted Mosby
Throughout our years, we come into many versions of the perfect guy. First it’s Prince Charming, who can do the waltz perfectly. Then it’s some teen heart throb, like Jason Priestly or Mark Paul Gosselaar. Then it’s the high school quarterback, etc. The guy I am currently pining after? Ted Mosby. *sigh*
Like Prince Charming, he’s fictional, but has all those qualities that us single girls are looking for. He has a full time job, is witty and charming, and has the best hair. The writers of “How I Met Your Mother” have done a great job creating the perfect guy that the modern, semi-grown up girls love.
Here’s the thing though, he’s the coolest guy yet goes season through season, looking for his perfect significant other. He has a fair number of dates, and a fair number of nights as the sexless innkeeper, but can’t quite seem to find the right person. Heck, since Robyn (one of the other characters on the show), he can’t find anyone to even date long term. And if Ted Mosby, the guy that all us twenty something girls want to date, can’t find the relationship, where does that leave the rest of us?
The funny thing is, despite the fact that Ted Mosby is a fictional character, we all have a Ted in our lives. And like the CBS Ted, our own Ted’s have charm, personality, looks and occasionally the hair, yet can’t seem to find the right girl. And like the CBS Ted and his co-stars, all parties are perfectly happy being platonic friends with our real life Ted’s. Mine sits next to me at work.
Ted Mosby is pretty much the perfect guy in my opinion. And since he’s still somehow single, there’s hope that someday he and I will randomly meet and live happily ever after. And if he and I are not destined to be, at least the show is prefaced by him telling his kids how he met their mother, which means there is a happy ending in there somewhere. And if Ted gets his happy ending, I’m willing to bet that most of us will too at some point. Perhaps if we all start trading our platonic real-life Ted’s. And until then, we have Monday nights.
Like Prince Charming, he’s fictional, but has all those qualities that us single girls are looking for. He has a full time job, is witty and charming, and has the best hair. The writers of “How I Met Your Mother” have done a great job creating the perfect guy that the modern, semi-grown up girls love.
Here’s the thing though, he’s the coolest guy yet goes season through season, looking for his perfect significant other. He has a fair number of dates, and a fair number of nights as the sexless innkeeper, but can’t quite seem to find the right person. Heck, since Robyn (one of the other characters on the show), he can’t find anyone to even date long term. And if Ted Mosby, the guy that all us twenty something girls want to date, can’t find the relationship, where does that leave the rest of us?
The funny thing is, despite the fact that Ted Mosby is a fictional character, we all have a Ted in our lives. And like the CBS Ted, our own Ted’s have charm, personality, looks and occasionally the hair, yet can’t seem to find the right girl. And like the CBS Ted and his co-stars, all parties are perfectly happy being platonic friends with our real life Ted’s. Mine sits next to me at work.
Ted Mosby is pretty much the perfect guy in my opinion. And since he’s still somehow single, there’s hope that someday he and I will randomly meet and live happily ever after. And if he and I are not destined to be, at least the show is prefaced by him telling his kids how he met their mother, which means there is a happy ending in there somewhere. And if Ted gets his happy ending, I’m willing to bet that most of us will too at some point. Perhaps if we all start trading our platonic real-life Ted’s. And until then, we have Monday nights.
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