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Saturday 27 October 2012

A Car Crash, Sleep Meds, and a Divine Revelation ...


I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love.
With whom? No my dear, it’s “with what?” And the answer is “natural sleep enhancers”. It’s been a long week. After going to the chiropractor’s a while back, and coming home in immense pain and basically losing my mind, my chiropractor said that I needed to get my neck x-rayed before he’d mess with me anymore. I told him at the beginning of the appointment that I had been in a snowmobile accident and my neck had hurt for three weeks after, yet it never occurred to me that it might have been a little more than hurt. So anyhow, I went in for x-rays. Twice. They told me that there’s something growing on my neck. It could be extra bone growth from a previous fracture (such as when I crashed), A cyst (which would make sense because I get cysts on my wrists all the time.), or…..a tumor. Obviously when you’re a dramatic seventeen year old girl, your mind goes to the worst option, settles in it, and you start mentally writing your will. So after I left the office I told my mother “Hey mom, guess what? I might have cancer!” (I’m paraphrasing) so then after the x-ray results were sent to my chiropractor, he’s like; “You need an MRI with contrast so we can rule out the possibility of it being a tumor.”
Let me just say this: I AM FREAKING TERRIFIED OF NEEDLES. When my mother told me I had to get an MRI, I felt as if I could throw up. When I told my best guy friend, Jon, about it, he actually did throw up. I guess that’s what it means to be worried sick.
So that’s when my week started getting stressful. My MRI is on Halloween. Cool right? Yeah, I get to have a needle shoved in my arm, and get locked in a tube for an hour, ON Halloween. Thankfully I have medication to sedate me significantly.
I still cannot even begin to explain how awful those first two days of worrying were. Oh and this is where the sleep enhancers come into play. Yeah, I found out that they calm me down. Hallelujah. I’ve been slathering on the sleep balm religiously.
Anyhow, on my third day of worrying, I volunteered at a Young Life banquet at the fairgrounds with my friends from Bible Study. We were the cleanup crew and after cleaning up we all got in our respective cars and started leaving. One of my friends was driving his mom’s awesome car and he did this sick burnout in front of me. I saw this as a challenge. I also thought it’d be fun to blow off some steam seeing as my stress levels were at an all time high. So I spun out and followed him. After peeling out onto the main road I thought I’d pass him because the road was deserted. He was going way too fast though and I knew I’d have to go way over the speed limit to catch him, something I wasn’t willing to do. So I started slowing down and driving normal when I lost control. It felt like someone grabbed my steering wheel and turned it sharp to the left and then the right over and over again. A car drove by and I begged God to not let me hit them. Then suddenly I was flying towards the ditch. I remember bracing my arms on the steering wheel to hold myself as far away from the air bag as possible. I knew this ditch (which was in front of the fairgrounds still, I didn’t make it very far) was relatively deep and when I hit it, I would either die or I would break my neck the rest of the way and total the car.  Cool huh? The last thing I thought before I jumped the curb and landed in the ditch was, “My life hasn’t flashed before my eyes yet….I thought that was supposed to happen when you’re getting ready to die?!”
 Then it was over. I felt my car jump the curb and land in the ditch, I braced myself, strangely enough I didn’t scream, and it was over. I shut the car off and jumped out. At first I thought all my friends had left but then my friends Hannah, Nathan, and Matt were behind this eight foot fence on the other side of the ditch. They yelled at me to sit down and not move, then Matt jumped over the fence (I’m telling you, it was a super tall fence) like a ninja (which was really awesome considering that he’s scared of heights) and Nathan and Hannah ran around the fence. Matt demanded that I sit down and so I sat in the ditch and flopped on my back. Then I realized….my parents. They’re going to kill me. I think I murmured that several times before Hannah and Bizzy were there and they started trying to talk me down. I was hysterical, shaking, and then suddenly the whole cleanup crew was there. All I really remember was running around my car freaking out, the rain starting up, telling Matt to pinch me just to make sure it was real, trying to call my mom, Jon showing up out of nowhere looking like he was going to throw up again (Yeah, I put the kid through a lot this week…), and then….the cop showed up. Now, I have a great respect for police officers. My neighbor is one and I’m just like, don’t move away! Ever! I feel safe now! But at the same time, a cop is the last thing you want to see after you just wrecked your mom’s car.  Actually…your mom is the last thing you want to see after you wreck her car. You know what I mean though.
By the time the cop got there, the guys (Matt, Nathan, Corey, Mark, Jon, and whoever else I might be forgetting…I was really out of it) had got my car back on the road and changed one of the tires. One or two were coming off the rims and the front driver’s side tire was flat as a pancake. So the cop pulls over and he asks what the heck we’re doing. Someone explained, he yells some more, and then he says he’ll be back in a minute. While he’s gone, I break free of my girlfriends and rip the “Nobama Nomore” magnet off my back bumper just in case the cop is an Obama supporter (anything to calm him down). Then the man comes walking over. I can see the steam pouring out of his ears and the fire coming out of his nostrils. I felt like I was going to pass out and I mumbled something about getting arrested to which Corey replied, “Holly, your tire blew. It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t driving recklessly when it happened.” It was as if a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I had a chance. Maybe he wouldn’t arrest me.
So the officer, seeing that I was in no shape to explain what was going on, because I didn’t know, started questioning my friends. He basically asked Hannah if I was drunk (understandable had you seen me at the time) and then he asked for my license (After he chewed us out about changing tires on the road and the fact that my friends had all parked in the road behind me). So I gave him my license and he asked me for my insurance and registration. I told him that I would look for it but it’d probably take me a few minutes because I’d never been pulled over before so I wasn’t sure what it looked like. He said it wasn’t funny and I should darn well know where it is. Then Corey shouts, “I’ve been pulled over hundreds of times! I’ll find it!” to which the cop again replies, “That isn’t funny.”
Long story short, after pulling my car into a parking lot nearby, the cop gave me my stuff back and said he was going to let me go. My car was okay besides the tires so no accident report was needed and he wasn’t going to give me a ticket because technically the accident was not my fault. I all but fell to the ground and kissed his feet. The worst was over.
Oh wait. No it wasn’t. I still had to face my parents.
When I told them, my mother didn’t know what else to do so she burst in to hysterical laughter (much like she does when she’s in immense pain) and my father stared off into space not saying anything, yet at times, trying not to look somewhat amused.
I actually did learn a lesson from all this. A few actually.
One- I’m going to drive like a grandma for the rest of my life.
Two- I have the best friends EVER. They stayed with me the whole time, taking care of me and the car, and dealing with the officer, IN THE RAIN.  They’re flat out amazing people and I don’t know what I would do without them. <3
Three- God does have a plan for my life. I know, I’ve heard it a thousand times. You’ve heard it a thousand times. God has a plan. God has a plan. God has a plan. I heard it, rejoiced in it, and never understood it fully until God visibly saved my life that night. When I crashed, I literally felt as if I was being held. Protected. And Hannah pointed out to me later that I was a mere two feet away from hitting some sort of electrical box that would’ve killed me when I jumped out of my car, if not, before. And just the way that the car landed in the ditch perfectly so that it wasn’t dented anywhere. That was a God thing. The way I didn’t hit the car coming toward me? Yeah, that was a God thing too. It was as if God let me go through something terrifying to wake me up and say, in a Haymitch sort of way for all my Hunger Games groupies, “Hey sweetheart, wake up. Stop wasting your time. Do something. Move.” Up until Thursday, my world basically revolved around me. I lived for myself. Now I don’t feel that way. What am I going to do with my life now? Well it’s not my life. Its God’s life, He gave it to me. Now I’m going to give it back. Those who find their lives, lose them. Those who lose their lives, find them. Let’s just say that I think I lost my life Thursday night at around 10:15.
Oh, and you know what else? I’m not worried about the MRI anymore. I feel like, after Thursday, this will be a piece of cake. God was obviously with me when I crashed and he’s obviously going to be with me when I’m locked in a tube. With a needle in my arm. On Halloween.

Wednesday 15 August 2012

First World Problem #35,861

First world problem #35,861: Cliques. No, I’m not saying I think cliques are a bad thing. I love cliques, really, I do. After all, what could possibly be wrong with forming a group of super cool elite people and standing in a super tight circle and not letting anyone else in? Oh wait. That’s not a clique, that’s a country club.
Really though. I’m honestly so sick of people complaining about cliques. I mean yeah, sometimes it’s annoying when you have to know the secret password of awesomeness just to be able to sit at their feet and worship them while they make fun of you, but I haven’t known a lot of cliques like that. For the most part, a clique is not a super secret group that is trying to block everyone else out. Usually it’s a group of people that really enjoy each other and maybe are too shy to reach out to anyone besides the others in their clique or as I like to call it, “Group”. I guess if you’re super shy, then yeah…groups can be intimidating. Really, I’m not trying to be a jerk or anything (okay, so maybe I am) but just GET OVER YOURSELF and go join in! What are they gonna do? Tell you to go away? Yeah right. People aren’t that horrible. Most the time. I have to admit, I’ve been in many a clique and I’m pretty sure only one of them was super elite (but I was like…a seven year old so…). All the other “cliques” I’m in that aren’t really cliques, are just a group of people that I happen to be having a conversation with at the time. I mean, come on guys, this is such a middle school problem. If you can’t handle it, how are you going to grow up?
Pretend you’re thirty. You’re a super successful business man or woman. You walk into the lunch room and you see that all your co-workers/employees are talking…in groups. What are you gonna do? Run out of the room crying that no one likes you because they didn’t all run up to you at the same time begging to start a conversation? Or be the mature adult you should be and pick a group and join in? It’s not like they’re going to eat you. If they ignore you, try the next group. Get used to rejection. It’s not always a bad thing.
I remember joining a drama group when I was about 13. I was one of about 20 new girls and guys, among about 40 seasoned actors. I was terrified. It took me forever to get over the fact that people weren’t going to drag me into their circles and force me to talk to them. And the few times that someone did (*Cough* Autie and Ella), I usually played it tough and pretended I was too good for them. Yeah, I was ridiculous. If I could redo my early teen years…well…I can’t, so never mind. Anyways it took me a while to learn that you just have to wiggle your way into the circle and OH MY GOSH participate in the conversation. Terrifying I know, but if you don’t then you’re going to regret it. Probably. Maybe.
Just…just don’t be the kid in the corner looking all sullen and pouty. Okay? It’s not the cliques’ fault that you’re too chicken to go say hi.

Monday 13 August 2012

I'm single and I know it.....

So a few days ago I wrote a blog about how I’m not dating until I’m eighteen and yadda yadda. Inspiring right? But you know it’s easy to say “Oh I’m doing this you should do it too and be perfect like me” and crap, but it’s way harder to actually practice what I’m yelling at you guys.
Picture me in my car driving to the beach all happy and single and free with the wind blowing my frizzy blonde hair in my face, I’m singing along to One Direction’s “One Thing”. I pull into the parking lot and step out of my car, pick a perfect place on the beach and I sit down. By myself. Then I hear laughing and I look up, there’s a couple walking hand in hand with their feet barely touching the ground as they’re walking along. He says something sweet, she blushes, and they walk past. Out in the water there’s an old couple splashing each other with water like silly twelve year olds. Over to my right there are some kids that are way too young to be dating that are flirting and being stupid. I shake my head and lay back in the hot sand. Then I have an idea! Why not block out the sounds of all the happy couples around me? So I turn on Pandora. Alas, they play songs like “I’m yours” by Jason Mraz, “Roman Candle” by Fun, and a bunch of other cute sweet romantic songs. Inside myself, I just…I just…I curl up and die. I get up (all the seagulls around me flap their wings nervously) and I let out an agonizing scream, “WILL YOU GUYS JUST STOP IT ALREADY?!?!”All the happy couples turn around to look at me, the lonely girl on the beach. They frown. I turn beet red and sit back down. My phone goes off. It’s a text. I get all excited. But…it’s from Meijer. It’s a coupon for 60% off my next bottle of Crest 3D Whitening toothpaste. Yay.  I look up seeing that the couples have resumed whatever they were doing before and I sigh. I hear foot steps behind me. It’s a super cute guy. He’s walking towards me, he smiles. I smile shyly and twirl my hair around my finger. Then I hear a girl squeal as she runs to the guy and throws her arms around him. Then…I grab my car keys and leave. Alone. By myself. Alone. Lonely. Single. And most of all? Confused.
Okay, so that didn’t really happen. I mean, it has. All at different times. Oh, and I never yelled at them. I’m not this bold in person. With strangers. But I am confused. I mean, why do I want what I know I shouldn’t have? It’s stupid. Why do I want a relationship when it’s probably going to end with me sobbing my eyes out for two weeks? I think I’m mature enough to handle it. I’m probably not. I think I could probably make a guy pretty happy. That’s not the point. I have great self control. It doesn’t matter. I know inside….I think inside…maybe inside…I’m not ready. I’ve got a lot of things to work on. For one thing, I am the jealous type. All the way. It’s awful. If I had a boyfriend, and he looked at another girl, my eyes would turn from sparkly oceany blue, to Shrek green. I would probably have to fight off the urge to claw her face off. Also, I’m maybe kind of a little bit attention oriented. Ouch. That hurt to admit. I like getting compliments. However, I need to be able to make a relationship work WITHOUT them! What if I end up with a quiet guy (which I probably will because I don’t like loud obnoxious guys)? What if he rarely EVER builds me up? I need to be able to be confident in the fact he loves me without fishing for sweet nothings. I mean, they’re called sweet nothings for a reason, right? Basically, I have a lot I need to work on before I’m ready for a relationship. Still, I want one. NOW. And the obvious good little Christian homeschool girl answer for me should be, “So I decided to get so lost in God that I don’t even want a boyfriend anymore!” But I already am lost in God. It’s not working. So then I tried music. I mean, I’ve been trying music for most my life but I mean I tried to let that fill the guy hole in my wee little heart. Yeah, that didn’t work either. So I’m sitting here writing this thinking, “Dude, snap out of it. What’s wrong with you?” I’VE TRIED EVERYTHING!
God
Coffee
Music
Coffee
Blogging
Coffee
Working out
Coffee
Chocolate
Coffee
Cooking
Coffee
Making more girl friends to hang out with
Coffee
Making imaginary friends to hang out with when the above fell through
Coffee
Flat out trying not to think about guys at all
Coffee
Laying out in the sun for hours while my skin burned, only thinking about how much physical pain I was in, instead of what kind of emotional pain I was in
And coffee…
Yeah, I’ve tried a lot of things, okay? Why am I so desperate? I feel like freaking Taylor Swift here! I officially hate watching movies because I’m sick of seeing so many happy people!
So I’m waiting. I’m waiting. I’m sticking it out. I’m not giving up. No matter what, because this will be worth it and the right guy will come along. Hopefully not on a white horse because…I’m terrified of horses. And when he does come along, I’ll be ready. Or maybe by then I’ll be dragging my feet, who knows.
Sometimes I hate being a teenage girl.

Friday 10 August 2012

The one about dating....

Does anyone else’s Facebook newsfeed look like this?
 Jane Doe is in a relationship. 42 minutes ago.
Comment                12  Like
Jane Doe is single. 3 minutes ago.
324 Comment                5 Like
Jane Doe: Guys are soooooo stewpid. Omg, I can’t beliveeee I wastid my time with himmm. Smh. Text meeeeee. #YOLO
            
And “Jane Doe” is like, fourteen? Three things go through my mind when I see something like that.
One—For the love of spell check…..USE IT.
Two--Why the HECK is a fourteen year old dating anyways? I mean, what do they do, beg their mommies to drive them to see High School Musical 5? What’s the point? I don’t know anyone who’s met THE ONE and dated since they were practically children. If that’s happened before, then GREAT! Good for you. Really though, 99.5% of the time you’re just going to end up crying your eyes out for three days, posting statuses like, “I don’t even care…”, “Why can’t you love me for who I am?” and, “Someday I’ll find a boy who treats me like I deserve.” FOR CRYING OUT LOUD HE IS A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD BOY!  WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?!?!
Girls: Most (not all) guys’ maturity levels are two years behind the girls their age. If you’re stupid enough to date when you’re both 14 give or take a few years, he’s NOT going to be thinking about what you guys are going to name your first child like you are. I’m sorry.
Guys: Fourteen year old girls think they know everything. They are loud and obnoxious and annoying. I would know. I was one. They just want to be told they’re beautiful and a bunch of other cliché things, but when you tell them…they won’t believe you. Don’t waste your breath. If they say, “I’m ugly.” Change the subject.
Guys and Girls: Be kids while you can. That’s what I’m doing. I’m seventeen and I’m so happy to say that I haven’t wasted my time being in a relationship, and guess what? I’m not going to be until after I’m eighteen because I honestly believe that it would be a waste of time! Why? Because I have a few amazing friends and an amazing family, and I don’t want to miss hanging out with them! I don’t want a whiny boyfriend begging me to be with him every second of everyday! There will be plenty of time for that later. If you want to avoid heartbreak and long sleepless nights, I suggest waiting. Just be friends, you can find out what you want in a guy just by being friends with guys or vice versa. Make a list of qualities (Not physical qualities.) that you want in a guy/girl. That’s what I did, in fact…here, take a peek:
What I want need in a guy…
I need him to love God and have strong faith
He must have good strong morals
I need to love his parents and I need him to love mine
I need him to be kind of laidback…you know, to balance out my psycho-ness
I need him to be adventurous and active

There, see? Not too hard. This makes it easy when you think you might be interested in someone. If they don’t have the important qualities on the list…ditch them. The person I mean…not the qualities.
And I mean, obviously you’re going to be attracted to people at a young age, but if you really care about a guy/girl, just pray for them. Just sit back and wait, be friends. Wait until you’re old enough and mature enough to make it actually work.
Three—Blaming the whole entire male/female population for one silly boy’s/girl’s mistake, is ludicrous. This is what it looks like, “One boy/girl broke my heart so now all guys/girls are jerks but yet in three days I’m gonna get over it and hook up with someone else.”
Girl/Dude…the only person you should be lovin’ on is Jesus, because He’s the ONLY ONE who will NEVER let you down. Just let Him hold your heart until the right one comes along. How will you know when he/she comes along? Ask God. It’s not like He’s going to hold you back. Unless you aren’t ready. And for the record…if you’re fourteen…you aren’t ready.
Love,
Your Forever Opinionated Coffee Addict

Friday 3 August 2012

Fifty Shades of Ew...


You know how I occasionally put warnings before my more opinionated and offensive blog posts? Well here’s your warning. I will not apologize for writing this. This is simply my opinion on a series of books. I’m not trying to start some online debate, I’m not telling YOU what to do, I’m telling you what I’VE decided to do and why I decided to do it.
Okay let’s get down to it, what is Fifty Shades of Grey and how the heck do I know about it? Well, it’s on the news like…every day, everyone’s buzzing about it, bookstores can’t keep enough copies stocked to satisfy the craving, I mean what’s up with this? I hadn’t heard of this book until one of my coworkers started telling me about it. So I did a little research about this series, Fifty Shades of Grey (It cracks me up how the second book is called Fifty Shades Darker. As if it could get any darker.) Basically what it is, in case you’re lucky enough to not know, is this book about a girl who falls for a guy and its dark and pornographic and blah blah blah X rated stuff. Luckily my mind hasn’t been scarred by details, but people I know who’ve read it said that it literally made them blush. BREAKING DAWN MADE ME BLUSH. Which is why I never finished it. But go back for a second, people I know read this? Yeah, people I care about and considered great people (most of them are active Christians too) are reading this book. What the heck?
Ladies, lets pause here. If you’ve ever caught your guy looking at porn on the internet or wherever, you’d be mad as a hornet. Correct? So why are you READING porn? It’s the same thing! Whether you’re reading it or staring at pictures of it, it’s doing the same thing to your mind. And what if reading about this “hot, mysterious, dark guy” in the book makes you unsatisfied with your man? Don’t you realize that you could be destroying your own relationship? What about respecting his feelings? Yeah he might not voice it, but if he read the book too he might not feel like he measures up to your little fantasy prince.
Single ladies that are reading this, NO GUY YOU DATE IS GOING TO BE A PERFECT STORY BOOK PRINCE CHARMING! Reading the book is setting your expectations on a level that’s totally unrealistic and well…crude.
Why am I not reading this? I’ll give you 7 reasons.
1.      Um, it’s probably illegal because I’m under 18.
2.      I’m a virgin okay? I’m saving myself for my husband. I’m not going to have sex before I get married, so why would I want to read about it? Just sayin’.
3.      Jesus specifically talks about adultery in the Bible. He says that even looking at someone lustfully (yeah that includes reading) is committing adultery in your heart. Even if I’m not married yet, someday I will be (maybe) and I don’t want to have committed mental adultery with some other dude. Even if he is just a fictional character.
4.      I don’t want my man to hang up porn in his garage so why would I hang up porn in my mind?
5.      Last time I checked, sex was supposed to be between a married man and woman. Not plastered on the pages of a hideously disgusting novel.
6.      If my mother found that book on my night stand….she would kill me. Literally kill me.
7.      I have a relatively pure, innocent, clean mind and uh, I’d kind of really like it to stay that way.

There are your reasons. Not your reasons, my reasons.

Saturday 14 July 2012

The Nicki Minaj Catastrophe

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Whoops, sorry about that. My dog attacked my keyboard. Anyways…for those of you that are used to me posting all the intimate details of my life via blog, I decided to be a me monster here for a sec and update you on my life. Or…what’s all happened since I left the blogging scene for the last two months.
I quit my job at Big Apple Bagels. I don’t want to bad mouth anyone so I’ll just be vague and say that me and my boss had a disagreement while my dad was in the hospital and I quit. End of story. I did get the job I had last year back. It’s a flower shop called North Star and I love it. I love flowers, I love the people, I love my co workers, and get this: I have the BEST boss ever. Seriously. I don’t care who your boss is, mine is way cooler than yours mkay?
A few sentences back I mentioned that my Daddo whom I adore, was in the hospital. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced (way worse than passing a cop as you realize you’re accidentally going ten miles over the speed limit). See, he was at work and he had this episode thing where he started slurring his words and was light headed I guess, plus a bunch of other crap I can’t remember because I hate thinking of it. Anyways, they thought he had a TIA so he went to the hospital and resided there for a few. He’s fine now, it turns out that it was just his Sodium/Potassium levels flipping out. Funny though, how you don’t realize how much you love someone until you almost lose them. Even if you think you know…you don’t.
Also, I’ve become an Instagraming fool. Follow me @hollyaugust. I mostly take pictures of flowers we have at work and crap I’ve planted. And beach scenes. You know. Anything I could possibly take a picture of. My ultimate goal is to not post selfies. It’s been pretty easy considering the fact that I’ve pretty much kissed makeup goodbye and never bother to look in the mirror anymore. Sometimes I think I Instagram too much though. I’ve begun to stalk through people’s hair pictures. This one girl had rainbow hair and I actually found myself wanting to do that. Yeah. It looks cool. Until you realize that people are only going to see your hair and be so focused on that that they won’t be able to so much as have a conversation with you because they’ll just be like…you know…checking out your hair. Kind of like Nicki Minaj and her lime green catastrophe…I saw it in People magazine (which I don’t normally read by the way). Plus, I’m pretty sure my boss would fire me if I showed up with rainbow hair.
Oh, and I kind of found the love of my life (just being dumb and girly here). He doesn’t know that I exist though. Don’t you love it when that happens? Anyways I guess I might as well tell you who it is since he’ll never read this. Jordan Taylor. Yeah, you know the guy from Blimey Cow? It was his cute laugh that sealed the deal. He’s adorable and if you haven’t watched his videos, do it. Now. But remember, you can’t have him. He’s mine. Because you can totally lay legitimate claim to people you don’t know via blog post.
Yeah, anyways…that’s pretty much all that’s been happening in my life. Enjoy. See ya later gater.

Friday 13 July 2012

Band Guys...


(Note: I'm not saying that all guys in bands dress like this. Infact I know a lot who don't. This is simply me venting on my blog. If you can't take it, then please feel free to stop reading.)

Today I feel I must address a most important and disturbing issue in our society.
 This issue is: Guys in bands and how the way they dress screams, “I JUST STOLE MY SISTER’S PANTS!!!!!” even though they probably didn’t (99% of the time anyways).
Awhile back I was wandering around at a Christian music festival, called Big Ticket, in Lower Michigan.  Something I couldn’t help but notice while I was there is the way that the “band guys” dress. It’s pretty hilarious. I would say that about 89% of the band guys were wearing skinny jeans and about %55 percent of the skinnies were three times too small.  I don’t understand why guys do that to themselves. It’s as if they have this attitude of, “Well I’m in a band now so I have to be super obvious about it by wearing my little sister’s skinny jeans and a rad pair of sunglasses that I never take off.” And if they weren’t rockin’ the super skinnies, they were rockin’ the super skinny CUT OFFS.
WHAAAAT?!
True story. And if you’re fortunate enough to not know what skinny cut offs are, then by all means, please let me scar you for life by describing them:
Skinny Cut Offs: Way too tight pants that are cut off just above the knee, thus screaming that the man wearing them is having a bad case of gender confusion. This fashion crisis is generally paired with a wife beater or a really low V neck t-shirt. Both of them just add to the overall awfulness.
I saw one of the guys had his skinny cut offs, rolled up to short shorts. I suddenly felt the urge to make fun of him on my blog. He was probably a hipster.
I mean honestly, if any of the guys in my band showed up wearing that….I would fire him. I don’t care how freakishly talented he is, THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR SCARRING PEOPLE FOR LIFE!
I really would rather you be covered in tattoos, pierced up beyond recognition, wear guyliner and have hair longer than mine, than wear skinny cut offs.
So, for those of you teeny bopper fan girls chasing after any guy who can play so much as Smoke On the Water on his First Act guitar, fear not. Fortunately for you, not all guys in bands are trying to fit into size -0 pants. There is hope. That hope lies in you and me. Maybe if we complain enough and make a huge deal out of it, we can force them to convert to shopping in the men’s department again.

Don't Feed the Hipsters

Don’t you just love stereotypes? I do. It’s so easy to put people in a box all neat and tidy, especially if you’re lazy type A like me. I could stereotype people all day. Like, take my brother for instance, he’s a total motorhead. My youth pastor? Boy next door. Psychopath. Dork. My cousin? Jock. My best guy? Musician. My best girl? She’s...well……… okay so; no one really knows what she is. (LOVE YOU AUTIE!)
Like I said. Stereotyping is easy. Almost as easy as writing a whole blog post using. Fragmented. Sentences.
I was thinking yesterday about what I’m generally stereotyped as and if people are labeling me correctly (according to me).
Things I’m most commonly labeled as:
That Homeschooled Kid
Religious/Christian
Musician
Hipster (actually should be at the top of the list because people ask me all the time if I am)
When someone first asked me if I was a hipster, I was thinking “Um…I thought hipsters were a kind of underwear. What the heck?” However, after doing a ton of research on Google (the fount of knowledge according to my boss) I found that hipsters are actually a group of people! And get this; at first glance I almost do resemble a hipster…except that I drive a car. Apparently owning a vehicle is super offensive in hipsterville. But really, you often see me roaming through wherever in an over sized plaid shirt, messy hair, and jeggings or something. And yes I drink tons of coffee, usually stuff I make myself. Also I’m big into buying local (except for a few Amazon splurges) and gardening (mostly herbs). Also, I like a lot of music that most people don’t “get”. Still. I’m not a hipster.
Reasons I’m not a hipster:
I’m conservative                                                                                                          
I take showers
I listen to Coldplay (And they’re way too popular for hipsters to listen to. Although, they probably “listened to them before they were popular”.)
I like almost everything
I try not to have an opinion on every single little thing
I’m too lazy to recycle (sorry mom)
I don’t have a bike as old as my grandmother
I don’t purposely contradict myself
I don’t obsess over indie bands to people that really don’t give a crap

I’m not trying to be a jerk here; I just think the whole idea is ludicrous. Another funny thing this website said is that hipsters love blogging and they almost always use BlogSpot/BLOGGER. Oh and they’re supposedly really sarcastic. If I put the hipster label on every sarcastic person who drinks coffee and buys locally….then about 56% of America's population are hipsters. Just sayin’.
I’m not saying, “Don’t label me a hipster” by all means, label me what you want. After all…what would the world be without nice little stereotyping boxes? So label away. Whatever you do, just don’t feed the hipsters.

Tuesday 24 April 2012

What's in a name?

What’s in a name?
I’ve never really given it a whole lot of thought because after doing some internet research on the meaning of my name, all I found was “small shrub with poisonous berries”.
Not far from the truth.
Then my mom found this baby name book from like, the 70’s or something, and apparently the true meaning of “Holly” is actually “good luck”. My guess is, when my parents adopted me they weren’t quite sure what they were doing. They needed all the luck they could get because, let’s face it. I’m a handful….so they named me “good luck”.
Now, me and my little brother have always had a funny relationship. He….well….he doesn’t “act” like the youngest. He has none of their quirks. He acts like the oldest. He tells me what to do, and I do it, or ignore him. And like the mischievous younger sibling, I usually weasel my way out of everything by confusing people into agreeing with me.

                                                                                             ….Probably shouldn’t have said that.
The funny thing is, my brother’s name is James which is a derivative of Jacob which means, “Supplanter”.  Now, think back to Jacob in the Bible. He’s the one who stole his brother’s birthright. He became like THE OLDEST.
So I’ve decided that my twerpy little brother has supplanted. He took away my role of being the dreaded oldest.
Now I’ve been thinking about other names and how they suit the people I know, like, every Deborah that I’ve ever known has been strong, audacious, and occasionally cheeky!
And then there’re others, like “Bonnie” which means “sweet and good”. I know a lady named Bonnie, and she is one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever met!
My dear friends’ mom’s name is Ann which means “full of grace, mercy and prayer”. She has to have grace, mercy, and prayer to put up with me hanging around the house all the time! I love you Mrs. Duran!!!!
Then there’s “Bridget” which means “mighty and strong”. My doctor’s name is Bridget. She’s as mighty and strong as summer days are long.
                                                                                       
That rhymed.
                 [Kind of.]
                               You’re welcome.

Also…I have this theory about guys named Steve….

                                                    ….but we’ll save that for another blog.

Anyways, all these people and their names have got me thinking…I have GOT to give my children good names.
So far, I’ve come up with “Zelda Adele” which basically means “the heroine, noble and kind of spirit” and “Wylie” which means “beguiling and charming”.  A few others I love are, “Zane” a derivative of John which means “gift of God”, “Zelig” which means “blessed”, “Leo” meaning “brave”, and “Birdie” (Yes it’s a [girl’s] name!) which means “sweet little bird”.
Yeah, I like that.                                                                                                                                                              
So how about your name/ name meaning? Does it suit your personality?

Friday 20 April 2012

B-b-b-back and forth like Vertigo =/

I remember when I was little and had that foreign feeling of…oh what’s it called? Ah, that’s right…ENERGY! Yeah, when I had energy back in the day, I remember my sweet mother trying to calm me down and relax. When all her ideas would fail to catch my interest, she would smile slyly to herself and say, “Hey Holly Girl, I have a game for you!” Me being the psycho six year old that I was, I ran over all excited (I’ve learned over the years that when mom says that she has an “idea” or a “game” it usually involves cleaning something) and asked what the game was. Momma leaned in and almost whispered like it was a secret, “Here’s how you play” she smiled (evilly…bwuahaha) “You look up at the ceiling like this…” she looked up and I copied her, “…and then you spin around and around like this!” and she spun. Then after a few seconds she lay down on the floor and said, “The walls are spinning!”
Now let’s pause here for a second. You’re probably thinking, “Holy cow, Hol’s mom is a weirdo.”  Well let me tell you this dear reader….

                                                                            ……….She is.
She’s always enjoyed weird things like getting her teeth cleaned at the dentist and walking barefoot in the dirt. Personally, I think it’s funny. I love my mom’s weird quirks. It’s what makes her my mom.
Back to the spinny game.
I imitated my mum and I spun and spun with the exuberance of a little girl. Then I crashed to the floor and giggled as the walls spun around and around. I did this over and over and over, never tiring of the feeling of being dizzy.
Now, ten or so years later, I sit here thinking, “…Wow.”

See, Tuesday started out like any other week day. I heard my mom’s voice dancing through the hallway and into my ears, ‘Holly! Get up!’
Me: (opens my eyes, groans, stretches, closes my eyes, rolls over, tries to go back to sleep)
Mom: (being persistent) “….Now.”
Me: (wondering why I feel really weak and tired and wondering if I should tell mom….eventually, deciding that I’m probably just being a wimp, I get out of bed)
(Insert reggae music here as I go about my business doing my taxes [last minute….I know] and doing school and getting ready for work)
So I go to work right? And it’s all good. I was going about my business when all of the sudden, I started to fall over. I caught myself though and I was fine. I moved on. And then the room started spinning like in that game that me and mom used to play. Eventually it got so bad that I gave in and went home. Driving while the world was spinning was pretty interesting. Thankfully, I only ran off the road once.
When I got home, I ate salt (thinking it would get my blood pressure up, if that was the problem) and went straight to bed. The smurf blue walls in my bedroom were spinning and I sighed as I wondered what could be wrong with me. After a few hours of this, I had this brilliant idea to get out my “Nutritional Healing” book and I looked up Vertigo (because my mom said that she thought that’s what was wrong with me). After reading the symptoms, I thought that’s what it was. However, today I went to the doctor’s and she said that it’s some strange virus that’s going around and giving people false "heart attack" alarms and stuff. Weird. So anyways, I have my meds and I’m not contagious and therefore I’m good to go (Praise God!).
In the meantime though, I’m sitting here reminiscing on the days when I would actually MAKE myself dizzy, and laughing at my mom. I mean really, who tells their kids to play games that make them dizzy? I guess I would. But me and my mom are alike that way. We both have relatively warped senses of humor.

Friday 16 March 2012

The Trash Can Game and The Magic Exploding Latte...

So you know how in my last post I mentioned that ‘I love my job but I really wanted to be trained to be a barista?
Well…..today I was trained as a barista.
Coolest. Thing. EVER.                                                                          
Yeah, I can make lattes and caramel macchiatos and stuff. And I got to smell coffee ALL DAY. Not so say that I was inhaling espresso or anything, it was just the coffee smell in the air, you know?
I always looked at baristas in awe, like they had some amazing talent that I could never in my wildest dreams posses. Like, they were in touch with coffee. It spoke to them. And it does speak to us. We are in touch with it. And it does take talent and by gosh I do posses it! (Victory dance)
Anyhow, the first order of the day was just a plain latte. Simple. I was so excited. My heart pounded within me as my coworker, Natasha, lead me over to the espresso machine and showed me what to do. On the next order, she had me make the latte. So I made the espresso, and then I started to steam the milk. Before I knew what happened, the steaming hot milk exploded all over everything including me and Natasha. It was SO embarrassing. And so funny. I have this strange tendency to laugh at myself when I do something really stupid. What else can you do? Everyone else is laughing at you, so you might as well laugh too because getting mad is getting nowhere. Like earlier this week at youth group we played this game where we all stood in a circle and held hands and sang Kumbaya there was a trash can in the middle. The goal was this: we all had to try to pull other people into or over the trash can. Now, keep in mind I had a little summer dress on therefore I wasn’t too thrilled about this game and figured that being the absolute klutz that I am, I’d probably fall over…in my dress…awwwwwwkwarrrdddd. Nevertheless, I forced myself to stay in. I tried to think optimistic thoughts. So as I stood hand in hand with the two guys beside me, ShinDong (who makes really legit origami frogs) and Jake (the next American Idol) my optimistic thoughts began to fade. I almost wished that I was in between two girls because, let’s face it, we girls are dumb and not competitive and lose just so we don’t have to play (okay, not all girls, but a lot). However, it was too late to take such action and so I stuck it out. I’m pretty sure that Jake and ShinDong were thinking the exact opposite thing during this game because they kept running in the opposite direction and therefore I was being pulled left and right. Yet somehow, I managed to stay in and in the end it was just me and ShinDong left. Then we played another round and it had the same ending, which I thought was hysterical considering that I’m the least athletic person ever. So anyways, it was: Me. The Boy. And the trash can.
I was dead meat.
I looked up at ShinDong standing across from me; I was probably squeezing the life out of his hands, as I mouthed “Please don’t make me fall….please”. So then our youth leader, Matt (…his middle name is awesome…), started counting to three, I braced myself. On three Matt ran up and pushed ShinDong, thinking that maybe it’d spare me the humiliation of falling (my guess), but somehow (I have NO IDEA how since I didn’t see it coming) I toppled over. Or more like, I flew backwards and tried to land somewhat gracefully.
My first thought was, “Oh my gosh this is awful. How embarrassing.”
My second thought was, “….It happens…now laugh before they realize how embarrassed you are!!!”
So I laughed.
Sorry, that was a really long rabbit trail.
Anyways, back to the coffee. Or milk rather. It flew everywhere and all the old guys at the coffee bar were cracking up. So I cracked up with them and grabbed a rag and started to clean up. Thankfully this was my only major mishap of the day. Everything else went pretty smooth and I love my job even more. Even though I had to wake up at 4:30am to get to work on time, it was worth it.
Oh and another thing, my co-workers and my boss, are amazing! I feel so blessed to once again be working amongst super nice, funny people.
Tomorrow I work again, being St. Patty’s Day (and being like, 1/16th Irish myself) I have to find something green to wear. I hope we don’t sell green bagels…

Paper Cuts and the Lame Guy at Starbucks...

Oh the agony of sitting down at a computer on a lovely day like this...
Unfortunately, my conscience has been nagging at me to “get back in the blogging business” and stop “deserting my precious readers”. Not that I really have any readers, and that’s all the better because sometimes I think it’d be better if the world didn’t get a glimpse into my personal thoughts like this. But then, it could be a good thing seeing as you may actually somewhat kind of possibly almost understand me a teensy bit after going through my blog. I don’t know.

…The caffeine is talking again.
                                                         …..Shhhh…..
Anyways…you might know from my last post that I quit my job, and well…in that time I’ve found a new one. All I did was print up a bunch of resumes and drive in to town and start looking. I started out at Payless Shoe Store where they told me that I had to be eighteen to work there. What. The. Heck. I mean, really, it’s not like I’m selling knives or lighters or alcohol! They’re SHOES for crying out loud!
Yeah…
So after that, I walked over to the Hallmark store and they told me the same thing. Probably because selling overpriced cards and books is super dangerous. Paper cuts you know…
Then I went to Starbucks. Oh loverly Starbucks. I walked in and as soon as I saw the guy working, I pretty much knew that he wouldn’t know whether or not they were hiring. He kind of smiled and said, “Heyyyy how can I help you?”
I asked if they were hiring by any amazing chance.
“Ummm……er…….ehhh…..ahhhh….I’m not sure…..you could check online?”
Yeah…that’s what he said.
So I thanked him and left.
Then I saw a Big Apple Bagels across the parking lot (All these businesses were kind of located in a strip mall type of thing) and I thought, “Why not?” I drove over there and to my great delight I saw a gargantuan “HIRING” sign on the door. So I straightened my dress, put my shoulders back (I have a nasty habit of slouching), slapped a hopeful smile on my face and walked on in. I had no idea what they did at Big Apple Bagels…. (Although I was guessing it had something to do with bagels, I mean come on…I’m not that dumb…) but I knew I needed a job. Opening the door, I caught a delightful whiff of fresh bagels and coffee! Oh it was so nice and toasty in there, I smiled to myself and walked swiftly (without tripping oh sweet surprise) over to the lady at the counter (who I later found out was the manager) and told her that I noticed they had a HIRING sign out front and that I was interested in working here if they’d have me (although I said it much less eloquently [not that that was at all eloquent or anything] and I’m pretty sure I stuttered….a lot). So the lady handed me an application containing questions such as, “Have you committed a felony in the last five years?” and “Why do you want to work here?” and blah blah blah. I filled it out and brought it back to her, she looked it over and asked me if I’d come in Wednesday at 7:30am for a working interview. I just about squealed in excitement and told her that I’d most definitely be there.
Wednesday morning I was so siked that I practically leapt out of bed and I started singing the theme song from Happy Days!
Wednesday morning, like every morning, I slapped my alarm clock thing repeatedly until it turned off, and almost fell back to sleep. I dreamt about my mom bringing me coffee in bed and I actually considered posting that on facebook hoping that she’d see it and bring me the elixir of life itself, but then I realized that I would have to sit up to drink it so I might as well just get up. Gosh, I thoroughly despise mornings. A lot. Though nevertheless, I survived and I made it to my working interview on time. Like, RIGHT on time. The manager, being the joyful extrovert that she is, was really excited (or acted like it) to see me and we started training right away. That day was focused on sandwich building and smearing cream cheese on massive bagels. It was actually pretty fun, I learned fast and once I got over my fear of the knife I could whip up a triple decker sandwich in almost no time at all! Still, the whole time I was making food, I wished inwardly that I was making coffee. One of the reasons that I wanted the job was so I could (make money for college and…) learn how to make lattes and frappuccinos and such because…well, I love coffee.
Near one o’clock I got the news that I was hired. I was ecstatic as I skipped out of the building and into my car. Of course the first thing I did was post it on facebook. Something to the effect of, “I GOT THE JOBBBB!!!!”
So yeah. Now I have an amazing job. Thank you Jesus!

Monday 27 February 2012

Mr. (almost) Tall, (totally) Dark, and (insanely) Handsome...

You know how sometimes when you do stupid stuff, you stub your toe? That would ALWAYS happen to me. I’d be like, grumbling inwardly about something and BOOM. Toe meets pain. I’d always know that I was making (or had made) a mistake when I stubbed my toe on something. It’s like God was telling me, “Um, hey you. You’re being a moron, ‘kay? Wake up.” Although since I’ve finally convinced myself that I don’t make mistakes (...not), now I only stub my toe out of pure clumsiness (may or may not be a bold faced lie). Which I must admit, is quite often. Like for instance, you know how “normal” people stub their toes on stuff like an entertainment center or a chair etc? Well usually when I stub my toe…this is how it goes:
Me: Just walking along innocently (enough) and then all the sudden KA-POW! My toe somehow gets in the hem of my pant leg (which is strange and seemingly impossible since I’m usually in “skinny” jeans) and I trip/stub my toe. Like…I trip…over…my…pants. I STUB MY TOE ON MY OWN PANTS!! HOW is that even POSSIBLE?!?!
Anyways, I’m not talking about toe stubbing. I’m talking about real life toe stubbing. Like, when you do something dumb and you have to pay the toll for taking a trip down Idiot Turnpike.
Today, I totally stubbed my toe. No, not literally! Stay with me now. Consequences, right? Okay, so my mom and I were in town today and she had to run into the Post Office. Well she wanted me to run in for her, however, I was being (as Tim rightly calls me) a complete “butt-head” and refused (in a totally respectful way?). So mom went in and I sat in the car. Two minutes after mom went in, this TOTALLY cute guy walked out. I’m talkin’ Mister (almost) Tall, (totally) Dark, and (insanely) Handsome. He came out of the place that I should have been (the post office). I was mortified by my missed opportunity. Not that I could have won him over with a hair flip and a smile, besides the fact that guys like that already have girlfriends. It’s just a known fact. A very…sad…known fact.
Ahem…err, anyways…I should have gone into the post office for my mom so I could meet the cute guy and accidentally have dropped a piece of paper with my phone number on the floor right in front of him where he would have picked it up and called me and then we could live happily ever after some place like Africa where it doesn’t snow.
I should have gone into the post office for my mom so she could have stayed in the warm car while I braved the freezing winter wind and snow just because I love my mother and love to do things for her because I’m just awesome like that. And because she’s just awesome like that.
BUT, I didn’t because I’m a terrible useless child who’s selfish and didn’t feel like getting out of the car. So I stubbed my toe. By stubbing my toe I of course mean, I missed the cute guy. Not a big deal, but…a big deal. I guess it just made me think that I should do more nice things for people. God knows, I might see Mr. (almost) Tall, (totally) Dark, and (insanely) Handsome again.

Saturday 25 February 2012

That "unemployed" feeling...

So…it’s been awhile. I must admit that I’ve been avoiding the blogging scene as of late because, I’ve been really depressed and I didn’t want all my posts to consist of, “My life sucks and I hate my job and blah blah blah.” I mean, who wants to read that? Besides, my life does NOT suck; and I don’t HAVE a job anymore!
See, a month ago I got a job at a bridal shop. I thought it would be fun helping girls find their dream dress. I went into this whole thing with the, “Okay God, if this isn’t what I’m s’posed to do then don’t let it work out” mindset. I figured that because I did end up getting the job, that it was what I was meant to do. So I started training. And I tell you what dearest reader, the first warning flag that went off should have been enough to make me realize that I am NOT cut out for working with brides.
 It was like this: my boss was with a bride at the front desk and I was hanging around the area fixing dresses and such. The bride was there with a honey dew melon colored chiffon swatch, she was holding it up against (God forbid) a WHITE CAMO groomsmen jacket! She was asking my boss “Does this match?” and my boss told her that it was her wedding and she could do what she wanted. Then the worst of my nightmares came true…the woman looked over at me and she said, “Hey…what do you think?”
What I wanted to say: “ARE YOU BLOODY INSANE?!?! Why would you do this to yourself?!? Twenty years from now you’re going to look through your wedding pictures and scream ‘WHY?’ White camo (unless you’re in to hunting and stuff) is TACKY and NOT for weddings. Moron.”
What I actually said: “Erm…well honestly…no. It doesn’t match. If I were you, I’d go with this.” And I selected a more olive green-ish color.
THEN, after she ASKED my opinion, she turned back to my boss. She smiled, tucked her hair behind her ears and said, “Are you SURE this doesn’t match?” My boss smiled back at her and told her that it did match. It was good. She could totally pull it off.
For the rest of the day, all I could think about was that Liar Liar movie with Jim Carey.
The next time I worked, I had a girl that was looking for a prom dress. She tried on every tiny “painted on” dress in the store. Too low and too short. Thank God she never asked my opinion on anything. That is all I have to say about her.
Day after day these brides would come in and my gosh, they’d be like size 30 and trying on strapless mermaid dresses. I would just smile and think to myself, “Girl, you look like sausage bursting out of its casing.” All the while saying positive things like, “Oh, the beading on this one is so pretty!” and stuff like that. I couldn’t bring myself to lie. If it doesn’t look good on you, it doesn’t look good on you.
I had this one lady that came in; she actually comes in every week, to try her dress on. She told me that she gained a bunch of weight and she was worried about the dress being too tight. So I got her in the dress and started trying to pull up the zipper. It wouldn’t budge. So I had one of my co-workers come in hold the dress together so I could zip it. Then the lady started fishing for complements. Oh my goodness was she ever fishing. It was so awkward. However I told her she looked great, because she didn’t look terrible.
So people came and went, I usually couldn’t help anyone because the shop had no legitimate training program. It was a sink or swim job, and I was sinking. I only ever had one customer that I enjoyed, she was a mother of the bride and she was sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong (you know, obsessing over all the wedding details that weren’t for her to decide). It was quite entertaining.
 Still, I was questioning whether I actually belonged there. Whenever my friends would ask me how I liked my job, I never really knew what to say. Truth was I didn’t like it at all. The only enjoyable part was that I got to work with my friend Autie.
Another thing I didn’t like (that I thought I would like) is that there was this huge pressure (that may or may not have been self inflicted) to look absolutely picture perfect. It took me FOREVER to get ready for work in the morning.
-Figuring out what the heck to wear: 15 minutes (I’m indecisive okay?)
-Ironing whatever the heck I found to wear: 30 minutes (I suck at ironing)
-Shower: 15 minutes
-Getting my hair to behave: 35 minutes
-Makeup: 10 minutes
That’s a grand total of 105 minutes. It should not take me THAT long to get ready for work. Besides, I felt like every time I walked out my door that I didn’t look like me. I wasn’t that goofy awkward verging on nerdy Holly that my friends all know. I was a cool, calm, collected, solemn girl just trying to be “perfect” and going to the “perfect” job and having “perfect” control over everything. So not me.
And then I decided to quit. I don’t belong in a bridal shop. I belong somewhere that I can be me…so maybe, a coffee shop atmosphere. I don’t know yet. But I know I’ll find out. When I find a place that I can wear my favorite jeans and I can joke with customers and enjoy myself…then I know I’ve found the place.

You wanna know something strange? Remember how I said I was depressed and stuff? Well ever since I quit, I've been so happy! Like, almost giddy. Strange right?
So meanwhile, I sit here unemployed. I’m thinking that Monday I’ll print up a few (like ten) resumes and hand ‘em out. I know God will put me where I’m supposed to be.

Tuesday 14 February 2012

If you're single and you know it (now) clap your hands....Happy Val Day.

Well, it’s here. Single’s Awareness Day is here. And I’m sitting at the computer again, in my glow-in-the-dark pajama pants listening to Foster The People, wondering if it will ever get better. By “it” I mean this wretched “holiday” of course.
Funny, you know how in my last post I was whining about today? Well something kind of ironic happened yesterday…I got a TON of valentines. I’m a “stage right” manager for a drama group that my little brother and some of my friends are in, and they all made valentines for each other and that included me. I tried not to roll my eyes when I found this out. I drove home with the cards and whatnot, sitting in the seat next to me. Then I went home and sat on my bed reading them all. A few of them were from a few of my favorite little kiddos and one of them from one of the older girls, Sarah, almost made me cry. Which is strange because I NEVER cry, but you know, I’ve just been a bucket of emotions lately. It’s terrible. Like, the other day I watched Captain America with my family and I almost cried at the end when he’s standing in Times square and he’s like, “…nothing…I just…I had a date.” That’s usually when I fight the urge to yell out, “I’ll go dancing with you Steve!!!!” Yep, I’m pathetic.
Anyways, back to me venting about Valentine’s Day Single’s Awareness Day. Yesterday my little brother wanted me to pick up a box of candy to give to his friend’s mom, so I went into Meijer and went over to that part of the store with all the red and pink stuff and found a nice little red heart-shaped box of chocolate. I felt so dumb as I checked out, I actually used the Self-Scan thing because there’s no way in Narnia that I’M gonna be caught dead with a heart-shaped box of chocolate. No sir. So I checked out and walked speedily out of the store, so speedily that um…I may or may not have run into the automatic door. Hah…uh, yeah.
I donno if any of you watch Fox News or not, but the other day there was this story about a Valentine’s Day card being taken off the shelves in Target because it was “offensive”. All it said was,
 “Stalker is a harsh word…
(Inside)…I prefer Valentine.”
I thought that it was genius. Hysterical. I burst out laughing. That’s my kind of card. However, people said that it was inappropriate (which is funny considering some of the, ahem, OTHER cards that I’ve seen) and offensive to people that have actually been stalked. This kind of ticked me off because, I’ve actually HAD a legitimate stalker who ended up in JAIL and I am far from offended by this harmless card. The fact that people were in such an uproar about this, made me want to go buy 100 of the cards and send them to my friends. Boom. Take that.
I just don’t get it, if 5 people are offended by one little harmless card then the store just takes it off the shelves like that? I mean, I could find tons of cards that are dumb or offensive and make a big deal out of it, but I don’t. Someone else might think they’re funny and if they do, than fine. I don’t have to look at/buy them. And if I want to buy a card about a stalker then I will, darn it.
On a different note, this year I had thought about dressing up on Val Day and taking myself out for a cup of coffee. Or more like…I would just sit there all depressed and down one shot glass of espresso after another until they cut me off. But wouldn’t you know it, last week (or was it the week before that?) I came down with Strep and uh, yeah I’m still getting over it. So now I’m just drinking my coffee at home. Alone. With my dog. And my Bailey’s flavored coffee. And my family.
So…not alone.
Happy Single’s Awareness Day Everybody!
 Love, Hol