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.

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.

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

so sue me....

Will someone please tell me that I’m not the only one out there who detests Valentine’s Day? Please? No, no, I don’t just hate it because I’m single. I’m actually quite happy in my singleness, really I am. I just don’t get why people are making such a huge deal out of such a stupid thing.

Like, okay fine. Being single DOES make it a teensy bit more awkward. I mean, I can’t help but notice when I walk into the local Meijer’s with my little shopping cart full of kale and organic coffee beans, that I’m surrounded by tall/dark/handsome guys that are picking out sweet cards and stuff for their girl. Still though, it’s gross. Disgusting. Nauseating. I won’t have it.

 I mean, Valentine’s Day isn’t even about chocolate and diamonds and 4 ½ foot teddy bears and “pajamagrams”! It was actually about a Saint…you know like…a single guy who did really good stuff and was a Christian. It doesn’t or rather, DIDN’T have anything to do with all that romantic yucky stuff; it’s actually a celebration of a good-guy’s life. You know…like Washington’s Birthday or something…or, St. Patrick’s Day, WHICH happens to be one of my favorite holidays (I’m partially Irish and I like the simplicity of St. P’s Day. There’s no huge family get-togethers, no dumb obligations, etc.)

So yeah anyways, I guess that’s just me. I can’t stand Valentine’s Day, never really could. I don’t see the point in gorging yourself on cheap chocolates and buying roses for your sweetheart that are going to die in three days. Besides…Lilies are way cooler. And what’s with all the red and pink cut out hearts everywhere? Ugh, gross. Like I said though…just my opinion. So sue me.

                ……Actually, please don’t. I’m broke.

Skiiiiiiiiiing =)

(Okay...here's one of the most un-organized blog posts ever. If it doesn't make sense I apologize)

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned in my short lifetime, it’s this: Making myself like snowboarding is IMPOSSIBLE.

I’ve been trying on and off for three years, the more I do it…the more I dislike it. I envy all the snowboarders flying by me as I sit on top of the hill taking like, a half hour just to strap my board on. I marvel at their ease as they carve the hills in half the time it takes me to move five feet. I sigh in remorseful disgust that after three years of literal blood, sweat, and a whole lot of back/butt/knee pain, all I have to show for myself is…

NOTHING.

Yeah. Nothing. I mean, I can (sometimes) switch from heel side to toe side, and I figured out that I’m goofy, and I learned how to fall in a way that doesn’t hurt as bad…but other than that, nothing.

So a few days ago some of my friends were going skiing, and it put an idea in my head. I skied for about six or something years before I switched to snowboarding, so why couldn’t I do it again? And so alas, I headed over to the ski lodge a few hours before everyone else, and I rented some skis. As I trotted out to the bunny hill, I pasted a smile on my face and thought happy optimistic thoughts. For all I knew, I was going to own this. Ninja skills. Boom.

So I owned the bunny hill. Twice. Then I moved on to the next hill, “Camelot” and I screamed inwardly all the way down. However, I survived and I did it again and again. Then I went inside and waited for everyone else. They came. We went down Camelot once, I dropped my glove on the way up the lift, twice, and then we went over to the next lift. This one is relatively fast and I prayed all the way up as my friends Jon and Martin laughed at my ludicrousness. If I weren’t so petrified at that moment, they would have found my ski poles lodged securely in their faces.

Getting off the lift wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. Going down the hill? That’s another story…see, everyone started off before me except for Jon. I’d say that they were a good two hundred yards ahead of me when I took off. I started out trying to make nice big turns but then I lost control and involuntarily flew by the rest of my group. I screamed bloody murder all the way down as I felt myself “get air” (like two inches) on the slightness bump or imperfection in the snow. I almost hit several people on the way down, but at least God spared me that humiliation. At the bottom of the hill, I was amazed that I didn’t fall and break something. I stood there before the lift for like, five minutes just in shock. I started laughing and babbling like an idiot. I think all my friends thought I was (am?) mental and they graciously gave me a few minutes to gather my wits. Seeing that I probably never would, we moved on. The next hill was pretty much the same story. Then we tried it again and everyone tried teaching me how to turn. I failed. On the next hill they tried again. I failed again. Well actually. I did great for the first hundred yards or so…but after that…fail. I was truly amazed and grateful at the patience and good (great actually) humor of the friends I was with.

After we were all froze have to death, we went inside the lodge and warmed up and joked around.

 Let me tell you a little bit about the group I was with…

Leah: One of my best friends and the nicest person I know. Oh my goodness, I swear, my dear Leah is an angel. She’s SOOOO sweet and funny and everywhere she goes she leaves people smiling. Loveeee her!

Matt: Don’t REALLY know him that well, but from what I do know…he’s really funny. So much so that I’m intimidated. It’s kind of hysterical. Also, he has the patience of a saint.

Martin: COMPLETE DORK. He’ll do anything to make you laugh. He also has an afro. It’s pretty wicked awesome.

Jon: (Matt’s younger brother) Funniest person ever. Also the most opinionated, harsh, sarcastic guy I’ve ever met. He draws awesome cows. He’s pretty cool.

And then there’s me: …not sure how to describe myself other than slightly strange…and I’m not saying that as a compliment.

Anyways, Leah had to leave and after that we all went back out on Camelot. Then Matt helped me with my turning and stuff which was really really nice of him.

All in all, twas a lovely evening AND I only fell once. So, I decided to give up snowboarding like, forever, and go back to skiing. Not that I like it, I don’t. But I’ll keep trying. (Fakes a half smile)

So yeah…there ya have it.

not fashion blogging...

So as of late, I’ve been scanning resale shops. Let me tell you…if you aren’t a resale shopper, you should be. In the last few months I’ve gotten 2 pairs of dress pants 3 skirts 3 dresses, 1 really cute shirt, 1 ugly Christmas sweater and 1 legit vintage Polaris sweater. All these put together, add up to under $100.

Now, let me warn you my dears…I am in no way a good fashion blogger, but check it:

 My vintage Polaris sweater: $1.25

 Shirt: Kohls like, $5.00 Skirt: Goodwill $3.97 Shoes: hand me down from Autie.

 Dress: Goodwill $9.99 Shoes: Payless: I'm guessing around $16

 Dress: Goodwill $9.99

 Dress: Goodwill $9.99

 Shirt: Target $4.00 Skirt: Goodwill $3.97 Shoes: Payless $16.99

 Shirt: Goodwill $3.97 Skirt: Goodwill $3.97 Neckless: Belonged to my great-grandma.

 Shirt: TJ MAXX (I'mma Maxinista) $14.99ish Pants: $5.97

Ugly sweater: A Penny Saved $10.00 Pants: Goodwill $5.97

I'm no artist...

So....I'm not much of an artist, but as you may already know: I love Charlie Brown. So, this is us living happily ever after. :)