Brace yourself.

If you live in a four season climate like I do, every winter brings several obstacles to overcome.   Right about now we will all begin to bitch about how cold it is, yet what we know as actual cold has not even hit yet.  It's forty something degrees, and we are acting like we have no idea it is going to be negative ten next month.  Did you forget the weather so cold you want to cry, but your tears will freeze to your face so it's not even worth it? It's kind of like a hangover...when it's over you look back and think, "It wasn't that bad," but the minute it happens again you bitch and moan, "I can't live like this!  I'm dying!" You always know it is coming, yet you do nothing to prepare.

First, there is the redundant question of, "What happened to all my warm clothes from last year?  How is my closet only filled with only flip flops and tank tops?"  Suddenly it goes from 70 degrees to 40, and you are left wondering if paying rent is more important than getting a new pair of boots. The answer is always, depends how cute the boots are, of course.

My personal favorite winter battle is the one I am currently losing with my heat.  I keep telling myself it may warm up one more time so there is no need to turn it on just yet. Then my cat walks by with icicles in his fur, and I mutter, "Put on a sweater and some socks and quit being a pussy."  No pun intended.

Soon the "claiming of the parking spots" will begin.  Everyone knows if you dig out your parking spot, it is perfectly acceptable to put anything you can find in its place to save it.  I have seen walkers, brooms on cinder blocks, and even vacuums holding spots. If you're anything like me, you will forget to call "dibs," and soon your entire street will be reserved.  However, you wouldn't dream of moving someone else's chair for fear that you will get murdered...and you will in fact get murdered.  Why do you think Chicago's murder rate is at an all time high?  Oh, you thought it was the gang violence?  That's so cute...

Finally, here comes the "winter weight."  You aren't going out as much but ordering in more, and no one is going to be able to see you under 9 layers of clothing anyway so why not add some extra insulation.  Bears do it right?

Before you lose sight of your feet, don't worry you have until New Year's to pretend to care about how fat you are, which will last about a week or two. You will then give up again, and panic right before it starts to warm up.  At lease you can pretend it was all just a bad dream until next October...

Guys, hang in there. It gets better.

Last night I was having a conversation with a guy friend of mine regarding a girl he has been seeing who, according to his stories, is bat shit crazy.  This got me thinking about how truthfully, most girls are crazy.  Let me rephrase that, ALL girls are crazy, some are just more crazy than others. Guys, it is your job to find the one who is the least amount of crazy and hope she doesn't turn into the latter...

Let's be honest, you have to expect all women to be a little crazy.  We have periods and hormones which cause us to be excessively sensitive  As girls, we get upset over shit you guys wouldn't even think to care about.  We tend to over think and analyze everything as well, even if it doesn't need to be.   We know we do this, but we can't help it.  It just comes with having that extra X chromosome.  It's loaded with feelings apparently.  Average (tolerable) girl shit like this aside, there are for sure some of us who need medication.  I have heard some stories from guy friends in the past so terrifying I wanted to move and change my number just in case she was watching us have the conversation.

There is some hope out there fellows.  I really do believe that the female crazy fades with age.  In my early 20s, I will be the first to admit I was an insane force to be reckoned with.   I was hot headed, super jealous, and would flip my shit at the drop of a hat.  If we dated then, I am so sorry for all the gray hairs and premature wrinkles I may have caused...

As I've gotten older, I have become more secure with who I am and what I look like so I don't get jealous of other girls like I used to.    I've accepted I am not perfect, and honestly, I wouldn't want to be since that is a lot of pressure... Also, I've learned to control my emotions and not let the small stuff bother me either.   Basically, the older I get, the less fucks I give...and who says there are no advantages to aging?                                         

I can honestly say while back in the day I may have been a tad bi-polar, I have never hid in a boyfriend's back seat or physically beaten a guy I was seeing (no seriously, this has happened to some of my friends). To this day, I don't go through phones of the people I date or read their emails because if I ever feel the need to do this, I don't trust you, and there is no point in dating you to begin with. If you feel the need to look, chances are you are going to find something you don't want to see...

Regarding exes, I really don't want to hear every detail of your former relationships either.  As far as I'm concerned you were a virgin before you met me.  You and your ex only held hands, and I can hold hands way better than she ever could anyway.

                               

Dear diary...

Just kidding.  I never kept a diary.

Even at its high point of popularity, I never really trusted the idea.  I always feared that no matter how amazing the hiding spot or how intricate the locking mechanism, someone would read it.  Maybe it would be my narc of a sister, or my conservative parents, or even worse, my best friend.  Sure, now she knows everything about me, but back then I harbored some pretty intense secrets I wouldn't have trusted her with.

Everyone knows, at that age best friends can turn into worst enemies faster than you could say, "Don't have a cow, man." What if we wore the same outfit on the same day, and as revenge she told my crush about my undying love for him and our future children?  That is merely too much for a fifth grader to take, and I was far too wise to succumb to that kind of travesty.

Writing has always come pretty naturally to me,  I was the girl who crammed out an "A" (ten or more page) paper the night before it was due with little effort. Before you start calling me a bitch under your breath, know that I am math illiterate to compensate.  No seriously, 126 x 12 = orange?

I have always loved to write and even considered majoring in journalism to (hopefully) one day have a career in the field.  However in college, I switched my major twice (hence why I have a double minor) and finally settled on Communications since I was sick of hearing jokes about being in college for 7 years without a P.H.D.

I remember signing up for my first creative writing course Freshman year.  On the first day I thought, "This is it. I finally have it all figured out."  The class started out great.  The weekly assignments were thought inducing, and I really felt I had found my niche. It wasn't until the final week of class that my teacher assigned each of us a song and told us to write a piece regarding our interpretation of the song's meaning.  I was assigned "Warehouse" by The Dave Matthews Band.  Before you judge her song choice, it was the year 2000, and he was still considerably important.  If you still think he is important, you probably also think Patchouli smells good, therefore your opinion is invalid.

Regardless of what the song is actually about, I wrote about what I felt the lyrics meant. I was sure I had nailed this assignment like all the others seeing as to how it was a creative writing assignment and not a research one.  You can imagine my dismay when I received my paper back with a giant, red, "C-" on it.  I stayed after class to question this obvious lack in judgement, and she simply responded with, "That is not what I felt the song was about at all."  I'm sorry but wasn't the assignment for ME to write about what I felt the song was about?  I couldn't fathom how I was being told my personal interpretation was wrong, in a creative writing course nonetheless. She clearly was not Dave Matthews so how the hell could she be so sure of the song's correct content?  Long story short, I went to see her superior to explain my predicament, and I got my "C-" changed to an "A".

I can't even remember her name, but I do remember she was pretty old back then so I'm going to go ahead and assume she is dead by now.  It was because of her, I switched majors; she taught several of the other writing courses at my college, and I didn't want to deal with her again.  A decade later, I have finally returned to my passion. I know, I probably shouldn't have let her get to me, but I was 19 (and my judgement was questionable at best back then).  Looking back, I didn't have it all figured out like I thought. Turns out, the only thing I truly had figured out was my teacher was a bitch.

Bye Bye Benjamin.

I lost $100 today.

I am not sure how or where it went for sure...I just know that is is gone. Initially I got kind of upset because well, it's a hundred bucks, and I went to work today despite the fact that I am dying.  I felt like shit at the concert Tuesday, and I missed work yesterday because I have a nasty cold and a 102 fever (Bieber fever I presume).  After dragging myself into work feeling less like a million (and more like 12) bucks, I lost a decent chunk of my paycheck.  

The best way one can look at this situation is this: hopefully whoever finds it really needed it. If not, this would also be an acceptable way to spend it...

That lucky bastard. I wish I had thought of that sooner.

In my next life, I want to come back as Justin Bieber.

I took my boss's daughter to his concert last night.  I was less than enthused to go, however, we had 4th row seats so at least I could see him possibly throw up on stage again. 

On a side note, I anticipate my hearing will return by the end of the weekend.

As much as I hate to admit it, he put on an amazing show.  There were lots of theatrics and pyrotechnics.  The stage moved, and he even shot out of it several times. I will also reluctantly say this, that little fucker can dance...and sing...and play the drums.  I had no idea he was talented beyond auto tune.  However, what was more impressive than his talents, was his fans' reactions to him.

My boss's daughter starting crying hysterically when merely his body guard came out to announce him.  She continued to cry the entire show and most of the ride home.  Girls were screaming, sobbing, and fainting all over the place.  I'm talking girls of all ages...toddlers to moms all sporting Bieber shirts and having aneurysms. I mean, I get it.  There was a moment during the show when he grabbed a camera (to film himself for the jumbotron), and he mouthed some words and gave a little wink.  It was adorable, and I momentarily reverted to my 12 year old self.  I am a grown ass woman, and I caught the Bieber fever.  How did this happen?  I wore protection.

Watching all these girls freak out got me thinking...how amazing would it be to have that affect on millions of people's lives?  What if the sheer sight of you caused people to cry tears of joy and/or pass out?  I would love to make people hyperventilate just by showing up. Think about it, if just one person reacted to each of us the way these girls reacted to Justin, I think we would all be in pretty good shape. 

"5"s are the new "10"s

Being shallow is part of who we are...we can't help it.  We live in a society that has trained us to think physical appearance triumphs character.  As you get older looks will matter less, however, the younger you are, the more of an asshole you are going to be.  Truth be told, we are/were all some level of asshole.  You have rejected a less than attractive nice person or two in your day so stop kidding yourself...

Ladies, stop going for "9"s and "10"s and give those "5"s and "6"s a chance.  Why, you ask?


Exhibit A: Ryan Gosling.

Let's be honest, we would have all ignored him in high school.  However, if we did, we also would have killed ourselves by now.  R.I.P. to the girl who actually turned down his prom invite.  God rest her poor soul.

This next one haunts my dreams.  Look at Zac Efron then and now.  

Are you thinking of all those guys you shot down back in the day? Don't you just want to punch yourself in the face?  No?  Look at those muscles again.  Checkmate.

How about Matthew Lewis?

Wait for it....

This really happened. I know. I KNOW.  Thank you modern dentistry.

If you ever watched "Even Stevens" you may remember the dorky younger brother...what you may want to forget is the babe he turned into. Are you thinking of all your little brother's friends you ignored who had a crush on you?  It stings a bit huh?

Finally, check out Bradley Cooper back in the day...

One of people magazine's sexiest men alive was beyond goofy looking throughout his teens.  He probably cried himself to sleep a few times, but the joke is on all the ladies who refused his advances.  He can now dry any tears he may have on the thousands of panties thrown at him daily.

You are an asshole.

If I call you and you don't answer, but you text me right back (and you aren't at work or out of minutes), you are an asshole.

If you own a pair of Crocs, you are an asshole.  Yes I am aware of their level of comfort...you're still an asshole

If you have ever given yourself a nickname, you are an asshole.

If while driving, I let you cut in front of me and you don't throw up the "thank you" hand signal, you are an asshole...and I want you dead.