The Real World

Currently, my life is being overcome with all things "fake". 
Yesterday was the last day of Lent.  For the last 40 days I have been a fake Catholic.  And, I was a pretty good fake Catholic, if I do say so myself.  I gave up the elevator this year, and I didn't cheat, at all.  And what I mean by that is I didn't take the elevator until Friday.  Which is technically two days before the end of Lent, but the first time I took the elevator, there was no other option.  After I was forced to take the elevator on Friday, I figured Saturday was free game.  Anyway, fake Lent went well, and I have given up my days of being a fake Catholic until next year.
I have been spending an exorbitant amount of time with my fake family lately. We eat dinner together every night, Monday through Thursday, at our fake dinner table. Luckily, the fake dinner table will again be the conference table and my fake family will become just co-workers on April 15th (April 14th if I'm lucky).  Along this line of reasoning, I think my fake Dad is punishing me for some reason because he won't give me my fake allowance.  Fake allowance isn't nearly as fun as a real allowance.  You have to spend money, then submit it on an expense report in order to collect a fake allowance.  Mine is currently three months late, and I think I might start some sort of a fake rebellion until I get the check.
I have a fake boyfriend.  Actually, I have multiple fake boyfriends, but don't worry, they all know about each other.  If you don't know what this means, you are obviously not single.  Fake boyfriends are either boys you go on fake dates with but nothing else, or the reverse of that.  Interpret as you will.  I scheduled a fake date for April 17th with one of my fake boyfriends.  He should be excited.  It's gonna be fun.  Should I be worried, that fake dating and fake boyfriends will turn into a fake husband?  I'm not even sure what that would be.  Hmmm...
I need something to ground me in reality.  I always said that for my 30th birthday, I was going to get something fake.  Luckily I didn't, or it would just be another thing to add to my fake life.  But who knows, my life might be so grounded in reality by age 35 that I will need something fake just to keep things interesting.

The List

As a thirty year old single woman, I have had quite a bit of time to shape my "list".  Every single girl has a list; we all want someone who is smart & funny & understanding & kind, etc. etc. etc.  My particular list has some unique items on it.

When I was a freshman in college (and pretty much through my junior year), I dated a boy who I thought I could marry.  As things were coming to a close, I knew it wasn't going to work out when I asked him what his favorite restaurant was.  His response was Sconecutter.  Sconecutter.  Yep, Sconecutter...as his very favorite restaurant.  I knew it was over.  And onto my "list" went "#1: Good taste in food (not a picky eater)."

Recently, this item has softened a bit, and perhaps become less important.  But, there is an item on my list that will never change in importance.  It is a major issue and will never move out of the top three.  No, it's not money, religion, or age.  It is cats.  Any man who likes cats enough to want to own one, ever, is automatically off my list.  I prefer someone who hates cats, but I would take someone who just dislikes them enough that there is a guarantee he will never own one.

***Side note: Freshman boyfriend really liked, even loved, cats.  I should have known from the get go it wasn't going to work.  This would have saved some heartache and tears (that were plentiful) after our three-ish year relationship ended.***

The other day I was playing a little game of "would you rather".  You know the game.  It's the one where you have two absurd options, and you have to pick the one "you would rather" have happen.  The question came up of "would you rather marry someone who had a cat or someone who was illiterate?"  I didn't even have to think before answering.  I would obviously rather marry someone who was illiterate.  Really.  I would.

Some of you may say that this is crazy or illogical.  But I disagree.  I love to read, and I think I could teach someone not only to read, but to love to read.  I would totally be a hero!  I would be improving someone's life by leaps and bounds.  He would appreciate me forever.  I would have given him the gift of literacy!  See, only good things would come from me marrying someone who is illiterate.

On the other hand, how do you teach someone to hate cats?  I would be a villain, and he would resent me every time he saw a cat.  He would reprimand me for swerving my car to hit a street crossing cat.  (Relax, I'm kidding.)  Only bad things can come from being involved with a cat lover.

I think I would have a more successful dating life it I start passing out my "list" to potential mates.

1.  Hates cats
2.  Weighs more than me
3.  Likes to travel
4.  Will wash my car
5.  Illiterate

Sadly, my perfect match won't be able to read it.


 

Going Postal

A couple of weeks ago, I was meeting with my boss about my yearly goals.  One of my goals is to increase my network of female professionals to potentially drive referral clients.  I admit that I am not that thrilled about this goal, and when I completed my outline of goals, this one only begrudgingly made the list.  It was actually a "suggested" goal from my boss that I typed up based on his hand written notes.  When I was typing it, I must not have been paying too much attention because for some reason, female was spelled femail.  I didn't notice until my boss circled it and started laughing hysterically.  Yes, hysteria, over femail vs. female.  Maybe I was trying to increase my network of female mail carriers, and I was abbreviating with femail.  Just wait until I am the "go to" tax girl for all mail women.  Who will be laughing then?    

Conclusions

Because I enjoy popsicles, I may also enjoy snowcones. (logical and true)
Because I enjoyed Felicity, I may also enjoy Gossip Girl. (logical and true)
Because I enjoy chocolate cake, I may also enjoy chocolate ice cream.  (logical but not true)

There are certain conclusions you can draw about people based on their known likes and dislikes.  Netflix does this.  Based on my movie preferences, they (Netflix) told me the following:

Because I enjoyed Pretty Woman, I may also enjoy The Little Mermaid.

Huh?  Because I enjoyed a movie about an unconventional prosititute, I will also enjoy an animated movie about a mermaid who defies her father because she is in love with a human prince. 

Completely illogical.
But true. 
It's like Netflix can see directly into my soul.

Symphony, Spektor, and Stilletos

This morning, I had a plan.  Today was the day I was going to break in my new shoes.  They are beautiful.  I watched them online for a couple of months, and I finally purchased about three weeks ago.  I have been admiring them for all this time, but I hadn't worn them yet.  But today, all that changed. 

See, the problem is, they are kind of tall.  I wasn't sure I could last a whole day, so Friday was perfect.  The only significant walking I have to do on Friday is from my parking spot to my office, which is about a block.  I usually don't go to lunch on Fridays, so it was the perfect day to test them out before wearing them to any kind of significant event.  I am going to Wicked tomorrow night in Denver, and if today went well, the shoes were going to be rewarded with a trip to the show. 

Great plan, right?  Well, at around 3:00, I got a text asking if I wanted to go to the symphony tonight.  Fun!  I had to leave early from work, so I could run down to Provo and make it back in time for the symphony tonight, so I didn't have time to go change my clothes/shoes after work.  I would still have time after I got home, and regardless, I was wearing the perfect shoes to go to the symphony.  You have to admit, they are pretty classy.

On the way home from Provo, I ran into some serious traffic, so by the time I got home, I was already late leaving for the Symphony.  By the time we got there, the $16 tickets that we wanted were already sold out, and the next price was $37.  One of our friends didn't want to spend that much, so instead we decided to go see Regina Spektor at In The Venue.

Have any of you been to In The Venue?  Parking is not convenient, and it's not exactly the kind of place with a lot of seating.  We parked a few blocks away, paid for our tickets, which ironically enough were $37, and then fought our way through the crowds to find a good place to stand.  Yes, stand.  For two hours.  Regina Spektor was really good, and everyone around me wanted her to sing a few more songs, but honestly, my feet just couldn't take any more. 

A few blocks to the car, and my feet were pretty much done.  I love shoes.  I am willing to wear five inch heels for a good portion of the day purely for my love of shoes.  In my perfect plan this morning, my shoes' day ended at 4:30 this afternoon.  The way things actually worked out, my shoes stayed out about seven hours later than their curfew.  Don't worry, there is an appropriate punishment.  As a result they will no longer be attending Wicked tomorrow night.  I still love them, but my feet are very happy in their current state.

Donovan is going down!

I could see his green shirt out of the corner of my eye. I had been running for about a mile, and he was still right next to me. I learned quite a bit about him during the second mile. His name is Donovan. His mom and grandma were both running, but were a little bit behind us. He has tons of friends, and I think half the town of Santa Clara was cheering for him along the course.

It was just past mile two that Donovan started to pull ahead of me. I was no longer looking at his shirt from my peripheral vision, but my eyes were looking straight ahead at the green shirt running away from me.

It was at this moment that I made the decision. Donovan was going down. I wasn't going to run with him for two miles just to have him leave me in the final stretch. A little sabotage was in order, and luckily I had Otter Pops on my side.

Instead of handing out water, the race volunteers were handing out Otter Pops. I don't think Donovan knew that he could just take an Otter Pop, so I yelled ahead and told him. "Hey Donovan, are you really going to pass up an Otter Pop?" Well, he turned around to get one, and I just cruised right by. Ha ha Donovan, you fell for my little trick, and now I'm going to win.

I was able to stay a little ahead of him, but I could hear that he was gaining on me when I heard some Donovan fans shouting his name fairly close to me. I really had to focus, but I saw the finish line ahead, and I made it through just two people ahead of Donovan. Hooray!!!

He was a worthy opponent, and he put up a valiant fight. He did win one of the raffle prizes at the end of the race. But his three foot, ten year old frame was just no match for my pure athleticism. Sorry dude. You know what they say- another year, another foot taller, so better luck next year.

Smoke much?

It was probably about a year ago that my mom was with a group of her friends in Panguitch, UT at some sort of quilting retreat. The women made a quick stop at a gas station to fill the car up with gas, buy a snack or a drink, or whatever they decided they needed. My mom had the following, very unexpected conversation with the gas station employee...

Gas station employee (GSE): Is that everything? (As my mom puts her items on the counter)
My mom (MM): Yes. Oh, wait. Do you sell chewing tobacco?
GSE: Yes
MM: How much is it?
GSE: The cheapest is $5.00 (I don't actually know that he said $5.00, and I honestly don't really know how much chewing tobacco costs.)
MM: Okay, I'll take one.

As this was going on, my mom's friend was standing behind her, waiting to make her purchase. This was the first she had heard of my mom picking up a new "chewing" habit. Her eyes got wide, and when my mom realized there was an observer of the situation, she couldn't go through with her purchase. She realized how crazy she sounded, and she and her friend started laughing uncontrollably. Needless to say, she left the store without her "chew".

A couple of days ago, I stopped at my neighbor Maren's house. As I was walking in, our neighbor walked out of his apartment to go smoke on the stairs. When I walked into Maren's, my opening remark was "I'm so glad I don't smoke in the summer. It would be so awful to have to sit out in the heat and smoke. I think it would be worse to smoke in the summer than in the winter." Maren's mom was staying with her and was in the room as I made this comment.

I later learned that this comment made me a smoker. I'm just the kind of smoker who doesn't smoke in the summer. From everything I know about smokers, being one myself, this is a very common way to smoke-I call it seasonal smoking. Totally makes sense. I think I might just chew Nicorette gum in the summer, you know, to avoid the heat.

Okay, so my mom doesn't chew tobacco. She never has, and I'm pretty much 100% sure she never will. I think she heard that you could mix chewing tobacco with some other household ingredients to get rid of slugs or spiders or some other creepy crawly creature in your garden. She just happened to pick a very odd time to start collecting the bug repellent ingredients.
And, no, I don't smoke. Maren's mom just grossly misinterpreted my comment. Granted, she had to reach pretty far to turn me into a smoker, even a seasonal one, but maybe she had heard about my mom and her chew. Like mother, like daughter...right? Right!