therapy on the cheap

I am gonna start by shocking your pants off. People. I hate spending money. Even if I HAD money to spend, I don't think I'd be able to spend it. I have "genetic spending paralysis". Well, let me rephrase. I am genetically programmed to throw up on things that aren't on clearance. "On Sale" is just a fancy term for "not clearance". I don't think Dave has any idea how lucky he is that I have this defect.

But sometimes, life gets to me. I like to have direction and a plan, even if it is vague. Right now I don't. We thought the next step in our lives was this PERFECT grad school. When we visited to check it out (a billion years ago), the professor was oozing with how much he loved Dave and thought he would be a perfect fit. We (read: I) felt so good about this! The town seemed perfect, the program was spot on. Then he got denied. Which is not unthinkable. Grad programs are so competitive, and it's silly to think that the first (and only, so far) one that he applied to would welcome him with open arms. But I was so sure. Anyway, now I feel a little lost. I feel like our future is like The Shining, where you keep waiting for it to make sense and it never does. And then you google it, and find out that no one on the planet can make sense of it either.


So I went to the dolla store. And I spent with reckless abandon. My life feels so out of control right now, it was nice for me to be so in control. I could do anything I wanted. I ran around with glee throwing things in my cart. I bought like 3 things of nail polish. Even though I already have 17. Impractical? Yes. But I am being reckless! And I bought ammonia! And crepe paper! And cheetos! I didn't even keep track of how many things I was throwing in. I am like the wind!

It was nice. It was also the point where I realized that in The Shining, I am Jack Nicholson. I sit here and write stuff and snap at people. I miiiight be losing it. It's a good thing we don't have a hedge maze nearby.
 Because the resemblance is uncanny.

Electing Mayor McFartface

I feel like no one can agree on politics. The only thing we can all agree on is that politics suck. There's nothing I like more than spending my brain power on trying to figure out who is being less misleading. My senior class voted me "Most Likely to Run for Political Office". That might have had something to do with how I was a bossy student body officer (Notice that I wasn't voted most likely to BE a politician, just that I would run). At the time, I was like, "Five thousand star-eyed babies! Let's go shopping for pant suits, constituents!" And now all I want to do is make a million dollars by writing this blog that has no theme or direction. That plan is working out well.

In order to make my million dollars, I have to write words. So this is what I think about a political thing:

I just don't understand how a corporation can be considered a person, legally. So, some of it makes sense. The right to sue or be sued the same as a person, that makes sense. It means that a corporation is a single entity, which makes a lot of sense in terms of taxation and regulation. It also makes sense that because a corporation is not made up solely of Joe CEO, but a collection of individuals, those individuals should not be denied their rights when acting together. Cool. Good on you, Supreme Court. And there are some things that are denied corporations, but that we as individuals have the right to. Like, you can ask me in court all day long whether or not I did, in fact, do my hair like Legolas all during 8th grade. And I could reply, "I decline to answer pursuant to my fifth amendment rights," (I only know that phrase because I am obsessed with Suits). Corporations can't do that. They HAVE to answer. Embarrassing or not (not that doing your hair like Legolas is embarrassing. Braids are IN right now). 

My issue here is that corporations can be involved in campaigns. I feel like this is something that doesn't make sense. If I work for one of those cool companies with the slides and nerf gun fights, there is someone there above me who can decide to give money to Mayor McFartface. In fact, they don't even have to tell me, or anyone else, that they contributed to the reign of McFartface. There is no board approval necessary. How does this make sense? So one time, in the middle of a heated nerf gun fight, it occurred to me that this seems a little unfair. The only reason my company can even do that is because me and my coworkers exist, and they are considered a person in order to protect us. If Mayor McFartface is championing a plan to slaughter all the beautiful people, OBVIOUSLY I don't want to support him. Shouldn't it make sense that if the company can only give because of me, shouldn't I be involved in the decision-making process? 

Hmmm. But democratically choosing whom to give money to kind of sounds like a sucky and time consuming job. So maybe we just tell corporations that they can't contribute anymore. Makes sense to me.

the plight of the chronically single

Yes. I am aware that I am not single. That doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about. Because that would be like telling a doctor he doesn't know how it feels to be poor, but all you're seeing is his career 30 years in. You've missed the part where he and wife had plastic lawn furniture in their apartment all 10 years of $200,000 a year med school. So just because I'm not experiencing it currently doesn't mean I don't know what it's like. (PS, I am not equating a relationship to riches. Besides, even if I were, I have already discussed how being poor is Theeee Defecation (inner parenthesis to tell you that I don't like to swear. Also, to point out the absurdity of that saying)).

I have also said some other stuff about how I like being married. But let me give it to you straight, single girls.

 People disapprove of whatever you do. And they will mention it to you. Every time I leave my house (approx every 4 days) I inevitably bump into a stranger who wants to talk about my baby. They ask me how old she is, and then they ask her name. When I say "Reese" they say, "Oh, Reese? Is that right? Reese, you said? Hmm. Never heard that one before. Reese." I don't know what is wrong with this country (world?), that we think we are allowed to pass judgement on complete strangers. Maybe I named my daughter Reese because that was my mother's dying wish. Maybe I did it because a unicorn came to me in a dream telling me what her name should be. You don't know, stranger! And just because it isn't what you would do doesn't mean it's wrong.  So, if judgy people are steering the conversation in the direction of why-are-you-single-what-is-wrong-with-you, you've got to be prepared. I think I would go for shock value here. Instead of replying the truthful, "I just haven't met a person I really connect with" You should say something like, "My last boyfriend died tragically when his Alzheimer's treatment facility was attacked by genetically enhanced super sharks. I am just having a hard time moving on." If it is, in fact, someone you know, who thinks "something is wrong with you" because you are single, you can reply with a much more acidic, "I don't know, Aunt Mable, why are you wearing so much makeup? What are you hiding?" This is NOT a recommended method. I just don't think people realize how hurtful they are being when they imply that the only reason one might be single is because of a personal defect. 

I also know that we judge ourselves most harshly. We look at freaks around us who are in relationships, and sometimes we wonder if there really truly is something wrong with us. I promise, there's not. Our facebook feeds are flooded with people being cheesy and vomitous about their "true love." Those people might be trying to convince themselves that their relationship is perfect...Because we all know we try to look better/cooler/more exciting on facebook. When someone is truly, heartachingly happy, they are busy being happy, not updating their facebook to try and make them look happy.

In terms of  the lonely Saturday Night, just do whatever makes you happy, instead of focusing on what you don't have. Are all of your girlfriends out with their guys? Come to my house. I will watch a movie with you, and then we will all go to bed at nine. If movies aren't your thing we can go find some pallets by some dumpsters and make a coffee table. Whatevs. Your choice. All I am saying here is that you have options. Have fun. Be selfish, because I promise you that once you do find that guy, your selfish times are over. 

I guess what I really want to say to the single girls is that you need to stop comparing yourself, because there's always someone you will perceive as having it all. Whether they do or not, is usually a different story. And I'm not just talking about relationships here. All I know is that I never want Reese to grow up and feel like she is lesser than someone else, just because she doesn't have a boyfriend. 

So basically, life sucks in that, just as we think we have things figured out, it tells us that everyone else mastered that 27 years ago and now we are supposed to be doing something else. I say screw it. People are going to judge you no matter what. So do what makes you happy. If it's making coffee tables with me, so be it.

buffets: a guide for the novice

We've all been there. There are 100 steaming serving dishes in front of you. This ain't no small potatoes five-option wedding buffet. This is a REAL buffet. Whether you are in Vegas or at your local Chuck-a-Rama, you need a strategy.

(I know this isn't funny, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't laughing uproariously right now)

Here's a list of don'ts:
1. Don't scoop out more than 1-2 bites of anything you might be interested in. My experience tells me only about 20% of the edible materials that look good to a hungry stomach actually taste like the food they are meant to resemble.
2. Don't you dare be worried about that growing stack of 1500 plates on your table. Is your "server" (aka drink refiller) judging you? Probably, but I doubt you are the most grotesque thing they've seen that day. I bet you are in the "forgettably shameful" category.
3. Don't freak out about leaving a tip. You paid $15.00 (not including the drink) for the opportunity to get out of your seat 17 times and get your own slop. Last time Dave and I went, we opted to give a tip, but only because the teenage boy was really nice and talked to a little girl in our section about Justin Bieber (that 7-year old was right on. The biebs is totes hot) for like 10 minutes. Oh yeah, and because our tiny DNA-thief  might have thrown 800 grains of rice on the ground. But my memory of that is a little foggy.
4. Don't get your food from the right side of the bowl. Most people are right-handed. You see where I'm going with this?
5. Don't sit too closely to other people. Especially if your baby is as cute as mine. I came here to shove my face full of cubed jello, people. Not discuss whether or not you think my minor has enough fat/too much fat on her thighs.
6. Don't use the chocolate fountain. Seriously. This is all I can think of whenever I see a chocolate fountain:

 And it makes me want to vomit.

But this world isn't all about don'ts. So here are some do-s. (HOW DO I PLURALIZE THAT WITHOUT SPEAKING SPANISH?!):

1. Do visit during busy times. Because then you have a slightly better chance of actually consuming fare that was prepared this century (to be fair, last century was only 12 years ago).
2.Do learn an alternate language with your buffy (buffet+buddy=buffy). Something a little more obscure, like Danish. That way you can immediately react to the absurdity around you and discuss accordingly. BONUS: You can act like you don't understand the people that are trying to interrupt your jello-fest (it just tastes better when it's cubed!).


I feel like I could write a whole book on this. And maybe I should. Hmmmm. Hashtag mylifecalling??

the secret to actually liking the person you're married to

Prepare to be impressed. I am in such a good mood, because I finally got off my butt and spent the 30 seconds it took to set up my wireless router. So guess where I'm blogging from, minions? MY COUCH. I have been wondering for many moons how I could bother everyone with my opinions from a horizontal position. Who knew the solution was so simple?! Anyway, you came here for non-divorce advice, so let's get to it.

I mostly love my husband. I say mostly because there is no perfect relationship. Pretty much because men are hairy and smell AWFUL sometimes. Eliminate the hair and horrible smells and you have a pretty good shot at a perfect relationship (kinda makes me wonder if lesbians thought of this a long time ago, and they are just waiting for everyone else to figure it out). WAIT. There's one more thing. Something lesbians haven't thought of. The secret to a happy marriage is simple.

MOVE AWAY FROM YOUR GOSH DARN PARENTS. 

Seriously. Now I will support my argument.

Your parents have stuff. And lots of it. You may or may not have stuff, but regardless of your stuff amounts, you are used to taking of your parents' stuff freely. Even when you were at college and out of the house, you stole cans of food and they would feel bad for you and buy you dinner once in a while. But now you are MARRIED. Guess how much I care if you are married and still in school? NONE. The dynamic has changed now. Instead of your parents being the captains of your life football team, now you and your husband are (I am not going to mess with worrying about saying husbandSLASHwife. nonsense. I seriously doubt any men read my blog. My own marital co-captain does not). Your parents have been demoted to the cheer squad. So they are still at the game, they just don't have any effect on the outcome, and they sure as heck don't get to call any plays. They are there to encourage you and do backflips in miniskirts. Which is why you should move away from them. So that you HAVE to captain your own team. It's easy to defer to the leaders you've always had, but guess who is going to hate that? Your co-captain. 

I like visiting my parents. They have way nicer mattresses. My mom's conditioner smells like a minty jungle. They have a pantry perpetually full of fruit snacks. So I could see it being a temptation to ignore my life and live in theirs if I lived close to them. Because my life is full of mediocre conditioner, and spending my grocery money on actual foods, not snack foods. Which sometimes sucks. So sometimes I just want to sleep in their guest room and eat their food and complain about everything in my life to them...oh, hold on a sec. That sounds exactly like being a teenager. 

Which means you would be regressing.

It's a hard day when you realize that your parents have shifted gears from providing for you to simply sharing their stuff with you, out of generosity. But it has come, and you need to deal with it. 

The first year of marriage is not easy. Just look at Kim Kardashian and the guy we have already forgotten about! Seriously, if Dave buttered his bread differently than me,  I would burst into a million tears wondering how on earth  I could be meant for him if we couldn't agree on something as simple as buttering bread. But we are marriage superheroes, and instead of him leaving me when he realized I was bat crazy and (non-pregnantly) sobbed over butter, we worked stuff out. I am going to surprise you here with what I attribute our success to. It's because we LIVED FAR AWAY FROM OUR PARENTS. Don't pass out. 

When we would fight about anything/everything, it is sooo tempting to try and find someone in this world that will side with you. Guess who is good at siding with you? The people that created you. If we had lived closer to family I know know know that on multiple occasions we would've run off and spent the night separately. Buuut we couldn't. Which sucked at the time. Ugh. When we were fighting the last thing I wanted to do was watch him read in bed. How pompous of him. And HOLY CRAP, could he brush his teeth any more annoyingly?! But sooner or later the wizard of love would work his magic. I know there's that stupid saying that tells you to never go to bed angry. I would like to advocate the opposite. GO TO BED STEAMING MAD! Because when you are steaming mad, if you try to talk it out you're just going to get steaming madder, and you're going to want to throw your husband into the rushing herd a la lion king. So we like to go to bed angry. Inevitably, at some point in the night, the wizard makes us snuggle. Because my subconscious doesn't know when or when not to gift Dave with my touch. We'd wake up in the morning, steam dissipated, and be able to talk like human beings. Mostly. Which would be robbed of us if we woke up in separate beds.

So, imagine a scene where your husband is trying to decide if he should make his billion dollars by becoming a doctor, or being the alive version of Steve Jobs. It's important, right? And it affects you? So the two of you sit down and discuss that medicine is the way to go. Then he goes to his mom's house down the street, and comes waltzing home five hours later (with his belly full of the cabbage casserole that no one can make quite like his mom) and tells you he changed his mind. I hope I am not the only sociopath that would want to punch the cabbage out of my husband's gut. When you live close to your parents, it might help YOU keep your relationship strong, but you better believe that it's going to build up resentment towards your parents by your spouse. I don't care if you think you're the exception. YOU'RE NOT.  Parents are amazing at telling us how to live our lives, and our spouses don't have the love and admiration for our parents that we do. Making decisions with your parents is bad news bears for a marriage. See? This goes back to knowing whether people belong on the sidelines or on the field in your life. 

Basically, I like parents. Have nothing against them. But the time when you're first married is an important time for you to build the foundation relationship for the rest of your lives. So get away from your parents and focus on your husband. It will be harder, but it will also help you stay away from divorceville.

Criticisms and opposing arguments are welcome. But prepare to be crushed with my Spock-ly logic. 

why the notebook sucks and we can definitely do better for ourselves.

This post will not be news to you. There are plenty of feminists that want to cram down your throat why Rom Coms are the devil. I would say I am about 25% hippie feminist, so I will only shove this a quarter of the way down your throat.

Now, I don't hate all chick flicks. I can't quite say that I am ever in awe of their unique story telling or witty word bandying, but I enjoy them, the way that I enjoy people watching. It makes me laugh, I am always surprised at how hard they're trying, and it also makes me sad. Because of how terrible it is. Haha, see how that works? For both? People watching? and movies? Moving on.

The very small section of my brain that is smart is wishes I wouldn't publicly admit this, but I pretty much love every Sandra Bullock romantic comedy(besides Lake House. Why is Keanu Reeves in ANYTHING?) . And I loooove sweet home alabama. But I can blame that on Josh Lucas' southern accent and blue blue eyes.

But The Notebook. This just makes me weep, though, not for the reason most women weep. I just hope that I am not the only person who feels this way, otherwise pretty much all of you will think I am some self-righteous pretentious non-intellectual (I am). Regardless, let me tell you why I think Nick Sparks is probably sitting in his piles of gold cackling at all womankind.

1. The Notebook is chock full of cheesiness. Which works on film. Because Ryan will say something like, "I would rather wait a thousand years to spend one day with you, than to have someone else for a hundred," and Rachel replies with a breathy, "You won't have to wait for a thousand years, because I'm here now," or something. And we all swoon, and think How fantastic Mr. Gosling is! He just always knows what to say. He's so manly because I am pretty sure he does stuff with wood or trees or something, but he is also so sensitive. I wish Tyler/Jason/Brad would say that kind of thing to me. But guess what we're missing here? The cheesy man line works because the lady is buying it. If TyJaRad really came up and said that to you, I bet your reply wouldn't be to passionately kiss him, or to promise that you'll never be apart. Your reply would probably be to squint inquisitively a little, and then ask him why, since he would wait a thousand years for a day with you, he can't put his dirty socks in the hamper. Seriously, socks in the hamper seems a like a much easier deal than a thousand years of waiting.

2. In this movie she moves away, and he writes her, like , what, a letter everyday? Never receiving a reply? And he keeps writing? This is just not realistic. For one, how does he even have that much to talk about? Unless he's writing her letters that sound like this:

 Hey lovey pants. I woke up at 7:30 this morning, which is funny, because usually I wake up at 7:45. But you already know that. I decided to treat myself by making toast in addition to my cold cereal for breakfast. Sooooo yummy. So then I went to work and did manly stuff. It was an okay day, except that my sandwich got squished by my juice box in my lunch box. Silly me for arranging it that way. But I guess you live and learn, right? And then me and Claude were having this hilarious conversation about the sound mud makes when you step in it. You know, that squelchy sound? Omg, Claude can do a perfect impression of it. Ssssqqqquuuueeeelllllcccch. Awww, I wish you could hear it. So then I went home and changed my clothes. Then I had to go to the grocery store. I bought milk, easy cheese, swiss rolls, organic peas, and 2 lbs of apples. It cost me $27. Then I had to go to the bank. It took me 784 steps  and 5 minutes 39 seconds to get from the grocery store to the bank. Then I went home and watched Zombieland. I love the part with Bill Murray. Bill-FREAKIN-Murray! Haha. I did, however, skip the previews. Usually I like watching the previews, but I wanted to get through the whole movie without falling asleep. Now I am going to bed. It is 10:58, so it's getting way late. I know you will never write back, but I can keep this going indefinitely, so don't worry! XOXO

Painful, right? I almost bored myself to sleep. So yeah, I think I've made my point about that being impractical.

3. One time I broke up with a guy. And I think I really hurt him. But he never told me that. Because when you break up with guys, they don't come crying back to you. I am pretty sure he has moved on with his life, but like I said, I have no idea. Since I never talk to him. Although I guess there is a slight chance I have been missing his letters in the mail, and I might bump into him and the house he is building for us to live in together.

4. We all know that parents can do their best, but if crafty teenagers want to be together, they will. So I'm not buying this tragic-victims-of-circumstance thing they're trying to pull off. What would probably be more realistic is if they made a movie about two working professionals that live in different cities that might have something, but since neither of them want to leave their job they may never know. But that would probably be a boring movie.


I think solution here is to just throw The Notebook away and watch Lord of the Rings instead. Because that movie is a LOT more realistic.

marriage is gross and that's why I love it

dear everybody who reads my blog aka mom,

I have been married for pretty much forever. Okay, that's not true. But it kind of seems like I have never been not married. Youknowwhatimean? So, here we are on our wedding day.

It was a nice, quiet wedding. Anyway, everybody knows that the wedding day has pretty much nothing to do with the rest of your marriage, except it celebrates the first day of eating lots of cake together. Which I will touch on later. I know lots of people think marriage is old fashioned, but lots of people still do it. It's cool if you never want to get married. But I did, and I did for what I feel like is the right reason. To get tons of presents. I accidentally stumbled on something awesome by getting married, though. Hold on to your knickers, kids, it's about to get gross.

So here is my list of why marriage is not all cupcakes and smiling clouds, but is still pretty much the coolest thing ever:

1. Commitment. What's that, you say? You're scared of commitment? Me too. Sort of. For some reason I was like, "Cool, I've known you for a short amount of time but I can tell we get along let's intertwine our lives immediately," but I have commitment issues in other areas....like..oh...my education. You'd think just deciding on a stupid degree and getting it would be easier than getting married. Nope. Anyway, psychological disorders aside, commitment is cool. It's kind of amazing to know that when your face melts off at the end of the day someone still wants to kiss it. Not that unmarried people don't kiss, but the point is that there is never any pressure to be an olympic-level hottie, because he has already signed up to be with you when your chin skin sags to meet your collar bone. Which, by my estimate, will be about 3 more dog years for me.

2. Bathroom door, what bathroom door? Remember those old days of having to shut the bathroom door? So inconvenient! It takes tons of extra time, you have to fiddle with a lock, AND it prevents you from hearing the TV. Ugh. Ridiculous. Ours practically vanished when we got married. It is totally liberating. However, as of late I have slightly amended our bathroom door rule to include a "don't bother me" clause. Because otherwise I never get alone time. But that is a motherhood issue, not a marriage one.

3. I have help with anything I need. More than just the regular ole jar lid situation. There's also the honeyIpukedonthefloorbecauseIampregnantandIamtoogrossedouttocleanitup kind of help. Pretty much invaluable, my friends. I can't say that all husbands are this cool, but mine is. I mean, he'd even do it for non-pregnant puke. He is such a catch.

4. Sometimes, when you worry about your bowel movements(dude, we all do), you now have someone to talk to about it. It would be unacceptable in my (very short) book of etiquette to run to my parents every time things were rainbow-colored. But now I have Dave! And he actually responds to my gross inquiries with non-sarcastic remarks! Ah! If that's not true love, I don't know what is.

5. You always know where you stand. You know how when you first start getting to know a guy, and you text and you talk, and you obsess over whether you're sending him the right message or if you are being too needy or if just maybe you are just a little too aloof? All that ridiculousness is gone. I know my standing with Dave 100% of the time. I never have to worry about chasing him off by being a psychopath (read: me). I never have to wonder if he likes me. I never have to get jealous if he is talking to another girl. I am feeling puh-ritty secure here.

5. You are now tied in first place for poorest person in the world. With your spouse. Because you share a bank account. And Dave and I are going to hold onto that first place position because we are a couple of winners.

There are about 45 thousand more reasons why I love being married. Seriously though (put on your galoshes, things are about to get mushy), Dave is why I love it so much. If you had asked me five years ago to guess what my husband would be like, I would not have described the dude that sleeps in my bed (or my husband. Joke. That's a joke. We definitely have two twin beds).  One time I dated a guy that was all flowers and love songs and I thought I needed that. Yeah, it was okay. Now, Dave is the opposite. He, actually, has never bought me flowers ("they cost a ton and they die right away. If I want to spend money on you I'll buy you something you actually need, like socks,") and has never dedicated a love song to me. He is so simple, and I need that, because I am so incredibly complicated. His proposal was simple too. He took me to a hill, told me how he spent many hours there as a boy with his friends talking about what they wanted out of life. Then he got down on one knee and told me that I was what he wanted in his life (RIGHT?? BIG BABY TEARS). Anyway, being serious is making me uncomfortable. Really though, am I the only person in the world that was sort of surprised that Mr. Right was not "my type?"