in my spare time, i'm a mento

reference to understand heading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3DX1ZQmq7o

Over the past several months I have increasingly found myself worrying about the state of, well….everything. This election has certainly become a heated one, as well as the most powerful and important one in history. So it baffles me that people can actually rally around a vice presidential candidate that declares when she gets into the white house she will do “mavericky” things. Her experience with foreign policy is based on the fact that she can see Russia from Alaska - with her binoculars of course. According to this rational I too have foreign policy experience because I’ve seen Switzerland from Italy.

So I’ve been trying to figure out how I can help to prevent such ignorance in the future. It’s just appalling to me that the Republican ticket actually has a following of believers, and I shudder at the thought of these mentally challenged people passing on their beliefs to others.

Enter my bright idea. Originally spurred on by the fact that I have to do community service because of a red light violation (apparently you can’t block out your front license plate and vin # - the cameras take pics of your back plate too), I began my hunt to be a good will ambassador. Since I’m not having children to pass my glorious morals, ideas, & famousity on to, I started to realize that I could actually imbed these things into SOMEONE ELSES child’s head!! Brilliant. So Monday I start project “anti-GOP” by taking mentoring a 4th grader at a local school and I couldn’t be more excited.

i got 5 on it (or not)

Imagine this: You’re on vaca in San Diego with your BFF”S, have an outstanding room at the W, have enjoyed a night of hob-knobbing on the rooftop bar, and wake up to your roomie announcing it was time to wake-n-bake. So far, so good with regard to the fun-o-meter.

At this point, you venture outside of the hotel and have actually managed to navigate your way to a diner where you and your peeps have filled yourself to the brim with a breakfast that could feed a small country.

Now in your state of well being, you start to slowly stroll back to the hotel, enjoying your surroundings. Clear sky, bright sun, window shopping, etc. You couldn’t be more content if you tried!

But then…you hear an odd noise behind you. It sounds like some kind of slapping and words are mumbled, but the noise gets louder and curiosity peaks. You turn around and there is your friend, in a slapping altercation with some random woman!

She is dirty and her clothes are disheveled, clearly a homeless person, and she is grabbing at your friend while he is fending her off with multiple hitting methods. OMG, WTF?! Everyone on the street was staring in disbelief – were we all really witnessing this random act of violent homeless aggression!? She was lunging, displaying the face of a man who was about to go into battle, and shouting, “Give me cash, give me cash!” When that didn’t work, she belted out, in her best warrior voice, “Give me cash – I MEAN IT!” Apparently she thought if she really meant it, it would make a difference and someone would hand over their wallet. Not so much. Then in the blink of an eye, she ran away, just as quickly as she appeared, realizing that no one had five on it. We all resumed our walk home in confusion and laughter, taking turns recounting the story in utter amusement. SD homeless – 0, Us – 1.

Pictured below, Choo, the victim:

along came paully

As an early 30-something who has increasingly become aware of the aging process, I’ve become ever more aware of the importance of my appearance. I’m dressing differently, eating differently, and botoxing differently (as in, I never had to until now). I’ve also started to look at relationships differently…and let’s face it, who doesn’t at this age. After all, gravity starts to work against you, naps become a habit, and you can no longer stay up until 6 in the morning (partying at the hotel, motel, holiday inn). So, I began to think that settling down might have to become my reality. After all, who wouldn’t like the comfort of a significant other to come home to and a constant in a world that has become unsteady?

Enter Mr. Ring, a situation I now like to call like to call my ring-around-the-rosie. (see http://www.funtrivia.com/askft/Question57190.html for further explanation) I had stability with Mr Ringaround - a glorious car, boat, a house, and all things shiny. Yet the thing we don’t realize in these rosie rings, is that the sparkly surface doesn’t hold a candle to the rust on the inside. So, after two years the relationship came to a screeching halt, an itchy sweater situation if you will, over a heated argument about garbage bags (yes you read that correctly), a spaghetti dish that was left in the sink too long (i.e. 10 min. after I had eaten off of it), and multiple discussions about his disappointment in my hair color.
The aftermath of this relationship of course brought to surface rage and utter disappointment in the opposite sex.

But then…Along came Paully. With trepidation I accepted his advances, even though he was client and I still don’t trust the assholes I refer to as men. Ahh! What’s a girl to do? Usually after exiting a relationship I like to slip into my alter ego and block out the pain with nonsense, chaos, and making out with random bouncers, bartenders, what have you. I figure that since I’m kind of a big deal, why not share the love.

Yet this new boy has become increasingly famous and I find myself not wanting to kick my shananigans into high gear, and instead revel in the fact that I’m actually dating a nice guy. So far, he’s actually a gentleman who also just happens to be a bail bondsman and bounty hunter (yeah yeah, “dog”) but can you say SEXY?! Seeing your man suit up with tre pound on his hip and teflon on his chest is definitely hot. But alas, there has to be a catch…isn’t there always? Brace yourself…my Paul, sweet Paul, is six years YOUNGER than me. So even though he’s gloriously famous, has a good head on his shoulders, and knows how to make me smile (in every sort of way), I still have to deal with the fact that when Paully came along, so did my cougar status. Yikes. Drink to the roaring 30’s.

lights, camera, action

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