Taco To-day

Because my friend Katie doesn't think I have culinary diversity, I begin a new series called Taco To-day wherein I chronicle how often I eat tacos or taco-like meals in any given week.

I would have taken more pictures, but I didn't think about it until I was making lunch today. However, I will explain the rest of the week.

Sunday: Taco-less.

Monday: No tacos, but I had Pupusas which are Salvadorian and I put green chili on them so they're a little like Tacos... if you don't understand the difference between El Salvador and Mexico.

Thank you to Wikipedia for having a picture. 

Love/Hate

I've exhausted myself on analysis, so today I will do a Love/Hate post with no real direction.

Love. Totally productive vandalism.

Tag on arrow? Unproductive. Hula Hoop sticker over walker? Productive.

Episode #42: Listen All Y'all, It's a Sabotage

As a recovering sabotager, you'd think I'd be able to recognize the behavior more quickly in others. If I did, I might have been able to address it like an adult instead of getting frustrated, flustered, and then angry enough to say something hurtful... which I did instead. Sorry, WC.

In honor of relationship sabotagers everywhere, I thought I'd rehash some of my best reasons for not seeing someone again, or ever, in an order I can't explain, but which is neither wholly chronological nor in order of significance.

1. Alex. Oh, my first sabotage. He suckered me in twice and I crushed him both times after less than 6 months each. I was 14 and he was 16, and then 15 and 17. We met at church camp. Hit first base in the chapel... and second, too (wait... what is second? I'm just talking about up the shirt). Anyway, he told me he loved me in a week... and that I was his lighthouse in the storm... and other things that terrified my little heart into dumping him via snail mail. Twice. At least I can trace my fear of people depending on me back to my first significant relationship vs... you know... in response to some actual shitty relationship.

Awkward Chronicles Episode #84: Ski Pants

I bring you "Ski Pants." Oh how my friends relished in this story at the time.

The story is set in hippy town about 45 minutes from where I live... which is usually a deal breaker for me. (See also "why I won't date you"...although location didn't make the list, I'd make it #11... it's probably more like #4... I'll have to rethink that post). Occasionally, however, I try to prove to my friends that I'm not, in fact, Seinfeld, but a unique butterfly willing to give any good-hearted soul a chance.

Enter the yoga instructor. We met online. I had low expectations because, yeah, I had to drive 45 minutes because he didn't own a car (strike 2... him living 45 minutes away being strike 1 if you're not keeping up), but he was nice and I like yoga.

Dipping your Buttered Bread

I've done some internet dating. I'm not ashamed. I'm not necessarily proud either, but as someone who is typically annoyed by the guys who approach me at a bar (not that it happens often), I have to meet men somehow, right?

So I've been online and offline multiple times and one learns to screen their candidates to narrow the field of potential suiters. Deal breakers, in order of how fast I will click off their profile:

1. No profile picture. Call me vain. I care that the potential father of the children I don't want has all of his teeth. Or a nice bridge.

Rhymes with Mayo

I think I'm in the process of breaking up with my job. It started off like any wonderful relationship where you're so obsessed with the other person that you don't mind that you're losing a tiny bit of the life you used to know because you're spending so much time with them.

And then you get to that easy phase where everything feels in equilibrium. You fight. You love. You live. You're okay that part of your definition is You and Him/Her/Whatever.

And then you get a little bored. You still love. And you still fight, but it all feels... like something you've done before. So you take a trip. And realize it might have been easier not to.

FAQs - Pronounced fahcks... like "I wanna ahks you a question"

Q: Who are you?
A: I'm a woman. I'm a sister, an aunt, a daughter, a professional, a friend, and a nut. I'm 35. Single. I am not a comedian, but I laugh every time someone says "balls" because it makes for great comedy.

Q: Why are you here?
A: Someone amazing and beautiful told me to start a blog and I decided it might not be a bad idea to write things down sometimes.

Q: Why are you writing this?
A: Why aren't you?

Q: Why am I reading this?
A: Because the meaning of life might not be 42. It might be connecting with strangers. And laughing at the dumb shit that I say, do, think, and feel...Well, maybe not the meaning of YOUR life....