Super Human Powers

This morning I’m in a two-hour conference call with my team on “Market Force,” a training that is supposed to pinpoint you as a certain type of person–a Control, Influence, Power or Authority–after six weeks of two-hour classes.

It’s similar to those stupid color or personality assessment tests you take to figure out what type of person you are. But, I have to admit, I’m a little curious to figure out what I am since everyone on my team has been guessing at categorizing me.

Our first assignment for the class today is to come with a super hero power that you’d want to be… *Sigh* I’ve always hated the whole super hero thing. I groan every time Baby Daddy mentions he wants to rent Iron Man; I’ve never been into the whole comic book thing. Blech. To me, it’s right up there with Star Wars lovers.

Anyway, I searched through the list of comic book super powers on Wikipedia and, I think I zeroed in on:

Biological Manipulation

Ability to control all aspects of a living creature’s biological make-up. This includes, but is not limited to, genetic alterations, physical distortion/augmentations, healing, disease, and biological functions.

Why Biological Manipulation? Because I’m a total hypochondriac who thinks I have cancer every time my stomach abnormally hurts or the slightest thing is off—and I’m super sick of dieting and watching what I eat. I want to eat everything all the time and always look like a million bucks! Also, I’d be super rich if I had the ability to give physical augmentations whenever I wanted–I’d be like my own personal plastic surgeon without all the schooling and blood.

There you have it—I’d be super healthy, super hot and super successful. What’s better than that?

Currently Feeling: Too much work to do, not enough hours in the day.
Currently Anticipating: Hopefully finishing this eight-month long volunteer brochure project tonight if the clients approve the final product.
Currently Dreaming: Of my Old Spag dinner last night. Can’t wait for leftovers tonight!

Curly Like Jessie Spano*

I am a curly headed woman.

I know, I know. You all have to peel yourselves off the floor in shock from reading that line.

BUT, as a curly headed woman, I’ve spent years, probably 1,000s of dollars and countless hours using, purchasing, researching and gathering recommendations for THE PERFECT CURL hair product. I’d like to think that I’m somewhat of an expert. In fact, the commission I made on hair product sales while working as a receptionist at a salon during college supported my college drinking habit.

So, it really just frosts my cookies when I see really great curl potential walking around in light-socket, mad-scientist frizz. Come on people – put some product on that head of hair of yours!!

That’s my thought of the day.

*Jessie Spano

Currently Feeling: Like a fatty.
Currently Anticipating: “Dexter,” wine and boyfriend on the new couch tonight.
Currently Wishing: I was going to the Goldfrapp concert tonight at the Showbox. No money, there’s never any money!

Totally Backwards Perfectionism

Yesterday I totally rocked a presentation that I’d spent countless hours preparing for–in the office until 7 p.m. Monday, working from home till 10 p.m., then back in the office the next morning at 7 a.m. I felt that in some ways, I out-shined myself, and it feels really great. I’m finally making a name for myself on my team and breaking through those first, tough three months on the job. For me, it’s been kind of a bumpy ride.

Something I’ve come to know about myself is that I’m a ridiculous perfectionist, but in a totally backwards way. Such as–I can go a couple months with dark roots, my toenail polish is often chipped, my room looks like a hurricane went through it, my cars are always in a various stage of progressing disarray, and too often I let myself indulge in pizza and beer, which eventually turns into a totally-not-perfectionist type belly.

But, when it comes to my personal work and job–I’ll break my back to put out the best product I could possibly EVER do. I’ve been like this since 3rd grade when I created posters with glitter, made cupcakes and dressed up for my book reports when most kids sat in front of the room with half a scribbled page of notebook paper.

Sometimes this work ethic of mine is really great; sometimes it’s exhausting. I don’t know if it’s exactly healthy to worry yourself into a frenzy about screwing up or doing something wrong… but occasionally it all pays off.

In celebration, I’m going to spend a totally stress-free weekend to myself. My team has been given Friday off, so the three-day weekend has now turned into four (yippee), and for two of it, I’m heading to Orcas Island for a solo camp trip with my boyfriend. We’re staying at a little camp/cabin resort on the beach with crabbing, clamming, fishing, kayaking, canoing, whale watching, beach bonfires and a hot tub. I’m quite looking forward to it. (And I’ll pick up my party ways in a couple weeks for the End of Summer bash we have planned at Lake Chelan–seven campsites and approximately 30 friends. Stay tuned.)

Currently Feeling: Need. To. Get. Back. To. Gym.
Currently Anticipating: Getting this pro bono copywriting thing over with. Yuck.
Currently Reading: “More Thank You Know,” by Beth Gutcheon. Oh my gosh. So good, so good, so good! It’s a little love, a little mystery and a lot of ghost story. I can’t put it down!

Groggy with Dingy Hair

I’ve slept through my alarm for three days in a row now. I can’t figure out what’s happening. I’ve had more than enough sleep last night and the night before, but each morning I’ve suddenly snapped awake, 10 minutes before I have to be on the bus. Which, of course, means I run around like a mad woman, throwing heels and clothing around, locating my bag, grabbing lunch, slapping on some mascara and hair goo, and then sprinting to the bus stop. Conclusion: This is the third morning I’ve gone without a shower. I’ve felt gross, slimy and not awake all week.

I think I’ve become way too addicted to pressing the, “Snooze” button. It seems that the last three mornings, I’ve pressed Snooze, and just slept through it when the radio came back on, blaring dance tunes from C89.5. If only I could just GET UP when the alarm first goes off. But no. It’s like a major addiction I have with pressing Snooze. “JUST 10 MORE MINUTES!” feels like a million bucks. But 10 more minutes has turned into 20… 40… an hour and a half of snoozing… then missing my bus, being late to work, not showering and looking like slime.

A sign of alcoholism is when it starts to affect your work and personal life… I think I have Snoozolism.

Currently Feeling: Like I need a change of location or a month in a foreign country.
Currently Anticipating: “The Dark Knight” at the drive-in tomorrow, and a pool party at Brett and Angie’s on Saturday.
Currently Hating: Cold calling. Whoever came up with that tactic anyway? It blows.

The First OG Gangsta to Go

One of my Dolphin Sisters got engaged over the weekend.

Because of this, I’m a little sentimental today.

You spend your whole life, growing and changing with friends. Or, at least I’ve been very lucky to have a select number of girl friends who’ve been by my side since junior high. They’ve walked next to me during days I was too embarrassed to go to school, too heartbroken to get out of bed, too young to make the right decision, too in love to see straight, too sassy for my own good, too stubborn to say sorry, too self conscious to be myself in a crowd…

My point being—you spend 10 plus years with childhood friends, dreaming of college, boyfriends, careers and families. College came and went. Boys have come and gone. Careers are there and growing. But the day a best friend meets the very right person and commits to a lifetime is always a little surreal. It’s like the 13 single years you’ve spent together—when you’re number one to each other and no one else—flash before your eyes.

And do you know how many memories 13 years hold?

The very foundation of my being—years that formed my personality—are years spent with Larisa. We met in 7th grade. I was a lost girl who knew two people in a sea of converging elementary schools. When popularity and “being cool” start to count, two people don’t get you very far. But eventually familiar faces and the possibility of friendship begin to emerge from a crowd. And there was Larisa.

We played softball together every day after school during softball season; I snuck home illegally on her bus to rollerblade the Burke Gilman in the sunshine; we went every winter to Snoqualmie, where we learned how to snowboard while listening to “Tool,” eventually teaching classes together. We shared the exact same sense of humor and disregard for rules that got us in trouble. A lot. (Voted Biggest Rebel 2000 ) Ha ha. We have so many inside jokes, I couldn’t even being to explain or list them.

In high school, we went to countless dances together. We’d skip school to gamble and get cinnamon bread from Great Harvest Bread Company during second period break. We started our careers at McDonalds, where eventually we were banned from working together cause we got in trouble for having a fight with all-purpose cleaner water bottles in the lobby. We went to Korn concerts (weird), Limp Bizkit (funny), Pearl Jam, The Gorge, Dave Mathews and countless more shows. We’d play Doctor Mario after school for no less than four hours, an unhealthy amount of days in a row. We drove around in my 1973 Volkswagen Beetle that was painted to look like a root beer float, yelling, “PERVERT!” to people walking out of Taboo Video every time we drove by, and stopped to smoke raspberry ciggies on the docks in Kenmore. I lived in her room for a month during senior year, where we’d share clothes and sneak out to bowl at Kenmore Lanes.

Come college, we went to separate schools, but I’d come home to spend the night in her sorority, and we backpacked through Europe. I’d bring her pineapple and tomato pizzas the summer I came home to deliver pizzas for Papa Johns, and she lived in a fraternity at the U.W. We’ve been to Mexico together, twice, drinking far too much tequila and dancing in our Mexican sundresses. We’ve been Captain Hook and Smee, his first mate–and Jem and Pizazz, one of The Holograms.

We’ve had terrible arguments, circumstances or relationships that have sometimes put distance between us, but we’ve always come back eventually, always rollerblading together every summer just like the days we were 13.

And then, she became my Dolphin Sister. After drinking a little too much one night, she sent me an e-mail that she didn’t remember until I called her the next day. Something about how she’s glad we’ve been friends for so long, and made it through all our ups and downs. “I think we must have been sisters in our past lives?! I kinda think I was a dolphin, so maybe we were dolphin sisters?,” she wrote. It has been a joke forever since. We buy each other cheap dolphin trinkets and wear dolphin rings on our fingers. (Both on our ring fingers because it’s the only one it fits). As cheesy and silly as it might be, I believe it is our way of reiterating how important our friendship is to one another, and that we really do love each other as a sister.

So, yesterday her Dolphin Sister ring was replaced with a platinum diamond.

But it’s not a replacement for our friendship.

You get to pick your friends. And you get to pick ONE person, to spend the rest of your life with, who becomes a part of the life you’ve shared with all your friends.

I picked Larisa, and she chose me.

And Larisa picked Dave, and he chose her.

And that makes Dave, my Dolphin Brother to-be.

I couldn’t be happier for them. And I can’t wait for another 13 years of friendship with Larisa—AND Dave.

Congratulations!

Currently Feeling: Mucho happy it’s supposed to be in the 70s all week.
Currently Anticipating: Picnicking and rollerblading in Alki tonight with the BF.
Currently Loving: Work dresses! I can’t buy enough!

Loving My Chinese, American Tradition

Remember when you were little, how exciting it was to go pick out fireworks at a stand with your parents? I would be barefooted, long-haired and sun-kissed, jumping up and down with excitement when fireworks stands started cropping up in grocery store parking lots. Even more exciting—when my dad made the hour trek to Boom City on the Tulalip Indian Reservation and bargained for bags of items that crackled, snapped and lit up the faces of me and my friends.

I might not be the most patriotic person (it’s hard to be proud of this place nowadays with the war, our President, a growing obesity epidemic and our foreign politics), but there is something to be said about being an American and celebrating traditions of the Fourth of July. It’s just so damn fun—the barbecues, sunshine, friends and family, boozin’, boozin’ and more boozin’. And of course, the fireworks.

I can’t recall exactly when it started, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve loved and bought a Chinese pagoda firework for the Fourth. Ever seen one? They start out looking like a one-story, round house. When lit, they spin and spin in a fast circle, shooting out colored lights on its sides, and then when it stops, it pops up into a five-story pagoda house.
As a little girl, I thought the Chinese pagoda house firework was the coolest thing ever, and I would set it atop my dresser after the night was over. It’d stay there for a while—a whimsical symbol of a country that is so foreign and strange to little girls—before my mom threw it out after I eventually forgot about it.

Now in my 20s, my Chinese pagoda firework makes me smile in remembrance of being young, finding pleasures in the smallest things, and being barefooted, long-haired and sun-kissed.

So, happy Fourth of July friends and lovers. May you find pleasure in the small traditions that bring a smile to your face…

Currently Feeling: Disenchanted by a lot right now.
Currently Anticipating: A night out with girls tonight, the Fourth tomorrow, and camping Saturday and Sunday.
Currently Listening To: Pandora Radio. Genius!

Death to Skinny Bitches

I recently cut aspartame out of my diet in a search to figure out some weird mood problems I’ve had lately, which I swear are diet-related.

I think most people think I’m crazy. Like they won’t say you’re crazy, but when you’re explaining your theory to them they’re nodding and looking at you with an expression that says, “Outside I’m nodding, but inside my head I think you’re totally nucking futs.”

The fact that I’m a total hypochondriac doesn’t help my theory much. Last month it was cervical cancer and the month before that it was a hormone imbalance. So, when this month I claim, “Aspartame Poisoning!” I can understand why some people smile, nod and don’t believe a word I say.

BUT, I’m not crazy. I swear. There’s something more than a bit fishy with this whole aspartame crap. I had done some Internet research that led me to believe some of my mood concerns could most definitely be linked to aspartame. Then, I picked up the New York Times Bestseller, “Skinny Bitch” by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin on a whim at Target, and read the following in the first paragraph about giving up soda/pop:

“Now don’t go patting yourself on the back if you drink diet soda. That stuff is even worse. Aspartame (an ingredient commonly found in diet sodas and other sugar-free foods) has been blamed for a slew of scary maladies, like arthritis, birth defects, fibromyalgia, Alzheimer’s, lupus, multiple sclerosis and diabetes. When methyl alcohol, a component of aspartame, enters your body, it turns into formaldehyde. Formaldehyde is toxic and carcinogenic (cancer-causing). Laboratory scientist use formaldehyde as a disinfectant or preservative. They don’t fucking drink it. Perhaps you have a lumpy ass because you are preserving your fat cells with diet soda. The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has received more complaints about aspartame than any other ingredient to date. Want more bad news? When aspartame is paired with carbs, it causes your brain to slow down its production of serotonin. A healthy level of serotonin is needed to be happy and well balanced. So drinking soda can make you fat, sick and unhappy.
–Page 13-14 in “Give It Up: Skinny Bitch”

This is officially the end of an era for me—no more Diet Vodkas. (Which are aptly named Skinny Bitches.)

Remains of My Day

I’ve been quite obsessed with this logo and philosophy since seeing it on quite a few bumperstickers around town:

I think I’ll start telling people my religion is Coexistian.

How does someone get this stupid? Paris Hilton should never really open her mouth:

“I love Africa in general—South Africa and West Africa, they are both great countries,” Hilton answered when press asked her what she thought of South Africa on a recent visit.

I am, and always will be, a fan of Milli Vanilli, even if they never really were a band. I still know all the words to their CD. And this video rocks:

We’re gonna blade like it’s 1996

For years, I have said to my friends:

“I will marry the first man who will rollerblade with me.”

For the most part, I’m joking. It’s just been my way to express how much I love rollerblading, and it’s “Perfect Man” criteria I’ve kidded about.

I have been an avid rollerblader since 9th grade. (Yes, I know. Feel free to laugh out loud.) I would “sneak” on my Dolphin Sister, Larisa’s, bus home from school. Remember the days where you couldn’t take another bus home unless you had a written permission slip? There actually is a story of me running and hiding in bushes from the bus driver who was questioning my stop at Larisa’s house instead of my own. I was that determined to rollerblade with her after school. The two of us would spend nearly every sunny day, rollerblading the Burke Gilman trail. On super hot days, we’d skate to docks on Lake Washington, take off our blades, and swim and sunbathe before skating back home. Since then, I’ve spent numerous days rollerblading during springs and summers in Seattle. I wore down those original rollerblades until the wheels were lopsided from wear and tear, and the brake had been missing for years. I finally replaced them last year—eight years later—with a brand new pair I found on Craigslist for $25. Now, I often rollerblade by myself around Greenlake or Larisa and I still go off on two- to three-hour rollerblade excursions. Rollerblading has become a lifeline for me.

In somewhat of a scheme between Larisa and myself, we convinced Baby Daddy that he needs to purchase rollerblades so the two of us could go with Larisa and her boyfriend. (I’ve been insanely jealous that she found a man who will blade with her.) He agreed, (!!) and yesterday we scowered Seattle, up and down, for a place that would sell men’s rollerblades. (They’re a bit obsolete. Strange.) After approximately six phone calls and four destinations, we found a pair he liked. As the cashier rang them up and the $175.79 price popped up on the screen, I saw Baby Daddy’s face reflect slight buyer’s remorse.

“This just means that I owe you $175 in rock climbing equipment for myself, right?”

After all, dating is about learning new things and trying hobbies that your significant other enjoys, right?

As for the marriage stuff, meh. But he had no idea how many points he scored by just being willing to buy blades and go with me because I love it.

I can’t wait for our first rotation around Greenlake tonight.

Currently Feeling: Up and down.
Currently Anticipating: Getting everything squared away at work.
Currently Listening To: Pandora.com; it’s genius!

Third Year’s a Charm

Lately I’ve been overwhelmingly busy with a bunch of tricks up my sleeve. Hopefully I can share with the crowd soon. But, in the madness as of late, I missed my second Jeanniversary. This blog—my baby, my journal, my release and the keeper of all my memories—started two years ago, on March 1st, 2006. My posts have changed a bit, but I feel that I’m still the same ole’ me. Maybe just a little less crazy now that I don’t go out six days a week, but we all have to mature sometime, eh?

The site has grown somewhat. The numbers are still quite small, but I’ve managed to nearly triple my readership since the beginning. I really appreciate all of you who have read since the start, and a big welcome to all the new readers. I’ve noticed visitors from all over the worldwide Internet and nation, so please feel free to comment once in awhile. Don’t be skerred. That means you—Colorado, San Diego, San Francisco, New York, some Army base in Florida, Maryland, Illinois, Oregon—Bend, Portland, Hubbard and St. Paul—Bothell, Whidbey Island and all Seattle locations: The Zip Connection, Covad Communications, The Seattle Times, Eschelon Telecommunications, Seanet Corporation, Children’s Hospital, Microsoft, Washington Mutual—and even you, Austria, Peru and South Africa (strange).

Amazing what site stats can provide, eh? The purpose of listing all these is not to scare anyone away, but maybe to get you to introduce yourselves. How did you stumble here? What blog did you link from? What keeps you coming back?

In the meantime, here are my favorite posts from the last year:

March 6, 2007: Accident-Prone, or Unlucky in Life? (20-Something finds herself in yet another drunken, household predicament)

April 27, 2007: When I Grow Up (Little old ladies are the best)

May 4, 2007: Yet Another Reason Not to Pick Someone Up in a Bar (Fun with boys and Peso’s)

May 18, 2007: Lock This Single Up Tight and Throw Away the Key! (One of the crazy dating adventures 20-Something embarked on in 2007)

May 31, 2007: MIA Roommate Drama (Bad habits that are oh-so-nice when the roommate is gone)

July 9, 2007: Neighborhood Battle (20-Something challenges her neighbors to an F-Off)

July 26, 2007: But this. I remember this. I want this. (Squishy, romantic thoughts that get ya)

August 16, 2007: Thoughts on the Three of Them (Reminiscing about three relationships)

August 23, 2007: Dubliner Man Crush gets his haircut: Love blossoms (The oh-so-famous Dubliner Man Crush story)

October 5, 2007: The Body of a 25-Year-Old with a 15-Year-Old’s Crush (20-Something snags the Incredibly Sexy Man in Great Jeans)

October 10, 2007: Bring on the Men! (Dating kicks up speed for Sextober)

October 11, 2007: From Leavenworth to an Impromptu Date (Oktoberfest in Leavenworth leads to a new date for 20-Something)

November 12, 2007: It Doesn’t Get Much Better Than This (Best date ever with Interested Reader)

November 18, 2007: 26 x 365: Mike (Now) (Along comes Baby Daddy)

November 26, 2007: Conundrum, Conundrum, CONUNDRUM (20-Something finds herself juggling two guys)

December 5, 2007: Invasion of the Baby Screamers (Oh joy! Oh fun! Screaming baby moves in)

December 12, 2007: Obstructing the Law in the Name of Christmas (20-Something changes her luck around)

January 2, 2008: I did it…2007 was a Year of Me (How 20-Something declared 2007 a Year of Me)

January 7, 2008: Breaking down my barrier, letting someone in (Letting a super single lifestyle go)

January 10, 2008: Baby Daddy Girlfriend (20-Something gets an official boyfriend for the first time in four years)

January 17, 2008: Late Afternoon, At the Coffee Counter (Boys. Ewww. Gross.)

January 28, 2008: An Open-Ended Letter to Cigarettes (20-Something quits smoking)

February 11, 2008: A Slow but Steady Decline (20-Something finds a dimple in her butt cheek)

Here’s to another year of laughter, love, friends and spilling my life stories on the Internet!

Currently Feeling: Thrilled and anxious.
Currently Anticipating: My first meeting with my Taproot team tomorrow night.
Currently Hating: Now I might have to decide between two?! How’d that happen?