It's 2011, Sir. Pull It Together.

Sitting at work I was forwarded the video below.  It sickens me (and not in a fun Shangela sicknin' kinda way... can I get an amen up in here?).  It saddens me.  It destroys me.  I, and so many others, fight so hard against this type of bigotry.  To have a man of influence, and possibly a man who will run for the highest office in our country, publicly admit that he is praying to God that inequality remain in this country, is just wrong.  He speaks of right versus wrong.  And the truly sad part is that his version of "right" and "wrong" so vastly differs from mine and certainly almost everyone I hold near and dear.  To hear his disciples hooting in agreement over marriage being an exclusive right for heterosexual Americans (2:15), makes me cry.

Former Arkansas Governor, Friend of Stephen Colbert, Truly Nice but Clearly Brainwashed/Misguided Man - Mike Huckabee.

Note to Mr. Right

Dear Mr. Right,

If you're out there, I'd like to tell you some things.

I'm difficult.  I'm finicky.  I'm particular.  I sometimes put my friends first.  I sometimes put my job first.  I like to go out.  Staying in too much is a true kryptonite.  I need alone time.  I need to be challenged.  I need to be put in my place sometimes.  I like to push buttons just to see what your reaction will be.  I'm not great at managing my time.  I don't sleep enough.  Your mom will probably dislike me.  I rarely avoid intelligent political/religious discussions.  I don't share well.  I'm not very romantic.

I like kids' cereal.  I like frat boy movies as much as romantic comedies.  I love scary movies but never at home.  I stress over things like household decorations.  I enjoy Times Square.  I love parties.  I drink milk every day.  I shed.  I can't go to bed if the house is cluttery.  I shave my legs every day without fail.  I save all receipts.  I prefer public transportation to cars any day of the week.  I get car-sick if I'm not driving.  I live for spontaneous trips.  I get a manicure/pedicure every 1-2 weeks.  I have too many handbags.  I sometimes ramble and give too many unnecessary details.

I have more love to give than I know what to do with.  I'm open to new possibilities.  I'll bake your favorite treat anytime you want.  I'll spare no expense to make your birthday wonderful.  I'll wear your favorite dress until it falls apart (or goes out of style).  I'll send you texts for no reason but never obnoxiously.  I'll take the opportunity to write while you watch March Madness.  I'll listen to your career woes without offering too much advice.

If you're out there, know that I am too.  Keep an eye out for me and I'll try to do the same.  If you're out there, I may need to be told it's you.  Or I may even ask like Elise McKenna.  Even if I sense it, I may not believe it.  If you do come along, be patient with me.  Remember that this is all new for me.  And that I may not trust my own thoughts and feelings.

If you exist, Mr. Right, if I've already met you, if I've already spent time with you, or if you are somewhere in my near or distant future, know that we're gonna have a good time...

Evil Sundays - Take 3

Evil Takes Guarding The Hallway Very Seriously

Evil Takes A Moment To Love Her Mother

(Yes, that's a new haircut)

Evil Sundays - Take 2

Evil Takes A Nap

Wishing on an empty sky

The Triboro Bridge takes my breath away.  I run under it 4 nights a week and am always taken aback by the beauty the city casts against the quietness of Astoria Park.  The only thing this picture is missing is a traditional ability to wish.

I love wishing on stars.  It's one of the things I miss about Arkansas.  But in the absence of stars to wish on, I've found myself wishing on an empty sky.  Not a cloudy sky, not a sunlit sky, but an empty night sky.  It happens only in bright urban areas.  And I love that it belongs only to us who live here.

Let's wish, my fellow urbanites... and let's trust that all our dreams come true.  We are, after all, in the place where dreams are made.

Kryptonite

Spring is in the air.  Flowers are blooming.  Running is intensified.  Bundling up is diminishing.  Boys are clambering out of the woodwork.  And Reese's Eggs are on the shelves at Duane Reade.

All forms of kryptonite in my world.

Flowers = watery eyes, intense allergies, and migraines.
Running = no more excuses of cold weather, snow, and ice.  It's just me.
No more bundling = no more hiding the pounds I just might be trying to lose.
Resurgent boys = thoughts of those I thought were behind me.  This also leads to surprising responses from yours truly... Spring is a funny thing.

And most importantly the Reese egg.  My true love.  Only found for a few weeks out of the year.  Heaven help me, but THIS form of kryptonite is a directly oppositional force working against the other forms listed above.  Against the migraines, the chocolate makes things worse.  Against the running, the extra calories to burn the eggs off create MORE running required.  Against the bundling up, um... the Reese egg tends to pad on inches that a tiny little chocolate should NOT be able to do.  And finally against the boys... yeah, well... I think that's an obvious one.

But boy oh boy are they delicious.  I love you, Reese egg.  Even if you are my ultimate kryptonite.

Evil Sundays - Take 1

I'm starting a new weekend series called Evil Sundays.  I don't feature my fabulous dog enough yet she's such a huge part of my life... and beyond that, she's HILARIOUS.  To be as sweet and painfully shy as she is, she sure pulls out the evil-eye on a regular basis.  So on Sundays, I shall share that evil.

Evil Takes a Subway Ride

Evil Takes Gangsta to a New Level

What a way to start the weekend

I want to be friends with this guy.

Staying Afloat

It's been quite a week.  Actually it's been quite a few weeks.

I have much to write, but I'm a tidge overwhelmed with a crazy schedule.... some stream of consciousness thoughts include - Gaga, eye illuminator mascara, good friends, amazing friends, more brownies, worth, macarons, polenta at Anchovies, sadness, happiness, awareness, book clubs, Planned Parenthood, fairness, eyelash extensions...

See??  My little brain is working hard.  Tomorrow I shall play in midtown through stars and dancing.

Then. I write.

Stay tuned, faithful readers.

Brownie Points

I like to consider myself somewhat of a pro when it comes to the game of dating.  (I also consider my singing voice to sound very close to that of one Ms. Crystal Gayle, so take any delusions I have about myself as you will).  Being said professional, I tend to think I can handle any of the games that are put before me in this arena.

Here's the latest: I met a guy.  A pretty cool one at that.  Too good to be true?  Perhaps... nee, likely.  We've done the phone thing and the text thing.  We've discussed travels, movies, and even that we both love homemade brownies.  Excited to play the game, we planned a date.  I was ready.  Ready to trip him up.  Ready to weave a web.  Ready to route out lies.  Not ready to actually enjoy his company.  And BAM!!...

He gave me a homemade brownie made by him and his 5-year-old niece.  I failed in this reciprocation.  I was too busy planning my attack.  Still expecting and waiting for him to divulge any secrets, try to get back to my neighborhood, or just say something stupid, I was caught off guard when he asked for a 2nd date.  Without thinking I said yes.  I mean... a girl's gotta do research to get better at the game, right??  (That's at least the defense I'm using).

Wonder if he likes Crystal Gayle??

And if Mr. Brownie Points happens upon this entry through the miraculous invention of Google Stalking, I say this:  Game On, Mister.  Bring it.  Just remember to bring the honesty with you...