OCD and Tsunamis don't mix.

Well, I learned one hell of an interesting fact about myself yesterday.

My OCD-ness is in FULL form when faced with the threat of a natural disaster.

For those of you who spent Saturday living under a rock, Hawaii had it's first full on tsunami warning in 16 years. And yours truly slept through the first warning sirens (Do you have ANY idea how loud those things are??) and the three phone calls and the four text messages from concerned loved ones.......

but I still don't feel like the biggest idiot because my husband (Love you so much honey!) tried to go surfing!! Like it was just another frickin' Saturday! The cop politely told him to get his dumb ass home and stock up on water and canned food because the power might be out for up to a week!

Shit. I sleepily turned on the news and saw all these islanders already up the mountain sides, people were being evacuated from low lying hotels, homes and businesses. Costco was already out of water and rice, they were going to shut down the water and sewer systems at 11:00. It didn't look good......

I had about 3 hours to get my everything in order.

Although we didn't have anything too pressing to worry about (like our lives) because we live about 350+ feet above sea level, I did go into panic-mode about how dirty my house was and how I needed to wash about four loads of laundry and not to mention I hadn't showered in like two days or shaven my legs for like a week. And I probably should try to take a poop because who knows when I can do that again (apparently we have a septic system so that wasn't even a big deal- who knew?)!!

Z (My Husband) called me to tell he was standing in line for ice and canned goods and I told him I was vacuuming.

"VACUUMING?????" Z asked.

"Well, yeah. I CAN NOT live in a dirty house for the next week. And then I have to wash the dirty dishes, our bed sheets and towels and take a hot shower and shave these man legs of mine."

"You're crazy." Z said.

"You tried to surf when there was a fucking tsunami," I answered.

And the sad fact is, he may have won that one.

No Job = No Bueno

So, thought I would explore the world of "all things blog" earlier today. I was trying to find other blogs that I would like to follow and ended up clicking on a bunch of shit that made me follow my own.

So now people are going to think I am a complete narcissist... but the reality is I am a complete computer-retard.

Oh-well.

It has been decided that after the 10th try for a job on this island and not even a call back for an interview...... should I even mention my Journalism degree, 2 years of managing a restaurant, and a plethora of certifications including, but not limited to National Academy of Sports Medicine, Children's Institute of Literature and AED/CPR certifications (which is just a handy-dandy thing to have all around) that I am not going to get looked at because my last name isn't Kalualau or Hana'ainaina or Aloha or whatever Hawaiian-ish sounding word you can think of.

Hrrrumph.

Fine - I will just write my ass off and try to break into a little freelance proofreading. I wonder if Facebook needs a proofreader? Seriously, it takes all of me not to correct people's profile status updates. Like I literally have to sit on my hands for 15 seconds until the presumptuous/asshole-ly sensation passes.

It's only the really obvious spelling mistakes which get to me. (I know we ALL make mistakes - I am not claiming to be perfect.) But COME ON PEOPLE!!!! This is the kind of shit that makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Didn't anyone pay attention in English class??

ie. "Your so cute!" NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - it's You're so cute. COME ON!!!!!!! You are = you're. Basic third grade contractions!!!!!!!

2. "I like this to." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - it's too. Too = also. Dumbass.

C. "Friday dinner sounds like fun, Sherry. I'll meet you at there house!" NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - it's their. Their shows ownership. DUH!

That shit makes my blood boil and I want to "un-friend" them immediately if not sooner.

I was recently reading a good book and I noticed, very casually because I am reading for pleasure, 8 mistakes! EIGHT - in a published novel and I wasn't even TRYING to find them???And I'm not talking about some self-published-I-can't get-an-editor-to-read-my-shitty-book published novel but a real-life novel.

There is a process in publication that no less than four sets of eyes will proofread a book. That's eight eyeballs that dropped the proverbial ball on this man's book - which he probably spent a lot of blood, sweat and tears writing!!!

I have half a mind to correct the damn thing in bright red ink and send it back to the publisher along with my resume...... Shoot - I may be proofreading books on the beach for a living in no time!!!

Take that Mr. Ko'omanumanu!

Round 2

I'm going to go ahead and break the obligatory 3 day rule after our first date and write again after 24 hours...... I hope this doesn't mean you think I'm easy because I'm not (anymore). I'm a lady.

Okay, scratch that last statement.

I'm kinda a lady. (Stop laughing, those of you who know me.)

But please, who am I kidding. I drink beer, cuss like a sailor, burp and need to be in control at all times. I can't help it.

I also can't lie. Not even a little-white one. My emotions and thoughts are plastered all over my face like those dumb-ass little, yellow emotion icon thingys.

I remember I tried lying once. I was probably like 7 and I think I broke something in the house and tried to blame it on the neighbor lady (who, keep in mind, was like 106 years old). But as an only child, playing the blame-game is L-I-M-I-T-E-D, so I blamed it on old Mrs. K.

My mom was like, "You expect me to believe that Mrs. K hobbled over from across the street, climbed up all of our stairs, broke the (fill in the blank here) and hobbled back over to her own house where she could have just broken her own (fill in the blank here again)."

"Yeah, I replied. "She's a sketchy old bitch."

Grounded. But I didn't lie ever again. I guess I just don't have the knack.

P.S. I would like to apologize to that old neighbor of ours, just in case she is still alive. (This would put her at around 128-ish, but maybe she is a spry 128-year-old and is using the internet to read random blogs. So just in case, "I'm sorry 'bout that one, Mrs. K.")

Our First Date

So this is officially my first post on my blog. I'm actually kinda nervous and my palms are sweaty..... it's like a first date. No wait - if you don't know me then it's like a BLIND DATE!

Well great, now I feel like I'm gonna fuckin' puke.

(Deep Breath. Try to keep cussing to a minimal. Try to win you over with my charm and wit.)

I suppose I should tell you a little about myself ....because that's what you do whilst on a date.

Okay - so I am 29 years old. (And when I say I am 29 I am really 29, not 30 saying I'm 29.) I'm 29, married for 5 years and live in Hawaii.

Hawaii?? You are thinking to yourself. Yes, Hawaii. (Please don't roll your eyes because it's 84 degrees and I can see palm trees and the ocean when I advert my gaze a mere 1 inch above my computer monitor!)

We ended up here 3 years ago because my husband is from New Zealand and this is our halfway point since I grew up in Montana.

We have a dog, whom I'm sure I will be mentioning quite a bit in my blog, because he is naughty as all hell. We aren't very good dog owners but he's happy and we're happy and I refuse to feel bad about the fact that HE'S the GOD DAMN pack leader. It's fine. You try being the pack leader to a one in a half year old Jack Russell psychopath. Good Luck.

Oh P.S. - His name is Boyfriend.

Boyfriend?? You are thinking to yourself. Yes, Boyfriend. (Please don't roll your eyes because I have a Boyfriend & a Husband - it's every girl's dream!)

I have recently published my first children's book and it should be out on the market this spring. (Will keep you updated on that fun fact!) Am currently working on a few others and in the meantime I am looking for a job that doesn't require serving, waiting or cleaning up after people. I CAN NOT wait another table, or have another conversation with a tourist on how I came to live in paradise and how great it would be to live here. (Just imagining having this conversation AGAIN has me reaching for their butter knife and dragging it over my throat.)

It IS great to live here. And what I really want to say to every one of them is that where someone lives is a choice. You CHOOSE to live in a place with 15 feet of snow and no sun for 6 months. I CHOOSE to live in a place where it's always sunny and there's always $3 margaritas from 12 - 6 and my local pub! You CHOOSE to have a house payment and 6 kids. I CHOOSE no kids and to pay rent and watch the lawn guys and pool guy work while I sunbathe and read US weekly.

It's all about choices.

I hope you choose to keep on coming back here and reading my blog. It'll be about whatever I choose to write about that day or about whatever comes spewing out of my mouth - hence Pretty Little Word Vomit.

(And if my mom is reading this - please note I only swore twice!!)