Beers and Books

Updates.

Broke down and had a beer - or 2 - at dinner with some friends on Friday night. After 2 weeks and 6 yoga classes I had lost a whole whopping pound.

I thought it would at least be 3 but alas, I am a mere 1 pound lighter..... although that was not the reason for my self-evoked dry out, I thought weight loss would be an added bonus. It's okay - the Wailua Wheat (aka. Lilikoi Goodness) was soooooo worth the slight pang of guilt. Delicious!

I also have a job interview to be an "educational assistant" at one of the middle schools here on the 'ole island. Yack! Middle Schoolers - me no likes. I mean, not individual middle schoolers; just middle schoolers as a whole, in general.

What a frickin HORRIBLE age. Everyone is worried about what everyone else is thinking about them when really everyone is ugly and gangly - even the so-called Hot Ones are u-g-l-y. I'm serious, try to picture your 7th grade crush - not so cute anymore huh? (Sorry Cory, Matt, John and Andy!) It's all new, weird hair in weird places, growth spurts, training bras, braces, periods and girls being super mean to other girls.

Ryan Seacrest in his u-g-l-y years!

Should be a fun place to work at.

Maybe they'll only need "educational assistants" for gym class or the library.......

P.S. On that note: I don't understand why people steal books from the library. STOP IT! (I know you have to have something to say about this my Librarian Buddy!) It has been 2 books now in 2 weeks that I have wanted to check out and they come up "not on shelf" or something like that - which means, I'm assuming, that someone just walked out with them! Why, when it's FREE to take home and read??? Karma is a bitch you little book-takers! Now I have to go and buy "Are you there Vodka? It's me Chelsea" from Borders. Maybe I'll donate it to the library so others may enjoy Chelsea Handler's wit and charm!

Tea Bag Blues

I went to a yoga class today and it kicked my ass...... I can barely keep my arms up to type this blog.....jello arms would be an understatement. If I had to do another down-dog I would have screamed un-zen type obscenities at my beautiful, wonderful teacher.

Anyways, bare with me there may be a few typos......

WAIT!!!! - - - - - - I just looked at the tag hanging off the end of my tea string - ---the one connected to my tea bag ------that's in my cup of tea. (I didn't want any of you ladies to think tea string was code for tampon string. My tampons don't have cute little saying at the end of their strings. But if they did I wonder what it would say? "Have a happy period?" "Have a non-bloaty/bitchy free day?")

Anyways, the little tag at the end of my tea string says "If your word does not reflect your spirit and honor, do not speak."

Ummmmm, is that code for "Shut the hell up?" Is this the tea-gods trying to tell me to keep my mouth closed and (gasp!) think before I speak?

Hmmmm....... maybe I should just end this blog here then. I want my spirit and honor to be kind and gentle. I, my friend, am not that kind nor that gentle.

Shit.

Well. I am offended by this tea and it is making a mockery of me. I shall dump it in the potted plant that is on this computer desk - it never says anything.

Take that tea-gods.

I suppose now I have to make another cup o' tea. I will and then I'll come back and tell you what the new saying is, well, saying.

HA!

"Be kind and compassionate and the whole world will be your friend."

Up yours, tea bag tag.

True Country

Today I am homesick.

This happens every so often, ever since I left my hometown well over 10 years ago. (Except for the brief one year stint my husband and I lived there while saving money to get to these Hawaiian Isles.)

Although I love me some Hawaii, anyone who knows me knows that I am a Montanan- true and thru.

I love the seasons and the redneck people. I love the mountains and all the casinos. I love that there were four breweries in the one town I went to college. I love that the government road workers use gravel to help with the slipperiness of the snow on roads so you will be guaranteed to have a cracked windshield forever and always. I love that there are rodeos and concerts in the actual roping arenas. I love that there are big ass trucks for a reason, not because you and your homies want to see who has the biggest and loudest vehicles (probably to compensate for a little "something"). I love that you can order ranch - real homemade ranch - at any restaurant and smoother it all over whatever you happen to be eating (ie. pizza, tacos, fries, chinese food etc.) and no one will judge you for it. I love that the best shopping in Montana is the Gap or Abercrombie. (I had never heard of Gucci or Prada until I started to watch Sex & the City.) I loved that everyone growing up was kinda poor. Not like, we can't eat food poor, but there wasn't really a whole lotta big money in the state back then.

But it isn't like the good 'ole days now. There's money and it's trendy to live there. All these rich people from around the country ( I won't point you out Californians) are now buying huge ranches and paying people to work them and then they fly their friends up so they can play zoo keeper and pet all the animals.

Gimmie a break.

My family has had cattle forever and it's hard work! You can't just buy a Chevy, wear Carhartt overalls and kiss a god damn cow and say you own a ranch. You fix fence, you stay out in your barn for the night in -30 degree weather because it's calving season and one of your cows is having a hard time. You cut the nuts off little cows and brand them at the same time, all the while listening to the mama cows cry and cry. (This shit ain't pretty or easy people.) You then haul these cows for miles and miles to sell them to people who probably try to rip you off......and on and on and on.

You don't put your trendy gucci boots on over your $300 jeans and try to ride a horse, while the chef cooks your filet mignon and opens a bottle of Dom.

Mama Montana will kick your ass man. Trust me. You'll be running back to suburbia before she can say," Ya'll don't come back now, ya hear?"

Random Facts

I recall writing and reading random facts about people on Facebook and I really enjoyed it. This will be an occasional, on-going random fact-fest about me and/or others. But probably mostly me, since it's my blog and I am an only child (Random Fact #1!) and everything is, and always will be, mainly about me. So there!!

1. I am an only child. I don't get that love/hate relationship that others have with their siblings. I don't know what it feels like to share the same DNA. I also have never had to share the spotlight for my parents' attention, thus I believe, nay, I know I am even more fabulous because they have told this to me and to no one else but me.

2. My mom let me dance on the coffee table (calm down - it was big and strong and wooden) when I was a little girl, sparking my interest to be a back-up dancer for the first part of my formidable years. MJ (Yes, as in, Michael Jackson) would have been so proud had my mom packed us up and moved to Brooklyn so I could go to "back-up dance school" in NYC. I would have been the youngest and bestest Zombie dancer in Thriller, I just know I would have.

3. I need to write more and procrastinate less. I even had a psychic tell me that once, and trust me - it is TRUE!!! And no matter what you try to tell yourself, you can not bullshit a pyschic.

4. I really dislike eating breakfast. I hate to make it, eat it and serve it. Sometimes the thought of eating an egg makes me gag. But how come I am so excited to have a chicken coop and chickens (which should be laying those little suckers in about a month)????

My Chicken Coop

How come my children's book is entitled Kekoa and the Egg Mystery?? It's like those eggs are taunting me.....

5. I cuss like a sailor. This "verbal flair" has nothing to do with being uneducated or crazy - I am just fucking passionate about life!

6. My mom is the best mom in the whole world. I know we all say it, but I am just stating a fact. Mom, You Are the Coolest. And even though we talk every single day, I miss her so.

7. I love the "Today Show". I love Meridith, Matt, Al and Ann. "Good Morning America" can suck it.

8. I am addicted to tea. (This addiction will be further discussed in detail, I am sure of it, at a later date.) But at least it's not heroin or stealing or Mad Dog 20/20s........

9. I have not eaten meat for 2 months and I have not even given it a second thought - watch Food Inc. and try, just try, to eat bacon. I. Dare. You.

10. I am petrified/terrified/horrified I will not be a good mother. It consumes me sometimes. I don't know why I have this thought. As noted earlier, my mom is awesome, so where in the hell does this overwhelming fear come from?? Probably because my dog is so obnoxious. God, sometimes I want to walk away from him and pretend he is a stray. (How un-motherly a thought is that?)

Just kidding Boyfriend, Mommy loves you!

Well, the fun fact festivities are ending here. Feel free to comment and share a few of your own random facts!!!

Tea Toddler-ing

Hi there! I'm back. I am a slacker, I know.

Even as I type this thing, my dog is staring at me with puppy-dog eyes, wanting to go for a walk. Sorry, Boyfriend, Mama just got home from an hour and a half yoga class. In dog minutes that's like 10 1/2 hours of Down-Dog and Warrior 2..... this little yogi doesn't want to walk, she wants to sit on the couch and watch Sex and the City while eating Cheetos and drinking a cold beer. (That's like the most un-yogi thing that has ever been said I am sure of it!)

But I can't and I won't.

I have decided not to drink for a month. (And to do yoga 3 times a week!)

I started this little idea on the 14th. It's now the 17th. 3 days! I know it doesn't sound like much but let me tell you something about living in a place that feels like summer or like your on vacation every single day of the year - you want a margarita or a beer or a mai tai with the flower and umbrella in it!!! We are always BBQ-ing (hmmm, beer) or are at the beach (hmmmm, cold beer) and there is always a Happy Hour (hmmmm, margaritas and mai tais.) Our local pub offers Happy Hour from 12 - 9. That's right - 9 hours of pure half-price happiness! Good times, my friend, good times!

It's hard not to drink living on this little island. One doesn't have to drive very far, one can get all caught up seeing the tourists having their fun on vacation and one thinks, "Hells yeah I want to stop for happy hour! These people are enjoying paradise! Shit, I live here! I should be enjoying paradise at this very moment as well!" One hears reggae music and ukeleles on a non-stop basis. One thinks, "This is the good life, it should be enjoyed with a nice cold beverage!" And this thought never ever quite goes away.

Now don't get worried that I get all crazy on a daily basis, I only have 1-3 drinks when I do drink (which is not every single day) because I am not as young as I once used to be! I can not be hung over, wake up, brush my teeth, drink a soda and eat a greasy cheeseburger and start again......if I get hung over I am on the couch, puking and crying and calling my mom - see old blog about what a good puker I am - cursing at my dog because he has to pee for the thousandth time which requires me having to get up from said couch all the while begging my husband to stop on his way home from work and get me flavored fizzy water.

Even my grandma, who is not a big drinker, was on the Happy Hour kick when she came here. Her drink of choice was the Pina Colada. (Could she get any cuter?) And about 3 o'clock on the dot we'd hear her pipe up from the back of the car or from her chair on the beach, "Isn't it Happy Hour yet?"

God Bless that woman.

So, no drinking until the 15th of April for me. That's when my a-sexual life partner (aka. My Best Friend) is coming to the islands for a visit.

Then it will most definitely be back to good times!

My 'Scripts Don't Lie

I recently sent for my college transcripts because one of the many, many jobs I've applied for asked to see them. Apparently they think my dashing resume is all a lie and alas, I did not graduate with the ever elusive Bachelor's Degree in Journalism from the elite University of Montana. (Gimmie a break! If I were to lie about such things - see old blog about how good a liar I am - I would be Cumma Sum Laude from an ivy league school and maybe I would even throw Homecoming Queen up in the mix for good measure.)

Anyway, I got these transcripts in the mail today and keep in mind I couldn't tell you half of the things I studied at university. (I can, on the other hand, still tell you which bars have all you can drink nights for $5.)

Well if this little piece of paper could talk to me it would be screaming, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING????? YOU NEED TO WRITE, WRITE, WRITE and maybe continue with the jazz dance."

I Want To Be A Writer.

There I said it, transcript, now get off my back!

Let me further explain or shall I say let me give you a rundown of my undergraduate highs (pun intended, sorry mom) and lows.

All the A's

Composition (writing), Introduction to Native American Studies, Jazz Dance (that's right), Composition II (writing), Human Sexuality (you know it!), Visual Anthropology (writing), Music Appreciation (duh), Political Ethics, Billiards (I got second place in that class!), Introduction to Mass Media (writing), Native American Health and Healing, History of America in the 20th Century (huh?), Spanish (muy bueno), Opinion Writing (hmmm...shocker but again, writing), Magazine Article Writing (writing), Multicultural and Diversity in Journalism (writing), Independent Study (wrote about Native Americans in Film), Media Impact on Sports (writing).

The C's (Not to prove anything - just for shits and giggles!)

Introduction to Psychology (everyone took this class because psychology is so cool and hip when you don't know what you want to do in your life! It's also hard and there is a ton of reading!), Biology 101 (YAWN), European Civilization: The Birth of Europe (Double YAWN!!), Probability & Linear Math (I could have told you that the probability of me passing this class was slim to shit), International Relations (Fuck that, I married a guy from New Zealand - that should be bumped up to a B immediately!!)

There were many B's as well. No D's, although I did get a No-Pass from the aerobics class I failed to go to that was taught by this stupid sorority-girl instructor. (No Offense, Nicole!) A No-Pass?? Screw that obnoxious skinny no-pass giving bitchy bitch.

I guess looking at these transcripts just spoke clearly to me. I need to get with it and do what I obviously love doing - writing.......with jazz hands....... in Spanish!?

J.O.B. for M.E.??

Oh No! It's been WAY too long since I sat at my computer and wrote something..... bad, bad, bad.

But, on an up-note, I have a job interview tomorrow to be..... now hold on this is super fancy and adult-like........ The Activities Director for a Senior Assisted Living Center!!

That's right! The Activities "Director" Who by the way, has an assistant.

An ASSISTANT???

I have to laugh out loud when I think of having an assistant!! I am no good at dictating.... I simply do everything myself and then I know it's done the damn right way. But really, how hard would it be to get my lunch? (I'm kidding...... okay, I'm like half-kidding!) I wonder what the assistant thinks about doing laundry......

So, this is right up my alley because I used to teach senior citizens fitness classes. I taught 13 classes a week and I pretty much LOVED going to work everyday. So it will be nice to get back into it again. Although, older people are sometimes.......shall we say a little stubborn. But - no worries - I will charm the pants off them with my............. charm?

Anyways, it's for a non-profit and I will have to stick to a budget. (Again I am laughing and if my husband is reading this he is really laughing.) I'm sure there are a plethora (I f'ing love that word - Plethora) of other adult-like things that comes with the job. I'm sure it's not all bingo and lei making!

Which leads me to my main concern - I'm not an adult!!!

I cry and call my mom every single time I throw-up - whether it be from the flu or from a few too many. If I don't get fed every three hours I am a monster-bitch who acts like a infant. I still have my blanket from when I was really little. I also cry at road kill and watch Finding Nemo like twice a month.

I'm scared.

Hopefully my assistant will know what's up and he/she can run along and buy me my Happy Meals.

Excuse me, is that a cat in your bed?

There is a cat inside my bed. Yes, you read that right. There is a cat inside my bed. And that isn't even the crazy part......I don't own a cat. Yes, you read that right. I. Don't. Even. Own. A. Cat.

I'm not sure what to do about it so I have just shut my bedroom door and am pretending it's not even in there.

Weird.

I once woke up to HUNDREDS of bees inside my bathroom, not long ago actually.

I opened the bathroom door and heard some bees, thought it was kind of odd but they were kinda toward the window so I proceeded to put in my contacts. Then I actually saw the bees and saw that it wasn't just a couple but just a couple hundred....... visions of the movie MY GIRL came to me and I quickly shut the door and tried to forget about them.

About an hour later, while I drank my morning tea and tried to read the newspaper, the incessant buzzing got to me and I figured I had to do something about it.

I guess I have to do something about this damn cat inside my bed. I feel like I should be hosting some sort of Animal Planet Reality Show from my house.

But knowing my luck - they wouldn't hire me for the position.