Ignorance is bliss, much like my experience when I don’t wear glasses. I have 18/20 vision, which is just enough to make do driving in familiar streets but not enough to see the anger in people’s faces when you cut them off. Or the actual car that you cut off, for that matter.
18/20 vision is like TV without HD – before news personalities had to get Botox. It blurs the undesirable parts, like mirrors in bikini change rooms. Would the world be a better place if everyone saw it through the lens of 18/20 vision? Speaking from experience, no, eye sight is critical most of the time, like when you need to see where you’re going.
But when you get there, I recommend taking off your glasses and being happily unaware of the food stuck in your teeth or that the person you’re waving to is a complete stranger or the pointed looks you’re getting for speaking too loudly on your cell phone. Just be happy you got there, if only for a bit.
What do burlesque strippers and snowstorms have in common? The correct answer is that they should have absolutely nothing in common. But if you’re me, they’re quite commonly common.
In my (yet-to-be) illustrious career as an author, I’ve had two book events: my book launch party, which was double booked with a burlesque strip show (naturally), and a Meet & Greet at Indigo, which happened to coincide with Snowmageddon 2013. Burlesque strippers and angry snowstorms, both formidable forces of nature, have unceremoniously shut down my author events.
Amidst the burlesque stripping/my book launch party, my good friend Brad consoled me: “Girls get upset because they have a vision, and guys just roll with it.” I suspect it’s a lot easier for guys to roll with it when there’s nudity involved, but I got the message.
In a visit to the unfamiliar territory of turning lemons into lemonade, these unwelcome events have taught me how to turn that frown upside down! 🙂
Little known fact: did you know that burlesque stripping, no matter how unexpected or inappropriate, is commonly enjoyed by all? And, my book event got rescheduled, allowing me a much longer time to milk it.
So how do I feel about my next author event? I’m ready for you, Irony, whatever you may bring. Because that’s how I roll (now).
I’ve been enjoying watching Adam Levine and his sexy tattoos on The Voice. I’m fascinated by what could possibly inspire someone to endure intense amounts of pain in order to permanently etch something on their skin for life. As someone who has what could be diagnosed as a mild form of ADD, I can’t even endure my favourite pair of shoes for more than one season. Mmm…shoes…what was I writing about again?
I read somewhere that the part of your brain responsible for judgment is not fully formed in your teenage years. This explains A LOT and is particularly relevant when reflecting upon my questionable choice of hairstyles in high school. Think layered perm and teased bangs. Ew.
Until your brain develops, that’s what parents are for. At a certain milestone birthday in my youth, I had asked my parents whether I should get a tattoo or a belly button ring. My parent’s preference would help me determine which was less cool. In a feat of brilliant reverse psychology that still astounds me to this day, my parents enthusiastically encouraged me to get a tattoo. I promptly got a belly button ring. But alas, after a nasty infection, my days of sporting a belly button ring were spare. What a glorious victory for my parents.
Years later, still unpierced and un-tramp-stamped, I’d like to thank my parents for messing with my undeveloped brain because it has prevented me from a lifetime of explaining to people why I got a stupid dolphin tattoo.
Over the years many have made note of my “healthy competitive drive”, often accompanied with belittlement and such descriptors as “obnoxious” and “obsessive”. I do not consider myself more competitive than most, just more outwardly expressive of this quality. Although, I admit, I’m very annoying to play cards with.
There is a fine line between driven and crazy. Case in point: when I run on the treadmill, I like to run faster than the person beside me. I don’t stop running before they stop. The other day I notice the girl beside me is booting it. When I run faster, so does she. I’m killing myself trying to keep up with my fine new adversary. My admiration soon turns into irritation. When is this bitch going to stop running? It is at this point that I realize that I’m running beside a mirror and, in fact, the girl running beside me is my own reflection.
I was both aghast and delighted. Firstly: I look so hardcore when I run! Secondly: the metaphorical nature of this story is astounding. Thirdly: yes, I am slightly crazy. But this is the kind of crazy that I embrace. I wouldn’t be who I am or where I am without this competitive beast within.
And so I say to my reflection in the mirror: Bring it.
It’s a fact. Female spies are hot. I’ve studied Angelina Jolie’s movies and have come to terms with the fact that the world of espionage is not for me. I will have to find other ways to look hot, like blogging.
These are the important things I think about in my spare time:
I can’t run anywhere near as well as Tom Cruise.
I can’t fight in heels. In fact, I can’t fight.
I’m not at my best when I’m hungry, have had less than 6 hours sleep, am having a bad hair day (see Overpriced hair), have had more than 2 glass of wine or if Starbucks is out of biscotti. Other than that I’m good. About 5% of the time.
I get disoriented coming of out elevators, when in buildings, and at any point when driving.
I’m screwed if the MapQuest directions are wrong.
When I’m stressed, I really just need to stop. And drink.
Thanks for visiting my blog! This is what I look like when I roll out of bed in the morning. No, not really, this is what I look like after spending a lot of time and money at an overpriced hair salon, which I visit frequently so as to have natural looking hair.
With this blog I hope to move, inspire and in general make you a better person. Just kidding, what kind of asshole do I think I am? It would be cool if this blog could just make you laugh, smile, or, let’s be honest, buy my book…