Thursday, September 14, 2006

Spoil me, please

Growing up in Hartford, Ark., which for most of my days sat at population 721, led me to believe that rich people (by "rich" I mean millionaires) were out there, but that they were few and far between. Like, they lived in a little colony and gave birth to little Richies who all went to a boarding school together out on some island in the Pacific. They learned things like which fork to set on which side of the plate and how to walk with a book on top of their heads, so, no thanks, I'll keep on living at the foot of Sugarloaf Mountain. We were comfortably middle-class, and I thought that was sufficient and allowed me to be spoiled but not spoiled brat.

Then, through the making of various acquaintances at college and through the stepping into the real world without any money, I realized that rich people – or those who pretend to be rich and thus accumulate massive debt – are everywhere.

Now, I am not anti-money. I really wish that I had money. (And any bitterness I have toward money is really because I've been developing a disdain lately for the business world and those who function solely on greed.) Anyway, it all boils down to this:

According to Cost of Wedding.com, on average, couples in my city will spend $16,219.10 on their wedding. This does not include cost of honeymoon, engagement ring or wedding planner.

I don't want to spend that much on my wedding. I am incapable of doing so. So, in short, I am perturbed with people who spend that much on weddings, setting such a high standard for us middle-of-the-road folks.

My future father-in-law recently said: "At my wedding, we served punch and peppermints, and we're just as married as anyone else." I guess he has a point.

Friday, September 08, 2006

One crazy, two crazy, too crazy?

A couple days ago I saw KBC take the papasan-chair bowl off the papasan stand, put it over his head and then lie on the ground. Like ... a turtle. But his head was inside the shell. "Flush! Flush!" he yelled, from deep within his cave.

(Insert proverbial arm-pinch here.)

Flush then circled the turtle, jumped over the turtle, banged his wagging tail against the wall and finally gophered his way inside the shell to "find" his owner, who, yes, is still bellowing.

At this point, I was ... dumbstruck. I was struck by dumbness. It's like ... I already have a maniacal dog. I had tried to tell myself that Kyle wasn't bonkers, but then he got inside a papasan chair to hide from a dog. You can't really argue with that. Trust me, I tried. So, do I stay or do I go now [to the loony bin]?

"Was that funny?"
"Oh yes, it was funny."
"Like, really funny, watching Flush try to get me?"
"Yes, really funny."
"Oh man, I wish I could've seen it," Kyle said, looking really eager.

Thirty seconds later: A more feminine but no less absurd and a bit muffled "Flush! Flush! Come here little fella!"

No, it wasn't me. It was Amy-Lou.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Elise tagged me to do this survey, and I can't let her down:

Three things that scare me:
Caves. I will never go spelunking. Why would anyone want to go underground when their little entry tunnel could collapse?? They would have to live with bats, and I guarantee cannibalism would ensue. Gross.
People. Yes, I am afraid of the human race. I am afraid of being attacked, kidnapped and taken as a prisoner of war.
My sense of direction.

Three people who make me laugh:
My younger brother, Adam. He is just the goofiest guy. His wit makes me laugh, his actions make me laugh, the way he'd charge me interest when I'd borrow $10 from him when we were kids makes me laugh. What a fun guy.
Kyle. This means I've had to laugh at myself, since he always makes fun of me. But boy, can he wisecrack!
Roald Dahl. J.K. Rowling. And there are two other childhood books that I remember made me laugh and laugh. At like every sentence. I don't know if they're still funny, but here they are: Jennifer Murdley's Toad and Buffalo Gal.

Three things I hate the most:
Housework.
People who are naturally neat and tidy.
People who can't take care of other people's belongings. For example, when I was in the fourth grade, everyone would borrow my crayons. But, they would return the crayons half-used! Half of the crayon would be gone. They completely misused their privilege. So, I started making an indention on the crayon with my fingernail, and I would let the other children borrow the crayon as long as they didn't go past the line.

Three things I don't understand:
How some people keep their homes clean all the time, effortlessly.
Water. How is it together, like a solid, but not really?
Dinosaurs, and what happened to them.


Three things I'm doing right now:
Watching the clock.
Not eating candy from the candy basket. I know, I know, my will-power is amazing. Thank you.
Yawning.

Three things I want to do before I die:
Go white-water rafting.
Meet Ernest Wilford.
Win two fantasy-football leagues in 2007.

Three things I can do:
Rapidly spell words backwards.
Nag people into doing things. I'm an exhorter.
... drink my coffee black? I am pretty proud.

Three ways to describe my personality:
Aloof
Go-getter
"You've got champagne taste and beer money."

Three things I can't do:
Sit at a desk for eight hours straight without going crazy. Which, incidentally, is exactly what I do Monday-Friday.
Simultaneously be late and happy.
A cartwheel.

Three things I think you should listen to:
Crickets.
Your stomach.
Alarm clock.

Three things you should never listen to:
Business executives and those who aspire to be business executives.
Those pants, when you can't fit into them.
Your significant other when he tells you that you can't be Chloe on 24.

Three things I'd like to learn:
How to make my dog obey me.
How to take failure in stride.
Karate.

Three favorite foods:
Crunchy breadsticks.
No-bake cookies and coke cake
Nachos! (with cheese, refried beans, hamburger and garlic)

Three beverages I drink regularly:
Water
Gatorade
Coffee

Three shows I watched as a kid (in addition to the Flintstones, Jetsons, Cosby Show and Married With Children -- thanks, Dad):
Saved by the Bell
Growing Pains
Who's the Boss?

Three people I'm tagging (to do this):
Hannah because she needs to warm up to this whole blogging thing.
Kyle for the same reason.
And Devi, but I don't think she'll do it.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Join the club

This is where I talk about my tormented elementary-school days. These are the days in which I wore, as the fiance calls them, coke-bottle glasses. These are the days in which I wished I was a boy, because boys didn't throw stagnant water on you at recess or tell you that you're not invited into their invisible club. One day I told a bunch of girls that boys were nicer since boys "get mad but get over it like 2 seconds later." I think I was met with a lot of girly looks, which sort of proved my point.

When I took the Meyer-Briggs test in high school, I was proud that I had the same personality as my dad. After we divided the test-taking group into "feelers" vs. "thinkers," I stood proudly with the guys while the girls stood across the room, arms around one another and crying. I took the test again in college. When I answered the questions honestly and discovered I was now a "feeler," I grabbed a Kleenex and excused myself.

Because of all the emotional scarring, I enter friendships cautiously. Once I decide to commit to the friendship, I'm committed. End of story. Let loyalty begin. When a friendship sours, though, I wonder if it was all my fault -- if I just wasn't a good friend -- and then I worry about my callousness. After a few offenses committed by the other party, I have little problems mentally throwing that person out of my club.

A close girl friend told me this today when I was pondering my hard heart: "It seems like you are letting go of a friend that has, by her actions, already let go of you."

So maybe it isn't always me, and I guess this is life from now on. Perimeter friends pick up and leave, and hopefully there will be others to take their place. At 23-going-on-24, I'm pretty confident that certain friendships now are solidified, since we've already changed together and survived my lack of correspondence.

It's also funny, too, that as I say good-bye to certain people in my life, I'm saying hello to a future in which I'm vowing to stick by a husband's side, whether we'll always feel like it or not. We won't have to worry about being kicked out of the other's club.

Thank you, life, for coming equipped with equilibrium.