Getting It Together

The truth of the matter is when I started this blog I really had no idea what I was doing. Up until now it has simply been a creative out let and a place to hold my sanity together.
But now that I have a little more focus in my life, I want to reflect that here. Do not fret however, I am certain touches of randomness (is that a word?) will still be found as I muddle my way through this current state of being.

With that said, the new focused version of My Two Cents will feature blurbs about being a single 20-something in a world that seems to move expediential faster (yes I had to spell check that). Dating mishaps, stumbling up the career ladder, the struggles to pay rent and everything I learn on the way will all be part of my new blogging adventure.

Please bear with me while I experiment and I hope you enjoy your glimpse into being a 20-something single woman faking her way to adulthood.

Limp D**k Never Sounded So Good

How do you put blossoming love for a newly discovered band into words? It's nearly impossible but I'm going to try because darn it I just LOVE Kings of Leon. This is, simply put, the music I've been waiting for all my life. Rarely ever do I buy/download whole albums and I think the last CD (Danko Jones - I still have a place in my heart for you too) I purchased was about 3 years ago. That is until I picked up Aha Shake Heartbreak a few weeks back. I haven't, and I mean this in all seriousness, I have not stopped listening to it. It's hands down, down right dirty wonderful, sing to the top of my lungs, jam out in my car and every where else, fantastic. The whole album. Not just the single, not just the first three songs, the whole album.

And I love everything else I've heard from their other albums as well. Now I admit, I only came to know KOL after hearing their hit Sex on Fire. Does that make me any less of fan, some die hards say yes and I say get the stick out of your ass you stuck up music snob. Music like this is meant to have followers, many many followers and whether they were fans from the first lyric or won't catch on until the next album, it doesn't matter as long as they are listening.

As much as I've enjoyed every drum beat and guitar strum I do have a few favorites and one of them being Soft. Yes, it is a song about not being able to perform and it sounds SOOOOO good. Never since and never again will you hear a woman say that. So please click the link, enjoy, spread the word and fall in love kids because this is where it's at.

Being Single Is Not The Same As Being Alone

I admit that my morning post was more cynical than I actually feel about Valentines Day and love and romance .... I'm actually a total sucker for all things lovely and romantic. But seeing as how this is my first Valentines' as a non other in three years I did consider hiding in my house until the day was over.

But, I did not. In fact I get all dressed up Carey Bradshaw style, with pink and flowers- the whole bit - and trotted my single little butt over to my parents house to bring Valentines' greetings. I arrived to find out that my Dad, the always surprising man that he is, had bought me chocolates and a wonderful card to wish me a happy heart day.

The cards reads:

"She blooms with beauty
from a loving heart,
with an inner strength
that no one ever taught her...
To every day, she brings
delight and wonder,
a bright and precious gift
a gift of life - a daughter."

It's okay, made me cry a little too. That's one of the absolute best cards I've ever received. So the only question is, where are all the men like my dad?

After that I spent an hour or so just driving around with my dog, jamming out to Kings of Leon. Then dropped the kiddo off at home and headed to my Aunts house for a lovely dinner and visit. She lives on the beach so I took the scenic rout home. The sky was so clear tonight that every star seemed to have it's high beams on. And the moon! Wow!

So I my be single, I may not have had a date tonight or even plans with friends but I am far from alone in this world full of coupled people.

Flowers Chocolates and Disapointment

Well happy V-day to all those single people out there. Yep I'm held up in my apartment watching sappy love movies drinking coffee but not because I'm hiding from all the gooey eyed couples out there but because it's just another Saturday and I'm happy being lazy.

I've been reflecting all morning on how I spent past Valentines' day when I was an other and honestly, I can't remember one that was particularly special. Last year, I worked late, wasn't feeling well and came home to go straight to bed. Although the next day, as I was frantically digging through my bag at work I found a little blue box with Tiffany's written across the top. Opened it and sure enough there was a pretty little necklace inside with a note "forgot to give this to you last night." It was the first special occasion I had decided not to do a gift or even a card because all the V-days and anniversaries before, I had done for him but he hadn't done for me. The necklace was nothing short of romantic, sure but ... too little too late? And the back story goes something like this; I had been pondering getting him a very big gift for V-day and told our mutual friends about it. Knowing that he typically falls short when it comes things like Valentines' day they let my plans slip. I don't know this for certain but I'm inclined to think that the necklace only came my way because he was expecting something big from me and not because he was moved to be romantic. Well, I ended up deciding to wait until his birthday to give him my gift so .... funny how life works out right?
So Valentines' has never really been a big deal for me as an other or a single girl but I would welcome a little romance. Maybe some flowers, dinner, a slow dance in the rain. But one night isn't a whole life time and it's much harder to keep a promise for life than it is to sweep a girl off her feet for one night. Unfortunately flowers wilt, dinners only last an hour and I haven't met a guy yet that would slow dance in the rain.

Bring it on skinny jeans, bring it on!

Every year we all make promises to ourselves, our children and even God that we know we won’t keep. Yes these promises are called New Years Resolutions. Typically they are proclaimed at Christmas dinners and company parties and before we know it, New Years Eve comes, we’re well over served and telling everyone “there is no way in hell I’m going antiquing with my wife!” Even if we do get to the gym 3 time a week and show up for work on time every day, it usually only lasts about a month before we are once again using those excuses we’ve used all our lives to avoid doing those “hard for us but good for us” things.

So this year I took a different approach. I did not make myself or God any promises. I did not tell my friends and co-workers that I plan to be a better neighbor, and didn’t even promise my dog that I would walk her more. Instead, I’ve been partying as if I were still in college, eating dough nuts smothered in chocolate sauce, showing up late for work and taking 2 hour lunches and finding whatever way I can to get around burning any calories. Alright, I lied, it’s not really that bad but I did not make any resolutions to be more honest so there you go. Follow my thought process here, I’m very, very single, cute (or at least funny) and young so the time to buckle down is years in the future. Have as much fun now as my body allows before my body doesn’t even allow me to bend over.

But to give a bit of back story here, only just three short years ago I was a size 6 (or maybe 8) but the point being that I was thin and I looked great. Then, I became an “other”, you know “significant other.” We ate out, we ate in, and I ate to suppress my growing anger and desire to flee. Until finally I was the girl that everyone sent their fat clothes to. I battled for about a year with diets, exercise… starvation but nothing really worked and eventually I gave up and just convinced myself that the flub is womanly.

That was until a few events unfolded shortly after the New Year that not only made me recommit to my weight loss goals, but actually got me to make a PROMISE that I would fit into my sexy butt jeans by July. First I started working on a slideshow for my dad’s 65th birthday. You know the kind with the sappy music and the close ups of baby pictures. While sifting through nearly 8 totes of family photos (before the digital age folks) I came upon pictures of myself when I was hot to trot size. You know mid-drift shirts and cut-off shorts. Those were the days when I could still fit into junior sizes even though I had both feet over the line into adulthood.

After spending a few days dreaming about those black velvet Ann Taylor size five PETIT pants I once wore, I got a call from my long since ex boyfriend who invited me out to join a group for drinks and frolicking around town. One would think that being in the overweight state that I am (I calculated my BMI and it in fact said overweight. I’m only three tenths of a point away from being obese according to that cruel calculator) seeing my ex, or anyone from my skinny past, would be less fun that shutting my hand in a door. BUT, this was not the first time I had seen him since my lean thighs turned french fries. Plus, he’s put on some poundage as well so I was in a semi comfort zone. That was until I arrived at the club (popped collar and Uggs only please) and started being introduced to the group as “the ex fiancé.” Which of course made me assume they were all thinking “oh he dumped her because she got fat.” Not that bad you’re thinking, right? What pushed me over the edge (and by edge I mean into the uncountable bottles of beer I consumed that night) was when I came face to face with the New Girlfriend. This was not just your typical ex-other’s nightmare, oh no. The new other was HOT. Yes, size 3, size 44 C (at least), and 6 feet tall with legs that started at her neck (did I mention that I’m only 5’2??). So there I am, the first impression I’m giving to all of my new found friends “Hello, I’m the over weight ex fiancé, yep as you can see he traded up.” And the icing on my big fat chocolate cake is that those “new found friends” were all people I went to high school with. One of them being a guy who was once my chubby, awkward friend from history class who is now the fantasy worthy lead singing in a surprisingly good rock band. So what is a girl to do in a suicide inducing situation such as this? Warm up to her buddy Sam Adams and get exceptionally intoxicated so as to black out the humiliating event of course. And then probably say and do a few things she’ll be embarrassed about in the morning after the headache and nausea wears off. All in the name of therapy right?

Now that I’ve sobered up and convinced myself that everyone else was just as over served as I was and can’t possibly remember me making a fool of myself, I’ve planted a scale right in front of my refrigerator and hung my bathing suit over the cabinets as a reminder to STAY AWAY FROM THE COOKIES. I’ve vowed to have a Jennifer Aniston on the cover of GQ kind of body come beach weather (I read some where that setting unrealistic goals for yourself actually helps you succeed). So the next time I unsuspectingly run into an ex-other or people I used to know, and can’t remember their names but they know mine, I’ll be the one they’re talking about when they say “wow, she got HOT!”

Technically, this isn't work

Technically, I should be working for the next 16 minutes but who's keep track anyway? Well actually probably the IT department that watches every keystroke on every employees' computer 24/7. This site will probably be blocked when I go to login tomorrow and there may even be a warning note left on my desk. Hey, just because I'm paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't watching ... I see you IT.

I've recently rediscovered how much I enjoy reading other people rant on their own blogs and a light bulb went off "duh, I have my own." Please oh blog, forgive me for allowing such a frivolous thing as life come between you and my mindless typing, never again shall it happen! Okay, that's a lie, I will probably get all hot on posting for about a week and abandoned the project for a few months while I search out a social life. Then when I finally come to terms with the fizzling social circle I have, I post again only to complain about how much most people just annoy me.

Living Hard and Vacationing Free (almost)

I just have to say that I love the fact that Bruce Willis' newest movie in the Die Hard collection is named using my home state's motto. Yeah, "Live Free or Die Hard" is a must see on my summer movie list and I can't wait to get to the theaters for this one. However, I've been keeping up with the reviews and I'm really tired of hearing the same complaints over and over. It's a movie for heavens sake, it's not supposed to be realistic! I'm the type of movie watcher who usually enjoys the movies that get the worst reviews anyway, and to this reviewer, I say I will remember this movie and I'll remember it with love.



The count down to my mini vacation is getting shorter and I am more than ready for a few days void of responsibilities, sleep and proper nutrition. I will partake in the Fourth of July tradition of eating every thing that's offered at the buffet table, staying up until I can be legally declared insane and using the excuse "I've been in the pool all day, I don't need a shower." Kris has already informed me however (because he won't be coming with me on this little trip) that any 2AM phone calls (whether it's a school night or not) will be unacceptable, unanswered and responded to by changing the locks on the front door of our condo. So I guess that means that I can still text and send pics of the Corcoran rendition of "Ring of Fire" because who doesn't love that song?! And if Kris tries to say that he wouldn't laugh a little upon seeing such a picture, regardless of the time, I will have to deem him a liar and subsequently set his clothes on fire. Hey that rhymed! As you can tell, we have a very healthy and loving relationship in which we use things like fire and flicking to keep each other in line.

So tonight I will finish packing, yuck. Over the years I've discovered that I could pack my entire closet and it wouldn't matter because once I get to where I'm going the only thing I'll want to wear is that one shirt I left in the dryer back home. I'm getting to the point now where I give myself 3 minutes to pack and whatever I can fit into my suitcase goes, whatever doesn't is left behind to miss me. The problem with this method however, is that I end up with limited clothing options which forces me to venture out in stars and moon themed pajama bottoms and a black backless shirt, typically reserved for the dance clubs, not the 7/11.

Well folks, the Monday workday is almost over so you can start smiling again. Try not to speed on the way home, be careful when changing the radio station and keep the road rage to flashing your high beams and laying on the horn. No baseball bats please.