Freak Out

My friend said something funny about me the other night that I can't seem to get out of my head. We were out at a bar when I had the idea to try and film a Stop n' Shot with them, so I started placing them where I wanted them, explaining what I wanted them to say, and what precisely to do. As I had them at the bar and I was playing with angles, I heard one lean over to the other saying, "It's funny to hear Kris like this. She's usually so, 'whatever you wanna do is fine by me.'"

It's true, too. It made me think about all the times I wanted SO much to just have a good ol' meltdown and tell someone off. But usually, even if I'm that wound up I just end up unloading to some other poor innocent bystander...like Joe.

It's really not in my personality to be confrontational. In fact, for the longest time I didn't like to answer my own phone because I feared whoever was calling was going to yell at me for something I did. I think that probably began back in middle school when a "friend" called me to bitch me out about something, and I was so taken aback that it freaked me out.

I did have one once...sort of. Last year at the school, I was so frustrated that I just started laughing like a madman right in the middle of class. It had felt like trying to hold wet bars of soap in your hand...one kid was sleeping, another was trying to talk, someone had a question, someone had a comment. I broke the teacher rule and just started physically pulling my hair out and talking in gibberish. Thankfully the kids thought it was funny and didn't hold it against me too much. In fact, I recall one of my favorite students speaking up and saying, "Ok guys, let's get serious, before Ms. Bott totally loses it".

It seems that whenever I get annoyed in a place I HAVE to be in, I always try to take it internally. I do that whole passive-aggressive thing where I get very quiet, my lips get stiff, and my eyes look like someone just murdered my dog in front of me. I had that same sullen attitude the last few weeks--nah, more like months--at the school. I began coming to school later, slacking on giving the kids difficult assignments and forgetting to pass some back. It wasn't an excuse but I couldn't help shutting down. As valuable and grateful I was for the experience the teaching job gave me, as far as learning to be a leader and organized, it was even more valuable to me for showing me what I didn't want to do for the rest of my life.

But still, I admire people when I hear their stories about telling their boss or someone else deserving off. Since I don't seem to have the guts, I can live vicariously through others. Like that jetBlue guy in the news? Man, what a way to go out. And I always get such a kick out of anyone in the service industry I know who tells me about how they finally get some revenge on bitchy-ass customers, either through their manager or in the delicate realm of sarcasm. It makes me joyous...it's the best word to describe it.

Maybe someday I'll find myself in another job where I hate the people and just simply throw in the towel and do a "Half-Baked: 'F you, f you, f you, you're cool, f you, I'm out". But in the meantime, I'll just be content to say if you annoy me, I'm gonna tell you right to the back of your face...and several yards away....under my breath.

A Visit with the Griswolds

I love my family, don't get me wrong. My dad's got a great smart-ass sense of humor (which I hope I inherited) and my mother is loving and nurturing (another trait I think I have). My sisters are cool and wise, my brother is fun and good-intentioned.

They also drive me bat-effing crazy sometimes, even now living on my own. The problem is that I have my own neuroses to contend with, so I feel fairly comfortable calling us all 'The Griswolds" at times. And last night only furthered my observation, as my parents and brother came for a visit.

It started out sane enough, as how any adventure with the Griswolds usually begins. I frantically tried to escape work early to run to the store for a few last items, then stop by the fruit truck, and then finally get home to do some final cleaning. Of course, since one of my problems is perpetual tardiness, I didn't get out until they were already on their way over to the townhouse. So I passed on the store and just grabbed some fruit from the truck and headed back. I didn't see their car yet (whew) so as I was pulling up to a parking space, thinking I could at least do my cleaning --BEEP, they pulled up right next to me.

We said our hellos and started bringing their things in. Having never been there before we decided to walk them around for a tour. As I stepped first down into the basement, somehow my foot twisted and I crashed to the floor, missing the wash basin by a hair. I was fine, except for my foot...and dignity.

When we arrived at the guest bedroom my parents starting putting things down and Georgia wandered in. Now, all I can say is that I just wanted her to be an angel for them so they could see how well we had trained her. I let her come into the room, and while I turned my back for a second I hear my dad say, "Uhh, someone's takin a dump..." I spun back but it was too late. I ushered her out, scolding her all the way while my parents escaped the emanating smell.

As I cleaned up I could not BELIEVE this horrible luck. It was bad enough tripping and landing on my ass down the basement so that my parents think I'm totally inept or that the house is unsafe, why did the dog have to crap in THAT room! All I kept thinking before their visit was, if she craps in the house PLEASE let it be in our room where we can clean it up without anyone being the wiser. No, that kinda luck never happened for the Griswolds, so it would never happen for me...

Finally, we go out to dinner to a place I had never been before. Part of my anxiety about my parents visiting is that I want to ensure they have a great time, so they can pass the word on to the extended family about how well I'm doing. Even down to the restaurants we have down here, so I was nervous how the place would be. Luckily I got a great tip from my friend Heather about a place for crabs, and I'm happy to report the night went off without a hitch. Well, except for a small one.

While we were ordering, we noticed that the waitress's attention appeared to be elsewhere. She was looking off in the direction of the televisions. My mother was still deciding and trying to ask her questions. Finally, my dad noticing her intent gaze, followed it with his own. I don't know why but it made me bust out laughing. My dad caught my eye and smiled, knowingly. When the waitress finally left my mother asked us what was so funny. So it wasn't really a hitch, just a funny odd moment.

After I got up the morning (and my mom rearranged my kitchen to her liking) I said my goodbyes to the Griswolds, promising them I'd visit soon. Even though their visit was brief, I still drove to work smiling (and with a few less hairs since the had been pulled out). I know that I'm just part of my funny family, and even though they drive me crazy sometimes, they make for some good storytelling.

Gullible's Travels

Ok, I have to relay this quick story. You know how people falling down or tripping is funny? Well, since today's post is kinda about embarrassment, I figured I'd share... I was at work listening to my head phones when someone came over to talk to me about something so I slid then down to my neck. After a while they left and when I got up to get something, BAM! My head pulled back and I was yanked right back to my seat. I then did the thing where you do something dumb and you look around to make sure no one else saw. Oh, well. Speaking of feeling bad...

You know that saying, "There's a fool born every minute"? That might've been coined in honor of me, one of THE most gullible people alive. I think it stems from my fear of doubting someone who might be insulted if I didn't believe them. Imagine this scenario...

Person 1: "My great grandmother had a wooden leg."

Me (thinking they're joking: "Hahah, that's awesome."

Person 1 (pauses): "No, she really did. She lost it in a car accident."

Me (trying to recover by making it sound like the most fascinating thing ever): "Oh WOW, how tragic..."

Now granted, that is a bit of an unusual case, but trust me, it's happened. Enough times in fact that now I figure it's safer to play the dumb, believable-type instead of the skeptic. The problem is when it backfires, which it occasionally does.

Case in point, back when we were kids my cousin informed me that we were so Irish we had an uncle who was a leprechaun. Unbelievable, right? Apparently not to me, as I became wide-eyed and mesmerized until my cousin told me later that she had been kidding. Even now she gets a kick out of retelling the story to me whenever we get together, and while I still die a little of embarrassment I have to simply own it...I'm a believer. And I continue to be one.

This past weekend was no exception. While out celebrating my friend Erica's departure to Boston, I listened to stories people told, and nodded my head knowingly or voiced my amazement-- not realizing when someone was just being dramatic or kidding. I tried to play it off cool, but I think I still ended up looking somewhat like an idiot.

Thankfully, though, I was amongst friends who either 1.) already knew how foolish I could be and 2.) didn't judge me for it. The worst is when I am around strangers and the words pop out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop and examine them. This embarrassing incident also happened this weekend.

Yesterday I noticed Georgia licking her front paw and saw that she had a split nail. Wanting to rid her of the pain as soon as possible I made an appointment for the pet clinic I always take her to. While she was on the examination table the nurse gently lifted her paw to get a better look, and said cheerfully, "Oh my, you are a magical dog, you have a horn growing out of your paw." Now, let me explain that I thought she meant a calcium/protein thing, not like an ACTUAL horn. But still I said in a nice high voice, "Reeally?" She paused and said, "No, I was just saying that to make the dog feel better..." "...Ohhhhh". Jesus, I wanted to grab the anesthesia myself and inhale until I passed out and then just be carried out of the office so I wouldn't have to look anyone in the eye.

Like I said, I can't help being a bit naive. I'm a person you could probably get to sign up or join anything (provided it was free, because I am ALSO a giant cheapskate). I try to be more critical but then THAT seems to bite me on the ass. All I can do I try to pass it off like I knew better, slap my palm to my forehead later when I'm alone, and of course, write about it for all the world to know...

...Two Steps Back

Just a quick caveat before I begin-- I really loved that title I used yesterday ("Writers on the Storm'), I think it's been one of my better puns. However I really worry that I'm going to use the same pun twice, so if I do please call me out on it. If there's anything worse than a pun, it's an overused pun. In any case, onto other forms of pun-ishment.

You ever feel like you are finally passed a certain issue only to have it come hollering back to you? It's that whole, two steps forward, one step back deal. (Or is it one step forward, two steps back? Whatever, either way, it's annoying.) Let me explain...

So back when we went to pick Georgia up from the SPCA we came bright and early to make sure no one else adopted her. We walked into the small office and told the guy working there we wanted to adopt "Coco". He barely glimpses away from the papers he's scanning and says, "Well, I hope you did your research already. She's a dachshund, and dachshunds don't housebreak, so be prepared."

Both his attitude and statement surprised us. Didn't they WANT people to adopt the dogs? Why the hell would you immediately throw out a big negative like that to two eager people? It's like going to a car dealership and the salesmen says, "Yeah, it's a Hummer, so be prepared to waste half your paycheck every week just to fill 'er up."

We didn't let him scare us off and in fact, for a while now when Joe and I would return home from work and find not only everything still intact, but not a drop of poo or pee anywhere. We'd open the door to our yard and she'd sprint right outside to do her business. We'd exchange glances, and with all the pride in the world in our chests, say, "And they said she couldn't be housebroken!"

Well, we were having a good streak anyway.

About a week ago I went up to take a shower while Joe went down to the basement. Georgia, after realizing she wasn't coming into the bathroom with me, finally wandered away. I figured she had found her toys and was playing happily when I finally got out and came downstairs. There, on our new rug was a fresh wet pee spot. I called down to Joe to let him know, but we chalked it up to the fact that we had the back door closed so she wasn't able to get outside in time.

Then about a day or two later, the same thing happened, only it was Joe this time (and poop). The odd thing was THIS time not only had the door been open, but she had just been outside for a while a few moments before. We were frustrated, but again, we just figured it was her odd puppy system.

Finally, this morning was the last straw. She woke us up as usual to let her outside to pee and for me to give her breakfast. Joe let her out and then wandered up to the bathroom. As I was walking back to the bedroom to sleep for a few precious more minutes, I noticed the door to the guest bedroom had been nudged open. And then I saw two nice little puppy presents on the floor. Annoyed, I let Joe know and while we both cleaned it up, we wondered what was going on with our once perfect angel.

It's not even just the accidents. Another one of Georgia's delightful traits is her ability to escape. Now granted, she only did this once before, but with the putting up of chicken wire and my spraying the crap out of it with dog repellent, we somewhat washed our hands of the problem. She seemed to get it; when we were walking back and forth along the chicken wire she knowingly kept her distance. Again, until this morning.

After we cleaned up the guest bedroom and started to get ready for work, one of us let her out to enjoy the backyard before we kept her in for the day. As I was getting ready to leave Joe suggested we get her in then, before she tried to follow me. Too late.

As I was waiting for him to give me the ok, I realized it was taking a while. I looked out the window and realized she was OUTSIDE the fence. I dropped my bag, grabbed some treats to lure her back, and ran out the back door. Luckily she saw me and came forward and while she nibbled on the treats, Joe snagged her up and dropped her back inside the confines of the fence.

It's been one of those days, and I can only hope we haven't completely lost all the training she had been taught. I want to think that maybe she's just still testing her boundaries with us. But who knows...and who knows what's waiting for us at home....

Writers on the Storm

Jeez, I think I just about jumped out of my skin just now. I had just gotten in the shower when I noticed some flashes of light outside my bathroom window. I had heard a storm was coming but had no idea when. Of course it figures it would come on just as I'm stepping into the shower. Plus, bonus fun- Joe left for rehearsal so I'd be there alone scrambling to keep the dog (and myself) calm while fumbling for the fuse box in a towel if the power went out. Thankfully, I managed to get in and out before such a thing happened.

Then I came downstairs to see if Georgia needed to run out really quick, since the storm didn't seem too threatening just yet. All of a sudden, we both see a bright snap of light followed immediately by the loudest crack of thunder. Both me and the dog took a giant jump back, looking at each other. Georgia barked back at the thunder and I tried to keep the towel on my head from slipping while calming her down.

Truthfully, I do love storms, yet I am also somewhat afraid. I remember as a kid whenever one would come on I would always listen but as soon as it got a few decibels too high for me, I'd run right into my parents room. I realize even now as an adult I tend towards the same behaviors. Back at our old apartment we had a balcony that usually had a pretty good view of any storms that were approaching. One day as I was driving home I looked up and noticed the dark clouds making their way overhead. It had been an oddly warm day for a week of mostly chilly days, so I knew it was going to be a doozie. I decided to drop my stuff inside and grabbed one of our lawn chairs that we used as outdoor furniture and settled in for a good show. It was pretty uneventful at first, just a flash here and rumble there. Suddenly, with little warning, the flashes got brighter and the cracks got louder. Before I knew it I was surrounded by the drama of Mother Nature. I tried to keep my fears down, telling myself it was a bit unlikely I'd be struck or anything bad would happen to me sitting out there. But eventually, as the wind picked up and the rain began whipping around me, I figured I'd see all the show I was going to. Up close and personal, anyway.

I'm the same way with the ocean. I love going to the beach, even occasionally dipping my toes in. But I very very rarely actually go in. Probably because I've been tumbled and toppled by the ocean enough times to know it can be scary and intimidating. You so easily lose what little control you already have. I recall another time playing in the ocean with my siblings and cousins. They began riding the waves with their bodies into the beach. Wanting to be included, and not wanting to appear like a wuss, I joined them. It was going fine until I paused to catch my foot beneath a wave and then BAM! A wave came from no where and swallowed me up for a good 2 seconds. I remember that burning feeling as salt water rushed into my mouth and scalded my nose and throat, leaving me to wheeze and cough for the next 20 mins. To this day, I will only venture into the water if it's flat as a lake and with a gentle current. And since that rarely is the case on the Jersey Shore, I'm usually content for the sporadic ocean spray or dipped toes.

Like I said, I think it's the absolute loss of control that is both fascinating and terrifying about nature. You can only do so much to prepare but in the end the only certainty is the uncertainty...maybe that's why the meteorologists call them "predictions" as opposed to "facts". Many of them dodge the bullet when people get pissed off at their incorrect reports. They must think, "I know I said that we would have sun, but we got rain instead. What do you want from me, it's not like the weather and I are in cahoots."

Oh well, anyway, judging by Georgia's sleeping on the couch, I'm guessing the storm is passing. Good thing too. I got some ice cream waiting for me. Goodnight for now beloved readers!

Poor Little Poor Girl

I hate the end of the month. I hate to be one of those people who always complain about having no money. I hate even more being one of those people who constantly writes about it. I know we all have our own financial woes to deal with, so I'm sure no one feels like hearing my yammer on and on about mine.

But wait a minute...I'm 26 years old now. I have a (pretty much) stable job, paid for car (however shoddy), and with (thankfully) no real health problems or mind-blowing debt (at least, that I know of). Basically, I'm exactly where I was years ago as a college student, dreaming about the day when I would be out in the real world, and able to afford whatever I could (within reason). I wouldn't have to worry about things like food anymore, only going to the places my meal plan covered. I wouldn't have to wait until Wednesday to do my drinking because we could get a free unlimited cup at the Crease. I'd be living it up, sipping cocktails at a sophisticated LOUNGE discussing things like world politics and the stock exchange with my equally sophisticated peers.

Yeah, that was the idea anyway. Oh how naive.

Now I'm just glad that I can make rent, put gas in my car, and stock a pantry with groceries. I don't know why I ever thought that just because you enter a certain age means you have to be a different person (hence that whole "sophisticated" business). I realize now, it's about finding a balance, with the kid you are at heart and the "grown-up" you will inevitably become.

Case in point, about a month ago my friend Erica and I decided to go to the city for dinner. We chose a place with a nice second floor view and valet parking. We each got a drink, and as we ate and talked, we both suddenly had a flash of adulthood. It wasn't bad actually, like I would've thought. It actually was kinda nice to be able to afford a nice meal, sitting amongst the yuppies of Baltimore. Almost like taking that lifestyle for a test-run.

But on the flip side, several weeks later we walked around Artscape with our friend Lauren. We meandered in and out of tents, looking at the home made jewelry and clothing. Whenever one of us picked up something we liked we'd cautiously peer at the price tag. And then we'd slink back out empty-handed. It seems we are close enough to taste that adult-world of luxury but not yet able to really feast on it. Which also brings up another point...who CAN afford these high end art pieces?

I recall once, when I was technically interning for a creative magazine, we had a meeting at a woman's apartment downtown. I buzzed the door of this beautifully maintained building, staring at a brass name plate. When I walked in and took a seat at this massive ornate wood table, my eyes seemed to dart all about the room. She had sculptures on mantels, elegant furniture, and paintings that ate up the walls. It was beautiful, and I wondered, what did she do to be able to get all this? My memory fails me now, but what I do remember is that she was at least in her 40s or 50s.

So maybe I have time before I can become one of those people who doesn't need to clip coupons or shop in the bargain bins. But then again, I hope I always retain some of that. It's more than just my stubbornness to grow up; it's part of who I am. Besides, an unlimited glass of Sex on the Beaches beats a stuffy old martini any day.

The Summer Bucket List

Wow, I really suck at this 5-Posts a Week thing. I'm considering making an amendment that declares I shall not even try to write on Fridays, at least until these 1/2 day Fridays are no longer in effect. I just end up beating myself up for the weekend. So, I'll try to, but if I don't, you'll know.

Anyway, happy Monday everyone! Can you smell that? I think there's a slight scent of Fall in the air. I noticed it last night as Joe and I sat in our folding chairs at Outlaw Jam, and we actually experienced our first chill in a long time. Sad, and I'm really not ready for the change, despite the fact that I managed to do some cool stuff this year: saw bands I always wanted to at some outdoor concerts- Scorpions at M3, Bad Company and Blue Oyster Cult at Outlaw Jam. I also combined a band I never saw with going somewhere I always wanted to go to- Collective Soul at Preakness. Plus we managed to get to the Beer, Bourbon and BBQ Festival, Artscape in Baltimore, even a dog expo.

However, there is still so much I want to do before the summer slips by, which is what tonight's post is about...my summer bucket-list.

1.) Crab Feast-- I know that anyone who knows me has probably heard me whining about the fact that I have YET to pick a single crab this summer. Truthfully I haven't been able to go to many crab feasts, either because I couldn't afford to, I was busy, or there just weren't any going on. I am hoping to rectify that soon, which leads me to #2.

2.) BBQs-- Now I have been to a few, but I could always go for more...especially since we moved into this place with the nice big yard that just SCREAMS BBQ. Joe and I have already plotted for a big Labor Day party, complete with meat, beer, and (you guessed it) steamed crabs.

3.) Taking a ride on the Tiki Barge-- This is something our friend Jeff told us about. Apparently it's a big docked party barge that holds both a pool and good sized tiki bar. We were planning to go the weekend we ended up getting Georgia on. I kept racking my brain to figure a way to both pick Georgia up AND manage to hit the barge (I know, it's so comforting knowing where my priorities lies...God, I'm horrible). Since we got her we've managed to leave her alone for several hours and now that we know we can pretty much trust her on her own I intend to see what that damn barge is all about.

4.) State Fair-- Not really surprising I haven't been yet, seeing as how it hasn't started yet. But we have made it to the fair every year for the past 2 or 3 years, and I really hate seeing a tradition die, so we will have to plan a day for that.

I have a bunch more things I'd like to do/see/eat/hear, but these are probably the ones I keep telling myself that I want to do most. I know there's still time. I just can't help but think, as we slowly start turning our A.C. off in exchange for the crisper night air, I know that summer will be gone just as seamlessly as it came in. Guess that means I have to stop being an anti-social cheapskate and get out there.

Oh well, see you tomorrow kiddos.