A Change (or 52) Is Gonna Come

What better time is there to make life changes than in the start of a new year? Top that off with post-breakup desire to lock myself in my house with a vat of wine, and the need to make some changes is blatantly obvious.

And so, with that, I'm resolutioning. 52 times to be exact. Every week over the next year, I'm making a change. Some big, some small...but each week, I'm choosing something in my life that needs a-fixin.

This year, I will pick myself up from last years failures...everywhere from money management and relationships, to doing my laundry before the mountain of clothing occurs in my closet.

Resolution number one...to get back to some things I love doing but have neglected in 2009...reading and writing. This week, I will blog daily, and finally read the two books I started embarrassingly long ago...Bright Lights, Big Ass and Chasing Harry Winston.

My 52 week attempt can be followed at my new blog site... www.markmywords2010.blogspot.com where I will document my 2010 successful resolutions (and even the ones that aren't!)

Happy New Year! And, Happy Resolutioning!

One Bambino, Two Bambino, Three Bambino, Four.

The kid in the highchair, maybe about 8 months old, was super cute. Looked just like his dad, only miniature. This is what I thought to myself while waiting patiently for Lauren to arrive to our dinner date last week. I soon noticed as I pseudo spied on the cute young family (mainly the dad) that there was a 2 year old sitting next to the mom. Wow I thought. That's a lot of babies. I then began to calculate in my head how many months in the last three years she's been prego. It was a lot.

Lauren and I sat at CPK, reminiscing about our childhoods. We literally sat for hours reading letters we'd written to each other when we were 9. Finding out that I used the term "Wuz doin" more frequently than anyone should was sort of embarrassing for a moment. It wasn't until we got to L's "returned to sender" letter to Jodie Sweetin that I began to feel a little bit better.

Now the cute family was about to leave. As they stood up I noticed the 7 month old watermelon the mom was carrying under her shirt. I tell myself this so that I did not have a sympathy panic attack for the cutest family ever as I realized she would soon be carrying around a newborn to go with her currently screaming infant and cranky toddler.

I soon got to the bar and quickly ordered a bottle of wine (don't worry Mom, I shared it!) where I normally sit and gossip with my girls. This time though, the night took a a more serious discussion route than which martini sounded the best. The recent arrival of more babies in my circle of friends sparked a talk about how many kids everyone wanted. Sort of a dead topic for me at this point in my life, but I joined in anyway.

Soon the chat enlightened me on how many siblings all of our parents had and it was then that I realized - Holy hell, my grandparents were out of their freaking minds. My parents both have 3 siblings, and if you do the math, this means that there were 4 kids. FOUR. Now being an only child, I think 2 is a handful. 3 is a lot...but 4? Take the 4 plus the 2 parents, and that is a 1 hour wait every single time you attempt to go out to dinner!

Now I could understand if, oops, triplets, on the second go 'round. But no, all single births. I have to wonder what sort of plants were being smoked by what I thought were my conservative grandparents! My mother and aunt are 11 years apart, but there are 2 others in between. I tried to calculate how many years my grandmother was pregnant in a span of 12, but I kept losing count as my brain began to hurt.

I think I have finally begun to realize why I'm an only child. I'd imagine that 4 kids means that the parents rely on some help. Both my parents being the oldest, they sort of already helped raise 3 kids each by the time they even got around to having me. I would also guess that growing up in a human zoo would ensure some sort of birth control/safe sex alternative for all involved.

All I can say is I forgive you Mom & Dad for the lack of sibling, and thank you that we never had to wait more than 20 minutes at the Sizzler, while the parties of 5, 6, and 12, might still be waiting for their "go" at the salad bar.

Retail Un-Therapy

November 2007, my last blog, and also the day I stated that I was un-not blogging. Yes. I know. I'm well aware that I'm officially no longer allowed to call myself a blogger.

That said, I'm on a mission to redeem myself. Once again, here goes...

So to catch you up a smidge...I've entered back into the retail world. It was certainly an odd transition, going from daily stock updates and economical woes to 6-step product system recommendations for hair care and skin care. I think after so many years dealing with people only in business interaction, I'd forgotten how much I actually hate the majority of regular human beings.

Why you wonder?

Have you ever heard of "mall walkers"? In case not, let me explain. Mall walkers are lunatic people who get out of bed at 6am to walk. And no, that's not what I find "lunatic" about them. Its the part where after rolling out of bed at such a cruel hour, they then get in their cars to DRIVE to the nearest mall, and then proceed to walk the corridors of the nearest town center.

About 1 year ago, when I was working at Towson Town Center, I noticed just this; Mall walkers. Now, at Tyson's Corner, this is no longer the correct term. These mall walkers are much more serious. I prefer to call them "mall runners". Yes, picture it. If the stores were open, I'd have to wonder if these people just might have stolen merchandise shoved underneath their Under Armour as they dash through the halls seemingly seeking their freedom from the super scary mall cops.

I also feel I must mention one particular mall walker... always with a Nordstrom E-bar coffee in hand, that walks down the escalator, then walks back up the escalator, over and over again until he feels he's reached his pre-set criteria for his daily exercise. Frankly, he's always in my way as I attempt to sprint downward to work, as I am usually running late from the ridiculous 495 commute. And wouldn't this routine be more effective on stairs that don't move for you?

Now of course, we haven't even chatted yet about the actual mall shoppers. For example, meet spastic crazy lady who frantically runs around your freshly straightened store and then proceeds to wash her face with a cleanser tester. Using the tester? Not weird. Entering the store covered in another brand's face puke green face mask prior to using the tester? You decide.

I will say this...no two days are ever the same when you work in a mall. I've learned some people's life stories, I've been hit on by men AND women, and once I even found out about someones pregnancy before their husband. I've been asked advice, and have been told I've made someones day. How lovely you may think.

I've been shoplifted, I've been screamed at. I've been told I'm an f'ing idiot (although he wasn't quite as sensored about it.) And I hope everyone enjoyed New Years Eve, Day, MLK, and frankly any other holiday that isn't Thanksgiving or Christmas, because I'm the sucker that has to work so you people can have something to do during your down time. Retail therapy I believe its called. Oh boy, isn't President's Day coming up? Maybe I'll see you at the mall.

Accidents, Dog's, and the Stupid Rule Book...

Apparently I don't blog anymore. I'm going to try to un-not blog, so just to catch up on some things I may have blogged about if I'd been blogging since the last entry, here's a few quick notes...

-On Halloween, my lucky day, I got into a 4 car accident on 83 on my way home from work. You know you live too close to your family when 5 minutes after pulling onto the shoulder in hyper-panic mode, you get a phone call from your aunt who just drove by you to see if you're ok. She's also calling to let you know that she's already informed my uncle, who's just 5 minutes behind her, to be ready to pull over in approximately 1.43 miles to assist. And don't worry, the unfortunate more than fender bender didn't mess up my plans of nothing for Halloween night.

-Never work in an industry where you may some day have to deal with people who do what you do. It simply makes you realize the actual extent of incompetence of people in this world.

And a few inspired by Thanksgiving dinner with the fam....we know this could be a blog entry in itself, but I'll spare you the obvious details of inappropriate dinner conversation, etc...

-When did my dog become cooler than me? I noticed at dinner the other night that my parents told 17 stories about a day in the life of Jersey. I only came up when the conversations switched over to the economy, and my mother used me as an example as someone who was struggling to make ends meet.

-My cousins (all between the ages of 7 and 17) skipped dessert to watch Grey's Anatomy. I think when I was 7, I watched the Smurfs, and the ultra-mature late night tv show, Full House. But I always found something else to do while my mother was watching Knot's Landing.

-I lost in Scrabble by 5. For the record I would just like to state that had we played with my rules, or, if my uncle hadn't snuck in at the last minute to help my grandmother use up all of her tiles right before my last turn when I was going to be able to use up the rest of my tiles, I would have won. By a landslide. The game would not even have been close. But I'm fine. Totally cool with coming in second. Second in a game that I should have won...

I'm Very Busy and Important You Know

This morning after successfully squeezing my lunch into the overflowing work refrigerator, and while cleaning up a spilled cup of coffee from my over-tired clumsiness, I started to think of all the ridiculously easy things that I put off simply because I'm very busy. OK fine. Because I'm very lazy.

1. Throwing away old food in the fridge. Sometimes, I actually leave things in the fridge so long that I don't know what they are anymore, causing me to decide to throw the way-to-expensive tupperware away along with it, simply to avoid opening the lid and passing out from extreme potent smell of unknown substance.
2. Getting gas. Sometimes I put it off so long that I'm actually worried that I'll break down somewhere between my house and the BP on the corner.
3. Hanging up laundry. I don't actually mind doing the laundry. But putting the clothes away sometimes never even happens. And then I end up rewashing clean clothes because I can no longer tell the difference.
4. Emptying the dishwasher. Filling it, fine. Emptying it, boring. Time consuming. And I always stab myself when reaching for the silverware.
5. Washing my hair. I will actually plan my hair washing around events. For example, my hair was clean yesterday, but not straightened. And so even though I washed it Saturday night, I rewashed it Sunday morning so that I would not have to redo my hair before work on Monday. Allow me to elaborate here and say that its not the actual hair washing, but the hair styling that I tend to try my darnedest to avoid.
6. Returning library books or Blockbuster movies. Let's just say I'm on my mothers Blockbuster card because I'm pretty sure my name is plastered on the walls of all of the local BB locations saying "Do not rent to this woman." I don't know, it just seems like a waste of perfectly good time to drive to Blockbuster just to drop off a movie. I should just wait until I'm ready to rent the next one, right? And frankly, I'm saving gas by not unnecessary driving around town making returns...therefore putting off having to do #2 above just a little bit longer. (Same goes to say with the library books.)
7. Getting an oil change. I know I know, 3000 miles. But the thought of sitting in a Jiffy Lube waiting room alone for an hour, staring at the coffee bar that never has brewed coffee just sounds to painful to tolerate.
8. Returning unwanted merchandise back to the store. Refer to #6.
9. Saving myself $10 a week and brewing my own damn coffee. But really, its just not the same as it is at Dunks.
10. Carrying heavy/awkward things in to my house from my car. For example, a case of water. Had been in car when weather was not excruciatingly hot so I'd always have water for the gym. Now after 3 months of hotness, and not drinking the boiled water, I finally brought it in and put it in the fridge. Hoping its not now poisonous. Other examples of things that don't make it inside right away...new vacuum, paper shredder, other largely boxed items...

OK, so rereading my list of ten makes me worry that some of these things make you now think I'm dirty. I'm not. My house is very clean. I do shower every day...just not always with hair-washing. And fine, the food in the fridge thing is pretty gross, but admit it...you too should have a lot more tupperware in your cabinet than you do...

Living in a Gangster's Paradise

I've really been stepping outside the box, if I do say so myself. I've once again, removed my high-heeled shoes to walk into a less girlie, more tomboy sort of world. Although this time, when I say "tomboy" I actually mean to say "gangster."

I can no longer say I've never shot a gun. (Sorry Mom.)

I entered Continental Arms in Towson during the course of a small panic attack. Up until that actual moment, I was excited...curious...I really just wanted to see if I could hit even hit the target. But walking in, signing the release, handing over my ID that pictures me in the days before I became a gunwoman...I was terrified. I was given safety glasses and earmuffs to lesser the risk of danger. But where's my helmet? My bullet proof vest? My eyesight and hearing will be no good to me when I'm dead, I thought!

I eventually had to stop panicking when I finally got into the "range." (Notice my fancy terms...more to come.) Picture a large room, with 13 lanes (great number when dealing with GUNS), separated only by a little mini 3 ft. wide wall. Technically, at any given time, some stranger could decide they don't like your shirt and take you out. It actually looks like a scene you'd see in prison, minus the ability to freely shoot guns at targets....

Anyway...it took me a while to work up the courage to actually shoot. I think I ended up shooting 10 bullets over the course of an entire hour, where everyone else probably shot that in one run...but that's OK. I had no idea what to expect when I pulled the trigger of the very scary handgun...a ".45" if you really want to get specific. This gun (all guns maybe) definitely has a "kick." What's a kick? Kick your leg. That's a kick. And this is the motion my entire upper body encountered right after I pulled the trigger.

I'm told I hit the target more often than not. I've got a battle wound (long manicured nails and shooting not a good combo.) And today, I've answered to my new nickname of "Sniper." So I'd say think twice before you mess with me...I could be armed and dangerous...

(Sorry Mom.)

I Got an "A" In This Class

Buyer behavior analysis was a great class in my marketing track in college. I just think not enough people enrolled in it...

I get them all the time...spend $50, get $10 dollars off...spend $75 dollars, get $25 dollars off...you know the deal...the full color postcards that come in the mail from all your favorite credit card issuers.

The same postcards that you never seem to have on you when you happen to be shopping.

I thought, though, that I'd figured it all out. I placed all of these fancy discount cards in the one place I always am...my car. I have at least 47 for Bed Bath & Beyond...and one each for NY&Co. and The Limited. Conveniently, the other day when I decided to stop at the mall to buy a last minute get-up for my aunt's 40th birthday party, I didn't have to go home first.

But I wasn't surprised when I couldn't find the one I needed. I parked at the mall entrance of my choice, conveniently near the destination, and began to dig through my slowly building pile of money saving heaven. And then, I realized....ohhh no. Where is the one I need? Too tired and unmotivated to turn around, I shopped sans coupon.

At the register I asked..."Can I bring my receipt back with the coupon later to apply the discount."

Response, "We can't apply a coupon to a prior purchase." Huh, really? You CAN'T? Or you won't? I'm guessing the latter.

I'm a woman with an occasional cash flow that seems to burn in my pocket. Why, then, would you not want me to re-enter your store at a later date? Do you really think I'm going to come in and leave without a bag? Because I won't. But now, I have no reason to come back. At least not until I have another event that demands a slightly more fashionable appearance than what my current closet presents to me.

When I don't have my Giant bonus card on me, they let me type my phone number, or, they use a generic "good for anyone" card that they keep handily at the register. So why then, if you know you send at least 10 postcards a month (and somehow, I'm on the mailing list twice, so do the math) can you not apply the coupon if I say I have one. It can't be that unbelievable that I would.

Now sure, my guess is some people might take advantage and say they had a coupon even if they didn't. But so what? You're still making a sale, possibly gaining a new customer, and, you're saving money on the direct mail you might have had to send to get that person to come into your store in the first place. My bet is it all adds up.

It turns out that I'm returning half the stuff I bought anyway. This is called buyer's remorse...one who makes a purchase, and immediately regrets it afterward. So, after my return, the coupon wouldn't have made a difference because now I haven't spent enough to have used it in the first place.

Although, I wonder...if I'd spent less, maybe it wouldn't be worth the trouble of returning since I'd have gotten a good deal anyway...