Sticky things

Stuck.

Life is dumb. It can stick you stuck and you don't know how it happens.


I am a free woman in a free world (a rather expensive free world) with some creative idears ( I resent the little red dots that underline my unique spellings,) and you would think I would rule the world with that kind of resume'. But nay. I don't know what to do.... ever. I want to be huge and great, but I get overwhelmed by the big things in life. Then, I think... simplicity is what matters. Simple happiness is true. I'm happy when I'm doing crossword puzzles with my lovely fiance and the like. Then, I think AM I WASTING MY TALENTS??


The point: I may mature and grow and stretch and stuff and junk, but in the end, the answers are never clear. I guess the only way to get unstuck is to stop worrying about the meanings and the "should do's" and just do what you want. Wait... shoot (notice I'm not cussing. You're welcome, Madelyn. That's my daughter. SO WEIRD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope when she reads this one day that she doesn't resent that I think being her mom is weird. Oh yes, I'm making her read this one day. It's filled with subliminal messages to mold her into exactly what I think she should be... aka a Coldplay fan that thinks she's got street cred) (ok now back to the original sentence)... that's the name of my blog.


I swear the more I blog, the less I know. I should just stick with the title.


Do what you want. Make third world countries do the rest.

-Girl

Squeezing humans

"oh ha. hahahahahaha. Good one. GOOD ONE!"
                                                  -Past Me when Current Me informed her that right after she graduated college, she would get pregnant, get married, and decide she wants to live in or around the TN area.


I am a hoot. Just a durn hoot.

Let this be a lesson to you, youngsters (um. I'm gunna have a baby so I have a right to be condescending to everyone)... life doesn't read your blogs. It doesn't give one thought to what your plans are. Life throws babies at you and laughs.

I always thought throwing babies was as funny as the next guy, but when the baby lands in your uterus and makes you vomit and gives you stretch marks, you aren't laughing! You're vomiting! and rubbing awkward smelling creams all over your body!

That's what life post-graduation is about: awkward smelling creams.

What is your awkward smelling cream? Metaphorically speaking...

Is this what this blog is going to be about for the rest of my life? Being pregnant and then being a mom? I look back at the beginning, and I was all about animal rights, environmentalism, saying "up yours!" to the man, being an artsy hippie and thinking that was something unique and special. Now, I'm still writing about this journey of life (cliche), but priorities have changed... just like all the old folks in my life told me they would. All of a sudden, providing for my family (MY family. AHH) is number one. Ok. number 2... after food. Not like food as in food I need to survive off of. I mean chocolate cake, bacon, and potato chips with french onion dip. Those are the important things right now.

Something in me hasn't changed, though. That is the need to be true. To myself. Not to any job, church, politics, or elder. And that is what I want to teach my child. To not lose your own beliefs because they may not be the popular ones to hold. To never blindly follow any institution. To only blindly follow me and act as my little clone so that I may use him/her as my minion to help me start my own religion, gain fame and riches and eventually make Tom Cruise my spokesperson.

I look forward to this next chapter of my blog. It should be as enlightened, brilliant, charming, and irresistible as the previous chapters, but it will have the depth and wisdom of a sexy, confident, yet humble, woman that has squeezed another human out of her vageen.

"Oh, you've wrestled a crocodile? Well, I squeezed another human out of my vagina."

"OH! YOU invented the snuggie!? Well, I squeezed another human out of my vagina!"

"OH! You're Coldplay?... I love you! It's amazing to meet you! I squeezed another human out of my vagina... but you probably didn't want to know that. Awkward. Can I lick your face? K. Yeah. I'll walk myself out."

-Me having hypothetical conversations.


Hypothetically, I'm funny. Just like metaphorically, I'm about to rub some awkward smelling cream on my boobs and belly.

Wait. No. I'm really about to do that.



-Katie

Eating popsicles in the shower gets you pregnant

Sometimes I just wanna eat things in the shower. Today I ate a popsicle. It was very sensual. 

Really I can't help being sensual. Like earlier I ate a cheerio off the floor. 

You know what happens to sensual people? They get pregnant. Or maybe pregnant people just constantly eat a lot (aka popsicles and cheerios) and they convince themselves its sensual.

Either way... I got a baby in my gut. It's pushing on my bladder and making my bellybutton shallower, but I can forgive these things because it gives me an excuse to eat a lot and makes me 97% more adorable. 

I was raised Catholic and pretty conservative and now look at me. I'm a crazy heathen liberal socialist weirdo. So, my first decision as a parent (WEIRD!) is to raise my kid to be a Republican stripper so he/she will end up being the opposite of that. 

Actually I really don't care what my baby grows up to be as long as he/she doesn't murder and as long as he/she is tan. And doesn't have an annoying laugh.

Anyone can have a baby these days. 

Buy me diapers. 

I need big ones, though, because I'm getting fatter every day.

Yea me. Not the baby. It's always about the baby! GAH

Um.... it's covered in weird hairy goo that it eats and poops out. 

Bye.

-The emotionally stable mom-to-be

 

If seagulls could blog, they wouldn't because they're too busy being awesome.

One of my favorite things: Seeing seagulls in places seagulls shouldn't be.

Admit it, when you see seagulls at a mall in TN or the like, you perk up a bit. It makes anything seem possible.

A few days ago I saw about 50 seagulls surrounding a couple in the middle of a park. Now, for me, this was pretty inspiring. All the birds were standing there, very evenly spaced out, and very focused on the couple. Their ability to create such an aesthetically pleasing pattern and their immense focus made me believe in purpose in this life. If I look at it from the couples perspective, though, I have to say that is a pretty terrifying moment. You realize you are surrounded by 50 deceptively large birds that obviously have some plan in action to have that much focus and to be that far from the sea. That couple didn't even have food, so it was clear the birds were there for them. I wonder what happened to the couple. They're probably dead.

Some people accuse me of giving animals more credit than I should. The fact that I assume that seagulls have the intelligence and persistence to create and enact plans against humanity may seem ridiculous to some, but to me this is very logical. Tell me when you look into a horse's eyes you don't automatically get the feeling they are smarter than you and are doing you a favor by not stomping your weak little human face into the ground. You can't tell me that! Because you know deep down that you feel that way!

Enough about this.

Here are my other recent observations:

• If you buy a white couch, you will increase your spaghetti consumption, and you will increase the amount of meals you eat on your couch.
• The more Real Housewives of (Any City) you watch on Bravo, the more you will narrate to the imaginary camera in your mirror about the drama in your life.
• Every time you shop at Target, you realize you are either A)wearing a red shirt and khaki pants (aka the Target uniform) or B) wearing everything you have ever bought at Target at that moment.
• This list reaffirms that I have become a housewife.

Life is hard, but at least horses have let us all live another day. Let us be thankful for that this Thanksgiving. 

-Katie

The Real Housewife of Tacoma

I want to blog. Hence...the blog.

Apparently this blog will be the demise of my future. It is a fact that 98.6 % of people with blogs become homeless and end up selling their bodies.

People keep telling me, "You really need to make your blog private or delete it because employers will read it and find you appallingly inappropriate."

I mean.... I think my blog shows that I have a sense of humor, a good handle on irony, am a brilliant writer and confident, commit to projects once I start them, and that I can write the word "blog" backwards on my nose with eyeliner. Forbes and Time magazine both say that writing backwards with atypical writing utensils is the number one quality employers look for when hiring. I obviously have a really good grasp on what employers want, and so I resent people hatin' all up on this blog and trying to tell me what to do.

I think such people should read my blog and see that the title of the blog in question is called "I do what I want."

There is no formula for success in this life. You can eat Wheaties, jog every morning, get a business degree, volunteer on your weekends, study abroad, read the paper every day, work 9-5, act polite towards everyone, stay politically correct, dress fashionably but not scandalously, date someone with the same values for 3 years, get engaged and stay engaged for an appropriate span of time, get married in the same church both your parents got married in, move in together after the wedding, save money for 2 years then have a baby, always keep the house presentable, throw delightful dinner parties with all the right people in attendance, eat healthy, save for retirement, blah blah blah, etc....you can do all these things and still find yourself incomplete. Lacking. Lost.

Maybe not...if that's what you really want. I don't want to hate all up on (my new phrase apparently) people who do these things. It is a lovely life if it is what you want. I just don't appreciate the pressure to live up to this.

The more I do what I want, and the less I let people scare me into following what they want, the more complete I feel. I want to live life and always be true. I want my life to be honest. Like this blog. So, I will not delete my blog because that would go against what I stand for. At least for now. If that changes, then I will pretend I never said this and probably lose contact with anyone who will remember that I once believed these things.

I do what I want.

Change is good, except at Olive Garden.

This is what pissed me off today.

I am sitting at Olive Garden in a chair large enough for my entire high-school graduating class, and not only that, but the chair rolls. This restaurant is clearly built for some heavy-duty eatin', and at this point in my life so am I (hmm...what does she mean by that ((she=me)). So the server comes to the table, and I order salad and bread before she can tell me her name. It's obvious I'm not here for chit-chat. I'm friggin hungry. She brings the salad and bread, and asks me if I want cheese on my salad. Um. Yes, biatch. I do. I am emmaciated here. I am dying of starvation. I want some cheese. This is where I lose my mind: She didn't give me the option to tell her when to stop. She sprinkled a little bit of the good stuff (cheese) on the salad and flippantly skipped away to do some more teasin' with the cheesin'. I almost burst into tears and could not stop imagining me using the fancy black Olive Garden straw to tracheotomy (I realize this is not a verb) her servery server neck and then force feed her through her new neck-hole some cheese and NOT ask her when she'd had enough cheese.

The logistics of that image are very unlikely, but the sentiment is very clear.  I want cheese, and I want it to come with options.


Olive Garden used to be a classy place where poor college kids could go to feel like they weren't so poor because they were surrounded by servers in white button-downs. It was a place of equality where all men and all women servers wore ties- equally tacky and cheap looking ties. Olive Garden was a place of cheese for all. You ordered 28 cheese lasagna wrapped in a cheese blanket and covered with an elaborate cheese canopy and you still got asked if you wanted cheese on top and how much. What are you now Olive Garden?? The blinders have been removed and now I see it was all a facade. Your garden is barren and your olives are not as salty as I had once believed.....


Everything is changing. I just never thought it would be this hard.



I do love their salad though.


And yes. This is a very detailed intelligent metaphor for my life. Just trust me.

Apologies to Maine Strippers are in Order/ A job resume

Jobs!

Am I right???

This is what's beautiful to me: 

I looked at the stats of my blog and saw where people were finding it. Google, twitter, facebook, etc. all made the list. One search in particular, though, made me really proud of myself. We all do things in the world. Some do bigger things than others. And when I say brilliant statements such as that, it's no wonder that the latter describes me. Apparently, in the past, someone was searching on Bing or Google or something for "gia stripper maine" and they got directed to my blog. And I know they weren't disappointed. Yeah, they were looking for  a stripper in Maine and I am close but not exactly that.... so I can see why Mr. or Mrs. Needs A Stripper from Maine may be slightly dismayed by that discovery. But (second sentence I have started with a conjunction. this girl takes risks. we should hire her ((voice of prospective employer that is checking my blog and ignoring all the inappropriate aspects and seeing the grammatical risks and adventurous word explorations that I make), in a metaphorical sense, Mr. or Mrs. Needs A Stripper from Maine got to see me strip with metaphorical teasing and metaphorical pasties with metaphorical tassels spinnin'. Have you seen my metaphorical pasties?? They are fantastic. Anyway, my point is, when someone is looking for a stripper, Bing and Google know that what they really need is to read my blog. Yeah... I am probably taking business away from all the Gias in Maine, but I'm probably just motivating them to go back to school to become as successful as I am (I measure success by the amount of ridiculous statements one makes about him or herself.)

And that is why you should hire me, (enter Employer name here). Because I start sentences with "and" "but" and "because" and I take business away from strippers.

Gia (First Maine, next the World)