A few weeks ago I found myself going back and forth with my friend Allison as to how wonderful life in Salt Lake City would be for me. The only caveat she said is that she was unsure of the (strict) drinking laws in the city and perhaps I should find a non-Mormon to assist in that regard. So I added Salt Lake to the list of “Hey…I could live here”.

Most people daydream about a relaxing vacation, I daydream of a place in this vast country of ours where I could put down some roots. It’s a list that grows each day depending on my mood. My therapist recently noted how wistfully I speak of DC and that she doesn’t hear that same tone when it comes to Albany and I had to remind her that a) This is Albany for Christ’s sake and b) I wouldn’t live in DC unless of course I won the lottery or made it big as a Democratic Consultant. I will get into the Albany v. DC thing at a later date but the point is that as of right now DC is not on that list. Several friends of mine and perspective job sites just collectively sobbed. I love DC with a fierceness but my gut tells me that it most likely isn’t in the cards.

Denver is there. Along with Boulder. I regularly contemplate Austin but recently reneged on that possibility because I don’t hate snow. That statement will come back to bite me in the ass some day – probably on a very frigid day in January where I find my nipples permanently erect and frostbite on my toes – but no, it doesn’t bother me in the way it should and could.

I see myself in a capital city since the only thing I’m really qualified to do is work in politics. Though some might say that I’m barely qualified for that. I could live on Martha’s Vineyard full time. That creeps in when I find myself alone walking up Circuit Avenue without the July and August hustle and bustle. But then I find myself stumped worrying that I haven’t been to enough places, seen enough, absorbed enough to make a “Forever” decision.

Perhaps I’ll marry someone who enjoys a life on the road. I’ll telecommute and home-school and spend summers in Montana. Who knows. The good thing is that the older I get the easier I find that I am able to go with it…absorb the ‘whatever happens, happens’ mentality. I just want to be near water, mountains, I want a yard.

Or perhaps I’ll just spin the globe and wherever my finger lands that is where I, too, shall land. Yes. That will work just fine.

This same topic was discussed on Curvy Girls Guide today and I wanted to bring it over here. Where do you live? Do you see yourself living there forever? If money were no object where would you call home?

I’m currently writing this from my couch covered by blankets and a cat keeping the crisp Upstate autumn air from freezing my toes off. There’s a reason for why I’m listening to the Iron & Wine station in the middle of the day from my house but that story will come in time. I have more pressing issues to deal with at the moment, things that shockingly enough have nothing to do with me or why I’m being so melancholy or how someone managed to lose $1500 of my dollars or how I’m praying that my rent check goes through while I wait for ING to give me the money from my savings account. None of those very ‘Ahh, Life, you fucking bitch’ type things.

I come to you because you all are far better at this than I am. Here goes:

Problem the first: I have a close family friend on bed rest until the end of her pregnancy which isn’t until February. Which is a long-ass time. I’m already contemplating a Netflix account for her as she and her husband don’t share one but what else should I give? This is a huge deal – as it should be – and she’s stuck on her couch for the health of her baby. Which is heartbreaking to say the least. I want to do a nice but grand gesture to say, Hey, I’m here and thinking of you. Thoughts?

Problem the second: I forgot to send a newborn gift to a friend and now her kid is like 15 months old. Ok, not quite but like 4 months old. What should I give the baby? I was thinking something from Little Alouette? This teether/block set makes me want a baby of my own. But see the aforementioned bedrest and now you’ll know why I’m not into that quite that soon. Or maybe a little something from Jen Haley? No clue.

Problem the third: A two year old and a five year old “family members” need birthday presents. I usually give books. Is that still ok? Or am I their lame “auntie”?

Problem the fourth: A person who is like a sister to me, someone I love exactly as I would family. You know how when you go to a city and forget to call your aunt because you just forget? That’s how she is to me. See? Family. She’s going through a rough patch. What do I get her that is blow her mind awesome. I’ve done flowers before but is there something else I’m missing?

I’m asking for all of this advice because as I go through my own severely troubled times, I want to give to others because that has always made me happy. The post receipt calls and/or emails that thank me for thinking of them; that always does my heart good. And right now my heart could use some good.

I’m pretty sure that I mentioned that I recently moved or at least if you follow me on Twitter you’ll know that I moved and I hated every mother fucking minute of it. Including the part where it rained and I got strep throat during my mandatory vacation time. And then I went back to work and everyone asked what I did during vacation and I gave them the finger and told them to bite me. Then hacked up a lung at their feet. 

The end. 

Anyway I’m planning a housewarming party to celebrate many things like Very Big Decision Making and to show off my design aesthetics. Of course there is nothing actually finished yet but I do have fabulous ideas and even my mother liked my ideas. 

Yesterday I was telling one of my coworkers that I am planning a housewarming party and that it would be in the beginning of October so I had time to paint and properly arrange my matching tea kettle and tea cups. I was telling her that I still need towels to go with the bathroom and about my new duvet and shams from Anthropologie. She suggested that I register for my housewarming party and people would know what to bring me. Something other than a case of Oxford Landing GSM (*cough, cough*). 

I laughed at first because who does that? It’s so selfish to register for a housewarming party and isn’t it a bit weird. But the more I thought about it the more my mind changed and once again I brought it up to my mother and she agreed with my coworker; that I can register and people do actually do that. I told my mother about my BlogTalkRadio pre-interview blurb where it was announced that I didn’t want a husband or children. So since according to them I will never ever have another opportunity to register for gifts then I should take this opportunity and run with it, right? RIGHT?  

But what would Emily Post think about my registering for navy blue Ralph Lauren towels? Brilliant or tacky?

How about starting this year over? Or maybe using the last two months of extraordinary heartache as a jumping off point for bettering myself and my surroundings? Or maybe I’ll just enjoy some Malbec and give The Universe the middle finger.

Tomorrow we’ll have some champagne and begin again but the year will be a little rough around the edges.

I will start this off by saying that I – like many others – have been sucked into Momversation. Whether you like it or not or cannot stand any of the panelists, there is some interesting commentary that I am obviously not the main demographic for but hey, whatever, I also read mommy blogs and nod emphatically when making the decision for Steve over Joe as the host for Blue’s Clues. I’ve never commented despite sometimes strong opinions from the peanut gallery because it’s a comfort thing: I am not a mom and so I try not to push myself into obviously ‘Mom Only’ conversations. I can comment on marketing strategies and how companies approach moms because it seems pretty similar for all bloggers but when it comes to breast vs. the bottle or sex after baby? No fucking clue. The most recent episode I viewed I found courtesy of Maggie Mason. It was on how the female body changes after baby. Which great. Having seen some of these panelists in person I can unequivocally say that MANY women look better after (hell, even during) baby than I could ever hope to look in my life. Fine. Awesome. But then there was this bit that I found so irritating. So grating. So belittling towards people who have not had children because we will never understand anything ever in life until we have children. See also: Your life is unfulfilled until you have a child. You don’t know what love is until you have a child. You don’t know how to be self-less until you have a child. I also hear that chocolate tastes better, all brownies have pot in them and it rains whiskey. But ONLY if you have had children.

One of the moms – Mindy Roberts – said something that made everything inside of me sink because my God, why can’t women just be women and stop comparing and trying to make other women feel small. Or at least that’s how it felt to me when she said, “…what you were before you had a baby? You were a girl. And now you’re a woman”. And ooh, just suck me in the gut with another implication of how much more new and improved a female becomes once she has given birth. So screw you childless people whether it by choice, circumstance or general inability to get pregnant. Also you chicks who adopted because you felt it was the right thing to do? FAIL. NOT A WOMAN. But if by the grace of Mother Nature you are blessed with giving birth naturally then I hearby dub you an actual woman with super human powers.

I’m not just annoyed by the tone but I’m also hurt and angry and kind of pissed off that I lost my virginity AND got my period AND got boobs AND started a career and I’m still just a little girl. Damn it.

*A link to the actual Momversation episode*

I closed comments on this post because of the ire and the martyrism but I am re-opening. Because I LOVE provacative discourse. And this has been such a great conversation despite the childish behavior of a minority.

I’m spending the next few weeks here, there and everywhere. With people who will hopefully motivate me and propel me. By the end of March I envision myself as The Little Helicopter That Could. But apropos of this and all other sundry thoughts of a casual Sunday morning, I ask you this: If you could live anywhere, where would that be? Don’t say Fiji or Belize or something based on warmth and the proportion of hot naked men to women, but based on the real things. Things like friends, family, job opportunities, etc. I’ll go first and in no particular order:

1) Northern California

2) Austin

3) Washington, DC

Scene: Basement laundry area. I’m waiting for two dryers to become available so I can put my stuff in. Earlier, I had waited 20 minutes to get to the washer before the owner of said clothes in the washer sauntered down. I only felt slightly bad but hey, people do it all the time – it’s happened to me – it happens to everyone. Annoying? Yes. But teaches you to get your ass downstairs in time.

The drying cycle ends and I have no pants for later. I open the door.

Two girls walk down. Blondie is carrying the pint sized brunette on her back.

Brunette (not looking at me): Could you really please not do that…

Me (looking right at her): Um, your stuff had been done. I was waiting and people are behind me waiting for dryers as well…

B (still avoiding eye contact) (possibly because I’m so menacing): Just don’t do that. It’s gross.

Me (guffaw): I’m so sorry to have put my germy hands on your clean clothing.

B: Ugh. It’s just RUDE. We knew it was you before so don’t do it.

Me: It wasn’t a secret!

B: …

Brunette and Blondie leaves while nary a word comes from Blondie’s mouth. Brunette is still huffing and puffing wanting to blow my condo down. She walks away.

Me: Sorry once again! I’M OFF TO BLEACH MY HANDS NOW!

I’ve lived quite a bit of time in buildings with public washers/dryers and even when I had a unit in my actual apartment, my roommate and I would take out each others things as they finished because it’s rude to monopolize the laundry area when it’s pretty clear that there are others who are waiting to use it. I’ve forgotten to remove my clothing multiple times and each time someone else has removed it for me. Yeah the first time I got huffy (to myself, of course) and then I realized that hmm, if I go down when my laundry is ready then maybe I can remove it myself thus keeping the line of laundering going smoothly. But then this half sized bitch comes down and has the audacity to not even be polite about it but then say “it’s gross”. And if she had just said, can you please not do that, I would’ve been like “Ok, whatever” and let it go but the added emphasis on how utterly GROSS it is to have someone’s hand on your stuff is what sent me into a tizzy.

This means that from now on, if I ever see her in the elevator, I’ll be sure not to touch the buttons for her or to hold the door open because I don’t want my disgusting germs infiltrating her pristine, immaculately clean space. P.S. For a girl so concerned with the cleanliness of others perhaps she should try a little Spray and Sash on some certain garments of clothing. Ahem.

If someone close to you – a family member, coworker, friend – came up to you and sincerely thought that Barack Obama is a Muslim terrorist; how would you respond? Would you feel it is your civic duty to set them straight or would you IGNORE, IGNORE, IGNORE and then drink?

Having a bout a hypomania often means starting one thing and promptly forgetting it because something else popped up in your face. I have a mind that wanders rampantly to all things simultaneously and at the end I kind of forget what I was thinking about prior because right now, while going through the paper mill known as my office, would be an excellent time to schedule that oil change. So during one of these mind excursions I went from thinking about returning phone calls to taking a trip to Texas this spring and how I would want to rent a car while there because I’ll be visiting friends who live way the hell out underneath an oil derrick or something and lo perhaps NOW is a good time to think about MARCH. Then I realized that by spring I won’t have to save an extra $750 to rent a car for 13 hours because I won’t have to worry about extraneous fees for losing a limb or returning the car minus a mile’s worth of gas or being under the age of 25 thereby making me responsible enough to have a child and go to war but not responsible enough to drive a car 20 miles. So! In the middle of that I counted down the days until my 25th birthday (38! I would like a wide angle lens, pearls and new car insurance) and then promptly came to the conclusion that after 25 life is pretty much a downer. I mean, you get these awesome birthdays that involve voting and drinking and then you get to rent a car without Hertz coming after you with a taser and after that there’s death and awesome bills to pay and car insurance. Met life: The gift that keeps on giving.

In the middle of writing all of this, my mother stopped by to say hello. We started discussing the economy and what would happen to my assets and 401(K) and then she decided that now would be the perfect time to remind me that I don’t get to retire for another 35-40 years. And now I’m banging my head on the desk and hoping that if I run around the parking lot naked someone will miraculously hit me with their Nissan. It’s all just death and taxes from here, isn’t it?

Aaaaand to continue with this hypomania induced nonsensical rambling about how awful and horrible it is to be an adult and have to be living and breathing and healthy while your checking account is about as dry as the Sahara in July; here is the PMSbuddy (courtesy of Sweetney’s linkblog). Which might be one of the most brilliant ideas ever especially since it seems that The Universe is PMSing as we speak hence the reason for why I’m bemoaning being forced to be alive after the age of 25 and for why I saw some woman lose her shit at the grocery store yesterday.

Not only do I have the gift of ‘creative whining’ but I was also bestowed the gift of being really god damn annoying. I used to recoil and cry when my peers would announce just how fucking annoying I could be but I have since gone on to A) Not give a shit and B) Accept it as one of those quirky things about me that people will just have to deal with. I ask you now to picture an inquisitive yet precocious five year old trapped in a 24 year old’s body. That right there is what its like to be friends with me.

For the last several weeks I have been using my God given talent of annoying to ask Metalia if she’s had a baby yet*. And if she hasn’t had a baby yet, is it going to come out right now? How about now? How about maybe later today? I’m thinking that there are moments when she wishes she could throw something very hard and very heavy from her perch in Manhattan all the way Upstate. But instead of lobbing 15 lbs bricks at my head from 200 miles away, she’s sweet and kind and allows me to abuse technology by asking whether or not she is having a baby right this very second since she isn’t sitting at her computer. God forbid she go to Target or get a pedicure without sending me a missive with her daily itinerary.

Not only am I pain in the ass annoying but I seem to be a bit of a stalker. She is the first good friend of mine to have a baby. Like ever. So she bears with me and finds my awkward and TMI suggestions/questions to be endearing. Sometimes the precocious five year old can be cute! When you’re not contemplating cementing their jaw shut. Because of her, I have realized that I cannot ever have children because the waiting, my God, the waiting. I am impatient and after all that waiting I would like to be done. The other night we were discussing The Waiting and how painful it is and why the hell can’t this be over and mind you this was ME, the totally not pregnant one talking (Note: Babysitting is the best form of birth control ever), when I suddenly announced “This sucks, I’m going to find more wine” because the fucking waiting. I don’t know how you people do it over and over (and possibly over and over) again.

That said as a very childless person with 896 friends that are due to have an actual, live person come out of them this year (MIND BLOWING! by the way) I would like to know what a non-parent should do while waiting for friends or family to have that damn baby already. Though I say it much nicer than “have that damn baby already”, just so we’re all clear that I am not annoying, a stalker and rude. Thus far the only things Metalia and I have come up with are (Clearly we have a lot of free time. We’re just eating all the free time up in the world. Soon we’ll be laying around in cabanas in Cabo with all of our FREE TIME):

1) Become eminently quotable
2) Make up t-shirt slogans for your hypothetical café press shop
3) Create a virtual store where people can buy snippets of IM conversations because hoo boy! We are funny.
4) Drink (me)
5) Blog (both of us)
6) Discuss blogging about conversations about blogging (oooh meta)

*The one day that I did NOT ask if she had a baby yet, she has a baby and totally catches me off guard. I knew it would be a girl but I didn’t think about how gorgeous she would be. I’ve already purchased dresses with pockets, she will never have to experience life without them.