A New Wrench & A New Set of Manhood


Today, Bryan and I went to the infamous Home Depot to go through the ritualistic ‘changing of license plates’…making us feel like official Texans (even after all these years). I reference Home Depot as ‘infamous’ because I have yet to leave the establishment without a bizarre occurrence yet. The last time I was there, I had unknowingly split my drawers hopping into my brothers F150 and proceeded to wander throughout the store looking for an outlet adapter that most every employee volunteered to help me find.

Anyhow, today I was armed with solid bottoms and a boyfriend. We were searching out a wrench with which to unscrew the plates. Bryan started to look at the tools, I went to find a cheerful employee sporting an orange apron. What I found instead was a cheerful employee helping a dad and his two kids. So I stalked the guy to wait for assistance. The dad was a burly man- beer belly, cigarette-stained voice, Tevas & cotton athletic shorts. He is far more inquisitive about our search than the employee himself, and offers to show us ‘exactly what we need.’
While leading us there, he proceeds to explain to Bryan (in no light terms), that ‘every man needs a set of tools.’ We assume he has removed the both of us from this category since Bryan is wearing a Burberry polo and Cole Haan loafers. After about a five minute tutorial of all the power equipment you could dream of (including what instruments are needed to fix a coffee table, what instruments are needed to fix a car yourself), he finally landed on the relevant supplies. Had it not been so hysterical and domineering, I would have taken this notion as emasculating to Bryan, condescending at the least. After surveying our ‘three options,’ we picked the medium-priced wrench, just as the man walk away declaring very loudly that he was not, in fact, a Home Depot employee, and that he instead sold time shares for a living.
We get to the car. He’s there. Smoking outside his Ford truck and advising Bryan that his Honda was a POS and that some day he would quit buying ‘those Japanese cars.’ He instructed us to open the package, and walked Bryan through the whole transition while I sat by idly. Comments such as ‘things like this will make the wife happy,’ and ‘every man should know this…’ were in abundance. As he drove away I looked at Bryan and said ‘I think you just had your balls stapled to the wall.’
Maybe it is better to be a helpless female than a helpless male when you’re in HD territory.

My Crazy Bird




I have this bird named Missy.

I know. Who has a bird for a pet? Let’s rewind this. Who has a bird for a pet that is supposed to live 25 years?
I love this bird like she is my little baby. She is so awkward, so fussy, so impeccably me that sometimes I find I should just start telling people about her little life instead of bashfully ignoring her presence. She’s needy, she likes routines, she runs around on the floor like a maniac, she poops every 15 minutes, the feathers on her head are always a mess, she almost always looks stressed out, she waddles, she likes men more than women, taller rather than shorter, she grinds her beak a lot, she absolutely hates going to the vet, she doesn’t like the confines of her cage, she performs mating rituals a couple times a week, she cleans herself in the shower, she sleeps on one leg with her head tucked into her wing, she’s endlessly inquisitive, and she’ll eat anything you put in front of her…except ants.
We just moved into our new apartment- Missy & I. She sits in her crowned cage at the end of the kitchen island, furthest from my room and the back door. The other night, I was reading in my room and heard a tiny pitter-patter from the countertop; I looked up to see her little frame curiously cocking her head towards the light spilling out of my room. I laughed and brought her in when I realized she needs a friend, too.
She is so predictable. She freaks out every time I start the brand new computerized washer & dryer ….bracing herself with one foot on the branch & the other against the side of the cage. This is the stance of a bird who is in serious peril. Today, Bryan threw a fruit snack into her cage from about 15 feet away. She immediately became ‘skinny’ and grew a mohawk. Later I return from the pool to find that my bird has purple ‘gummy’ all over her beak…like I won’t know she attacked the fruit snack. And I love watching her desperately try to walk across the carpet towards me when there are ants…you would think they were dragons.┬á
As crazy as she is, I think we get each other.

//www.youtube.com/get_player

Date A Theta


I met Bryan in September of my last semester of college, just when I had given up on love. See, I had had my fair share of dating on-campus, sometimes double-booking my weekends and making the most of the fabulous Mexi dinners Texas had to offer.

On one particular ladies-only afternoons, I was chatting with the newest freshman additions to my prided sorority. True to form, I was recounting the hundreds of memories that had plagued my dating scene over the past three and a half years–essentially passing on my best advice about the male population on campus and assuring everyone that they couldn’t have it any worse…

One such member suggested that her brother would be the perfect companion for me.
Day 1: I met Bryan in the TCU Rec center parking lot during Homecoming Weekend. We went to Fuzzy’s. He got a schooner and I got a Diet Coke.
Day 2: Bryan picked me up for the first outing and we headed downtown to a joint called ‘The Library.’ I wore a pair of shoes I found out he later hated and the designer of said shoes would eventually become my future employer. He brought along tidy Nick, his roommate.
Day 3: I attended a local high school football game with my new beau. We got lost and missed a significant part of the game. I debated over a million outfits, having not been to a high school game in a few years..finally settling on a white tee-shirt and jeans.
Day 3, 4, & 5: He picked me up wearing an Entourage shirt. We sat on the couch and watched Entourage. I had never heard of this show before; I was becoming disenchanted.
About 30 days in between: I disappeared like it was my job. I was super busy, it’s true. But definitely not as busy as I made myself appear–I didn’t have time to date around anymore, I was preparing to move to New York City.
After 30 days: I run into Bryan, his sister, and his other sister who has just flown in from LA. The bunch shows up for the sorority initiation and I find myself running into this man everywhere. His other sister encourages him to try, try again, and he asks me to go to lunch the following week.
Mid-November: I am sitting at Charleston’s restaurant having lunch with Bryan . I am pleasantly surprised to not be sitting on-campus eating lunch off of my meal card, which is what I had resolved to be the concept of ‘dating a TCU student.’ I laugh, I smile, I realize that this guy is awesome.
Late November: I am busy trying to retract all the misconceptions about this man that I had fostered, both inside my head and to my closest group of life-cheerleaders.
Thanksgiving: I ask Bryan for a ride to the bus-stop that will take me to the airport. He refuses and instead drives me to the airport. I consider that he might have a crush on me. I talk to him every night over the holiday break for two hours. When my flight is delayed two hours, he returns to the airport for the second time that day to fetch me. I know he likes me because I know how much I hate trips to the airport.
That Sunday night: He wheels my luggage in, watches me unpack like a maniac…which is my ritual after traveling and he has agreed to accept this. He kisses me. He accepts me for the quirks I have and doesn’t look like he’s leaving anytime soon.
And he hasn’t ­čÖé

Employee ID # 6997431


I used to work for Nordstrom, and I loved it. I spent many hours walking the same circuit around merchandise that I had memorized by size, price, and placement. The team I worked with was the kind of family that makes you laugh so hard you cry. While there, I devised a few ideas of what I would do if I were uninhibited. Well, I really am….

1. Underneath the ‘point of sale cashier,’ there is a trash bin that fits perfectly into a small cubby. We typically tossed old receipts, used Sonic happy hour cups, etc in this receptacle. I vote the best use of space would be one employee stocking themselves inside the space and waiting patiently until a coworker walks up to check a customer out at the register. This would be the perfect time to reach your hands outward and grab their legs.
2. The entire storefront is loaded with mirror-paned rectangular columns, some of which included outlets. Definitely a prime location to pull up a chair and blow dry my wet hair before the closing shift started, no?
3. The counter space is vast and two-tiered. I’ve always imagined performing the spectacle entitled ‘the splits’ on top of the upper-tier while people are perusing the merchandise.
4. The round racks of clothing have inspired a plethora of ideas. Apart from hiding away inside of them, I’ve always wanted to run as fast as I can pushing an entire reem of clothing out into the mall (essentially ‘temporarily stealing’ for kicks).
5. Sometimes I felt ill-dressed for a day of work (either freezing, burning, or just plain ridiculous). I never saw the problem with someone dressing from head to toe in floor merchandise and then just returning it to the hangars at the end of the day…
6. The dressing rooms most commonly used include the numbers ’11’ and ‘1’…they are only accessible via ’employee key’. During any lunch break, I’ve considered slipping into the ‘hot zones’ and seating myself on the corner bench, putting a paper towel on my lap, and dining. This would, of course, be most valuable when a fellow employee opens the door to let in an eager customer. Try explaining that weirdo.
7. Everyday at 9 pm sharp, the store closes and employees anxiously await the final 9:30 pm call, allowing them to empty the registers, log out of the system, and bring the money bags up to customer service. Some days were slower than others, and I would entertain the idea of emptying the cash drawers and┬ánonchalantly┬ábringing the money bags up at 3 pm…no big deal.
8. Sales people can be crazy. That’s why it’s awesome to mess with the ones who are the craziest (ie most territorial). I have always wondered what would be my fate if I ventured to other departments and/or floors and started asking ‘their’ customers if they needed any help finding anything.┬á
A few months after I left, some of my friends from work embarked on completing some of these tasks (number one displayed above). Nice to know you left a legacy!

“Halfway around the world…



…Lies the one thing that you want
Don’t know what your made of
Til the one thing that you want
To come in with the dawn and suddenly changes”

THE FRAY/JACKS MANNEQUIN IN DALLAS, TEXAS.

They nailed it; this summarizes my expedition entirely. I traveled my ‘halfway around the world’ to be and to do the things I always knew I wanted. By the time I actually left for the city, the only thing driving me there was that it had become a verbal commandment in my life scene; everyone knew that to be my identity. And the craziest thing? I knew just about the time that the plane landed in that city over a year ago that I would leave it.

What’s best is that I had little idea of what was about to happen to me. I was far too engulfed in dealing with a frozen bank account, lost luggage (interview suit and interviews pending), and feeling like a sausage sharing LL’s twin bed (with her still in it) for three weeks in a dorm room. The city has a way of trying to purge people who can’t make the cut, I’ve decided. And it certainly doesn’t go easy on those from the Midwest.

So I was that girl, in black & white at a Starbucks, paying for wi-fi by the minute, shooting out emails and resumes to any potential investor….and silently screeching when I realized I’d copied company A’s CV in the email I just sent to company B. I guess these are the ‘rookie’ mistakes that can take you off an industry map…which they very well may have.

Bryan bought me tickets to The Fray four months ago. It finally came- as a marker of freedom- and I listened to the lyrics from a different perspective (well-slept, unabused….you know, the healthy kind). Standing in the pit, giant ceiling fans above, men in sequin jackets, and fashionable girls running around everywhere in gladiator sandals made me realize why I really do love Dallas.

"Halfway around the world…



…Lies the one thing that you want
Don’t know what your made of
Til the one thing that you want
To come in with the dawn and suddenly changes”

THE FRAY/JACKS MANNEQUIN IN DALLAS, TEXAS.

They nailed it; this summarizes my expedition entirely. I traveled my ‘halfway around the world’ to be and to do the things I always knew I wanted. By the time I actually left for the city, the only thing driving me there was that it had become a verbal commandment in my life scene; everyone knew that to be my identity. And the craziest thing? I knew just about the time that the plane landed in that city over a year ago that I would leave it.

What’s best is that I had little idea of what was about to happen to me. I was far too engulfed in dealing with a frozen bank account, lost luggage (interview suit and interviews pending), and feeling like a sausage sharing LL’s twin bed (with her still in it) for three weeks in a dorm room. The city has a way of trying to purge people who can’t make the cut, I’ve decided. And it certainly doesn’t go easy on those from the Midwest.

So I was that girl, in black & white at a Starbucks, paying for wi-fi by the minute, shooting out emails and resumes to any potential investor….and silently screeching when I realized I’d copied company A’s CV in the email I just sent to company B. I guess these are the ‘rookie’ mistakes that can take you off an industry map…which they very well may have.

Bryan bought me tickets to The Fray four months ago. It finally came- as a marker of freedom- and I listened to the lyrics from a different perspective (well-slept, unabused….you know, the healthy kind). Standing in the pit, giant ceiling fans above, men in sequin jackets, and fashionable girls running around everywhere in gladiator sandals made me realize why I really do love Dallas.

10025


I left Manhattan the same way I came- too many bags for a single girl and one hail of a yellow taxi-cab. And though it was five in the morning, I saw the buzzing of life all around in a surreal way that solidifies my belief in the pulse of this city. It’s what I loved and what I hated- that people could never stop progressing forward. I said goodbye to all my ‘new’ friends who couldn’t yet understand how I could just walk away, but they will. I am a wanderer by nature and with it that brings a sort of uncertain contentment in the changes to come.

New York brings with it the elite, the ambitious go-getters, the valedictorians, the dreamers, the determined. It leaves little room for those who can’t make up their minds. I guess that’s why I fit in so precariously to the puzzle. Everything I fundamentally believed myself to be was in the heart of New York. I don’t look back, I take risks, I know where I am going, and I can take care of myself; you can’t be anything less in the city.

“On any person…New York will bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy…The residents of Manhattan are to a large extent those who have pulled up stakes somewhere and come to town seeking some greater or lesser grail. The capacity to make such dubious gifts is a mysterious quality of New York. It can destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him….”

-E.B. White

So how I got there and how I left are all that’s left to tell in the pages of this blog. All the crazy stories–the reality-show clips–that have made me into the melting pot of laughter I am today, are my gift of entertainment to those who read. I’m one of those people who can never quite get a handle on the seriousness of life because I’m too busy putting out ridiculous fires and trying to determine if my life is some sort of game show or not!

So this is my official farewell to New York, and my sincerest thanks to all of you who have encouraged me to write….my life!