Family Holidays are a minefield (part 2)

Sleeping arrangements

Oh here we go. I don't know about you, but in my family, big holidays involve everyone piling into one house for a few days. This means sleeping arrangements have a definite hierarchy, based on who you are in the family.

Mom gets a bed, grandma gets a bed, and whatever great-aunts or uncles show up get a bed. My married brother and his family get a room….

Ok the house is NOT that big and there are more people to go…so that's when we get a little um…creative.

Last year I slept in a closet. Seriously. They put an air mattress and a blanket in the upstairs closet with THROW PILLOWS. Because they RAN OUT OF REAL PILLOWS. I am at the bottom of the sleeping arrangement hierarchy. I don't even get a couch at Christmas. Single people in their 30s tend to get crammed into corners, wherever we fit.

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This year is different. My dad took pity on me and arranged for me to have a bedroom all to myself! I have to say, this has got to be one of the better Christmas presents I've ever been given. Ever. I now have a place to escape, write my dumb little blog post, and maybe even read a little. I even have a nice little view of the back yard!

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So last night I was so excited about my little Christmas bedroom oasis I went to bed way before anyone else. I just could not wait for downy, silent solitude. I read, fell asleep, so far so good.

I don't know what time I woke up. I first felt something against the back of my head, and somehow my feet were dangling off the bed and hitting the floor. What the…? I woke up enough to realize I was IN A BALL AT THE FOOT OF THE BED AND ABOUT TO FALL OUT. Now, I'm generally a fairly heavy sleeper, and I don't move around much, so this was pretty confusing. I rearranged myself in a normal position in the bed and fell back asleep.

It happened twice more before morning. Twice. More.

I came downstairs this morning and my parents asked how I slept. I said "great, but the weirdest thing happened…"

Before I could continue my dad started laughing. He said "you rolled to the bottom didn't you?"

Me: "YES. What the hell is wrong with that bed dad?"

Dad: "I put it on a slope. I like to sleep on a slope."

Me: "So I'm sleeping on a ramp? Why didn't you warn me?"

Dad: "I thought it would be funny not to."

Me: "Clearly."

Dad: "So can I have my room back?"

Me: "No way man. This was still the best night of Christmas sleep I've ever had."

The End. Merry Christmas. May you not have to sleep in a closet this year :)

Family holidays are a minefield

(part 1 of several parts because I'm just gonna keep doing them until I get bored with it)

OK so I need to preface this by saying I don't hate holidays. Any of them. Family holidays though, like Christmas, can be tough…ESPECIALLY if you're the family member with the weird color streaks in your hair and extra piercings. My family doesn't drink, swear, or stay single past 25. I guess I missed the memo.

They don't get me, but to their credit (I suppose) they try. Mostly though, that means they just hammer me with the same 5 questions over and over for a couple of days until I'm ready to either murder someone or come home.

My next blogposts offer nothing that's gonna change your life unless you really want to commiserate. It's just a lame question I'm stick of getting asked and how I'd respond to it if I could be honest with my family without making them cry. 

Here's the first question I'll inevitably get asked this year:

How's your love life?

The dreaded question my grandmother always asks me. The easy answer is "non existent"…of course then I have to face the look she gives me, like I've failed her or kicked a puppy. It's a true answer I guess, but too soft I think, for me. It would probably be the worst idea ever for me to look my grandma in the eyes and say "grandma, I'm an asshole. I'm an imperfect, snarky, train wreck. I frequently rocket between dancing and crying for no apparent reason. All I need is another imperfect, snarky asshole who accepts me for the mess that I am and can deal with my numerous flaws. So far, I haven't found him."

But it sucks to disappoint grandma. It feels like she's asking me "are you going to find someone to settle down with before I die?" I mean, no pressure or anything. In a lot of ways, I get it. By my age, my grandma had been married for years and had two children. So had almost all of her peers. My grandma had an unhappy marriage, but she stuck with him and worked to support a family and be a wife and mother. It's admirable and sad at the same time. Back then, people valued each other. It was a generation of gender roles and loyalty. People who got married stayed married. Now, it's completely different. Things like gender inequality are going away, but so is loyalty.

Harsh but true. People are dicks. Every last one of us. 

The rescue

I used to love whitewater. As a teenager I learned to read rapids and shoot them with the finesse of a professional. I even landed on the cover of a national magazine (Ok, ok don't be too impressed, it was Girl Scout Leader Weekly, but still) because of it. One of my most prized possessions was my whitewater canoe. It all represented a time of adrenaline, confidence and fun.

I've been in a kayak once. I probably don't have to tell you it's not the same as a canoe. It was cool though, and different. I felt no fear as I clumsily navigated a measly class 3 with my double-sided paddle. It was humbling - the skill set I had was nearly useless. I was enjoying trying to figure it all out though, but the thing about kayaks is they flip. It's easy to get out if you can't flip it back, you just need to have the presence of mind to pull the tab on your spray skirt while underwater. Inevitably I flipped my kayak, but when I did my head (yes, in a helmet) hit a rock and I guess the impact knocked me out. I was told later that the current dragged me about 20 feet before the guide got to me. I woke up on the bank with burning insides. I couldn't speak or think as I choked and wheezed and tried to catch breath. There was a crowd around me - it was the most surreal experience, and probably the most frightened I've ever been on my own behalf.

I've never gotten back into a kayak, but more than 15 years later, that guide and I are still friends. Why? Because people who know how to save each other are awesome people. People who will do so at the risk of themselves? There are no words. Those people deserve to run the world - they'd be good at it.

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In general though, I don't think it's fair to divide people into rescuers and rescuees. I'd rather just say there are people who care about each other and people who just care about themselves. If you're honest with yourself, you've probably spent time in both categories. I know I have. 

This is something I've been thinking about a lot, what it means to need help, ask for help, or give help. Take this next part for exactly what you paid for it, because I'm just trying to figure it all out.

I think sometimes there's a lot of pressure involved in helping others, and you can get so caught up in it you start to almost live through them. At that point it's exhausting and unhealthy. On the flip side, you can also easily fall into that victim mindset where you're constantly relying on the boost others can give you. As imperfect beings, we all need help at some point but we also need to know how to get ourselves going in a positive direction, no matter what.

Yes, helping each other and accepting help takes effort, but being dragged around by other people while you yourself are having issues is a whole other thing. 

Between October of 2011 and March of 2012 I experienced 2 layoffs, lost my apartment, and almost lost my mom. It was a rough time, and a time I never would have made it through without massive amounts of help, love and support from my friends. I was given a guest room to live in, freelance work so I could feed myself, and about a dozen shoulders to cry on. That support gave me the strength and momentum to get my shit together and get back on track. That's what good support does. It does not feed negativity or enable a victim mindset, it gives you strength. People who can help you find strength in yourself are the best kind of people. After being in one job and one apartment for 8 years, the transition I had to make was hard - many times I felt like it was a losing battle. So yes, I got myself together…but it was only because of my friends that I had the strength to do so. Friends don't let friends give up on themselves.

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When you get on a plane they tell you in a short pre-takeoff presentation that in an emergency, put your own oxygen on first. Help yourself so you can help the person next to you.

It's a numbers game….unless you don't know the difference between your and you're

Meeting people is tough. Meeting a decent guy to date? Tougher. The older I get, the less luck I seem to have meeting someone good. Men are like shopping carts - once you find one without a squeaky wheel, some other bitch is already pushing it around the store.

Sigh. I hate the dating game, and actually like being single. OK I don't mind being single. There are definitely ups and downs.

OK I'd really like to meet someone good and start a relationship.

I'll cut to the chase now. Sigh.

I joined an online dating site.

I have been in the world of online dating for 24 hours. I have received emails, comments on my photos, and something called "winks" which I believe to be first cousins with Facebook's "poking", one of the stupidest concepts ever if you are older than 12.

You can tell who's been on there a while with no luck because their profiles are decidedly grouchy and full of what other people are doing wrong. Yeah, because whining on a dating site is oh so attractive. I do see cause for frustration on some fronts though....but instead of putting them on my profile, I decided to list them here.

Even though I'm new to this, I have some suggestions for online daters....namely the men who's profiles I've been browsing. Follow these suggestions and you might have more luck guys:

• Don't post photos you took in the bathroom mirror. Bathrooms aren't sexy, and I can't see your face if your damn phone is in front of it. 

The reaction you aren't getting from a girl:

"Oh look at those abs! I don't mind the toilet and pile of laundry in the background as long as the rest of his face matches the 20% that isn't covered by his phone!"

• Use complete sentences, grammar and punctuation. I've been getting emails that are nothing but lower case streams of consciousness and it's ridiculous. "Ur" is not "your" and if you're trying to get me to go out with you, use a fucking capital letter once in a while. I'm not going to respond to something that looks ignorant and lazy that I'm going to have to decipher.

The reaction you aren't getting from a girl:

"Wow you must have really wanted to talk to me quickly, since what you've sent is a frantic jumble of letters! How sweet!"

• Don't post photos that a girl has clearly been cut out of. Are you serious? There are way too many of these. Way. Too. Many. I'd almost prefer the bathroom photo.

The reaction you soooooo aren't getting from a girl:

"She's probably his sister."

• Listing yourself as "athletic build" when clearly the only sport you've played in a while is beer pong. That's not a 6-pack honey, it's a keg. No matter what you look like you can find someone, but if you lie that's another ballgame. Lying ain't sexy.

The reaction you aren't getting from a girl:

Yeah I'm not gonna post a reaction for this one. Draw your own conclusions.

• Know how tall you actually are. It's common knowledge in the female world that men have a loose grasp on the concept of inches. I'm 6-0" and if I go on a date expecting a guy who's as tall or taller than me and he's actually more like 5-9"…..it's going to be awkward. My purse is big, but I can't fit a step stool in it.

The reaction you aren't getting from a girl:

"I have to sit down when we kiss but that's ok."

• Don't post a photo from 10 years ago. Just don't. None of us look like we did 10 years ago and that's ok. Misrepresenting yourself in any way just isn't going to get you anywhere.

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I may be a snob here, but I don't want to just have dates. I want to meet a genuine person who holds himself to a high standard of honesty and integrity. When you meet someone in person you put your best foot forward and try to make a good impression, and to me it's important to do that online too.

xo.

It's a recession, bitches

Or, why I decided to move.

Last week I came home from the office to find slid under my apartment door not one, but two notices that my lease renewal is coming up due. Nothing unusual about that this time of year, except when I opened the first letter something stood out.

Glared at me like the motherfucking Sun.

My rent is going up $230 A MONTH.

I sat and stared at the paper in disbelief. $230? What the hell are they thinking? I live in a one bedroom with nothing nearby but the airport and the highway and they want to charge me more than a condo uptown?

Oh but it gets better.

The second letter offered what I know these people see as tasty options. First, if I renew I get an undisclosed gift from the office staff….my guess is farts in a jar. Second, I have the option to move to another apartment in the complex for only $150 more than I pay now. Oh how lovely.

Also the letters I was given had two different move-out dates. Obviously I'm dealing with some brilliant minds here.

Lucky me.

So notice to vacate needs to be presented to the leasing office in writing. I thought I'd share mine with you.

*ahem*

Dear Leasing Office Manager,

I have received notice that my lease is up for renewal in March. Thank you for your kind offer to stay, but I'm afraid I must decline and remain living in the real world where people have budgets and can't just pull money to pay a 30% rent increase out of their asses.

Don't get me wrong, your letter was very nice. Reminding me that you have a fitness center and a pool like every other apartment complex in the whole damn world was definitely a selling point. Should I mention the gym smells like an Occupy campsite in a rainstorm? You may want to check on that. Mold is a bitch to get out of cheap-ass carpet. Also, the free Wi-fi lobby for people who can't afford internet in their own apartment because you've jacked the rent up was a nice touch. I hope it's the size of Carlsbad Caverns.

I should also mention the things in my apartment that I've reported as needing maintenance, but your lovely staff just hasn't quite been able to fit into their busy schedule:

• The disposal in the kitchen: broken since November.
• The air conditioning: broken 6 or 7 times last summer, but was never quite fixed. Oopsie on your part, though I did enjoy the dump your maintenance goon took in MY bathroom. He was so considerate to turn on the fan and open a window.
• Lights burnt out in the bedroom closet, the bathroom (both above the sink and the ceiling) porch, hallway, and half the kitchen.
• The kitchen faucet…broken only recently, but why bother calling really? At this point turning on my sink with pliers takes less effort than talking to you nice people.

In case you haven't guessed by now, I'm moving the fuck out. Thanks for making my living situation over the past 8 years wonderfully mediocre.

Thanks,
Merissa

The Sound of Silence...zombies…and Led Zeppelin

Or - everyone is still on vacation but me.

Today I am the only person at work. I have nothing work-related to do. Nothing. It's quiet and cold and I can hear my hair growing, so today has definitely been one of those days where it pays to be able to amuse myself.

Hell, I even had extra energy because I got up early and drug my overly curvy ass to the gym before work. In the FREEZING COLD. So here, in a nutshell, was my day.

7:45am
Arrive at the gym. Sit in the locker room for 10 full minutes, coat on, waiting to thaw.

Go to an elliptical, set it for hills, 15 minutes, on level 8….which I ended up bumping down to level 5 after the first two minutes.

Get water.

Aimlessly wander around…eventually completing a full lap around the machines, do one set of assisted pull-ups.

Get water.

Motivate to do one set each of a couple of machines that look like they actually DO belong in a gym and not a Saw movie.

Get water.

Go to locker room, making sure to squeeze butt while walking, as an attempt to trick myself into thinking I'm exercising.

Shower, get ready for work.

9am (OK who am I kidding…9:15am):
Arrive at work. Sit in cubicle, coat on, for 20 minutes, staring at blank computer screen.

Get coffee. Loudly curse the person who has made a pot of decaf and not regular. Decaf coffee is the work of Vader, or possibly one of his minions.

Turn on computer. I still have my coat on….and add a blanket over my legs. At this point I am still convinced I will die of hypothermia, mostly because there is no one here to rescue me from such a fate by TURNING UP THE DAMN HEAT.

Check all three emails, Etsy page, bank account, Facebook and Twitter.

Do a lap around my floor, looking for humans.

11am:
I have cranked Zeppelin and am singing Misty Mountain Hop in my very best raspy rocker voice. An intern from the other side of the floor comes and asks me to please stop it. I ask him if he's the one who made the decaf coffee. He said no so I let him go unscathed.

I decide to do some online shopping for much needed bras and panties….taking full advantage of the fact that no one is around to see my screen.

Also by this point, I have to pee like a racehorse but don't want to unwrap from coat and blanket. Bah.

12:30pm:
I have ordered two bras, today's Livingsocial deal and some gourmet ketchup (don't judge me, it was on sale…also I shouldn't shop hungry) and am trying to decide whether or not I want to brave the cold for lunch.

I opt for no. Screw the cold, I'll eat here….a decision I immediately regret after completely hating the Lean Cuisine I had packed for myself.

2pm:
Because of lackluster gymming this morning, I decide to do 3 sets each of squats, dips, lunges and push-ups….and the effort leaves me panting on the floor and wondering how often they vacuum here.

Other than the intern, I still have yet to interact with any humans.

It's like a friggin zombie movie here, and deathly quiet. In fact, I take a moment out of what is turning into an extremely busy day to look outside for the decaying undead. No such luck.

Then I spend the next 20 minutes looking for my shoe, which I had kicked off to exercise….

3pm:
I am wrapped in my Snuggie and my blanket and wondering if we've hit some kind of freaky indoor ice age. I decide to pay bills like the responsible grownup that I am. I also renew my car registration, only 3 days late. Go me!

I check outside again for zombies. I still don't see any. They must be hiding.

4pm:
Don't mind me, just alternating between writing this blog post and checking outside for zombies. I have decided that my best course of action when they get here is to hook my staplers together to make staple-chucks. I'm a lot like the MacGyver of killin' zombies.

Or perhaps I should use my zombie whispering skills and make hoardes of undead my minions….keeping a New Year's resolution for once.

It's 4:45 now and I'm all caught up with myself.
Also I'm exhausted…that's probably a part of the hypothermia setting in.

Stay warm, folks. I'm outta here.

2011 can suck it

Yeah, that's right. I know I'm not alone in this. I know that this year my blog posts have attained the rarity of Haley's Comet, but I felt I needed to give 2011 one last great big verbal middle finger.

How am I gonna do that? By not talking about 2011.

I thought it would be more fun to move forward and share my list of resolutions for the new year, because I've decided this year will be the year of Merissa.

Resolutions for 2012: failure not an option on these, so buckle up.

#1 Lose 15 lbs.
Ok, ok I know what you're thinking….this is EVERYBODY'S resolution, every year, always. The thing is, I don't have a lot of trophy years left and I need to be able to make the best of 2012 by showing as much non-muffin-top skin as possible.

#2 Write a zombie-themed cookbook.
I feel this is a relatively untapped market. Why not combine my love of baking with my love of the decaying undead? It makes perfect sense to me…and I have a few ideas involving raspberry jam….

#3 Get a tan.
There has to be a way for me to do this. I'm sick of camera flashes reflecting off my face, making me look like a white pancake with eyes. I also have accepted that waiting for my freckles to connect is something I should completely give up on.

#4 Punch Katy Perry in the face.
I don't need to explain this one, and you know you want in on it. She's the only one who's heard that damn "Firework" song more than we have and she still thinks she's hot shit.

#5 Go to Pawn Stars.
Every time I watch that show I start wandering around my apartment looking for treasure. So far I have unearthed no Civil War firearms or Faberge brooches, but I remain optimistic. I did find a bugle in my closet that I predict to be worth almost $7. Also, I'd like to have a grouch-off with the Old Man.

#6 Read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.
Dude. Maybe the 3rd try is the charm. Reading that book is the mental equivalent of running through 3 feet of mud….but I can't let it beat me….not in 2012, bitch.

#7 Assemble those IKEA shelves I bought 2 years ago.
If you're laughing at this one, I dare you to come put these things together. I double dog dare you.

#8 Not get pregnant.
This is my standby resolution every year. In fact, I pop a couple of extra birth control pills into my mouth like tic-tacs every time I'm around someones screaming/wiggling/leaking bundle of joy. Also, I've corked my vagina. No tiny gingers for me (at least right now) thanks. I can't even keep a plant alive...

#9 Gain control of an army of Zombie minions.
It's best if you don't ask me why on this one…really better if you don't know.

#10 Get a tattoo.
I was gonna get a dragon, but I hear some other bitch did that already.

So that's my 2012 plan. Notice I didn't put any lame crap like "be more patient with my mother" or "stop putting peanut butter under my neighbor's doorknob" because let's face it, that junk just won't happen.

No matter what happened in 2011, I have a lot of hope that 2012 will be better. I'm sure there will be high points and low ones, but as long as I get to punch Katy Perry and control a horde of zombie minions I should be just fine.

Happy New Year everyone!