Although not it's true intention, Labor Day has become the unofficial "goodbye to summer" day, and the weather in Chicago today agrees. Most people look back on summer overcome with the general mood of those Sarah Mclachlan ASPCA commercials. I, on the other hand, think back to days when my bra was like a Slip'N Slide or when my fingers swelled to the size of bratwurst, and gladly wave goodbye.
Don't get me wrong, I love sitting on the beach, for about 10 minutes, and having my sunglasses on when I didn't have time to do my eye makeup before work. But the humidity poofs my hair, you can't walk more than 5 minutes without needing another shower, and the nice "relaxing" beaches are filled with children who repeatedly shovel sand directly on to your lap despite multiple scoldings from both you and his mother (I'm talking about you you little Air and Water Show bastard)!
I happily bid it farewell to bathing suits riding up my ass for curling up in my Chicago Bears hoodie with a good beer and watching my favorite shows return to television. I will blissfully trade in my weird tan lines in celebration of being only one shade of my natural whiteness and gladly enjoy an evening of a cool light breeze and a hot tea on the patio.
I can't wait for the leaves to turn every friendly shade of red, brown and gold and feel them crunch below my feet as I take my boots out of retirement for another season. I'm positively giddy at the chance to cheer (most likely in vain) for the Bears from some dive bar with friends all wrapped up in jerseys and scarves.
They say that Spring is the season of love but I would have to make the case for Fall, when the air is fresh and crisp and the holidays are just around the corner. There's no big festival. event, or vacation to drag you out into the world. Everything simply slows down, and you grab your favorite blanket, person, animal (or any combination of the three) and spend an evening in, just content to be still.
Let the hibernation begin!
Balls
September 2, 2013
August 26, 2013
Are You Kidding Me?
In response to numerous people (mostly parents) about Miley Cyrus' performance on the VMA's last night:
1. If you allow YOUR young children to watch MTV and then expect it to be Hannah Montana, you're an idiot. YOU are responsible for what you and your children watch, not the media. You were not watching Sprout at 6am on a Saturday. Take some personal responsibility and use your common sense.
2. Miley Cyrus hasn't been the sparkling little Disney princess Hannah Montana in years. People change, they make mistakes,they get photographed smoking pot or awkwardly attempt to twerk with Robin Thicke. It's called growing up. Give her a break.
3. I knew a lot of you when you were her age, which is 20 by the way, and trust me, you weren't all bathed in white robes and rosary beads while respecting authority and smiling nicely.
Now, did I enjoy her performance? No. I found it awkward, without merit or rhythm and don't ever need to see a foam finger again. However it is not the media's responsibility to censor things to YOUR standards for YOUR family.
"But you don't have kids, Balls, you don't understand". No, I don't have kids, but I do have at least half a brain. I guaran-damn-tee you that when I do have kids and they are under the age of...well, late puberty... they wouldn't be watching the VMA's or any other trash found on MTV under my roof.
Don't like it? Think it may not be suitable for your 5 year old? Don't freaking watch it and go find something that actually matters to complain about.
Oh, and I forgot about one more.
4. If you were watching the VMAs instead of Breaking Bad, you're automatically someone I can't associate with. That is all.
Happy Monday,
Balls
1. If you allow YOUR young children to watch MTV and then expect it to be Hannah Montana, you're an idiot. YOU are responsible for what you and your children watch, not the media. You were not watching Sprout at 6am on a Saturday. Take some personal responsibility and use your common sense.
2. Miley Cyrus hasn't been the sparkling little Disney princess Hannah Montana in years. People change, they make mistakes,they get photographed smoking pot or awkwardly attempt to twerk with Robin Thicke. It's called growing up. Give her a break.
3. I knew a lot of you when you were her age, which is 20 by the way, and trust me, you weren't all bathed in white robes and rosary beads while respecting authority and smiling nicely.
Now, did I enjoy her performance? No. I found it awkward, without merit or rhythm and don't ever need to see a foam finger again. However it is not the media's responsibility to censor things to YOUR standards for YOUR family.
"But you don't have kids, Balls, you don't understand". No, I don't have kids, but I do have at least half a brain. I guaran-damn-tee you that when I do have kids and they are under the age of...well, late puberty... they wouldn't be watching the VMA's or any other trash found on MTV under my roof.
Don't like it? Think it may not be suitable for your 5 year old? Don't freaking watch it and go find something that actually matters to complain about.
Oh, and I forgot about one more.
4. If you were watching the VMAs instead of Breaking Bad, you're automatically someone I can't associate with. That is all.
Happy Monday,
Balls
August 21, 2013
I Quit
It's what I do.
I'm passionate, and strong willed, and I have such great drive. Unfortunately those ideas and dreams are like fireworks rather than fires lit under my ass. They aren't even like the good fireworks on the 4th of July while "God Bless America" is playing. My fireworks are like sparklers lit while listening to the sounds of children crying "look at me!".
I like to say it's part of my charm or my childlike enthusiasm for life. But it's not. It's flighty and frustrating for everyone. Myself included. I make plans and then lose enthusiasm for them by the time they come around. I make promises to friends I don't keep. I forget to return calls or texts or follow up on that lunch date with a long lost someone.
I can't even commit to things I enjoy. Writing is one of those things, volunteering is one of those things, volleyball is another and possibly the only thing in the past year I stuck to for any length of time (until my shoulder crapped out on me).
I made the promise to myself almost a year ago to do a list of 30 things before I turned 30. I didn't even go back before starting this post to see how many I actually completed and I'm not going to fool myself into adding one more and making it a 31 things to do before I turn 31. I'm just going to let it be.
There is no major revelation coming at the end of this post. No big Ah Ha! moment. Just a post to inspire myself, or guilt myself, into being a better person. A long rambling list of nothingness lighting a sparkler and hoping it becomes the fuse to some amazing fireworks.
Goodnight and wish me luck!
Balls
I'm passionate, and strong willed, and I have such great drive. Unfortunately those ideas and dreams are like fireworks rather than fires lit under my ass. They aren't even like the good fireworks on the 4th of July while "God Bless America" is playing. My fireworks are like sparklers lit while listening to the sounds of children crying "look at me!".
I like to say it's part of my charm or my childlike enthusiasm for life. But it's not. It's flighty and frustrating for everyone. Myself included. I make plans and then lose enthusiasm for them by the time they come around. I make promises to friends I don't keep. I forget to return calls or texts or follow up on that lunch date with a long lost someone.
I can't even commit to things I enjoy. Writing is one of those things, volunteering is one of those things, volleyball is another and possibly the only thing in the past year I stuck to for any length of time (until my shoulder crapped out on me).
I made the promise to myself almost a year ago to do a list of 30 things before I turned 30. I didn't even go back before starting this post to see how many I actually completed and I'm not going to fool myself into adding one more and making it a 31 things to do before I turn 31. I'm just going to let it be.
There is no major revelation coming at the end of this post. No big Ah Ha! moment. Just a post to inspire myself, or guilt myself, into being a better person. A long rambling list of nothingness lighting a sparkler and hoping it becomes the fuse to some amazing fireworks.
Goodnight and wish me luck!
Balls
January 27, 2013
Bringing Sexy Back
Over the past few weeks I've been attempting to get my life in order. I'm back on Weight Watchers after gaining a ridiculous amount of my weight back during the holidays, I'm taking my grant writing certificate class, and I've taken some dance classes in an attempt to get my sexy back. (I lost it a while ago and it hasn't been taking my calls).
First it was pole dancing which, if you read my previous post, you know did not go well. Then it was a Zumba and a Latin Groove class. I grew up in New Mexico, salsa is in my blood and on my chips. How hard could it be? Well let's just say I wasn't exactly Elaine from Seinfeld, but I was no Channing Tatum either.
MMMMM....Channing Tatum....
What was I talking about?
Oh yeah, so I've been taking classes, kicking asses and just generally rocking 2013 so far. Part of this was to join a volleyball team. I played in middle school and high school and gave it up in college because I wanted to focus on acting; which I then gave up to save the world by working for zero money at a nonprofit. Smart.
I've missed volleyball, and I'm good at it. Those of you who know me know I don't compliment myself, nor do I appreciate it when others do, so for me to say I'm good at volleyball is kind of big deal. It's the truth. It's been 12 years since I played it competitively and this is the first time I've joined an intermediate team rather than a recreational level team. I wish I had done it sooner because it feels damn good. It's good volleyball and it's challenging. It's not like it was then, because those spandex just don't fit like they used to, but it is making me feel great.
I have never felt sexier. I've been wasting my time dancing and losing weight and all these other things that are not me. Sure they are fun, and I'll continue to do them, but I forgot what an amazing feeling it is to block a strong hitter, or serve so hard that no one could return it. I had somehow blocked out how amazing it feels to walk home with a layer of skin missing off of my knees, and my arms bright red. I cannot accurately describe the feeling inside of my during a volleyball game. I feel powerful, in my element, and that is sexy.
I guess the whole point of this post (other than looking at Channing Tatum... go ahead, scroll up and take another gander...I'll wait...) is just to inspire others to find their sexy in something they are good at and find pleasure in. I plan to continue playing volleyball, and with any luck I may just get close to being as good as I once was but in the mean time I'm off to ice my knees, because I'm old.
Balls
First it was pole dancing which, if you read my previous post, you know did not go well. Then it was a Zumba and a Latin Groove class. I grew up in New Mexico, salsa is in my blood and on my chips. How hard could it be? Well let's just say I wasn't exactly Elaine from Seinfeld, but I was no Channing Tatum either.
MMMMM....Channing Tatum....
What was I talking about?
Oh yeah, so I've been taking classes, kicking asses and just generally rocking 2013 so far. Part of this was to join a volleyball team. I played in middle school and high school and gave it up in college because I wanted to focus on acting; which I then gave up to save the world by working for zero money at a nonprofit. Smart.
I've missed volleyball, and I'm good at it. Those of you who know me know I don't compliment myself, nor do I appreciate it when others do, so for me to say I'm good at volleyball is kind of big deal. It's the truth. It's been 12 years since I played it competitively and this is the first time I've joined an intermediate team rather than a recreational level team. I wish I had done it sooner because it feels damn good. It's good volleyball and it's challenging. It's not like it was then, because those spandex just don't fit like they used to, but it is making me feel great.
I have never felt sexier. I've been wasting my time dancing and losing weight and all these other things that are not me. Sure they are fun, and I'll continue to do them, but I forgot what an amazing feeling it is to block a strong hitter, or serve so hard that no one could return it. I had somehow blocked out how amazing it feels to walk home with a layer of skin missing off of my knees, and my arms bright red. I cannot accurately describe the feeling inside of my during a volleyball game. I feel powerful, in my element, and that is sexy.
I guess the whole point of this post (other than looking at Channing Tatum... go ahead, scroll up and take another gander...I'll wait...) is just to inspire others to find their sexy in something they are good at and find pleasure in. I plan to continue playing volleyball, and with any luck I may just get close to being as good as I once was but in the mean time I'm off to ice my knees, because I'm old.
Balls
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