Sleeping to dream.

I've never had a dream in which I was preggo. Until two nights ago. It was creepy.

A family member is currently pregnant and she and her husband chose not to find out the sex of the baby. In my dream? She had a boy. And I had a baby that I do not remember giving birth to.

I remember bleeding. A lot. The doctor didn't seem alarmed. I kept telling people I couldn't sit down because I would get blood all over their chairs. It was normal. I remember watching a father with his two boys who kept getting into everything. Then, said family member's mother came to inform me that she had the baby. I remember that I didn't look like I was pregnant and I never saw my baby. The dream just ended.

Last night, I had a dream about a friend from high school. I haven't talked to him in over a year. In that last conversation I had with him, he told me he was thinking about going into the Air Force. He's one of those people who is extremely intelligent but never applied himself. Like, ever. I envied his intelligence. We were quite close for several years and I never figured out why he didn't just try.

Anyhoo, in my dream, he had just finished Air Force "school" and was back in town. I was walking down a street and saw him. I stopped and hugged him and we talked for a while. His girlfriend, in dream and real life, came up and spoke to me as well. There's always been tension between the two of us. Ultimately, though, she won his heart. Back to the dream- he and I spent the afternoon talking. He pulled out a ring and told me that I would love it. The engagement ring he planned on giving his girlfriend.

I don't know if y'all have seen My Best Friend's Wedding, but I was Julia Roberts in my dream. What's even better? His dream/real girlfriend looks similar to Cameron Diaz. He, however, doesn't look a thing like Dermot Mulroney.

She went on a ride with us and somehow we ended up driving through a hospital parking lot. The last image that I have of my dream is of us three driving down a wet road. I was in the front seat, she was in the back, and he was driving.

Those are my weird, odd, slightly disgusting dreams. Please don't google what they might mean. I know I'm a little weird. I just don't need to know how weird.

Sweet Dreams Y'all :)

Victoria's secret is out.

Is it just me or do you feel sexier with a matching bra and panty set? 'Cause I feel like Megan Fox when I slip on that black lace. I even feel a bit naughty knowing that my bra and panties are really, really sexy.

My body shape does not change (well, with a good bra it does slightly change). I do not have an insta-tan. I do not have bikini worthy abs. What I do have, however, is a confidence, a sense of power, that can only be found in my unmentionables drawer.

Let me tell you 'bout my beeeest friend: The Nicole Edition.

Name: Nicole Marie
Age: 22
Best friends since: 1997
Favorite memory: We went to Myrtle Beach one summer and, while taking her bathing suit coverup off, she accidentally untied her bottoms and flashed a good amount of people. I did not help her. I was laughing too hard.

When I think about my thirteen year friendship with Nicole, I begin to get teary eyed. I am extremely lucky. When I tell people how long she and I have been friends, they're amazed. I generally think, why? Then I realize, not many people are lucky enough to have a best friend for thirteen years.

Nicole and I have had our fair share of arguments. We have completely different political views and we sometimes differ in opinion when it comes to religion. We were raised differently. Our differences even boil down to our dress. She prefers brown and I love my black. She wears flow-y, colorful prints. I prefer jeans and a plain tee.

We've been through two divorces, four remarriages, new friends, new loves, lost friendships, lost loves, deaths, births, success, failure, hopes, dreams, weight gain, weight loss, and first apartments.

I know her like the back of my hand. And she knows me like hers. Last night, for instance, she left and told me to lock the door. I was busy reading another blog and didn't bother to get up. She sends me a text: Get off your ass and lock the door. She knows me. When she gets upset or frustrated, she begins to hum "Amazing Grace." I know her.

There is never a dull moment when she and I get together. She's one of the few people I can be myself around. I can tell her anything and not feel silly. She's always supportive of me. She may not agree with what I'm doing but, she supports me. We don't bullshit each other. If she asks, "Does this look good on me?" and it doesn't, I'll tell her. When looking at pictures from two years ago, I said, "Why didn't anyone tell me I was fat? Why didn't someone just say, put the cheeseburger down?" Her response? "I called you fatgirl. Fat. Girl. What part of that didn't you get?" That's Nicole. That's my best friend.

When I think of what my life would be like without her, a sadness begins to grow in my heart. She's a wonderful person. She'd do just about anything for anyone. She's sacrificed a lot throughout her life and never once wished she hadn't. She's a patient, caring, and thoughtful person. I am honored to know her. I am blessed to call her my best friend.

Modnar is Random

No, really, it is. As is this post.

I didn't really have anything in particular that I wanted to talk about. So, I've decided that I'm going to compile a modnar list of things that've been on my mind. Besides, I'm better with lists.

- Case in point: I created a word document (complete with headings and bullets- my mother would be proud) listing all of the coupons I had for the month of July. Not only do I need a coupon for Act mouthwash, I need a life. And a boyfriend. And to get laid. But, that's another post.

- I fear that my future children will not know what a pencil is. I fear that they will not know what a newspaper, a book, nor a cd/tape player looks like. I abhor technology in so many ways. It's impersonal and cold. At work, I will actually call people, and hold for five minutes, instead of sending an e-mail because I want a connection with them. BUT- if you even think about getting rid of my dual monitors, I will break your fingers and spit in your face. Capiche?

- I love people watching. I don't make up stories for the people like Tina Fey and Steve Carell did in Date Night. I do, however, enjoy the occasional giggle when I spot someone picking their nose, tripping over their own two feet, or spilling their venti, non-fat, vanilla latte all over themselves. It's truly the best entertainment.

- So, how about that oil spill? Seriously. It's bad. Like, really, really bad. However, it's not bad when you work in the environmental testing field. Well, it's still bad but, sad to say, it's good for business. And, I sound like a complete asshole.

- Chris, my ex, made fun of me because I loved making mixed cds. "Why don't you just get an iPod?" So, when I ask for a mixed cd for my 21st, guess what I got?! A shiny, new, blue iPod. It's whatever. He got marriage counseling, I got an iPod. I win.

- Isn't it horrible when you find out what someone looks like, or how old they really are, after only hearing their voice? Corporate is located in Minnesota. Most of the clients I speak with are not based in North Carolina. So, I only talk to them via phone (because, remember, I'd rather spend ten minutes getting a 'yes,' than to shoot a two second e-mail). Well, I recently learned that one of the girls that I consistently bug up at Corporate, isn't 25. She sounds 25 and, in my mind, looks 25. But, alas, she is not. She is in her 40s. Also, I listen to 107.9 The Link throughout the work day and learned, not too long ago, that Ramona is black. I'm all for being politically correct 'n shit but, she sounded white. It's okay. I can say that. My neighbor is black.

- My pants and shirts are beginning to get a little snug. And, by a little, I mean a lot. Fatgirl has gotten fatter. Bye, bye size 8s :( Hello stretch pants.

- You'd be surprised at how many people can't spell my last name. I mean, c'mon people. It's not that friggin' hard. On the upside, though, I have several great alias': Amanda Rhodes, Amanda Roads, and Amanda Rofe. Yup. That's me.

- The people next door are sketchy. Among the other things my landlord told me, I wish he would've mentioned their sketchy-ness. Seriously. She is probably poisoning his food as he mixes her nightly Corona with rohypnol. They're not the worst. The people two doors down? Have adopted a chicken. Mr. Chicken wandered up two days after we moved in. He disappeared. Then, the other day I saw one of the children trying to put a leash on him. I've never felt more sorry for a chicken. They also have a redneck slip-n-slide. If you are unfamiliar with this type of slip-n-slide, you are lucky. A redneck s-n-s consists of two blue tarps, some twine and duct tape, and the sprinkler watering the garden. Git-R-Done. Old man river isn't too bad. He mows the grass and lets us use his trash can if ours fills up. I am, however, waiting for him to say, "You got a purty mouth."

Somebody has to say it...

I'm not one to keep quiet. Ever. My mama taught me at a very young age to voice my opinion. You can blame her. I have, however, become a bit more tactful and graceful in my approach...most of the time.

-Dear Bradley Cooper, you broke our hearts in Valentine's Day. It was not funny nor appreciated. Don't do it again. Sincerely, straight women all over the world.

-If you are a grown adult, you should not be allowed to wear silly bands UNLESS, a small child gave you one. If you bought silly bands for yourself, you should promptly return to grade school. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Do, however, try to collect your dignity and self respect on the way.

-To the jerk off tailgating me down I-85: if you're going to ride my ass, atleast scream my name.

-Why do people automatically assume, if something's missing, that it was the cleaning lady? Listen, they don't want your crap. After cleaning up your filth all day, the last thing they want to do is take something to remind them of you later.

-While it may not be socially acceptable, I will high-five you for smacking the shit out of your 18+ year old son/daughter when he/she disrespects you in public. Please and thank you.

-Speaking of socially acceptable, getting drunk and flirting/humping the twenty-somethings at the pool while your twelve year old child watches, is generally frowned upon. Just sayin'.

One runny nose and two sticky hands.

Let me begin this post by saying, I love, LOVE, being an aunt. More importantly, I love my nephew, Andrew. He's not my nephew by any relation. He's my best friend's little boy. And one of my new roommates.

He is such a happy, well-behaved boy (I credit this to both of his parents, both sets of grandparents, and, of course, me). He loves playing with his toys, "air plane" rides, being tickled, peek-a-boo, screaming into my oscillating fan, sliding all over mommy's bed, swimming, people watching, bath time, and any meal. His smile and little giggle can erase a bad day at work and financial worries.

It is very rare that I will actually take care of Andrew (I changed my first poopy diaper about two weeks ago). Generally, when I get home, I make dinner as Genna prepares Andrew's food. We all eat at the table; then, Genna gives Andrew his bath as I clean up from dinner and wash the dishes. He gets his pre-bed bottle and we play a little bit. Shortly thereafter, it's bedtime. I get "fun time" with Andrew and virtually no responsibility (other than making him smile and laugh).

This morning was my first time taking care of him (well, I watched him when he was wee little and couldn't get into things). We both woke up at 6:30 and I finally got him back to bed at 7 (did I mention I didn't go to bed until 1:30?!?!). I washed dishes, folded laundry, started another load, picked up, and enjoyed my morning coffee until 9 when I woke him up to get ready for church. After feeding him his breakfast (cinnamon raisins and pears), he had his bath (I let him play in the tub a bit longer than Mommy does, 'cause I'm a good aunt). We got dressed, which wasn't as hard as getting his diaper on, and played in the living room for a bit. Then we walked around outside until Aunt Nicole came to get him for the 11 o'clock service and lunch with her family.

In the small amount of time I was with him, I quickly realized that being a single parent is extremely difficult. I also realized that you find strength you didn't know you had to take care of yourself and someone else (anyone who knows me, knows that I HATE/ABHOR/LOATHE not getting my sleep and will be crabby and ugly to everyone until I fully wake up...not this morning). Finding this strength doesn't make it easy, it just makes it easier.

I enjoy living with Andrew and couldn't have asked for a better one-year-old to live with. I love him with every ounce of me (and that's a lot of ounces). I do, however, also enjoy "me-time" and know that I could not, within the next ten years, have a child. I am a selfish person and I own that.

I give SERIOUS praise and credit to ALL single parents out there. You have my respect forever and always.

Negative Nancy

I'm just going to list all the things that have been worrying me lately:

#1: I received a letter from RCCCCCCCCCCC the other day informing me that I was not eligible for financial aid. It seems that I am on track for my ten year associates degree. As we say at work, Pace Yourself.

#2: ALL of my bills are due Friday. FML.

#3: I have no time. Seriously. I'm gone from 8am - 7pm, M-F. I come home, cook dinner, wash dishes, and all of a sudden, it's 8:30-9pm. Where did my day go?!

#4: I created a spreadsheet at work and I fear that it may be too much for me. Only, my boss, the big boss, loves the spreadsheet. Ultimately it will help him with our budget. I suppose I need to suck it up.

That's it. Those are my four negatives. When I started writing this I thought of so many more but, a commercial came on for those starving kids in Africa, and I couldn't bring myself to bitch about the rotten strawberries.

Perhaps Positive Pamela will visit y'all next time.