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.

The Laundry Mat Chronicles: Volume One

Prior to moving out, I'd never been to a laundry mat. In fact, the only image I've ever had is this scene (it's 1:27 in):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2UeOh5ngSw

So, imagine my surprise when there is no hot guy. Instead, I get this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ny8VqcEe7dw

Needless to say, I shove my unmentionables down to the very bottom of my laundry basket.

However, I met a very interesting person today. Relax, it was a sixty-one year old lady named Sarah. Sarah has two daughters and three grandchildren. She has been a widow for thirty-four years and never remarried. I knew Sarah prior to today. Well, I didn't know-know her. She and her sister frequented Old Navy during my three and a half years there (Her sister was my substitute Spanish teacher one day. Her Spanish? "Hola Y'all!" I am not even kidding). In the sixty minutes I was there, I learned that she had dated quite a few S.O.B's- her words. However, this morning she received a phone call from a gentleman who works at the produce stand she visits for her tomatoes, cantelope, and cucumbers. In a matter of seconds, the sixty-one year old lady transformed into a sixteen year old girl. Her eyes lit up and she smiled. I'm pretty positive she was blushing too. She was optimistic about this man. She asked if I liked her hair (she recently dyed it) and what I thought she should wear. "Well, I'll tell ya one thing...I'm not gonna wear heels for a man. That'll be the only time he'll see me in them. He better get used to my flip flops and run-arounds."

She finished her laundry before I did and wished me the best of luck with my schooling and with my (non-existent) love life. She had hope, at sixty-one, in finding the man she wanted to live with for the rest of her life. Why, at twenty-one, should I feel any different?

Things I believe in...

I believe in a good cup of coffee every morning.
I believe in spending money on sheets-not shoes.
I believe in classic rock on a sunny spring day.
I believe in volunteering your time over donating your money.
I believe in watching Disney movies after the age of five.
I believe in getting an education.
I believe in quilts.
I believe in sending snail mail.
I believe in providing great customer service.
I believe in broken hearts and lasting love.
I believe in wearing only face lotion, mascara, and chapstick.
I believe in rocking flip flops during a snow storm.
I believe in best friends and family.
I believe in getting massages once a month.
I believe in returning someone's phone call.
I believe in celebrating birthdays.
I believe in feeling sexy in your own skin.
I believe in pink tool boxes.
I believe in comfortable jeans, sweettea shirts, and bare feet.
I believe in learning how to cook.
I believe in waking up early- even on weekends.
I believe in wearing sunblock and trying my best to avoid skin cancer.
I believe in shamelessly flirting with your mechanic to get a free oil change.
I believe in all forms of art.
I believe in God and he believes in me.

Moving

It's that time. A time my mama and stepdad have prayed about for more than two years. I should be used to this whole moving thing. Since my parents divorced, I've moved five times with my mama and three times with my dad. Eight, count 'em, EIGHT, times within eight years. And, if you want to count my stint at ASU, that would be nine moves within eight years. Needless to say, I should own a moving business.

Anyhoo, I'll be moving into my first place by the end of next week. My bedroom looks like a Fisher Scientific warehouse with all of the Methylene Chloride boxes. And, chill, I'm using them for moving purposes...not to start a meth lab. I should probably make that clear to my new neighbors.

It's still not real yet. It didn't feel real when I called about and visited the apartment. It didn't feel real when we signed the lease and paid the deposit and first month's. It didn't feel real when I scheduled Time Warner Cable and Duke Power. Honestly, it won't feel real until I spend my first night there. Scratch that. It won't feel real until I walk through my parent's house to make sure I haven't missed anything; until I give my house key back and give my dogs kisses goodbye. It won't feel real until I'm completely broke with nothing to eat, no gas in my car, and tons of laundry to do with no detergent. THAT'S when it'll feel real.

Now, before you get the wrong idea, I'm only moving ten minutes down the road from my mama. And, I'll live less than a quarter of a mile from my best friend and her family (which I have adopted as my second family). So, I will not be miles away from my family(ies). I'm just being completely dramatic and over the top. Which is not like me. This is what moving does to me. It makes me an emotional wreck and, aparently, a drama queen. Where's my crown?

There are only a couple of things that we'll need to "complete" the apartment- a broom, mop, shower curtain rings, etc. My dad has to sand, stain, and set the glass in our coffee table. That should be ready in about two weeks. He's also making our end tables (one of the many, many perks of having a father who is extremely skilled with wood). Genna still has to get our TV stand but, everything else is a go.

I'm excited and terrified all at once. And, like most things in my life, I've put off packing for about a week or so. I'd rather not face this huge life change until I have to.