Epic Fail

I am a self assured, graceful, independent female.

That being said, I am sometimes a klutz and idiot.
And by sometimes I mean a lot.

I found that a big smile and an apology sitting on my lips just waiting to said is usually the best way to get help during those times that I'm not so much independent and more klutz.

Last Monday was one of those times.

It started off badly. The Sunday night before I had spent a few (a lot) merry hours with Jess and Liz. We drank Sangria and giggled. I'm sure we did more then that but the details are fuzzy. In a good way.

So Monday rolled around. But this wasn't just any Monday, oh no, this was the dreaded TAX MONDAY. As in, give me all your money Monday. I had attempted to file my taxes back in February, but due to me being an irresponsible adult I found out that I owed far more on my state taxes then I had planned. So back in February I dutifully filed my federal taxes and made a promise to myself that as soon as I had the money for my state taxes I would pay them and not wait until the last minute as I am prone to do.

So Tax Monday rolls around and I have to get up at the crack of 9am to go mail my taxes. But first to the bank. There I growl at the bank teller, explaining that I need a big ass check made to US Treasury and hurry before I turn around in three circles in the middle of the bank and go back to sleep. Cause I can sleep anywhere.

He prints my check and carefully hands it to me when he is assured I won't bite his hand. I walk out the door.

Then I walk back into the bank.

I explain in a humiliated voice that I meant to have the check made out to the Arizona Department of Reserve. He appears troubled. He looks at me, then the computer for a long time. Then he goes and gets his manager. They talk in hushed voices, then the manager looks at me, then the computer for a long time as well.

It's about this time I realize they think I am trying to scam them.

I attempt to smile winningly at them, but due to the early morning hours it may have been more of a grimace. Either way, they were not reassured.

Once they realize I am not in fact trying to steal money from the bank and that I am in fact just stupid, they change the check and send me on my way.

I go to the post office.
Now first realize that I haven't been in a post office since Ireland. And even before that my relationships with post offices was more aqquantices then personal. So I walk into this dingy building has little resemblance to the soaring timeless bullet ridden post office that I knew. There is a line of course. I grab the first large envelop I see and stuff the necessary paperwork and check into it. It says "express".

Finally it is my turn, I walk up to the portly elderly gentleman behind the counter. I set down my other tax paperwork (I brought it in, knowing I would forget something) and handed him my "express" envelop.

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey. Why did you put your taxes in this? This envelop will cost you 18 dollars to mail.

Me: Umm..

United States Post Office Employee:
< rips open offical envelop> We'll just pretend this didn't happen, here fill out the address on this normal envelop.

Then he beings to go through the contents of the envelop. I am slightly offended. What does he think he's doing going through my mail? Isn't there some kind of law against that? My feathers are starting to get ruffled when he says..

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey Where is your WW2? You're missing your WW2

Me: Umm. Shit. How could I forget that I'm normally not so.. Oh here it is! < add National WW2 to paperwork to be mailed>

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey That's the wrong WW2, you clearly need your state WW2.

At this point he just takes my paperwork from me, goes through every pile and correctly puts it together, all the while making disappointed sighing noise.

I try to melt into the floor.

United States Post Office Employee:
Ok honey, that will be 49 cents.

Me: I only have a card...

United States Post Office Employee:
Don't worry honey. I'll cover it.

United States Post Office Employee:
You know honey, next year you just need to hire an accountant. Someone who will just file your taxes for you. I realize you're 18 and this is your first time but...


I didn't have the heart to tell him I am 25 and normally considered a very capable adult.

Instead I squeaked out my thanks, put my tail between my legs and all but ran out of there.

Just as any strong, self assured independent female would have.

Sometimes I like to dress up..........

We finally had our house warming party... four months too late.

We wanted it to be fun and light, so we made it a "come as your favorite cartoon character" costume party.

Our party was wildly successful.

I dressed up as Daphne from Scooby Doo, I really wanted to spray paint bodhi brown and make him my Scooby. Then I realized he's too protective and would probably try to eat the first male that hugged me. So Bodhi was shipped off to The Boy's mom's house.

After making my costume I made The Boy his. He choose Mighty Mouse. I made the body suit and the underroos, he found the muscle shirt and the cup. Needless to say his costume was a hit.

Jess wanted to do fire nation Katara from the cartoon Avatar. She actually came over and we worked on it together. I forgot how much fun it is to have a girlfriend to sew with. Which I realize makes me sound so 1950's but I don't care. I love sewing. I'm terrible at crafts and not creative at all. But sewing? Material makes sense to me.

I was so thrilled to see everyone's costumes. There was Speed Racer and Meg from Family Guy and Samuria Jack.

But the best part of the party was the next morning. About half of the people stayed the night, sprawled out on couches, curled up on the carpet in corners and sharing beds. As morning light filled the house and insisted we wake up we all gathered to one area, huddled in blankets and clutching water bottles. One of the boys went and got Jack in the Box and brought back breakfast. The smell made Andy vomit, but the rest of us were grateful.

And we sat there for an hour or two. Just talking softly and laughing loudly.

So yeah, I'd call our first party a success.

Sometimes I Can Be Mushy

Familys are Forever... ish

My Mom got married this week.

I found out thanks to facebook.
Well, actually I found out from my brother texting me telling me to look at facebook.
He found out from one of his friends texting him telling him to look at facebook.
Honest to Zeus truth.

To be fair, she had told us kids that she was getting married sometime in the middle of March.
To be fair, she's been saying she was getting married "sometime soon" for six months. How were we to know she meant it this time?

My grandmother is very big into genealogy. When I was young she used to pay me a few extra bucks to read aloud old birth and death certificates while she copied the info onto sheets and sheets of family trees. She would show me furniture around her house and have me recite the ancestors it belonged to. For better or worse she installed a strong sense of the importance of family in me.

So it's weird to suddenly wake up one morning, look at my phone and discover not only do I have a step dad, but also six step siblings. Who I've never met. It would be easy to say it's not a huge deal, I'm an adult, I don't live at home, none of my siblings live with my mother, so nothing has really changed. But my sense of family is disturbed.Will we spend christmas together? Am I expected to remember their birthdays?

Or hell, maybe I should know their names first.

I'm not sure what to do with these new people. I feel like I should reach out, get to know them. I mean, they are family now, right? But what do I say?
"Hey, your dad married my mom. Let's be friends".

Right.

One of my step sisters sent me a facebook request tonight.
Silly me, why didn't I think of that?

In November Tyson got married. That simple act expanded our family by one.



Now our family is even bigger. By a lot.

We're going to need a wider lense

Nostaglic..

I miss my partner in crime.
My roommate.
My one time fiance
( it was high school, he proposed during math, with a gum wrapper ring. How could I say no?)

I miss the midnight shots of whiskey with sprite chasers. I miss the impromptu dance parties in the living room. I miss cheese crisps and burn notice. I miss pool days and my fabulous tan. I miss crawling into your bed and wrestling and begging with you to let me stay. I miss waking up to music that you put on extra loud so I would wake up. I miss midnight walks to the pool and the hot tub, and running in the early morning back to the house, wet and freezing. I miss post it notes all over the house. I miss getting ready for parties and having you critique what I was wearing. I miss nights on the patio with you and Albin smoking while I sit in the window. I miss drawing tattoos on each other with washable markers we bought specifically for that purpose. I miss knowing there was all someone who was on my sleep schedule and wanted to have an adventure. I miss that weird creepy walk you do when you're trying to scare me. I miss your total lack of conscience. I miss bitching about our weight together. I miss your horrible attempts to cook eggs. I miss phase ten and drinking games. I miss.. you.

"Just in case we don't survive, I want you to know I love you."
Five hours later
"Sooo we survived... well this is awkward.."

We did it for the scars and the stories, not the fame.

Living together wasn't perfect, but good god was it fun.
Ryan, darling. I think it's time for a sleepover. I'll bring the jack. You bring the music. The fun, adventure and trouble will follow naturally.

Things I should be doing:

-Working out
-Homework
-Sleeping
-Running (running is so awful it gets its own space)
-Going out with friends

Things I am doing:

-Wasting time on the computer
-Eating girl scout cookies
-Catching up on TV


Sigh
But really, we all knew Productive Girl wasn't going to stick around.
I've successfully trapped her in the laundry room and don't plan on letting her out until 3 hours before my paper is due on Tuesday. Just cause I'm lazy doesn't mean I'm going to burn all my bridges. Unless Clive Owen finally stops lying to himself and admits I'm the only one for him. In which case I will walk into my classes and tell me teachers to suck it. Burn bridges burn.
Who am I kidding?
If Clive confessed his love I'd probably use his money and influence to get me into Georgetown.


Also, I saw this today. Seriously... who is this mysterious person making these?



Who are you and will you meet me for coffee? Or maybe a little bank robbing?

School sucks.
Well.. Homework sucks.
I actually like school. Shhh.
I didn't realize how much I missed learning. I like the taste of new ideas in my brain. I like forming arguments to support or disprove even when I don't actually have an opinion on what we're learning. I love forming a sentence that is beautiful. Does that even make sense?

The Boy is surprisingly supportive. Whenever we go out he proudly says "one adult and one student" and then hugs me and kisses me on the top of my head. It makes me smile. Although now that I think about it maybe it's not that he's supportive, maybe he's just cheap.

There are few things I regret in life. The break I took from school was partly from choice partly necessary. I didn't have parents that could pay for school. I also didn't have parents who taught me how to find scholarships. So as I watched my friends change their majors three times over and spend money and time on classes they didn't end up needing, I decided to wait until I knew what I wanted to do with my life before going back to school. Which resulted in a lengthy break from school.

But now I'm back. I decided to start with a community college, just to wet my feet. Going to a community college is a lesson in humility. Seriously. For the most part there are two types of people at a community college. The first is the angsty teenager except their adults type. My first day back in class I saw a goth. I haven't seen someone done up in goth since high school. I thought it was a rare sighting, something I should hurriedly snap a picture of and text to The Boy. Only it wasn't a rare sighting. Turns out I haven't seen any goths because they've all been hanging out in the smokers section of MCC. I see so many twenty somethings who are probably only going to class so they can stay on Mommy and Daddy's insurance. Maybe I am assuming too much. But I can't think of any other reason someone would go to class and never do the work. Which there are quite a few of in my class. They're not all goth. Some are punk, some are drunk, but all appear very lost and confused. The other type I see are the middle aged adults who are going back to school to improve their lot in life. They have bags under their eyes from doing work and school. I don't want to rag about them, but I have a hard time looking at them and believing that they will actually finish school. Kids, Work and school is a lot to juggle on one plate. Also, a lot to pay for. The adults have another thing working against them. Things have changed a lot since they went to school. I feel bad for them, but if I have to sit through one more explanation of how a power point works, or how to find one in BlackBoard....

I'm sure there are others out there like me. Other mid twenties who are working full time and would rather be lounging by the pool then doing homework but are excited about what they are learning in class. I'm hoping we will naturally gravitate towards each other. Then we can bitch about how hard it is to do school and work together.

Some days graduating seems impossible. The amount of years, money and homework appears insurmountable. It's hard not to get discouraged. Especially when it's time for my 07:30am class. I'll never be a morning person. Luckily, I love my classes.

I can't imagine how awful it will be next semester when I'm taking science and math.