I Love This Guy

Because I Have A Life, That's Why

TV shows I obsess over and must watch the day they air:
Lost
Heroes
Project Runway
The Office
Fringe
24


TV shows I tivo and am excited to watch:
Biggest Loser
Grey's Anatomy
American Idol
30 Rock
Private Practice
Mad Men
Samantha Who?
American Gladiators
Top Chef
Chuck
Flipping Out
Rob & Big
Jon & Kate Plus 8
Pushing Daisies


TV shows I tivo and might watch if I have time but sometimes I don't:
Ace of Cakes
House
Oprah
Ellen
Man vs. Wild
The Soup
Best Week Ever
Ice Road Truckers
Hell's Kitchen


TV shows I tivo but I don't want you to know that I do:
The Bachelor
America's Next Top Model
Rock of Love
Dancing With the Stars


TV shows I HATE and ABHOR and IRRITATE ME SO but somehow I continue to watch no matter how many times I declare that never again shall I watch:
The Hills

Hit Me Baby One More Time

In a recent fit of trying to be nice a friend said to me, “Try not to think about it!” She was referring to babies, of course. I smiled and said OK. Then the following true story happened:

I spent the weekend attending a one-year-old birthday party complete with pregnant party goers, the third such party in several weeks. Then Monday I got to work and opened two emails from friends containing cute photos of their cute babies. Then an IM popped up on my screen with a cute icon – baby photo. Then I went to lunch with a friend and her cute-as-a-button baby. While we were chatting another friend came by to say hi…with her brand new baby. After lunch I got another email chock full of precious little baby photos when my phone rang – pregnant co-worker asking if I remembered something she couldn’t remember since she was having a “pregnant moment”.

The six o’clock bell couldn’t come soon enough.

That night I decided to watch Medical Mysteries on TLC, sure that it would be safe. Baby free. Turns out it was about a woman trying to get pregnant. I sighed and channel surfed stopping on a TBS re-run of Sex and the City thinking Yes! These women are never going to be talking about or having babies! Turns out Carrie had a pregnancy scare. I watched long enough to see a commercial for First Response HPT and the release of Baby Mama on DVD before I looked for something new to occupy my cluttered thoughts. I found an old episode of Will & Grace on Lifetime and new I was home free! Finally a baby free moment! Turns out Grace was knocked up and Karen was jealous so she hired the make-up counter girl to be her surrogate.

My friend was right. Maybe I should try not to think about it.


Baby.

I Cannot

Weld
Launch a boat
Watch the Olympics without crying
Drive an 18 wheeler
Skip a meal
Turn a cartwheel
Play the banjo
Surf
Concentrate
Style my hair
Do sushi
Dance
Play chess
Speak Maltese
Pee standing up
Own a cat
Wait

Even Though Tomorrow I'll Change My Mind

On the way home tonight I pass by a champagne colored, 90s-ish, Buick/Chevy/sedan/something driven by a tense looking young woman. The car and the young woman are entirely forgettable except for all the I'm Sorrys - bright orange I'm Sorrys written on every window. Nothing more, just I'm Sorry over and over. Obviously a desperate (and no doubt unwelcome) attempt at an apology from what I presume is now an ex-boyfriend. I imagine this outburst was preceded by hundreds of unreturned emails, phone calls and texts. There were probably a few late night visits to her door. Maybe even some calls to her best friend to plead his case. Obviously the young woman wouldn't hear it. Wouldn't answer. She's deleted him from her iPhone, her email contacts and her Facebook. She is DONE with him. So he steps it up a notch, or fifty. He forces her to deal with him by painting her car with his grief, splashing his desperation publicly and maybe even permanently. She's humiliated. When she walked out of work to go home the words burned into her, twisting the pain deeper, and now she's driving straight to the car wash hoping for washable bright orange paint. He doesn't know it yet but this last ditch effort has merely driven her further away from him.

I smirk thinking only an idiot would go to such lengths. Thinking there's no way such desperation could ever win her back. Duh. She's strong and confident. She knows she deserves better. But as I drive, my thoughts towards him begin to soften. This poor guy is trying to make amends. Trying to move forward. Trying to heal something terribly broken. No matter what went wrong, he’s trying to make it right.

He is sorry.


My old self has started quietly resurfacing - scattered emails from fans of my first book, old friends who ask what I'm working on these days, questions about my "writing career" (ha!) and what my new book is about. I usually stutter and stammer and say something sarcastic, unsure of how to respond, how to explain these past few years in a casual reply. The only thing that comes to mind is I'm Sorry.

I'm Sorry to my old life, the life where the words flowed out of me. Back when I had something to say. Back when my general disposition was hilariousness and fun. Back when I was on the brink of being a real writer.

I'm Sorry that I lost my publishing deal and then sort of drifted for a while. I'm Sorry I wasn't able to get my crap together. Sorry that my blog is boring. Sorry I don't write hilarious and poignant words that continue to get better instead of slowly getting worse.

But before I take a spray paint can to my heart and declare that GEEZ I'M SORRY ALREADY, I have an announcement.

I'm.
Not.
Sorry.

Sure, my life hasn't gone the way I believed it would and, dare I say it, maybe not even the way it should have gone. Things have happened that have stunned me silent. The course of my life shifted and I never did regain my balance. I’ve blathered on and on about some of these things to no end. No real writing, just a general “life sucks” every couple weeks. But all in all, I’m still here. I've survived. Am surviving.

And I've decided that I'm not going to care anymore. I’m not going to care what the words are; just let them come as they will. I’m going to read again without the pressure to write. Write again without the pressure to perform. Be who I am instead of worrying about who I could have been.

Show Me That Smile Again

So you remember that I recently caught our backyard neighbors celebrating their marital love in their hot tub. I was walking Minnie Dog after work one hot afternoon when I heard a strange splashing sound and wouldn't you know it, Big Al and Mrs. Big Al were participating in some afternoon/early evening delight. It was that day that I told Ryan I didn't care how much it cost, we were getting a privacy fence.

Since the privacy fence has been in place, things have been glorious. I have heard strange splashings, but the point is that I haven't had to SEE anything. My retinas are no longer subject to being burned by the vision of Al's back hair waving in the evening breeze.

Cut to tonight and the annual company picnic at the Nashville Sounds baseball game. Ryan was working so I went to the picnic solo. By the time I left it was dark and the Sounds stadium isn't in the safest of neighborhoods and my car was parked in the back 40 of the furthest parking lot from the back of the last aisle way in the back. It was far. As I walked through the rows of cars listening for any sounds other than the crunch of gravel under my flip-flops, singing the theme song to Growing Pains in my head, I saw them.

Two teenagers.
In the back of a pick-up truck.
Doing things teenagers shouldn't be doing.

People, I can't put a privacy fence around my face.

Miss Manners

What’s the etiquette when running into your gastrointernologist at the Costco gas station? There he is, wearing his doctor scrubs and his gold nugget bracelet, gasing up his Porsche, probably just back from peering into some poor sap’s colon with his mile long scope of death. Do you walk over and say hello? Maybe show him your backside so he recognizes you?
Hey Dr. King! How’s business? Seen any ulcerative colitis lately? Colon cancer on the rise? What’s that? You haven’t seen any colons as nice as mine? Oh Dr. King, you charmer! We should have you over for a BBQ!

Omen

You know it's going to be a good day when the lawn mower dies, the rear tires on your car are "dangerously bald, seriously, I'm surprised you're still alive", the DVD player dies and one of the posts on your brand new fence is cracked and leaning causing the gate to bend. Oh, and also, you discover that you accidentally wore a "hootchie" shirt to work.

Good times.

Wii Fit: A Conversation

Wii Fit Board: Oh my, hello there!

Me: Here we go.

WFB: It's Jo, right? I almost forgot, it's been so long!

Me: I know, I've been pretty busy.

WFB: Busy doing what, ordering Value Meal #2 every day?

Me: NO! I've just had a lot going on.

WFB: My, my, you must have! You know, the best way to lose weight is to exercise every day!

Me: Yeah, I know. I've had a lot of stuff going on. Stuff! A lot of stuff!

WFB: I can hardly imagine! The fall TV lineup hasn't started yet, what else is it that you do exactly? I know! How about a quick body test?

Me: Fine.

(I step onto the board which subsequently winces.)

WFB: You've gained weight! Big surprise! Did you know that overeating and no exercise leads to weight gain! How about a fitness tip?

Me: Oh brother, here we go...

WFB: If you want to lose weight, try not to eat so many cookies. Since you're so fat, how about another fitness tip?

Me: Why not, I still have one small shred of dignity left.

WFB: If you don't want people to see you and think they've seen a beached whale, try to eat a vegetable for once! How about another fitness tip?

Me: Look, Wii, I've had a lot going on. I told you. A LOT. I've had things going on that would put hair on your board. Get off my back already.

WFB: Here's a fitness tip, maybe if you carried me around on your back you could lose some of that disgusting fat you have there! How about another fitness tip?

Me: HOW ABOUT I BREAK YOU IN HALF?

WFB: Ok, Jo! Of course, that would require some muscle strength and you don't have any! How about another fitness tip?

Me: HOW ABOUT I HATE YOU AND SHUT-UP RIGHT NOW.

WFB: Ok, Jo! Of course, seething with rage isn't really considered a form of exercise. How about another fitness tip?

Me: .....................

WFB: Picking up a fork is not considered a form of exercise. How about another fitness tip?

Me: WHY I OUGHTA....

WFB: You really oughta think about trying to put the French fries down before you become an unrecognizable blob! How about another fitness tip?

Me: .....................

WFB: Are you still there, Jo? Waiting around won't help that fat go away! How about another fitness tip?

Me:......................

WFB: Oh no, it seems the fat has rendered you speechless!

Me: Well this was fun. I'm gonna go....eat some cookies.

Reason #2

Reason #2 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

Because even when I'm being unreasonable and sad and irrational and weeping and silent. Even when I'm inconsolable and irritated. Even when I make it worse. Even when the reason for our sadness is ultimately my fault. Even when hopelessness is whistling through the cracks in my heart so loudly passers by are stopping to stare. Even then. Without hesitation, he says...you're perfect.