Sunday, October 16, 2016

One Book; One Promise; One Review

I'm the worst.

100% without a doubt, the absolute worst person ever.

I promised a friend a book review.  You all know me by now, all 11 of you.  You know I love to read, but I suck at writing.  I'm the worst.

Why I would promise to write a review is beyond me. But I did, and I need to do it.  Because I promised.  And he deserves it, he is an amazing writer and his books (yes, books) are fucking phenomenal.

I read "Romantic as Hell" in 3 days - between work, school and Emily's extracurricular activities I couldn't sit and read as often as I wanted; I've also been incredibly lazy with my writing - but had hoped this book would give me the nudge I needed to start again.  Instead, it just made me feel even more inadequate because Rodney is such a fucking artist.  Trust.  Fucking.Artist.

Don't believe me?  Here's a snippet of what you're missing:

I. Well, That Was Embarrassing 
     The stage set changes to the bedroom of a teenage boy.
    The wallpaper has a metallic sheen to it, reflecting dark green carpeting. A large waterbed sits against a wall, and tacked to the wall above the bed are two posters: The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders and Christie Brinkley. Both posters look worn and crinkly. We will not stop to consider why right now because the answer is probably disturbing. A dresser with a large mirror sits against the opposite wall, adorned with a blue Tiffany lamp.
     This looks to be one of the worst-designed rooms of all time and should be on a television-design show that has the words "Disasters" or "Rescue" in the title.

I've followed Rodney and his writing for a while, so I was prepared for his sophomoric "potty" humor.  I'm also married to a man, and mother to a 9 year old daughter (don't let her gender fool you, she likes fart jokes as much as any boy.)

An incredibly hilarious guide of what to do and not to do - this one doesn't fall short, and judging by Rodney's own admission you need to read this book. As a matter of fact, he says you need to go out and get this book because:
"Worst Case: You laugh.
Better Case: You laugh AND get some tips that strengthen your position
in the dating community or in your own relationship.
Best Possible Case Ever: You laugh AND get some good tips AND
make your significant other's friends think you're amazing, thus
increasing the odds of a threesome."

In addition to this masterpiece, because I'm an asshole and felt incredibly terrible for NOT following through with my promise - I bought his previous two books Perhaps I've Said Too Much (a Great Big Book of Messing with People) and Things Go Wrong For Me (when life hands you lemons, add vodka)... I was not disappointed; and if you check any of them out - you won't be either.

Sorry it took me so long, Rodney.  Forgive me.  I'm an asshole.

Rodney graciously sent me an e-copy of Romantic as Hell in exchange for this review.

Disclosure of Material Connection: This is a “sponsored post.” The company who sponsored it compensated me via a cash payment, gift, or something else of value to write it. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. Also, Edwin the bunny got to Pablo Escobar again today, so he is slowly deflating again. I know, it’s tragic. If you are actually reading this, I am largely impressed.  I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Friday, May 20, 2016

Why do we do that?

I've noticed something recently.  Nothing major, just a habit I can't seem to figure out.
It's not a malicious habit, or one that I'm ashamed of really.  Just a habit that seems to have been there for as long as I can remember, that I'd prefer to break.

I've also noticed that it's the same habit that a lot of other people have; not just women, though it's mainly women, men do it too.

Tell me if you've seen what I've seen or if you've done, what I've done.   Ready?

When someone pays you a compliment, what do you do?

Think about it.  Think back to the last time someone said something nice to you, or about you.  What did you do?  What did you say?  What look came across your face?

Was it something like this?

Person: OMG Those sunglasses are SO CUTE!! 

Or is it more like this?

Person: HEY!  You look amazing today!!!
You: Me? Nah, I have wrinkles, barely slept, I need to lose like 9million pounds, my hair is a mess, I'm exhausted, my eyebrows need waxing and don't even get me started on this break out - Helllooo I'm not 15 years old anymore what's with the pizza face ....... 


Why do we do this?  Why is this what we automatically think?  Justify with cost, or excuses as to why WE think we look like crap.  Why?

What is so hard about accepting a compliment and enjoying a moment of good?  Why are we so hell bent on tearing ourselves down?  Why are we so hell bent on explaining what we have with a price?  Instead of just accepting the good?

I'm not sure when I started doing this, or why, all I know is this happens every time someone says something nice to or about me.  Every.Single.Time. I have an excuse as to why I think I look terrible, or a this old thing, or a price.  I know my friends and family don't care about what I spent, or why I think I look like hammered shit.  I know they mean it.  They're not just being polite.  They're not just making conversation. 

It happened to me today, actually!  I just bought myself a really cute tank top.  I saw it on the clearance rank at Kohl's, snagged it, carried it around and then ultimately put it down - convincing myself I didn't need it and I'd never have a reason to wear it (it's a little flashy for my office) so I put it down and walked away.  (I do this a lot)

Later on that same night, I went back for something else and decided to look for it; thinking if it was there, I'd buy it - the Universe would be telling me I had to have it and so I should have it.  Lo and behold, it was there where I left it.  Just as cute and flashy as I'd thought it was the first time, and it had to be mine.

I bought it.  I love it.  I hung it in the closet, and left it there for 3 weeks.  Three Weeks.  Not because of the weather, though it has been colder than normal.  Nope, because I didn't think it was an appropriate shirt to wear to work.  It's not revealing, it's not trashy, it's just sequin-y and cute.  (I'll try to put in a picture, but .. don't hold your breath; alright, hang on)
FUCKING CUTE RIGHT?  It's two layers, those are WHITE SEQUINS!
#NoFilter #IWokeUpLikeThis

This morning I said Fuck It and I wore it to work.  My co-worker greeted me (as she always does) and then she added this:

Co-Worker: That shirt is so cute!  It looks amazing on you!
Me: This? Oh, it was $7 clearance at Kohl's!

Which lead to more mindless chatter before we started our day.

After about an hour I actually had the thought that lead to this blog (after I begged for a push and some *ahem* threats from some amazing friends, I started writing) and I actually walked back over to her desk and started talking to her again.

I started with an apology, and then explained why I was apologizing - I'll repeat it here, to the best of my recollection.

Me: I just wanted to say I'm sorry.  When you complimented my shirt earlier, I immediately launched into a diatribe about where I got it, and how much it cost.  I should have just said Thank You and moved on.  I shouldn't have done that.  I'm sorry and Thank You.

She was completely taken aback and accepted my apology, and followed up with a comment that was similar to mine; that she'd never thought about it before but is fairly certain she does the same thing.  WHY!!!  WHY DO WE DO THIS!??

Why can't we just accept the compliment, say thank you, and let the conversation develop organically? If she asks where I got it, then I'd have the opening to tell her where to (possibly) find one in her size, should she decide to look.  Should she ask how much, I could tell her.  But to just lead with it, instead of accepting it and saying thank you - I don't get it.  More, I don't know how to fix it.

Quick, Tell me I'm not alone!  

Tell me I'm not the only one who ignores compliments and tries to explain or justify everything; especially when it's not necessary or when it serves to cut through whatever good feelings I'm having about myself.