Tuesday, April 27, 2010
So the other day I was reading the cover of T. Swift's Fearless album and I was moved. That's right. This dead inside girl had a moment!
As a kid I wasn't afraid of anything. I jumped off a 30-foot high-dive when I was two (2). And that was just the beginning. I never thought twice about anything. I may not have done much well, but I was NEVER afraid to try. Somewhere along the way, I lost some of that. But, when I read the cover of the Fearless album, I decided that although I would never trade all the lessons I've learned in my life for all that I didn't know as a child, I can change what I choose to do with all I have learned. And, I can love and want back the T. Swift kind of fearless I was as a child.
“FEARLESS” is not the absence of fear. It’s not being completely unafraid. To me, FEARLESS is having fears. FEARLESS is having doubts. Lots of them. To me, FEARLESS is living in spite of those things that scare you to death. FEARLESS is falling madly in love again, even though you’ve been hurt before. FEARLESS is getting back up and fighting for what you want over and over again… even though every time you’ve tried before, you’ve lost. It’s FEARLESS to have faith that someday things will change. FEARLESS is having the courage to say goodbye to someone who only hurts you, even if you can’t breathe without them. I think it’s FEARLESS to fall for your best friend, even though he’s in love with someone else. And when someone apologizes to you enough times for things they’ll never stop doing, I think it’s FEARLESS to stop believing them. It’s FEARLESS to say “you’re NOT sorry”, and walk away. I think loving someone despite what people think is FEARLESS. I think allowing yourself to cry on the bathroom floor is FEARLESS. Letting go is FEARLESS. Then, moving on and being alright…That’s FEARLESS too. But no matter what love throws at you, you have to believe in it. You have to believe in love stories and prince charmings and happily ever after. Because love is FEARLESS.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Reason #1: I am not THAT smart. Nor, did I have any interest in going to school for THAT long. Or going THAT far into debt to go to school for THAT long.
Reason #2: Blood makes me queasy.
Reason #3: If I see puke, I puke. If I smell puke, I puke. If I hear puking, I WILL start puking. (Also, apparently Pepto Bismol is like epicac to me and if I smell or drink that I WILL puke).
Reason #4: My bed-side manner... hmmmm??? I think I might be too fiesty or sassy or... but, I am very good at fetching things, and serving people, and maybe even sugar-coating things for people that I don't know at all!
Reason #5: I am really not that good with the human anatomy!
Yesterday at work I had this conversation with Jackie:
Me: Hey, can you PDF Section IV, reduce the size, and then send it over to Mr. Uria? Do you need his email?
Jackie: No, I have it. U-R-I-A, right? Doesn't that sound a lot like Urethra?
Jackie: Urethra! Is that in your throat or down there?
Me: I am pretty sure it's down south.
Jackie: Yea, I think you're maybe right.
So, as it turns out:
1.) I was right about the approximate location of the Urethra on the body. But, needless to say, I am so not quitting my day job anytime soon. Neither is Jackie!
2.) I am apparently having the same types of convesations had by 12-year-old boys, which is kind of tragic. I should think about growing up and not just getting old.
Me: If I ever have kids, I am not taking pictures of them when they're all gross and bloody.
Jackie: Yea, no one wants to see that. Not even the mothers. Wipe those kids off!
Me: If I had my way....
Jackie: ... the kid would come out 6 months old and wearing a costume... yea, we know!
Friday, April 16, 2010
Sometimes the hiring practices of my company really make me work hard for the money I make.
For example, when I get a resume for a guy that used to be a plumber and somehow I have to make him into a mechanical engineer... that's a toughie... still haven't been able to pull that off.
Or, when I have to market family. Nepotism might be easy to swallow, as it's common and understood among employees in a privately held company. But, how am I a supposed to market I-know-he's-totally-unqualified-but-he's-married-to-the-owner's-daughter? Another toughie.
But, my favorite is a new one. Sometimes we hire people that have pasts. And, I am cool with that. Because, trust me, I am reminded on a daily basis that I work in construction. But, it is awful hard to create a resume for some of these past-lifers when they prove themselves and move up in the company. One of my current resumes looks like this:
Name: Jumping Jack Flash
Education: Not much, but everything within his vocabulary can be found tattooed somewhere on his body, which can be photographed or brought in for review, upon reference.
Skills: (1) The ability to find the perfect space on the human body to fit the most awful tattoos you've ever seen. (2) The ability to avert eyes and refuse making eye contact. (3) Can and will eat anything. (4) Will fight anyone and anything. He's been known to fight his own shadow and both win and lose. (5) Ridiculously good at beer pong.
Jan. 2010 - present: Our company. Yard Manager. Deploys and retrieves heavy machinery to various project sites within the Western U.S.
1998 - 2009 - California State Penitentiary. Inmate. We don't really want to talk about it.
Yikes... it's a good thing it's Friday. I can start over and try again with the marketing on Monday.
Please note, the true names and dates for this particular employee have been changed... because... well, I don't want to get my butt kicked by an ex-con, so that's why.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
We had a great time!
I snapped a few pictures before they left.
Aren't they just SO cute???
They've only been gone 2 days... but, I miss them already.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
It was never intended to drive to the mall so you can pick up that adorable shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch that you had your eye on. It wasn't meant to transport you to yoga class or Linens & Things. No, that's what your Prius is for. If that's the kind of car you're looking for, then just do us all a favor and stop reading right now. I mean it. Just stop.
This car was engineered by 3rd degree ninja super-warriors in the highest mountains of Japan to serve the needs of the man that cheats death on a daily basis. They didn't even consider superfluous nancy boy amenities like navigation systems (real men don't get lost), heated leather seats (a real man doesn't let anything warm his butt), or On Star (real men don't even know what the hell On Star is).
No, this brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 265 HP engine to outrun the cops. It's got special blood/gore resistant upholstery. It even has a first-aid kit in the back. You know what the first aid kit has in it? A pint of whiskey, a stitch-your-own-wound kit and a hunk of leather to bite down on when you're operating on yourself. The Xterra also has an automatic transmission so if you're being chased by Libyan terrorists, you'll still be able to shoot your machine gun out the window and drive at the same time. It's saved my bacon more than once.
It has room for you and the four hotties you picked up on the way to the gym to blast your pecs and hammer your glutes. There's a tow hitch to pull your 50 caliber anti-Taliban, self cooling machine gun. I also just put in a new windshield to replace the one that got shot out by The Man. My price on this bad boy is an incredibly low $12,900, but I'll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don't walk up and tell me you'll give me $5,000 for it. That's liable to earn you a Burmese-roundhouse-sphincter-kick with a follow up three fingered eye-jab. Would it hurt? Hell yeah. Let's just say you won't be the prettiest guy at the Coldplay concert anymore.
There's only 69,000 miles on this four-wheeled hellcat from Planet Kickass. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry your name. It will live on as a monument to your machismo.
Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. If it's a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double, then contact me. I might be out hang-gliding or BASE jumping or just chilling with my ladies, but I'll get back to you. And when I do, we'll talk about a price over a nice glass of Schmidt while we listen to Johnny Cash.
To sweeten the deal a little, I'm throwing in this pair of MC Hammer pants for the man with rippling quads that can't fit into regular pants. Yeah, you heard me. FREE MC Hammer pants.
Reading this article made me feel like such a brute! The same way I felt last week when I bought that man/boy drill.