Fair is Foul and Foul is Foul

Fair is Foul and Foul is Foul

Mrs. De Stefano looked like Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast if, of course, Mrs. Potts were a real person and not an animated teapot. She was round, with chubby cheeks and a hearty, sweet laugh. She had a Masters in “Tough Love” and had double-majored in “Sass” and “Intellectual Rigor.” This woman was a force.

“Why would Shakespeare have the cock crowing, and reoccurring knocking in this scene,” she questioned us as she held Macbeth in one hand and twirled her plump fingers in the air, searching for something to materialize from our brains. Her eyes searched the room.

            Two seats away from Mrs. D, a name that was far easier to say than Miss-us De- Stef-a-no, I sat in my over-sized uniform, my hair frizzy from carelessness with my eyes scanning the section of text to which she was referring. In an all-girl’s school where, for most girls, Ivy League colleges were legitimate choices and not “reach” schools, I was a commoner grasping for the college acceptance scraps.

“Maybe Shakespeare likes visitors,” I thought to myself, too nervous to admit this very silly analysis of a story in which I was enthralled.

            It wasn’t Shakespeare’s tragedy that grabbed my attention; I was captivated by Mrs. D. She was a bundle of Shakespearean passion wrapped in a business-casual muumuu. Her love for Macbeth, which she had probably taught 3,000 times roughly, caressed our minds. She prodded us, tweaked our thoughts, played with our emotions and made us realize how the universe of Literature was fascinating; it was ours.

Distracted for a moment, I was casting the boys I was infatuated with as various characters in the play.

“Pete would be Macbeth, because he likes power.  Mike would be Banquo, because, like him, he will have hot sons…”

 “Melissa, how would you feel, sitting in the audience of this play, and a cock crows, out of the silence right as someone has been killed?” Mrs. D woke me from my boy obsessed stupor.

“Uh, wow,” I intelligently responded, “uh, well, that’s so scary, I think I’d pee my pants.”

With the words, came embarrassment. I’d pee my pants! At this point, twenty-five girls were laughing at me—with me. Who knows? I began to sweat, my hair frizzed a degree frizzier and I waited for Mrs. D’s reaction. I tried to play it cool. Laugh with everyone so this goes better? Fight off the embarrassment through tears? How would I work this one, of many, “Mongi Moments”?

            Sooner than I’d expected, Mrs. D’s face softened. She began to laugh that good laugh that comes straight from the soul. She was tearing up a bit as she, I, and the entire class exulted in my ridiculous comment.  

            Through laughs, Mrs. D choked out words I’ll never forget.

“Sweetie,” she breathed, “don’t ever, EVER say that in public again!”

            And I never have.

Love always, 

The Lady

Action is Eloquence

His life was gentle; and the elements
So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!

There is a hush as the joke lands on the audience. I wait as my cheeks burn with the words that have just sizzled out of my mouth. Were they funny words or not? I wait. The laughter starts and their happiness interrupts the silent room. I can move on. While there might be 40 people merely interested, one person with passion can fill a room. Passion comes in many forms, but my passion starts and ends with a punch-line.

I was an early giggler. My brother would make funny faces and, even at 3 months, I knew that was comedy. My Dad would make silly statements (that were usually untrue) and I’d have to uncover his meaning. As I got older, it was easier for me to recognize the satire between the lines. My mother was a character waiting to be mimicked, and I mimicked her to the point of many a “get to your room” and “stop repeating what I’m saying.” I was a blatant observer of others and my keen eye only added to my ability to make people laugh. While all those around me helped me develop my talent, passion isn’t static – it snowballs into something uncontrollable and, with a little luck, something profound.

When you are honing a skill you have to learn from the greats. I always appreciated Shakespeare’s tragedies, but I really loved any scenes devoted to the Groundlings (the socially degenerate of Shakespeare’s time). Dogberry in Much Ado About Nothing is absurd and hilarious, never making sense, but always making his own sense. The troupe of actors in A Midsummer Night’s Dream made me chuckle as they took their roles so comically, and disastrously, serious. What I learned from the fool of “Twelfth Night” was the greatest lesson of them all – comedians speak the most truth. Shakespeare takes the fool and shows the world that a passion for humor shines a light on the destructive nature of others. A fool’s passion can, sure, make the world smile, but that humor is based on the observations of a cruel world.

While I don’t pretend that my passion makes great change, I know it makes change. If I can “make em’ laugh” then I can make them think. If I can grab the attention of others for more than five seconds maybe they will see, for just a moment, that change is needed, that society is faltering in some way or that the individual has the ability to be better for the whole. In this moment, when the hush occurs and the joke lands on the audience, I wait for the laughter and I wait for the thinking to begin. 

Sincerely, 

The Lady

The Woman's Part In Me

Posthumus:

Could I find out

The woman's part in me—for there's no motion

That tends to vice in man, but I affirm

It is the woman's part; be it lying, note it,

The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;

Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;

Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,

Nice longing, slanders, mutability,

All faults that name, nay, that hell knows,

Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;

For even to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still . . 

Cymbeline Act 2, scene 5, 19–3

One, its been forever and a day since I've written. Sorry, faithful readers--especially you anonymous commenter who loves to fill my comment box with weird links to virus-filled places.

Anyway, I write today on an important issue...models. I've been living in a bubble where the models were not what everyone has always claimed. Consider the bubble burst, the seams of my naivety have come undone & the innocence I once clung to, like a child to its teddy bear, has slipped precariously under my bed. I get what all the hub-bub is about. Models ARE stick thin and models DO aggravate a situation in our current society where young girls feel the need to be super thin. Good morning, brain, welcome to reality!

How could I be so delusional? Well, thats simple. My models are not those (super-thin-almost-falling-over-from-the-weight-of-their-own-heads) models. My models are plus size models. They make sense. They're curvy and they always have a bit of chub that no photo-shop could remove. Looking at them has made me feel good. I don't feel like eating, or the way I look, is a problem, because their beautiful round faces say otherwise. Their decorated bodies, wearing different styles of clothes, have let me know that there is world beyond--where cool clothes fit big girls. I like my models. My models reinforce something within me, rather than diminish something within me. Also, my models look like people I know or would see in real life.

I was well and good in my delusions until I stumbled upon Forever21's website, which my friend called "Forever Size 1." I didn't understand her meaning at first, then I clicked to see some of their clothes. Holy heck, girlfriends - you are all very, VERY thin. I started thinking about other websites, magazines and advertisements I've ignored most of my life. This stuff must be everywhere! I'm scared that there are others out there; more skinny, more emaciated versions of the female body for little girls everywhere to covet. "No!" I shouted to my coworker who looked at me funny, and excused this behavior as something "zany" I would do.

I want them to see my models, look at the differences, and distinguish that the skinny ones are not to be idolized. I want them to see my models, and know the differences in beauty--that there are different forms of it and not one size fits all (pun intended) standards to beauty. I just want them to see my models.

With much love to my models,

The Lady

Clothe My Naked Villany

Richard:
"And thus I clothe my naked villany
With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ,
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."

King Richard III (I, iii, 336-338)

It’s been decided, I shall become a nudist. With the recent heat influx of, roughly, a billion degrees Fahrenheit – I’ve decided that clothes are no longer necessary. While not a nudist currently, during this past week I kinda get their lifestyle. Foregoing clothes has become the only solution to my heat induced hysteria.

In all honestly, I really like clothes. I like fashion and pairing this shirt, with that skirt, and color coordinating my wardrobe. With all that said, this past week has made me want to throw every article of clothing away and go ala-buff.

Going outside feels like some greater being is saying “Here, Melissa! Enjoy my hot breath!” I watched sizzling flowers combust into yellow ash, a drowsy bird drop woozily low to the ground, drunk from the sun. I felt the pain of a squirrel holding up his hands to the sky asking for a swift death. The heat has been so gross, it’s all I talk about.

I say the words “gross” and “stifling” at least four times a day. And, if nothing else, it’s a great way to break up an awkward pause in a conversation. “God, it’s hot out there – am I right? Eh? It’s stifling! Man, this weather is gross! Did you hear its going to be 103 tomorrow? Gross. Ew! Hot, hot, hot! Gross.”

Aside from it being hot outside, I’ve become horribly attached to my air conditioning. If there were meetings for those addicted to Air Conditioning I would have to stand up, say my name, and confess that I have a problem. Once inside, away from the heat blanket that has become life, I go into an A.C coma. I forget my name, I forget where I am, but I remember the cool sweetness of my air-conditioner and how it loves me unconditionally.

I walked outside of air-conditioning for 1 minute yesterday, and when I went back in it looked as if I’d jumped into a pool of hot water. My face was red & my large hair, which takes forever to wet, was dripping. It took me 35 minutes of air-conditioning and two Sham-Wows to dry myself off from my dip in the heat.

So maybe, just maybe, if I become a nudist things would be cooler. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d still be hot and hearing the word “gross” being referenced about the weather & my socially unacceptable behavior. 

A toast to cooling down,

The Lady

Most learnèd judge, a sentence! Come prepare!

"Most learned judge, a sentance! Come prepare!" - Skylock, Merchant of Venice

Certain things get me kind of ill-at-ease. Not knowing where a loved one has gotten to when they don't pick up their phones, the moment right before a grade is revealed, the moment after someone says "we need to talk," and when my gmail inbox reads "Anonymous has left a new comment on your post." For the most part, those who read this blog are people I know. Yet, there are strangers among us. When I read my inbox to find one of these strangers has made contact, there is this moment of realization as if to say "you are not alone...someone is watching." Today's comment particularly left me feeling like I needed to cover up my naked body and run into hiding. I kind of hate anonymous commenting because it feels cheap--dirty even. It suggests I should be open with the public, but someone is lurking outside the bushes watching me and hiding their identity. Rather than whine about these comments, I'm going to do exactly what this commentor has suggested - I'm going to continue to be original.

With that, I am going to pretend that these "Anonymous" comments are from people I know.

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post:
Opulently I assent to but I contemplate the collection should acquire more info than it has.
Dear Professor Sherlockwilloweed *Friendly Museum Curator,
So nice for you to drop by my blog and respond incoherantly to a post that had nothing to do with art or a collection of any sort. Your comment made me use a dictionary mostly because none of what you said had to do with being snowed in (the theme of my post). You must be a hoot to hang out with! I imagine you collect pipes, but never smoke them. Enjoy being boring! 
Love,
The Lady

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post:
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot of creativity and orginiality now keep it up!

Dear Mom,
Sorry this blog sucked early on. I know my earlier work dealt mostly in "drinking" and I imagine that broke your precious Mom-heart. I apologize. Thanks for always hanging my creative work on the fridge. No one believed in my talents more than you that day I brought home a bird house made of uncooked pasta. I will try to keep up the good work, so long as you always reward me in nothing but your honesty & mac n'cheese. You're the best...no, seriously, you are. No, its not me, its you! YOU'RE THE BEST!
Love,
Your lady-like daugther

Anonymous has left a new comment:
What do you think? Do I look hot? You can check my pics here!

Dear Tom (My First Kiss),
No. You don't. May I ask, is that a growth or some sort of tumor on your forehead. I don't remember that from grade-school. Whatever it is, it is not hot. T'will never be hot. ((shivver)).

Thanks for sending me such a wonderful comment!
Crying Herself to Sleep,
The Lady
P.S. That computer virus-link was excellent. I <3 computer viruses!

Keeping it real,

The Lady

Blow, blow, thou winter wind

Amiens:

"Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;" As You Like It

 Oh, no, snow! You've ruined my weekend to the core. Likewise, you've ruined my sanity!

Ok, so part of my weekend was ruined because of my own behavior (sorry Han-Sam) and subsequent illness all of yesterday. Regardless, tonight was supposed to be epic and tomorrow was supposed to be a fun-date with my ladies. What do I get instead? Inches of snow and, most likely, an extra 5 pounds. Whatever, let's look at things from the shiny side of the snowflake (terrible metaphor? I blame the snow!)

Anyhoo - good stuff that happened because of the snow:

1. Spent the day with my family & the love.

2. Baked monkey bread - ate monkey bread - gained 5 pounds of monkey-bread-love handles!

3. Stayed in my jammies all toasty and warm all day!

4. Felt a bit more Christmas-excitement thanks to the Christmas music playing all day long.

5. Watched an awful movie and didn't feel guilty about not doing work! Hooray!

6. Took an hour nap on the couch. Couch-naps are the greatest!

7. Ate delivery veggie pizza. There is nothing greater than eating a pizza and having it delivered to you. I should have just had someone feed it to me.

8. Have had a no makeup, hair-in-a-bun, scummy looking Lady kind of day - and I like it!

9. Watched the puppies frolicking in the snow! They were the cutest!

10. Smelled the sweet scent of cinnamon & spruce thanks to the season.

Ok, so I guess the snow isn't THAT bad. I just better not be stuck in here all day tomorrow or this cabin fever is going to become a true epidemic!

Ho-Ho-Ho,

The Lady

They Say Do Never Live Long

"So wise so young, they say do never live long."

King Richard III (III, i, 79)

While it is the holiday season, and I've had a fabulous weekend of family, friends and my love, I can't help but think of those we've lost.

In the past 6 years I have seen two wonderful men leave this earth way too early. One was in grad school and the other was working and "living the dream" of a bachelor. Both died in car accidents.One story remains a mystery and the other was killed by a drunk driver. Their stories ended far before their time and, every year at this time, I am reminded of them.

Christmas lights put me over the edge. Tonight, as I drove past rows of houses cheerily decorated with colorful orbs, I remember seeing those very lights and being told "he passed away." Christmas lights, so beautiful and happy, remind me of those two very souls who were taken from their families during the holidays. They will never get to hold their loved ones, decorate their trees, smell the chilly air, unwrap presents, get frustrated over crowded malls and taste delicious Christmas cookies. They won't, but I will. I will do all these things and, as much as I can, with a smile in honor of these two men.

Remember why this is the season.
Remember there are those who are lost and lonely.
Remember we can celebrate, while others cannot.
Just, remember...

Tis' the season,

~The Lady~

What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
Romeo And Juliet Act 2, scene 2, 2–6

Sometimes, we all need a little light coming through our window to remind us that, even though today is dreary, tomorrow will be better.  While my light isn't "Juliet" it is the forthcoming weekend. I know its only Monday, but I need to look forward to feel better about today!


Light Through My Window:

It is raining outside and I am tired, but this weekend brings a formal with my lovely boyfriend. I am so excited to get all pretty and dance the night away.  


Holiday music is playing, Christmas lights are going up and the Holiday season is upon us. I love giving gifts and thinking of people in a joyful and reflective manner for all of December. I love this time of year, because we no longer take each other for-granted. 


I have great friends. The end. 


We got a new dog who is slowly becoming a family member.


January brings new, and old, resolutions. This is the time to make changes that make me better for myself and better for others. 


New Moon is out and I think all the Twi-Hards will be out of the theaters and I can officially see it without their screams...or can I? 


The great hair-dye debate rages. Regardless, it is exciting to decide whether or not I will turn brunette or red-headed. For now, still blonde.


My friends from work are throwing a  "30s" themed party. I've already bought a Bonnie & Clyde-esque dress and cannot wait to dance with my love in his pin-stripe suit while my lips glisten in deep red. 


That is all for now. What are you excited for? What brings you some light on this rainy day?

~The Lady~

What Men Dare Do!

Claudio:"O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do!"Much Ado About Nothing (IV, i, 19-21)
This is my life....

So, I decided to take a professional course on philosophy and satire for a professional development day. Oh boy, did I learn alot. While everyone was acting like the adults they were, I pretended to be an adult. On the inside, I was giggling and freaking out like a child.

Why? Well, because although I thought I'd be learning about Satire we had read "Plato's Symposium" which explores love. Most of these love ideas came from how Ancient Greeks thought the love between man and man was the highest form of love. Each older man would have a young boy to teach and receive, ya know, "wisdom" *wink*wink*! Today, very pervy sounding - old man, little boy...creeeppppy!

The man-on-man love wasn't the funny part. Thats actually cool. Yay Gay Rights! Isn't America a democracy based on neoclassic tradition? Well, then. We should give homosexuals the right to get married. Highest form of love, hello!

The funny part was having my 60+ professor explain to us that Ancient Greeks thought small penises made for a more manly man! When did that tradition change? Also, in a male-dominant society I'm sure the women never got to say "Oh, sorry....I would like the big peen, thanks!"

And, with that, I giggled on the inside as this educated man explained how big peeners were considered "animalistic" and belonged to half-man half-goat people. Interesting. Hercules - tiny peener. Zeus - itty bitty thing. So, cheers to that I guess. How awkward is my life though? I would choose this course.

I should've just picked something tame like British Literature....I wonder what their thoughts are on size.


 ~The Lady~

Twilight on the Toilet

This might be T.M.I, so stop if you are prudish....

For those who are notfaint of heart, the other day I was in the bathroom and, all of a sudden, I noted the distinct stare of a pair of eyes. I was ashamed, awkward and very worried as I realized whose glowing eyes stared back at me.

No, not Walter Cronkite or K.Stew! Robert, *sigh*, oh Robert. There he was, Robert Pattinson, staring at me in all his "messy" glory. I bought this magazine months ago and it found its way to the bathroom. I've read the articles about 65 times and, somehow, he was the top magazine, in the basket, aside the sink that stared at me whilst I was on the potty. I guess my Dad was interested in Robert's messy affairs, because I haven't brought this mag to the top in a long time.

Regardless, how shamed was I? Robert Pattinson had now seen me and my nether-regions! I would've apologized, if he hadn't been in the form of a magazine picture. Everytime something like this happens, I think of Harry Potter's world where pictures come to life. If that were true, how weird would it be for Robert to be, red-faced and awkward as ever, staring back at me in the loo. I imagined the conversation would go something like this:

Robert (all awkward and British): Oh, uh, sorry, uh, uh, uh, I'll just...(as he turns away).

Me (all awkward and American): Oh my all that is good and glorious!! ROBERT PATTINSON! It is an honor. I love your work.

Robert (trying to not look at my hoo-ha): Well, thanks, uh (runs fingers through his own hair 32 times just to make sure it doesn't look managed). Maybe you should, uh, uh, uh...

Me (realizing I am half-nude and compromised on the potty): OH MY GOSH! Silly me! So, how's your messy love life going?

Robert: Uh, uh, well, uh, (awkward laugh), uh, you know. 

Things would end there, I hear Robert is quite shy, and I would awkwardly kiss his picture's face. He would be more awkward, run his hands through his hair 62 more times) and run out of the magazine cover leaving me only with K.Stew. who'd be saying something ridiculous that I'd have to decode later.

*Sigh*

If only our magazine covers came to life. Time to get a new magazine. Next up, Taylor Lautner (bow-chica-wow-wow).

To bathroom friends,

~The Lady~

Sick Realizations

First and foremost, my day turned around greatly on Tuesday. I even got a whole new blouse for free! Thanks for your concern!

Secondly, now I am sick. Boo.

In this congested, sniffly-time I've been doing quite some over-the-counter-drug-induced thinking. My chest feels congested, my nose is stuffed and I cannot smell/taste. Clarity through the junk that my body is filled with is an interesting concept, but one I am growing to love/hate. I love that I have a clear mind, but I hate that I am sick. Anyway, here is the thought: no one else matters. 

I've probably been jealous of others 85% of my life. I've feigned and pretended I was above it all, but I haven't been. I read things, I watch stuff and I languish in the materials, values and joys of others. I want her outfit, his car, her life and his skill. I want, I want and I want. I can't get enough of what others have.

It's time to empty it all out. It's time to stop wanting and focus on what I have, what I can give and who I am. No one else matters. No one's rules can take over my life so much that I ruin myself wanting, trying so much harder to reach some ideal of perfection that can't be reached. I want to make my own perfection.

So who am I?

I am messy, careless, sarcastic and rude.
I am anxious, excited and calm.
I am spiritual, thoughtful and emotional.
I am reflective, apologetic and forgetful
I am lazy, hard working and trying.
I am loving, frightened and kind.
I am so many things one blog can't express, one entry can't hold.

Who are you? Tell me a bit about you. In sharing, we may all find clarity, or not. At least, we'll get to talking about what really matters - ourselves and no one else.

Enjoy what you have & who you are :)
~The Lady~

Had a Bad Day

"When life hands you lemonades, run home screaming in horror because even life is telling things are looking sour" - a Lady original piece.

9:37 a.m and this is already shaping up to be an epic-fail kind of day.

• First of all, the Phillies played a fantastically exciting game until 12 last night. I am a Grandma in so many ways that staying up until 12 has now hit me hard. Staying up has hit me harder than a Suzuki hitting a defenseless woman crossing the street. I am feeling the pain. 
  
• My eyes are burning. A combination of "I need new contacts" and "I lack sleep" have turned into "I can't open my eyes properly.
• My new blouse, out of the blue, decided that its sleeve would rip open. It was such a cute blouse. I have thrown out the receipt, and, thusly, will have to live with the rip. For the bones I spent on this bad-boy, I really deserve and entirely new shirt. SERIOUSLY. Look how cute it is! Thank the Lord I have this sweater to cover the holey-situation. RIP precious tunic top. You served me well. Alright, you served me for about an hour and then your seams pooped out on life. 
• I have a tummy ache. I just want to crawl into child's pose, drink some ginger-ale and call it a day.
• A co-worker, who I don't really know well, walked by me and giggled as if I'd said something funny, but I hadn't. She then proceeded to giggle, correct herself and move on. I haven't moved on because I am fairly certain she was just laughing at me. Awesome. 
• Someone said to me the following dreaded phrase: "You look tired." Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Jeez. Saying someone "looks tired" encompasses so many insults. Not only do you look sleep-deprived, you have bags under your eyes proving this fact. Not only did you probably not get sleep, and feel generally crappy, your face, body and (ripped) outfit all prove the fact that you are a waste of life right now. 
• It's Tuesday. Not Friday. Not even close. I woke up thinking it was Thursday (who knows why) and was sadly mistaken.
  
• Finally, the cafeteria is playing "PINK's greatest hits" - while I appreciate a good Pink song every now and again, 80 minutes of this has sent me, officially, over the deep end.

Lady, 0, Life 7.

Trying to make some lemonade out of life's lemons,


~The Lady~



 

Things I'm Good at...

Thanks to a little training class called "Zumba" I've learned a startling fact about myself...

I can move like Beyonce.

Yes.

Pause yourself for a moment and think about that.

No, I'm not lying.

In class, I look like Beyonce here. Or is it more like this old lady? Maybe a cross between the two of them.

A woman today in class said "Damn! She can move" referring to me and my hips of wonder. Sure, I don't look like Beyonce, but when she plays a song I love I just can't stop my hips from doing things unmentionable, yet alone done in front of 20 other women. They just move fast-my hips that is. It is quite a wonder, even to myself. I may not be 100% coordinated, or quick, but when the instructor does that move that ladies do in rap videos, well, I can mimic it like no other.

Which brings me to my second talent, I'm a parrot. I can't speak other languages, but when I hear words or phrases I can surely repeat them back in  a perfect accent. No lie.

I can also parrot people. I start to pick up their gestures and nervous ticks and I am able to exaggerate them. No lie. It's probably how I learned to speak & be a smart-ass at a very young age. Comedy-wise, it's been my saving grace for 24 years of life. My parroting has brought many a friend and an enemy. So be it. I am good at it.

So on this glorious Sunday I ask you-what can you do? What makes you unique? Do you have hurricane hips? Are you a mirror to others? Whatever it is, be proud of your accomplishments however seemingly weird they may be.

To hips of fury,


~The Lady~

Back-2-School

Summer is over...

Bring on everything that is Autumn.

Back-2-School fun is much different, I imagine, for teachers of gradeschool. As I am a teacher of High School, Back-2-School sounds and feels like the following.

1. The stench of puberty, ie: stinky boys who don't know the word, nor use the product, that is deodorant.

2. The ringing of dirty language and words they wouldn't say in front of their Mamas. Or, maybe they would? Kids these days!

3. The look of depression and angst. God, I've missed that.

4.  The amateur drawings of phallic symbols. Yes. This is my job.

5. The sound of the re-telling of fart jokes. How do I not laugh at them myself?

6. The humming of the excuse machine. "I didn't do my homework because I have my period." "Well, I didn't give you a good grade because I'm PMSing." (I never actually responded like this, but I did get this excuse).

7. The look of the kid who is too cool for school and, for that matter, life.

8. The stench of whiskey being passed in water-bottles.

9. The sight that is the "we don't get your joke" face. Ha ha ha! Anyone? ANYONE? Is this thing on? No? I'm corny? Oh, ok. Well....POP QUIZ! Ha. Joke is on YOU!

10. The sting of being disrespected.

11. The color of money (thank god for paychecks)

12. The sweet taste of accomplishment knowing that someone out there learned and used something you taught them (even if it was about how to take a good prom photo).

I'm too excited to sleep. Which means I'm too excited to get up. Mommy, can I stay home from school?

Ugh.

To a good Autumn & year. Here we go again!

~The Lady~

Hair Dye My Personality, Please <3

I’m getting the itch to do it. You can’t stop me! I will, inevitably, come to the decision to end all decisions; will I change my hairstyle?

Three weeks ago I was dead set on bangs. I needed them. I pondered over them and I finally got them. I was so excited leading up to the inevitable cut, that I didn’t really think it through. So, now, I have curly bangs. They are alright—not good, not great, just alright. I should be flat-ironing them everyday (thanks, curly hair), but I’m not.

I’m over them.

Nevertheless, there is something in the process of changing hair color & style that makes me giddy. Even if it’s just briefly, the “I’m going to change my hair”and chatting about it with the hairstylist stages are always so much fun. It’s usually 4 or 5 months later, when I’m ready to start the process all over again, that my current hair become drab.

Why the obsession with hair changes? I think it stems from the personas that hairstyles/colors can take on. According to others, short hair makes me look more adult. While some would argue it makes me look more sassy. My long hair takes me back to high school & keeps me feeling young and alive. When I go blonde people are eager to ingeniously point out “Wow, you’re blonde!” Yes, yes I am! Thank you, I almost forgot. Much like Goldielocks sitting it the baby bear's chair & eating his porridge, I think the blonde fits my pinkish skin tone just right! But, that won't stop me. I'm a hair-changing maniac ready to reek havoc on my roots!

I hear two things when I dye my hair dark. One, “You look like your Mom” and two, “You’re pale!” While these aren’t compliments, I am getting to the days in which I wouldn’t mind dealing with the pale-Mom comments. I am going dark. Yes, like a vampire ((cue hissing)).

Why is it I change my hair when I know it looks better a certain way? Boredom. I change it because I want to feel spontaneous, a little stupid and different from myself for a bit. And, lets not tip-toe around the real reason here; I LOVE taking that ever so clever “My New Haircut” picture & posting it on Myspace, Facebook, TwitPic and Flickr! There isn't anything more gratifying then getting compliments on my new hair-do via the web!

Maybe this time, I’ll go RED! We’ll see about that. I might be hair-courageous, but I ain’t stupid!

To those of you who love switching it up all the time (and I don’t mean sexual partners), a toast to you!

~The Lady~

Wisdom from Grandma Ep.1

The Beautiful Lady & Her Beautiful Readers

I've decided a new portion of this blog will be devoted to beauty tips. Sorry, SamFran. You may want to cover your eyes for this segment. Its not so much that I know everything about beauty its just that a like this stuff...a lot. I will also be devoting some of this blog to health tips I pick up here and there. I realized, I love jewelry, makeup & tips on how to look & feel great. With that, I am venturing into new territory. You will see occasional cameos from the lady herself. Yippee! Regardless, this is a new dawn for this blog. I'm just getting sick of talking about life's little observations & whining. So, some fun stuff, some whining, some celebrity B.S, & some jewelry! Yay for shiny things!

Wisdom from Grandma Episode #1 -

"Vaseline is good for everything that ails ya'" - Grandma Lady

My Grandmother had the best skin ever. She was 82 and looked 65. I attribute this to her "keep it simple, stupid" attitude when it came to beautifying herself. Recently, I've been on the Grandma regime of beautifying myself. And, wonder of wonders, its been working! Damn, Grandma! You were right! Here are some tips my Grandmother used to give me when I was young, naive and really into buying products I saw in Seventeen.

Vaseline: Grandma was dead on (no pun intended as Grandma is, bless her soul, dead) when it came to her use of Vaseline. Vaseline is my go-to drug. If I were an addict of anything it would be Vaseline. To make it even more awesome, the stuff is cheap. It's an easy and accessible drug! I don't really know what Vaseline is supposed to be used for, but here is how I use it to make me look Be-U-T-ful!

Lips -Vaseline ails chapped lips.Want soft lips? Coat the lips in Vaseline, grab an unused toothbrush (or one owned by someone you hate) and brush your lips. Yeah, I said it. Brush your lips for 30 seconds. Wipe off excess Vaseline and BAM! Super soft lips. Vaseline can also give you a brilliant shine with out the $10 lip gloss.

Eyes- No, do not put Vaseline IN your eyes, but Vaseline can help you enhance your eyelashes! Vaseline can give you softer less clumped eyelashes and, in time, help them grow thicker and longer. Dab a thin coating of Vaseline on top of eyelashes before you go to bed. When you're ready to put on mascara you will notice a considerable difference in how smoothly you can apply mascara. Soon, you will see considerable differences in the fullness of your lovely lashes. Need brows to stay in place? Small bit of Vaseline on the brows to keep them looking good. Have a nasty burn post eyebrow waxing? Vaseline does the trick! I don't suggest Vaseline for other more "southern" waxes, but I wouldn't put it past this wonder drug to help.

Makeup- Although I can't say I do this often, I know it works. Run out of lipstick, but happen to have Vaseline & eyeshadow on you (this could happen...who knows?)? Or, do you really like a shade of eyeshadow that would look great as a lipstick? Brush a light dusting of your fave eyeshadow on your lips. Dab Vaseline on top and, voila, you've got yourself a new shade. Beware of some eye shadows with chemicals that make this effect look clumpy. Remember the days when shiny eyeshadow was popular? Well, apply the same directions as for the lips to the eyes and you have that glimmered 1970s look

Remover- Removing makeup can be a bitch, but Vaseline will help you get it off AND (as said above) will help your eyelashes grow!

I don't lie! Vaseline does it all!

Warning: Use Vaseline in small doses. Take it from an addict, too much will make you look like a shiny mess. Also, too much Vaseline can clog the pores so don't go crazy. Everything in moderation my beautiful friends!

Thanks to Grandma,

~The Lady~

Work it Girl

I'm revamping this bad-boy. Time to make it saucier than usual.

Things that are Funny
1. Sitting near a boss when trying to significantly procrastinate & search the web for bridesmaids dresses. Thank you, life.

2. Being grouped with a co-worker who knows she will be laid off in the Spring. Can you say bitter? Can you say I’ll be doing ALL the work?

3. Having an itchy butt. When is that ever NOT funny? Seriously, why does that happen? It’s not the internal (I know gross, right?), its just the exterior. Maybe it’s these cotton panties? All I know is scratching becomes a series of gyrations in the form of circling the buttocks on the chair. “Check out the freak in the back row! Why is she sitting like that? Why does she look like she’s humping the chair?”

4. Squirrels.

5. Spotting pre-teens who will, in their lifetime, play World of Warcraft, go to a Fluffy Convention and dabble in rejuvenating herbs.
Here are some of those pre-teens now:












6. Spotting people singing in their cars.

7. Being the person spotted singing in the car.


Things I Love
1. Wedding shows, websites, advice columns, blogs, twitter updates, news briefs, doctrines, magna cartas…YOU NAME IT – I will read, look, purchase and enjoy so long as it talks about color schemes and DIY favors. LOVE IT.

2. Gossip mags/blogs. Can’t get enough. Must keep reading about who Robert Pattinson is dating. Must find out where John Gosselin is laying his pipe these days. Must...keep...reading!

3. Twitter. Figuring out how to be clever & encapsulate my day all in 140 characters. It’s too much! Why don’t they make it 150 characters? I’d be REAL clever then!

4. Wawa coffee…24 oz, French Vanilla, splash of French Vanilla creamer, and the rest sugar/skim milk. Oui! Oui! Mon cherie!

5. Google images. This can also go into the “Funny” category. Go to Google images and type in "Owned" or "Funny" or "Ugly." Such simple words produce the funniest and most loveable results! Therein lies my point. LOVE IT!

~The Lady~

Love Looks Not With the Eyes

Helena:"Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind."
A Midsummer Night's Dream (I, i, 234)

Much like a dieter, my enchantment with the new show More to Love had its ups and downs. One minute, I hated the show and all it stood for. The next minute, I loved every ridiculous second of forced romance & romantic theories that it threw in my face. What is my consensus? It’s ok and I will watch it again next week.

A show where the idea of being “big” and “plus sized” is exploited and worked into every second of the 1 hour Bachelor-esque concept seemed, at first, ridiculous. I couldn’t get over the whining, and I’m allowed to say whining as I am a plus-sized girl, that went on between the chubbettes.

“I’ve never had a date b/c I’m fat.”

“I never went to prom b/c I’m fat.”

“I’ve never had a second date because I’m fat,” said a girl who had clearly not reached the second date mark because of her oversized insanity & not her waistline.

I almost screamed at the T.V. a couple of times. Maybe, these things were closed off to you because you were too busy hating yourself more than anything! Don’t blame the fat—blame yourself!

It’s this type of self-loathing that I’ve never let myself fall prey to. I went to prom, I had awkward hook-ups and dates and I know just as many skinny girls who didn’t for many other reasons aside from their weight. Yet, this is what the show plays on—the insecurities of both big women and small women. You’re insecure, that’s why there were no dates, proms etc. There are millions of us insecure gals out there, just looking for love from guys who, sorry guys, don’t get it.
The point is, More to Love has caught my eye regardless of the overweight complaints. I want these girls to find love with their plus-sized guy. I want them to be happy and, with that, I watched eagerly wondering whom he’ll pick. Plus, the cattiness reigns supreme among the ladies which is always fun to watch.

I also like that fatties are getting a chance on the tube. It is pretty ridiculous that the only people, according to television & movies, that get any action are skinny-minis.

I heard a woman on the news say, "I don't want to watch fat people fall in love," and thusly decided she was a black-hearted cow.

Anyway, I just think we should feel better about ourselves. Look at how beautiful you are and wonder not what makes you repel guys, but what makes guys see you as something sexy!

To quote a somewhat obscure singer, Jesse James, from her song “Blue Jeans,”

“Don’t matter what ya wearin hey hey
Its about the way you wear it hey hey
Don’t matter what ya wearin hey hey
Its about the way ya hey hey
I step in my blue Jeans
Homewreck in my blue jeans
I got it from my momma so im blessed in my
Blue jeans”

Be blessed & feel good,

~The Lady~

Saucy

Very quickly as I am vacationing in Greece still I present to you a slice of Greek life:

While riding the Metro, a very-American girl with her Greek boyfriend stand holding on to the pole that protects them from flying across the length of the train. The two look ruffled from a day at the beach. Sand and wind have forced the girl's hair into a ball of blonde-Brillo pad. After two weeks of riding the Metro, and understanding the psyche of the Greek woman, the very sun-strained American girl looks around at she, who will be known as, Greek Starer.

American Girl: Another one is staring.

Boyfriend: Just stare back

American Girl: I've tried that...they just keep scowling. Its not a quick American "we'll make fun of you later once you don't know it" stare. These women stare into my soul as if ready to break it.

American Girl stares back. Greek Starer holds her gaze, scowling and looking her up and down. American Girl exchanges a forced scowl and stares her opposition up and down. Greek Starer puts her eyes where they belong and looks out the window.

American Girl: Victory....

Boyfriend: She's staring again.

The two laugh, glance at the woman and continue to make fun of the tactless wonder sitting two feet away from them. At their stop American Girl, ballsy and brazen as ever wearing a perfect smile, waves to the Greek Starer whose eyes widen in fear. She looks away very quickly as if I, pardon me, American Girl had just threatened to take out her whole family ala "The Godfather."

Boyfriend(laughing heartily): I think she just shit herself. Victory.

Adding a bit of my country to their ancient one,

The Lady

I Hold the World but as the World

Antonio:" I hold the world but as the world,
Gratiano,A stage where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one."The Merchant of Venice (I, i, 77-79)

Life Lessons
Things people don’t like, don’t want to do and aren’t attracted to:

No one wants to…

1. Read anything Longer than a Page: This occurs when it could have been condensed into a sentence. For some people, they don’t want to read anything longer than a paragraph or a couple of words. You might feel this way if you continue reading…that is your right and I agree with you.
2. Listen to Rambling: Much like #1, when you talk too much people tend to think you’re full of yourself and, likewise, full of hot air. Phrases like, “She likes to hear herself talk,” were born out of the mouths of these people. Cut it off. “KISS” should be a constant reminder to your hot-air balloon mouth; keep it simple stupid. Also, stay away from me at bars or at social events where I want to have fun and I don’t want to think of escape routes from your extensive tongue (this sounds sexy, but isn’t).

3.Feel Stupid: Hey, are you condescending? Maybe before you can answer that question you need to answer the following: Do you like to ‘teach’ people constantly? Do you say “hun, honey, doll-face, sweetheart” when addressing people who are your age or a bit younger? Do you always think of a better way people can be doing something? When no one is asking for criticism, do you give it? Does your shit not stink? If you answered yes to any of the above, guess what, no one likes you.

4. Be Attacked by Sarcasm that isn’t Sarcasm: The kind of sarcasm where a) it wasn’t funny, b) it was a true statement about a person, but you changed the intonation of your voice, and c) it came from a deep bitter place within yourself. Keep it to yourself.

5. Feel Poor: “I only drive BMW,” she/he says as you think about your beat-ass Toyota in the parking lot. “I only wear Banana Republic,” she/he says as your look at your Kohls shirt with the stain in the middle. “I only use MAC,” as your PC needs to be restarted for the 33rd time in one day. “I wouldn’t dare eat crap from a fast food restaurant,” she/he says as you throw out your BigMac. “I only drink top-shelf alcohol,” he/she says as your slurp your $1 Miller. Who are these people? Where does their money come from? Why do I need to hear their valuable knowledge about being a materialistic a-hole? On top of that, why do I care? If I choose to fill my body with cheap food & drinks, dress it in cheap clothes and drive off in my cheap car (whilst twittering on my cheap PC), why do I need to hear doctrines on living the high-life?

6. Recieve Too Much Information: Yes, it was too much information. No, we don’t care about your sex life. Yes, it’s great that you are so “kinky.” No, I don’t want to think about you in that position. No, talking about this stuff doesn’t make you more attractive, it makes you more desperate for attention then I had originally thought.

7. Hang out with Debbie & Donny Downer: Starting with a sad story of your life doesn’t make people want to be your friend, it makes them pity you. Continuing to only tell sad stories about how awful your life is will only push people further away. People like happiness. They like to feel happy and they like the people around them to make them happy. Sure, we all have moments. Regardless, constantly being sad-sac doesn’t make anyone say, “Damn, I just wish I could hang out with that sad person all the time!”

8. Hang out with Negative Nancy & Ned: Going right along with #7, this couple makes everything ten times harder. Nothing will ever go right in their world and being around them only brings you down. These people are so absurdly negative that, at times, I laugh at them. Do you live in a war-town country? Are you oppressed, lobotomized, or isolated on a regular basis? What could have possibly happened to you that everything, in your mind, will end in with a wallop of bird-crap? Maybe the first step is to cheer up, look on the bright side and things might, just might, go better! Or you could hang out with Debbie/Donny Downer and have a depressing party.

9. Check out your Metaphors & your Big Words: Just because you know what a “paradigm” is doesn’t mean you need to throw it around like some dazzling emphasis of how “smart” you are. You’re only going to slow down the conversation and distract everyone from your original intent by making them feel stupid. Or was that what you wanted? Likewise, save the metaphorical conversation for a day when people care about how clever you are (*this day won’t actually come*).

10. Question your Real Age: This type of person/characteristic can go two ways; acting below your age or far above your own age. Listen, if you’re still worrying about events taking place at your high school, step out of your comfort zone and recognize “Hell, I’m 28 years old and I should get a life!” Likewise, if you’re busy making others feel stupid (refer to #3) because you’re so much more mature (you probably drop the big words too) you should probably stop yourself before everyone you care about realizes you’re an asshole.

11. Be Lied to: When the lies become greater than the person you really are you will surely lie yourself into a hole. No one is as great as you pretend you are. No one has such elaborate stories. No one believes a word you say. Just stop.

12. Tactless Wonder - Stop telling people, "Well, I'm opinionated and thats just who I am." You're not nice. Its not about having an opinion, its about whether or not that opinion is hurtful and useless. Common sense and kindergarten lessons are what you really need. Maybe there you'll learn wherey ou can stick your "opinions."
13. I'm Always Right- No. You're not. Call it a day, go home, think about life and get over yourself. Listen to others sometimes and you might hear how wrong you really are.

I know I went against most of these in writing a lengthy, condescending piece in which I used big words and metaphors, the point is I notice this stuff daily. I notice how one person’s behavior can bring down another person’s self-esteem in about a second. I observe the unskilled behaviors of so many people that sometimes I just want to scream. There will be no end to this stuff, but sometimes it feels good to call these people assholes even if its in a blog that no one reads.

Peace, love, optimism and NOT being a d-bag.

~The Lady~