Soccer Moms Can Suck It

People are too sensitive. Pathetic little whiners who can’t take a joke; even a really really really funny one. I was ghcatting with a friend and he sent me a link to the article/email that I’m now writing about. He’s always sending me incredible links. This one is by far my favorite; so lets get to it.

Michael Kinahan is the (former) coach of  the 6 & 7-year-old girls soccer team in Scituate, Massachusetts fabulously named “Green Death“. Seriously. He resigned as coach before the season even started due to the following (amazing) email he sent to parents as a way to introduce himself.

Just read it. Read ALL of it. The beginning of the email might seem mundane but KEEP READING! Trust me. It is so worth it. My favorite lines in the email I’ve made bold so you don’t miss (what I think are) the best parts and the simply genius remarks I’ve made bold & italic. You’re welcome. Ok…  ready to laugh your ass off? I freagin hope so.

Congratulations on being selected for Team 7 (forest green shirts) of the Scituate Soccer Club! My name is Michael and I have been fortunate enough to be selected to coach what I know will be a wonderful group of young ladies. Chris Mac will also be coaching and I expect the ever popular Terry to return to the sidelines. Our first game will be Saturday April 4 at 10:00AM. There will be a half hour of skills followed by a 1 hour game, so total time will be 1.5 hours. All games will be played on the fields in the front of the High School. Each player will be required to wear shin guards and cleats are recommended but not required. A ball will be provided to each player at the first meeting, and each player should bring the ball to games and practices. There is no set practice time allotted for the U8 teams, but I will convene with the coaches to determine the best time and place. If there are cancellations due to rain, all notices will be posted via the Scituate Soccer Club website, no calls will be made (though I will try to send an email). Attached is the Schedule and Code of Conduct. After listening to the head of the referees drone on for about 30 minutes on the dangers of jewelry (time which I will never get back), no player will be allowed to play with pierced ears, hairclips, etc. We used to tape the earings, but that practice is no longer acceptable. Please let me know if your child has any health issues that I need to be aware of. My home phone is 781 XXX XXXX, my cell number is 781 XXX XXXX, and I check my email frequently. According to my wife, my emails get too wordy, so for those of you read too slowly, are easily offended, or are too busy, you can stop here. For the others……

OK, here’s the real deal: Team 7 will be called Green Death. We will only acknowledge “Team 7” for scheduling and disciplinary purposes. Green Death has had a long and colorful history, and I fully expect every player and parent to be on board with the team. This is not a team, but a family (some say cult), that you belong to forever. We play fair at all times, but we play tough and physical soccer. We have some returning players who know the deal; for the others, I only expect 110% at every game and practice. We do not cater to superstars, but prefer the gritty determination of journeymen who bring their lunch pail to work every week, chase every ball and dig in corners like a Michael Vick pit bull. Unless there is an issue concerning the health of my players or inside info on the opposition, you probably don’t need to talk to me. Coach MacDonald has been designated “good guy” this year.

Some say soccer at this age is about fun and I completely agree. However, I believe winning is fun and losing is for losers. Ergo, we will strive for the “W” in each game. While we may not win every game (excuse me, I just got a little nauseated) I expect us to fight for every loose ball and play every shift as if it were the finals of the World Cup. While I spent a good Saturday morning listening to the legal liability BS, which included a 30 minute dissertation on how we need to baby the kids and especially the refs, I was disgusted. The kids will run, they will fall, get bumps, bruises and even bleed a little. Big deal, it’s good for them (but I do hope the other team is the one bleeding). If the refs can’t handle a little criticism, then they should turn in their whistle. The sooner they figure out how to make a decision and live with the consequences the better. My heckling of the refs is actually helping them develop as people. The political correctness police are not welcome on my sidelines. America’s youth is becoming fat, lazy and non-competitive because competition is viewed as “bad”. I argue that competition is good and is important to the evolution of our species and our survival in what has become an increasingly competitive global economy and dangerous world. Second place trophies are nothing to be proud of as they serve only as a reminder that you missed your goal; their only useful purpose is as an inspiration to do that next set of reps. Do you go to a job interview and not care about winning? Don’t animals eat what they kill (and yes, someone actually kills the meat we eat too – it isn’t grown in plastic wrap)? And speaking of meat, I expect that the ladies be put on a diet of fish, undercooked red meat and lots of veggies. No junk food. Protein shakes are encouraged, and while blood doping and HGH use is frowned upon, there is no testing policy. And at the risk of stating the obvious, blue slushies are for winners.

These are my views and not necessarily the views of the league (but they should be). I recognize that my school of thought may be an ideological shift from conventional norms. But it is imperative that we all fight the good fight, get involved now and resist the urge to become sweat-xedo-wearing yuppies who sit on the sidelines in their LL Bean chairs sipping mocha-latte-half-caf-chinos while discussing reality TV and home decorating with other feeble-minded folks. I want to hear cheering, I want to hear encouragement, I want to get the team pumped up at each and every game and know they are playing for something.

Lastly, we are all cognizant of the soft bigotry that expects women and especially little girls, to be dainty and submissive; I wholeheartedly reject such drivel. My overarching goal is develop ladies who are confident and fearless, who will stand up for their beliefs and challenge the status quo. Girls who will kick ass and take names on the field, off the field and throughout their lives. I want these girls to be winners in the game of life. Who’s with me?

Go Green Death!

These parents have NO sense of humor. I personally adore the clever Michael Vick reference and laugh out loud at the mention of drug testing 6 year-olds. How is that not funny?!? I just don’t get it. Bar Stool Sports, however, did get it. They’ve already made a t-shirt out of it… and I want it really really bad.

Front

Back

Best t-shirt ever. Love it. Anyways, soo the parents complained to the league causing Coach K to resign. His resignation letter can be found here. And I think it’s a pretty admirable letter. The guys got class. (That’s also the site I copied the whole email from)

I would have loved to have had this guy as my soccer coach. Or at least a mentor or something. Stupid Scituate soccer league.

Thoughts anyone?? Go Coach K… or No Coach K? Buy the t-shirt or burn the t-shirt?

I’m actually being a busy honey bee at work today. I know; shocker. I have lots to tell but no time to write at the moment. I do have time to post my new favorite commercial though. It made me laugh my ass off and rewind to watch it 5 times. It also kind of makes me want a Heineken… I guess that means their advertising department is doing a super fab job. The guys faces are freagin priceless.

Excuse Me While I Freak The Fuck Out For A Second

I’m just gonna say what I’m thinking b/c I don’t know how else to start it off…. My heart hurts. Why. What the Fuck. Maybe it’s a mistake. No it’s def not a mistake. This really really sucks a big one. I kinda wanna cry. I kinda wanna call and bitch. I kinda wanna crawl in a hole. I kinda want them all to see me out tonight having a fucking blast. I hope her birthday fucking sucks balls and her nasty boyfriend breaks up with her.  Unbelievable. What a SLutch.

I’ve known Mex (girl) for I guess two years now. She’s part of Juicy’s highschool crew. I’m tight with Juicy’s friends. I can’t believe I just said tight, but you know; like I’d call Mex to see what she was doing sometimes and not just see her out with Juicy. That’s close, in my opinion. We even talked about living together when her boyfriend dumped her, but then they got back together a couple weeks later and she moved back in with him. I invited her to my birthday. Ok whatever, we’re friends is what I’m getting at. Or at least I fucking thought we were. Fucking girls man.

Yesterday I noticed on my facebook mini feed that everyone was writing on everyone elses wall about Friday night and how much fun it was gonna be and they cant wait to see each other bla bla bla. So I’m thinking… What the hell?! I’m always included in this kind of shit. There should be a notification waiting for me that says someone wrote on my wall about Friday night. But no, there’s no notification like that.

So I’m thinking this must be a mistake; an oversight. I’d already been gchatting with Juicy so I asked her what she was doing this weekend. She avoided the question for 5 whole minutes by talking about other stuff before in all caps I asked again what she was doing this weekend. She finally said Mex’s birthday on Friday night, no plans Saturday except looking at apartments with me. That’s it. No “You’re coming right?” or “Wanna go together?” or “What are you gonna wear?” like she normally would say. She just asked me what I was doing this weekend.

I was stunned. Seriously. So stunned that I ignored her for a few minutes and gchatted Pancey asking what she was doing this weekend. She said going out to dinner for Mex’s birthday and then home b/c she had to get up early bla bla bla. No invite. Same thing. She asked what I was doing this weekend.

Honestly I already had plans for Friday night. A friend of BFF’s is coming in town and we’re taking her out in Georgetown. But that’s beside the point. At any other point in time they both would have said that we should all try to meet up sometime during the night since we’ll both be downtown. But they didn’t. They kept their mouths shut. And I’m fucking pissed about it.

On a highly related note; Kendra still isn’t talking to me. On Wednesday night she texted me and said, “Did you sleep with Daniel? And don’t lie to me- a mutual friend said you did-  be honest”. ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Is what I thought. When I saw I had a text from Kendra I kinda got a little excited thinking she was over it all and wanted to hang out. Not the case. Back to square one basically.

I shoulda just said no but I was too pissed and surprised and probably overcompensated. I know I overcompensated. I always do that. It stems from the ex; he always thought I was lying so I had to defend myself all the time and I would start defending myself before he ever even accused me of lying b/c I knew that he thought he knew that I was gonna lie before I even opened my mouth. Does that make sense? So I sound like I’m lying when I’m telling the truth, b/c I over-think everything and over-explain and defend myself. My response to Kendra? “I would never ever even THINK about sleeping with Daniel. I swear on my mothers life… and I Never do that”. Yeaaahh… Shoulda just said no.

Anyways, she didn’t respond back. I told Juicy this and she said Kendra hadn’t said anything to her about it and she thought Kendra probably just made up the whole “mutual friend told me” thing to see what I’d say. I concur. That sounds like something Kendra would do, and I can only think of one mutual friend (Anna) who would say something like that… and that seems really low; even for Anna.

When the whole Daniel thing went down it seemed like everyone was being really mature about the whole situation. I was so fucking relieved. No one did the whole “choosing sides” bit (which was my biggest worry since they’ve all known each other since 9th grade and I’ve only been in the group for 2 year) and everyone was genuinely distraught that Kendra and I weren’t talking. I guess I never stopped to think how it would effect our big ‘girls night’ parties or things like birthday parties. Well now I know. And it fucking sucks. I can’t- in all fairness- be too pissed at Mex. I know she just wants to have a good time on her birthday and not deal with any drama and probably doesn’t want Kendra to feel uneasy. But I AM pissed at Mex. I’m pissed at all of them.

In order to successfully not invite me they all must have talked about it; otherwise someone would have invited me. B/c I’m their fucking friend and I should be there. I feel really really betrayed. And I had to vent about it. I could vent about other things right now but I am so late BFF is gonna kill me. I think I may drunk text Kendra later, I can feel it. The rage is building. This could be interesting.

MissourIncredible

Last night there were some awesome basketball games on. I usually couldn’t care less about basketball but I get kind of into March Madness and fill out brackets b/c it’s just plain fun. Unfortunately I picked Memphis to win last night over Missouri. Even though my bracket was rooting for Memphis to win… after I saw what you’re hopefully about to watch; I changed my allegiance to Missouri. This was incredible.

I Can’t Believe It’s Almost Been A Whole Year

A year ago my life was completely different than it is now. I lived in a 2 bedroom apartment in Atlanta with my dog and the ex. At the time, he obviously wasn’t the ex; he was it. I was literally crazy about him and he was (or had been till this month last year) crazy about me. It sounds alright when said like that but being crazy about each other- at some point… somehow- turned into both of us being totally & legitimately out of control crazy.

I was living in my own hell with an insane boy; and I just couldn’t quit him. I had countless opportunities to walk away; to get out, but I always chose to stay. I had zero self-esteem; he made sure of that every chance he got (basically every second of every day). I had no real job. I worked at a restaurant/sports bar but had only just finished training and had worked maybe 3 shifts. I hated it. I had a phone interview with a Public Relations firm tomorrow (last year) and I was slightly hopeful. I desperately needed a job, my debt was becoming astronomical (almost $20,000).

The fights that the ex and I were having seemed non-stop. He didn’t even believe that I had a job as a waitress and would show up during my shifts to make sure I wasn’t lying. He thought that I was flirting with customers, other waiters, managers, anyone with a penis. He thought that b/c I didn’t answer my phone every time he called or texted I must be cheating on him. Two days from now (last year) I didn’t show up for my scheduled morning shift at the restaurant and only went back the next week to get my paycheck: My pathetic waitress job caused too much stress between me and the ex and I just couldn’t do it anymore.

It was the darkest place I’ve ever been in my life. Thinking that I loved the dog more than I loved him; the ex would hit my 6 pound dog harder than you’d hit a full grown husky. He made my dog yelp and cry on many multiple occasions; just to assert control and to watch me console my pup sobbing while he shouted profanities and threats and looked at us in complete disgust. He had started smoking pot on the regular, which I hated, and was hanging out with a sketchy crowd to say the least. He never went to class but was convinced he was going to ace all his classes. We never went out. Going out meant extreme fighting. He drank constantly. He never remembered what he did or said when he was drinking; so he never really remembered anything.

I was all alone. I had basically one friend in Atlanta. I knew her from college (we’re still good friends). He wouldn’t allow me to make new friends. New friends meant that I was hanging out with and thinking about someone other than him, and that meant I didn’t really love him. The girl he fell in love with was a pretty, bubbly, outgoing, adventurous, driven, fun-loving, popular, easy-going, funny, smart, fit blond. The girl living with him was none of those things. He ruined me to make me more manageable. I would never leave him if I thought no one else would want me. He made sure that I thought I was stupid, boring, worthless, lazy, fat, ugly, pathetic, unloved and insane; by telling me those things every single day. They begin to stick after a while.

The funny thing is, I always knew he was just saying these things b/c he was insecure himself, and I felt bad for him; so I continued to verbally build him up in the hopes that his self-esteem would grow and he wouldn’t feel the need to cut me down all the time. This approach didn’t work… at all. A week after today of last year- 2 days after I almost co-signed on a new car for him, 2 days before my in-person interview with the Public Relations firm, hours after telling me I was the only girl for him and he’d love me forever- he woke me up to dump me at 3am; after he got some… naturally.

My world collapsed at 3am. He left me completely broken. I could barely breathe. The loneliness I experienced that night was indescribable. I had no one. I sat in bed crying uncontrollably, on the verge of a nasty panic attack, while my dog licked at my tears. After an hour or so, when I realized he wasn’t coming back, I called the only person I knew still loved me: My big brother. The chances of him picking up or even waking up at 4am were highly slim to probably none. But he did.

I honestly don’t know where I would be today if my brother hadn’t answered his phone. I was not me back then; I was who the ex had made me and without him I had no idea who I was. I was nothing. I was no one. But my brother answered his phone and all of a sudden I was his little sister again. He loved me, he cared; and I’m pretty sure he saved my life that night.

He told me it was gonna be ok. He told me to call dad in the morning and that he would book me a flight to come home that day. He told me not to worry: Put all my valuables in my car and we would worry about everything else later. He told me he loved me. He told me that the ex breaking up with me was the best thing that could have happened. He told me the ex was a loser and medically insane; adding that he must be in order to let someone like me go. He told me he had been so scared for me. He told me he was so happy I was finally coming home. And he told me that everyone else was going to be so happy too. “We’ve missed you so much.”

I fell asleep crying.

The next day everything happened like he said it would. A brief encounter with the ex as I was leaving to go to the airport and I drove away feeling like I was in a movie; complete with sad breakup background music. Of course I remember the song. Right as I put the car in drive and rolled up my window, Rihanna’s newly released “Take A Bow” started playing on the radio. It was the first time I’d ever heard the song.

The timing was unreal. It was perfect. He really did put on quite a show. He really had me going. And now it’s time to go. The curtain’s finally closing. I knew this was right. I knew he’d be the one looking back with regrets. I knew that I’d make it somehow. I started breathing more evenly. I stopped crying. I called my BFF.

After I told her what was going on and she promised she’d come back to Atlanta with me to help me move my stuff out she said, “Oh thank you God my best friend is back!” I said, “Well, I’m not back yet.” To which she replied, “No, I mean you. It’s really you! I know you’re sad but the whole time you were with him you never sounded like yourself; you were someone else, and I couldn’t get to her and I thought I had lost my best friend forever but now you’re back! I can tell, you sound different; you sound like you used to sound. I’ve missed you so much, you don’t even know!”

That was the beginning of me realizing that I had been in a totally fucked up, controlling and abusive relationshit. I’m not gonna lie, it took a little while to realize that the person I loved didn’t really exist. It was just so hard to wrap my head around. I loved him unconditionally for a year and a half almost and it wasn’t real. That really fucks with your brain. To think you could be fooled for so long; brainwashed and completely controlled and not even know it. I thought it was passion. I thought it was true love. It was crap. It was the descriptive paragraph under “reasons for prescribing schizophrenic medication”, which he started (and stopped) taking 2 weeks before the break up (he said he didn’t like the way they made him feel… I’m guessing the feeling was normalcy, and he didn’t know how to deal with normal).

The first night I went out in DC after I got home I thought I would be fine; I thought I would have a lot of fun. At first I did. The bouncer said I looked a lot happier than I had last time he saw me (we used to frequent that bar a lot) and told me I looked awesome. I smoked a cig outside when a a girl I’ve been friends with since 3rd grade walked up and squealed when she saw me; I jumped on her and gave her a big hug. She said, “YES you’re back!! I knew you’d get rid of that fucking loser asshole and come back to us some day!” I told her he dumped me. She said, “Well fucking good. Who cares who dumped who? At least it’s over. He was fucking crazy!” We laughed. He was fucking crazy. Everything was fine until the vodka hit me.

I had one and a half drinks and was totally wasted thanks to the break-up diet I was unknowingly on. It consisted of eating basically nothing b/c chewing was too much work. Food was completely unappealing. That night after only maybe an hour I ended up bawling uncontrollably and BFF took me to the small office in the back of the bar and told me not to move. I didn’t wanna move. I just wanted to die. She  reappeared 10 minutes later with pizza in hand. She said the other girls had suggested pizza b/c they had guessed I hadn’t eaten in over a week (based on my appearance and pathetic consumption of alcohol). I didn’t want it but I ate a few bites to make her happy and we got in a cab and went home. Friends texted telling me they loved me and that it would be ok. I knew they were right; I just didn’t know when it would finally be ok again.

Thankfully, our 3 week family trip to Hawaii was 2 weeks after the break up. God must have known I would need that. The BFF and I had gone back to get my things so that was all over with. I had just changed my phone number so that the ex would stop texting and calling me and I was so ready for a break from life. I was down to about 105 pounds on my medium built 5′4 frame and my face looked freagin huge in comparison. I’d never been that skinny before. My clavicle was completely visible as was my breast bone and my hip bones stuck out like a really sore thumb. I was wearing a double zero. The cruise was a blessing. I finally started eating again and it was so nice to be away from cell phones and society.

I guess it took a month or two of mourning till I was ok. I healed surprisingly fast. I didn’t grieve consistently b/c life wouldn’t allow it. The cruise was more healing than hurting but a few weeks after that when I started “dating” someone new the grief came back ten fold. I obviously wasn’t ready to date yet. The break up happened at the perfect time though; right before summer, and I fucking love me some summer. It was the best summer I’ve ever had. I loved being single. I still love being single.

All of a sudden here I am, a whole year later. I’m employed, almost out of debt, at a healthy weight, looking at apartments on Saturday and most of all I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy it’s ridiculous. I’m happy just to be alive. I’m happy I get to be myself every second of every day. The ex breaking up with me was the best thing that could have happened. When I think about the ex now I laugh. It was a lesson learned the hard way but it was worth it. I feel no love for him, only pity. I got out, and I got on with my life. Yes, he’s the only boy to ever break up with me but… he’s crazy… so that kinda validates it for me. Crazy people don’t count. I just thank the lord I didn’t get preggers with crazy boys child. Thank. You. God. Anyways, I’m super close to my brother now and I have more friends than I ever could have asked for. I’m blessed. It’s amazing how fast a year can fly by and it’s even more amazing how much can change in just one little year.The possibilities for next year are endless. Who knows what’ll happen next? =)

I was def not planning on writing that much at all. It’s 9pm and I’m still at the office. Jeebus that was intense. Sorry about that guys, I got a little out of control on this post. It happens.

Meet My Baby

Sorry for the grainy quality… I took the video on my Blackberry and wasn’t totally awake yet so it’s kind of unsteady too. But still… the cuteness is undeniable.

And some pics. =)

My Baby Basking in the Sun

What are you doing mom? Open the door already!

Project Grace: 11 of 365

1. Quotes. I just love a good quote. This is what I’m loving today: And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. -Roald Dahl

2. Playin with my lil baby (my dog) in the morning (Video to come soon. So freagin cute)

3. The fact that my dog has probably hundreds of toys. My favorite? A stuffed squeak & rattle doll that has the words “The Ex” on the front. Get it boy! Tear it to pieces!!

The Best Toy to Destroy

4. Drinking vodka club soda at a bible study/salsa dancing class I went to last night. I was the only one drinking. I mean… if you’re gonna have a bible study at a bar… I’m obviously gonna be drinking. God loves me too people!

5. Tomorrow’s Friday!!! =)

This Makes Me Happy

A guy from my highschool just commented on a picture of me, BFF, .5 and Caylie (friend from highschool who just moved back into the area. BFF, Caylie and I were basically the 3 musketeers in early highschool years). He wrote,

“It’s amazing y’all have managed to stay such good friends all these years… I have like no friends from highschool, I is well jealous.”

And he should be. I am ridiculously lucky to have such amazing friends that have known me for the better part of my life. It just makes me smile. They’re the reason I stay in DC. Friends like mine are irreplaceable and hard if not impossible to find. I was blessed when I moved back home after the ex incident and became sisterly close to Juicy. We lived basically next to each other for 3 years in college but didn’t become good friends until we were both back home.

There’s something very cohesive about a home town; a sense of security. Not everyone knows you but everyone knows someone else who knows you, and I find that very comforting. It’s like an instant common ground or understanding. No one is really a stranger in the town you grew up in and even if you move far away it will always be your hometown. It’s exactly like the OAR I Feel Home song:

There are few things pure in this world anymore,
and home is one of the few.
We’d have a drink outside,
maybe run and hide if we saw a couple men in blue.
To me it’s so damn easy to see
that true people are the people at home.
Well, I’ve been away but now I’m back today,
and there ain’t a place I’d rather go.
I feel home,
when I see the faces that remember my own.
I feel home,
when I’m chilling outside with the people I know.
I feel home,
and that’s just what I feel.
Home to me is reality,
and all I need is something real.

Feeling alright, heading out tonight,
maybe out to a dark driveway.
I say now some feel bored,
and some are looking for more.
Well, we all just decide to stay.
We got nothing to do,
and I look at you
I see something that I know and love.
and with the crack of a smile we all stay a while
we know from home there ain’t nothing above.

Well in the end we can all call a friend
well that’s something I know as true.
And then a thousand years and a thousand tears
I’ll come finding my original crew

cause to me throughout eternity
there’s somewhere where you’re welcome to go
I said it’s something free that means a lot to me
when I’m with my friends I feel home.

I feel home,
when I see the faces that remember my own
I feel home,
when I’m chilling outside with the people I know.
I feel home,
and that’s just what I feel.
Home to me is reality,
and all I need something real
Home to me is reality,
and all I need something real

I feel home.

Distractions Will Be The Death Of Me

The first thing I do when I get to work is turn on my laptop. While it’s booting up I make my chapstick easily accessible on my desk, get some water, take my morning dose of Adderall and arrange my favorite pens on my desk next to my laptop. Then I open Mozilla, wait for all my saved tabs to load, and sign into my work email account. Sometimes I forget to sign into my work email, but I usually remember.

It doesn’t matter if I’ve been emailed a new project to start working on or not b/c I never immediately begin working on it. I check my blog, I check my gmail, I check Tumblr, I check Facebook, I check Twitter and then I go through all the blogs I follow on google reader. Then I update Twitter, respond to people on Facebook or write “happy birthday” on their wall if it’s, ya know, their birthday, and then I sign in to gchat. Once on gchat I say hey to all my friends who are online and we talk about what we did on the  previous night and what we’re doing today and tonight and for the rest of the week. We share cool/funny website links we’ve found earlier that day, talk about how work pretty much blows, and then it’s almost like a mutual understanding that now… it is time… that we actually got some work done and pause our chat for a while. Sometimes we’ll have meetings to go to or lunch will interrupt our conversation.

Instead of getting down to business this is usually when I write my Project Grace of the day. Then I check google reader again. Then I see if anyone has responded to me via Twitter or Facebook.

Then I get bored. Working on work is of course always an option but I get even more bored thinking about it so I usually try to remember what I had meant to blog about for the day. At night when I’m in bed before I fall asleep, hundreds of thoughts stream through my head and I always mean to write them down b/c they are great blogging topics. I usually don’t write them down though; instead I waste away time at work trying to recall what I was thinking about the night before while in my half awake half asleep state.

Distractions were not on my mind last night; however it occured to me today that without all these freagin distractions… I might actually be a decent little worker Bee. What if Honey Bees had internet and blogged and Twittered and stuff? Would be have as much honey as we currently do? Would some Honey Bees rebel and buzz, “I’m too special and creative for this honey making bullshit! I hate collecting nectar and pollen from flowers! I have so much more to offer than this! I just wanna be free to fly and buzz around wherever I want! I quit!” ??? If you followed a Honey Bee on Twitter would they have updates like, “Just gathered a bunch of pollen and nectar from a rosemary plant. On my way back to the hive to deliver the goods and then I’m off to do it all over again. FML.” or, “Today the queen had a worker bee come and tell me that if I don’t start collecting my fair share of nectar and pollen I’ll be kicked out of the colony. The worker bee was my mom. FML.” ??

How much has the Internet really helped productivity?

Project Grace: 10 of 365

1. Singing at the top of my lungs along to music in my car.

2. Watching peoples reactions when they glance over while at a stop light to see me belting out songs, emotion written all over my face, totally in the moment and not giving a care about what other people think. The looks I get are priceless.

3. Trying to pump as much gas in my tank as possible; it’s a gas station game I play with myself. Yesterday I pumped 22 gallons. After a whole night of driving the needle is still above the full mark.

4. Chili’s with BFF last night. We had 5 drinks, 2 shots and dinner. Our bill at the end of the night? $6.00. Thank you to the Chili’s manager that we went to high school with and has a crush on BFF. That’s what I call a happy hour.

5. Playing Guitar Hero last night with C and his friend J (a mutual friend you could say) and finally finishing the song we’ve been struggling with since the beginning; all of us on expert. We are total bad asses.