Flakey Friend

This is horrible and I know the two people that need to will read this but I've very rarely  been a flake in my life!  I have gone above and beyond in my pajamas, work out clothes, work clothes any attire to just be there!  Well I've become a flake in the past month!  I lost my super hero power of being in more than one place at one time/making legitimate believable excuses that justify being an hour late and getting away with it!  I ask for no forgiveness just understanding while I work through this.  I just can't be in more than a place or two/(read "slash") situation or two in one day anymore.  It takes me more than a car ride to get my game face on and get my mind right.  So as I grow up please throw me a bone or two as I learn about overcommitting.  Mt. Pleasant isn't 10 minutes from James Island and your emotions can't jump from family to fairly forgotten friends in the length of a river.  Getting there girls, just a growing pain and I'm sorry that you are feeling the growth!

The Weight of the Matter

I was a gluttonous girl this weekend in all sense of the word.  I literally ate and slept, it was needed, I have no guilt but my choices this weekend only served to highlight the seriousness of my little brother's (he's a fake little brother, not blood just a sweet bond) starvation.  Now, everyone in my world knows that I love good food.  I like to cook good food, eat good food, buy good food, read about good food, dream about good food, discover good food - it's one of the finer things in my life.  These extra twenty pounds were worth the twenty dollars I spent on good food, until I go bathing suit shopping of course and then there's twenty other excuses why I just can't control these extra curves. 

My little brother has been starving himself for three days to make weight for wrestling.  How sick is that.  Now I am no good at the starvation thing to begin with but there is a serious problem with this.  There are adults in his world encouraging him to starve himself so that he can participate in a sporting event.  This is as heinous to me as girls starving themselves to fit into clothes that are made in 36 sizes, not that I'm encouraging obesity.  He won't eat anything, he won't drink water, he is depressed and hardly talks.  This logic may be as demented as adults shaping young teens minds by instilling in them that athletics is more important than their health BUT considering the barbaric nature of wrestling, as a coach, wouldn't you want your players or minions or whatever the boys in monkey suits are called in that satanic sport to be well-rested and full of energy and strength during their match?  Or maybe they make them starve themselves to reach a weight that is medically noted as severe so that the boys are demonically pissed off and foaming at the mouth when they get in the ring?  Either way, I refuse to support Z in this sport due to the weight of the matter at hand in addition to the fact that I think their suits are utterly unsuitable for anyone to wear!

Russian Spy

So my boy roommate claims that I am a Russian spy, IF ONLY I could be so covert. According to him, I have 15 names and call everyone my family to cover up my true identity. This accusation from my roommate follows a conversation I had with one of my students and her cousin last weekend. The girls were in my car while I ran into the house to get my keys. When I got back into the car, one of the girls said, "Quoia, tell her! Tell her!" My dog was sitting between them in the car, I was really nervous because sometimes when he sits his lipstick pops out. I was mentally preparing for them to tell me about my dog but the following conversation occurred:

Quoia: "Miss Garner, you is white?"
Me: "What do you think?"
Quoia: "Nope!"

The funniest part to me is that I spend 8 hours a day with Quoia and I now see boy roommate nearly everyday, to the people that I physically see most regularly I am a black Russian spy, but don't worry, your secrets are safe with me!

Going Grinch

So I'm making another post. I have a good one about the boy roommate but I'm going with this one because we were talking about blogs tonight at a holiday party.

I have determined that nice doesn't really get you that far in life. I am the nice one. I've been the nice girl my whole life. In seventh grade, all of the boys loved me but just as the nice girl. One boy, who I should probably punch in the face the next time I see him - if I ever do, told me on more than one occasion that I was ugly but that I was nice and therefore a favorite. In high school and college, the boys told me that I was so nice and sweet that they wanted to marry me but not date me. So there's the boy situation and then there were the girls. In Bible study the girls would want to sit next to me because I was the nice one who would actually write the little, jazzed up "I'm praying for you, here's a legit verse" note and give it to them in the courtyard between classes. The ones who weren't laying all of their life burdens at the foot of the cross openly were laying them at the foot of the cross via ME's telephone calls at all hours of the night and day. They got comfort and love and I got nightmares during what little sleep I got - that is a negative equation, right?

So, here's where nice has gotten me after college. I have six extra keys to houses that I do not habitate (I think I just made a word up) but thankfully some of them are colorful so we'll just call my keys a permanent accessory. I am a first year teacher so after years of sending sursies for no reason, remembering birthdays and investing (not buying) into every Hallmark created holiday on the calendar I am now eating the guilt for being a forgetful and unattentive friend. And then came the holidays... four tacky Christmas sweater parties in two weeks is excessive even for the people who start listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving (a mortal American sin in my book). So now I am popping in and out of houses, homes, and habitats all over Charleston County in the jankiest, jolly sweater my two first grade friends and I could find. I spent $20.00 on it but I have to wear it four times, that's getting your money's worth right?

So I think I'm going grinch, I'm not spreading my nice so thin anymore. Watch out world, ME's going from tossing out nice nuggets to stashing them like a squirrel for cold, rainy days so if you see me with chipmunk cheeks don't make me laugh you might end up covered in NICE!