Reverb 10: Wonder

December 4: Wonder

How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

In the last few months, I've allowed myself to wonder.

About the future.

About what's next.

About what I want/need/can see myself doing.

I've returned to school. I'm learning new things. I'm going to keep it up.

It felt good to wonder.

And it feels good to begin to act on it.

And So I'm Trying

(I feel the need to warn you that this is a weird post. In fact, you should probably just go read about shoes and true love and procrastination instead.)

So... What do you want to do with your life?

I hate this question.

It makes me panicky, and queasy, and

I DON'T WANT TO PLAY THIS GAME.

Because really,

truly,

I'm not sure.

I don't know.

And don't tell me that "nobody knows".

I've spent the past two years asking people about

what they want,

observing people when they

speak to me about their lives,

listening

to what people say when they talk about

what they love and

where they want to

go.

And the vast majority of them know. Or at least have an idea.

They have a clue.

They may not know how to get there, or have all of the specifics figured out, but the majority have a direction to go.

(I'm aware that, sadly, many of them will never get where they want to go.)

I have no direction.

I have no clue.

I am blank.

Yes, I know that I'm not

completely alone.

But this isn't about everybody else. Saying "but Ally, nobody knows" doesn't make me feel any better. That's like telling somebody who's just had a really painful root canal, "tons of people have horrifying dental surgery at some point", and expecting that to make it ok.

A few weeks ago, my mom said:

At some point, you have to move forward.

You have to make a decision.

You have to be an adult...

(Moms, right?)

I've spent the past two years

stuck.

Lost.

I've been stuck

because

I'm stuck.

[And probably because I'm scared. Of what? Not sure.]

Not because I'm lazy. Not because I don't care. Not because I want to stay a reckless, irresponsible kid.

(I've never been a reckless, irresponsible kid.)

Now, finally, I'm starting to move forward. I'm starting to push outside of my

very

comfortable

comfort zone.

And I'm trying to answer those scary questions. The WHATs and WHENs and WHEREs and WHYs that make my tummy hurt.

I'm trying not to run away from them.

I'm trying to let those scary questions, those

GROWN UP BIG GIRL decisions,

sit on my plate for awhile.

I'm not throwing them away and ignoring them as soon as they come up.

I'm trying.

Call it a quarter-life crisis if you want.

My priorities - and the people I love - are still the same.

[Those things aren't changing.]

But I suppose it's time to move forward.

To do

something.

I'm trying.

Nancy W. Kappes, Paralegal

Today Jenny wrote that her close friend Nancy W. Kappes passed away last week.

I met Nancy in Chicago last year, at BlogHer 2009. I was scared and overwhelmed and Nancy made me laugh so hard that I almost pulled a muscle.

She had an impact on me. She made me smile. She laughed at my jokes. She looked me in the eyes and told me I was beautiful. She offered me vodka out of a water bottle.

She made me feel like I belonged in that bathroom.

Like I belonged with those people.

She had the balls to say whatever was on her mind, even though most of it was totally fucked up and made people uncomfortable WHICH IS WHY SHE WAS AMAZING.

She was totally irreverent, completely inappropriate, and unconditionally herself.

Pretty much awesome in every way.

I feel so lucky to have spent a night with her, to have hugged her, to have politely declined heavy duty pharmaceuticals from her.

I'm so sorry for her family and friends. Someone with a personality like hers leaves a huge void.

But I want them to know that she mattered, even to lil' ol' me.

Thank you, Nancy.

Now I'm going to go get drunk and possibly partake in some Nancy W. Kappes style arts and crafts.

I suggest y'all do that too.

*For Nancy.*

Just a Couch (?)

Our assignment from the Inspiration Workshop at BlissDom:

"In her amazing book, What It Is! writer/artist Lynda Barry shares (among other flashes of genius!) a simple exercise she learned from her college professor and mentor Marilyn Frasca. It's one I use all the time to get my mind in gear.

Here's how it goes: With pen and paper, make a list of ten couches you've known in your lifetime. (This also works with other words, but couches are my favorite because they are central to many moments in your memory.)

When you've made your list, take a deep relaxing breath and find the couch that has the most powerful emotional charge for you. Then begin writing about it...

Keep writing for three minutes until you've reached the end of the vignette. Keep the pen moving. Three minutes will seem like a long time. But don't stop. If you run out of words, doodle a little till they come again.

Don't edit! Keep the memory and emotion there in all its raw glory!"

****

There's really only one couch to write about.

One couch that matters.

That represents an entire chapter of my life.

It was covered in duct tape and chewed on by puppies.

It was sticky and gross and falling apart.

It was over my head and everywhere.

It was dirty.

It was a conversation piece.

It was important because it was ours. And it was sad when it was (finally) gone.

It was our

badge of honor.

It proclaimed to all the world that we were poor, sad college students getting useless degrees and we had this shitty couch to prove it, god damn it.

****

I wrote that down in three minutes.

(I don't write very fast, so it's not very long. Also? Three minutes isn't that much time.)

When I came to post it I edited certain things (even though the rules say not to) because I could make them sound better here (and because I'm a hard core bad ass who doesn't listen to rules)

.... then I went back and took the edits out, and wrote what I wrote on paper with pen.

Word for word.

(It was really hard to do.)


****

When they first told us about this assignment I laughed to myself.

The first post I ever wrote was about that same stupid couch.

Come play this game yourself here, or on your own, and let me know if you do...

New Directions

I recently decided to take a class at CU. I want to go to grad school, but I'm not positive what I want to study.

My background is in Women and Gender Studies, but I'm not interested in going back for another degree in that or Sociology. I decided to look for something that made me excited, and to take an intro undergrad class in that subject.

I decided on Speech, Language and Hearing Sciences, so I'm taking an Intro to Human Communication Sciences this semester. So far, I love it. I belong in school, and I'm happy to be learning something totally new and different.

Going back to school now is very different than being an undergrad. I'm there because I want to learn something. I want to possibly start a new career. I want to soak it up. I'm not there for the grade, for the credit, or to fill a spot. I'm there for me.

Which is awesome.

(PS: Even though I'm really enjoying this and all, I still wait until the last possible second to do my homework. Because I love to procrastinate... I'm really good at it, and you gotta play to your strengths.)

(PPS: One thing I've learned being back on campus: wearing leggings as pants is totally acceptable. Especially when it's 39 degrees.)

(PPPS: I guess that's probably okay since it's also super awesome to wear Uggs with said pant-leggings, therefore keeping you nice and warm?)

(PPPPS: I am learning *so* much.)

Best of 09: Rush

December 14th: Rush. When did you get your best rush of the year?

I would say the biggest rush I had this year was speaking at my grandmother's funeral.

I didn't think that I could do it. I didn't really want to do it. But I felt so much better after I did.

I felt relieved that it was over.

I felt proud that I had stood in front of 60 plus people and spoken coherently.

I felt happy that I was able to make people laugh instead of cry.

In it's own way, that experience was "a rush".

And, if I'm going to be completely honest, I got a rush when they sang "Somebody to Love" on Glee:

Best of 09: Challenge

The sun is out. It's still 12 degrees, though.

(Why am I complaining about the weather so much? Because this DOESN'T happen in Boulder! We have a wonderful climate where it snows one day, and MELTS a day later. This snow? Has been frozen to my lawn for over a week. I've been here for 24 years, and I assure you, THIS IS NOT BOULDER WEATHER!!)

(If this crazy climate change doesn't convince you that something big is happening, I don't know what will.)

(And by "something big", I mean the Decepticons are coming. Obviously.)

The Best of 2009 Blog Challenge prompt for today?

December 9th: Challenge. Something that really made you grow this year. That made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you?

Well, Blissdom was a challenge.

And being with my grandmother while she was dying certainly took me to my "edge and then some".

But my "best challenge of the year"?

The first time I beat my dad at Words with Friends.

It took a long time, and it wasn't always easy, but I persevered, and am a better person because of it.

(Clearly, I don't feel like going very deep today.)

Best of 09: Moment of Peace

Best of 2009 Blog Challenge prompt for today:

December 8th: Moment of Peace. An hour or a day or a week of solitude. What was the quality of your breath? The state of your mind? How did you get there?

Ironically, this question has been stressing me out.

I don't have a lot of peaceful moments. Believe it or not, my mind is a very busy place (even if my body is, well, not.)

One moment that keeps coming up for me is when my grandma was dying. My mom, brother and I had been at her house for 24 hours. A nurse and social worker from our local Hospice Care came to talk to us. They explained the process of dying, explained what was happening, how to keep my grandmother comfortable, and assured us that she wasn't in pain. We had spent the previous day terrified that we were doing everything wrong. We were afraid that we weren't doing enough (whatever that means). We were afraid that we couldn't leave her alone. That we couldn't relax.

But they took away all of our fears. They told us that we couldn't do anything wrong. She would go when she was ready.

It was like they flipped a switch in us. We relaxed, we breathed, we let ourselves smile. We ended up having a great night. We watched TV, we ate junk food, we laughed. The people from Hospice Care told us that the sounds of us having a good time would probably be reassuring to my grandmother. Even her dog, Rachael, who hadn't left her side in days, came out and sat with us for awhile.

The nurse had told us that it would probably be a few more days before she went, but, of course, she passed away that night. (She never was one to play by the rules.)

It's a little weird to think about, but that night was a good night. My brother, mom and I bonded. My grandma was able to hear us having a good time in the other room. It was... peaceful.

Now, enough about my sweet dead grandma and let's get back to me.

(If that offends you, you obviously didn't know her, because she'd think that was hilarious.)

Yesterday I saw that the weather was supposed to get even colder today, so I decided to buck up and take Bonnie and Hannah to a park a block away. I put on a ridiculous amount of layers, shoved my pants into my boots, and wore my 75 cent gloves from Target.

(Those gloves weren't warm *at all*... shocking.)

We got to the park and started to run around and, sure enough, the dogs started limping with frozen paws.

I TOLD THEM SO.

I fought the urge to rub that fact in their little doggy faces (because I'm mature), and we headed home. When we got to the front yard the girls started to make doggy angels, so I figured maybe they were fine and could handle a little more outside time. Then they started to walk on three legs again, so we scratched that idea.

APPARENTLY Bonnie has forgotten this whole experience because she has spent much of the 5 degree day sitting in the backyard, staring at the kitchen window. I think that she knows I'll see her there, and she's trying to convince me that she's tough enough for a walk.

She then comes inside, burrows under my blanket, and spends the next 15 minutes licking the ice off of her paws.

Yeah, nice try Bonnie. Nice try.

I am? Crafty.

Yesterday I was at the drugstore and I saw Advent Calendars.

I was immediately flooded with images of my childhood: anxiously waiting for dinner to end so that my brother and I could open the little cardboard door for that date and find the little, delicious chocolate treat.

Me: AJ!! I found Advent Calendars! Do you remember those? When did Mom and Dad stop giving us those?

AJ: Probably at the appropriate age to stop being so excited about Advent Calendars.

Me: Asshole.

Last night I was so excited to open the little door labeled "1".

I opened it up, removed the little piece of chocolate shaped like a little present, and...

...it tasted like crap.

Seriously... it crumpled in my mouth, tasted like glue, and burned going down my throat.

Stupid childhood memories bought for $1.50.

BUT, instead of being sad and throwing away my dreams about having an advent calendar this year, I got my creativity on.

Ally B Speakin' Presents:

ALLY B'S AWESOME SOLUTION TO HER CRAPPY ADVENT CALENDAR

Step 1: Get crappy advent calendars for 2 for $3.

Mine:

Mike's:

Step 2: Gather your supplies. You'll need some new, edible candy to replace the crappy shit. You'll also need some tape.

All I have on hand are generic semi-sweet chocolate chips... so be it.

Step 3: Remove crappy candy.

Dispose of the crappy candy responsibly, like in your leftover breakfast.

Step 4: Put good candy (or generic semi-sweet chocolate chips) in the empty spaces.

It's important to keep a sense of excitement and surprise, so mix up how many chocolate chips you put in each space.

But make it more that one chocolate chip, because if you open it up and see only one lonely chocolate chip... well, that's a sad day for everyone.

Step 5: Close them back up. It's preferable to use clear tape because duct tape is just stupid looking... and super glue probably isn't the best idea.

There, I just saved your holiday memories.

You're welcome.

Laugh

After I spoke at my grandmother's memorial two weeks ago, I was approached by several people who all said the same thing:

"You should do stand-up comedy."

I know... it's a weird thing for someone to say to the granddaughter of the deceased. But I guess I was flattered.

I managed to make people laugh during a pretty shitty situation, and that's always cause for celebration, huh?

But I didn't stand up there intending to make people laugh. My grandma was just a funny person (the woman wrote jokes in her will, people), and so I just spoke about what I thought she'd want to hear.

(Which just happens to include telling everyone in the room to vote Democrat, because if they didn't, she'd know.)

I could say a lot more about the past two or three weeks... but it's just not gonna happen.

Birthday Wishes?

Time: 1:15 PM MST

Call to: Ally's Father

Conversation as follows:

Dad: Hello?

Me: I HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL DAY FOR MY HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALL AND HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY!!

Dad: OK, hang on. *hangs up*

Time: 1:16 PM MST

Call from: Ally's Father

Conversation as follows:

Dad: *The Happy Birthday Song*

Me: WOW! Thanks... that was completely unexpected.

Time: 1:18 PM MST

Call to: Ally's Mother

Conversation as follows:

Mom: Hello?

Me: I HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL DAY FOR MY HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALL AND HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY!!

Mom: Well, I was being respectful.

Me: Respectful of what?

Mom: I wanted to let you sleep in on your birthday morning.

Me: MOM!? It's one o'clock in the freakin afternoon... how late do you think I sleep?!

Mom: Well, then I got busy. Retirement makes me a very busy woman. Plus, I'll see you in a couple hours. I'll call you soon.

Time: 1:21 PM MST

Call from: Ally's Mother

Conversation as follows:

Me: Hello crazy woman.

Mom: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUNSHINE!

Me: You saw my tweet, didn't you? You're just trying to make up for it so that I retract my tweet, aren't you?

Mom: Oh, let me guess, you wrote about how unloved you are?

Me: No... that's what my blog is for.

Then she went on to tell me about what an adorable outfit she's wearing today.

Awesome.

My brother didn't even pick up the phone... he is probably hiding. BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE MESSED UP.

PS: I did get a call from my Grandma... she said she forgot the words to Happy Birthday...

PPS: If you sent me a note or email or text or sky writing message: thank you. I appreciate it. You are awesome. My parents and brother should be ASHAMED.

PPPS: Not really... I forgive them... because I am now a GROWN UP, people.

PPPPS: Mike said that my birthday presents are on the bed and that I am NOT allowed to go in there. So I threw some cereal in there so that Hannah would go after it and then maybe retrieve the presents "by accident"... it didn't work. *Golden Retriever FAIL*.

PPPPPS: And now we're out of cereal. Damn.

To BlogHer and Back

I thought that I'd give everyone fair warning that I'm headed to Chicago tomorrow to attend a huge blogging conference.

So if I post about something scary in Chicago or something funny in Chicago or something that's neither scary nor funny but more about how I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR in Chicago... that's why.

You can follow my tweets of the event here.

Or here.

And I'll be posting some stuff over here.

And maybe here, too...

But those posts that are panic-induced and/or alcohol related? Well, I promise to post those pieces of shit awesomeness right here.

Overall... I'm nervous about going to Chicago. I mean, excited, yes, but the buildup is a tad nerve racking...

And if I was positive that Bonnie and Hannah wouldn't go all "Old Yeller with rabbis" on some child, I would totally bring them and pretend that they were service dogs...

Or my personal bodyguards hired by some government agency to protect me...

Or search and rescue (if what you needed rescued were socks and/or tennis balls).

But I don't think that's going to work... which kinda sucks... because I already had fake "service dog" t-shirts made for them... and gave them code names.

It looks like Hannah, aka "The Destroyer", and Bonnie, aka "Joan", will have to stay home.

Sad.

Fit or Fail: Closet Case Edition

I'm trying very hard to focus on the progress of my fitness as much as on the results. And part of that progress involves taking a look at me. Inside and out. And the way I look on the outside isn't just about how much I weigh or how toned my legs look... it's about what I look like on a day-to-day basis.

So this week I cleaned out my wardrobe.

Usually this is an activity that causes much turmoil, self-loathing, and denial.

Do I throw this really cute dress that I've never worn but might after I lose ten pounds in the "gone" pile?

Why doesn't this shirt look good on me?

I'll totally wear these pants... totally.

And? I still end up with an overflowing closet and dresser.

So this time I went into the process with a brutal attitude.

Haven't worn it in the last year (or two)?

Gone.

That shirt that I got at a concert 6 years ago but I haven't worn since the day after the concert and doesn't even fit because I shrunk it but am keeping because it has "sentimental value"?

Gone.

Can't fit into it?

Gone.

Can fit into it but it looks like I shouldn't be able to fit into it but if I lost 15 pounds it might look okay?

Gone.

I took all of my clothes out of the closet and dresser, and tried everything on, one by one.

And if it didn't look great, didn't make me feel great, or hadn't been worn for a long time? It went into one of those huge black trash bags made for lawn clippings.

At the end I had a much emptier closet and a dresser with drawers that closed.

My goal? To move on.

I've fallen into the habit of wearing the same 10 outfits. And 9 of those outfits include the same pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt.

Why? Because I'm trying to hide. I'm trying to tell myself (and everyone else) that I don't really care. That I'm okay being "blah".

But I'm not.

A t-shirt and jeans is easy. I can just be nothing in it.

But I'm done.

That's why I got rid of all of the clothes that made me feel less than great.

That's why I put the t-shirts in the bottom drawer of the dresser, reserved only for exercise, sleep, cleaning, or lazy afternoons at home.

I realized that all of the clothes that I had left were brown, gray, or black.

I realized that I didn't really have anything left.

So I went to those awesome stores where the average price for a shirt is $12.50 and got outfits that made me smile when I was in the dressing room (not a usual occurrence).

I got shirts with color.

I got a dress with patterns.

I got pants in a material other than denim.

And I came home and hung them in my closet, on display so that I can actually see them and want to wear them.

And today? It rained... so I couldn't really wear any of my super cute outfits... so that sucked.

But tomorrow? I'm wearing something new, exciting, and me.

(As long as it stops raining... I don't want to get my cute new clothes damp... they're super cheap, and therefore don't really last in adverse conditions... but I still love them.)

Next up... cleaning out my shoes and purses. I fear my logic and unwavering discipline won't last through that stage in the spring cleaning process...

A Lawn Story

Yard work has never really been my forte.

When I was younger my dad told me to mow the lawn on the rider mower. I tried to tell him that this was a bad idea but he insisted that I was being over dramatic so I had to do it anyway.

It was terrifying but I did it and I even managed to make all of these pretty zigzag patterns in the grass.

(Driving one of those things in a straight line is HARD, y'all.)

Dad was not pleased and that was the last time that I was asked to use the rider mower.

(Not that I'm complaining. Being 15 and having one less chore is pretty much awesome.)

Now I have my own lawn to mow. And today was the first day this season that I did it.

Because of all of the rainy weather we've had over the past month our lawn was in desperate need of a shave.

The last thing Mike told me before he left for work was to not mow over the hose.

So I was a good yard worker and I went to move the hose before I forgot. But the hose was all covered in leaves and I was CONVINCED that there was a snake living in there. I got this vision of me reaching down for the hose and accidentally grabbing a snake and it freaked me out... so there's a patch around the hose of really long grass...

And then I ran over a ladybug. It was like slow motion where I was moving the lawn mower and I saw the ladybug RIGHT as I gave a big push and I was like "NOOOOOoooooooo" and I moved the mower and couldn't find the poor thing... I want to say that it flew away or burrowed into the ground, but I'm pretty sure that I'm actually a murderer and I just have to live with that.

Later I saw another ladybug flying and I was like "OH SHIT... what if that's the dead (murdered) ladybug's significant other... or a relative... or what if they were best friends who had a pact that if neither one of them had mated by the time they were 2 weeks old they'd give it a go together..."

So then I just felt depressed.

I'm pretty sure that's the only creature I killed, though.

I think...



The lawn looks nice now, and that's what's really important.

Except for that's kind of a lie because it doesn't actually look that good. For being such an organized person I have a very sporadic approach to mowing grass. I guess I'm just a fan of fun patterns because I have all of these swirly lines across my lawn and even though it looks pretty it's not exactly what I imagined.

I would mow a little for awhile and then turn around to see that I had missed a scalene triangle of grass without me actually noticing. So I had to go back and then I'd notice that some of the grass was still wet so it just went flat and wasn't actually cut... so it'll be interesting to see how that looks once it dries.

At one point I realized that I had given my lawn a mohawk (completely on accident). It was super punk rock but, let's face it, a mohawk is a tad cliche now, plus I don't think the landlord would appreciate it.

So now it sort of looks like Homer Simpson's head... mostly bald except for a few spots with about 3 stray hairs...

Awesome.

AND... the hoses were not run over.

Mission? Accomplished.

(PS: If you need a great read for the summer, Jen Lancaster's new book came out yesterday! Pretty In Plaid is sure to be full of laughs and pure awesomeness... AND it's about the 80s (aka The Decade Ally B Began to Exist and Therefore the Most Magical of All Decades... plus there was great music...) So go get it.)

There's a Lack of Duct Tape in the House

When Mike and I moved in together we became the proud parents of two adorable puppies.

They were friends from the beginning!

Was taking care of two brand new puppies difficult? Sometimes.

(Especially the potty training times.)

But would we go back and change it? Hell no.

With the two puppies came a new place and some new furniture... including my parent's old leather couch.

There was a tiny rip in one of the cushions (the product of other puppies from our family's past), but otherwise it was perfect.

And, apparently, perfectly delicious.

(For a more detailed description of the destruction of said couch, please read my first ever post on this here blog.)

We did our best to make the couch as disgusting as possible, but those puppies are persistent (and they eat dead animal and poop... so "disgusting" is a relative term), so our couch eventually turned into this:

We are classy...

On Saturday, it went to the dump. And even though I love our new couch... it was hard to say "so long" to our duct tape couch.

Sure, there were pieces of fluff and foam flowing freely from the cushions.

Yes, we have black sticky marks all over our clothes from sitting down to watch TV.

And yeah, one of the cushions (aka: the center one in the above picture) was so badly torn apart that it no longer actually fit into the couch, so it would slowly slope off of the frame to the floor about 13 times a day...

But it was OUR couch.

Our FIRST couch.

It was destroyed by OUR FIRST puppies...

So it was a little sad to see it loaded into a truck and taken to the dump.

(I tried to help get it into the truck, but ended up rolling a section of it into the tree in our front yard... so I was asked to just go inside... it's the effort that counts...)

(I feel the need to point out that Mike wanted to chop the couch up with a machete and then put a little bit of the debris into the trashcan every week until it was all gone... When I asked him where we would keep the couch during this whole process he said "the living room... duh" to which I said "not gonna happen... duh." I know relationships are about compromise... but no.)

Goodbye to our duct tape couch... you were a good couch for us... and we hope you realize that you are more at home in the dump than you were in our living room...

I had to get one last snuggle in before it left...

I'm Just a Fan

I just found out that No Doubt is coming to Denver...

No.

Doubt.

The band that I have loved since I was 10.

The band that has taken a five year hiatus from playing together because Gwen, Brad love her, decided to tour with Harajuku girls rather than her ex-boyfriend, that quite guy, and the drummer who plays in a thong...

The band that has written songs that have been a staple in my life's soundtrack since my middle school years.

The first time I was going to go see them live was when I was 11. They were at Red Rocks touring for Tragic Kingdom.

(Best. Album. Ever.)

(Seriously.)

They were going to be there on the last day of sixth grade, and my parents surprised me with tickets.

It was going to be my first concert.

Mom and Dad were going to pick me and my brother up from school and we were going to get sandwiches from Subway and we were going to get there early because it was General Admission and I was going to see that crazy chick who sang about how she was just a girl.

(EXCITED!)

Then a freak TORNADO (which NEVER HAPPENS HERE... EVER...) hit my school and the lake where my brother was having his end-of-the-year party for the fourth grade, thus turning us into screaming basket-cases who wanted to stay the hell away from any outdoor amphitheater.

Fail number one.

Second concert: back at Red Rocks promoting Return of Saturn. Gwen had pink hair now, and as a fourteen-year-old on the brink of being "angsty", she was my hero.

(I angry-danced to Ex-Girlfriend many a times in my bedroom.)

(Even though I'd never been an ex-anything... except an ex-Hebrew school student... but that's a different subject...)

Since I was at the age where I was "too cool" to think of going with JUST my parents, I would only go with a friend.

But ALL (two) of my friends were going to be out of town when the concert was.

Fail number two.

Finally, when I was fifteen, they opened for U2. I convinced my brother, my best friend, and my mom to go see U2 so that I could (finally) catch a glimpse of No Doubt.

(Don't get me wrong... I love U2, and they were amazing, but No Doubt was what sealed the deal.)

I got to see them play! But it only made me want to see a headlining show that much more.

And then, when Rock Steady came out, I was able to see a No Doubt concert! My brother and I got into line early and even got to meet Tom Dumont (aka that quiet guy)!

I cornered him and told him about my tornado fiasco, and got his autograph (but left the Sharpie in the car... and the only pen I could find was dying... so you can't really see his signature... half-fail)... and then I saw Gwen walking backstage before the show and I screamed "I LOVE YOU, GWEN" and she? Waved. At. Me. (Half-fail revoked.)

I proceeded to have an AMAZING time dancing my sixteen-year-old ass off to Don't Speak and Hey Baby.

(I was rocking out so hard that at one point I almost punched a guy with an out-of-control fist.)

I was able to see them one more time the following year with my brother and Mike. I had spent the whole night before the concert sick to my stomach (with nerves), but the minute I sat in my seat and the lights went down, my stomach ache was history.

See... my whole life I've been a very nervous person. I worry. But concerts were something that eased it.

And even so, I've been to several concerts where I still get distracted. I suddenly realize that there are thousands of people around me... blocking my exit.

I start to panic during a slow song because my mind wanders.

But No Doubt made ALL of my nerves - all of my THOUGHTS - go away. And for the sixty to ninety minutes that Gwen was running around and Tony was rocking the bass and Adrian was in his thong and Tom was being all mysterious... I was perfect. All of my inhibitions were gone and I was HAPPY.

So, even though I've seen them several times before, I have to see them again. If nothing else than to feel like that teenager without a care in the world.

Now, all I need is the money so that I can actually SEE them rather than have to settle for the cheap spots all the way in the back.

(Those tickets don't even come with SEATS... you have to stand on a lawn and share a blanket with breast-feeding moms and that guy trying to sell you pot brownies.)

PS: I was originally going to sit down and write about my new nickname for Bonnie (Lumpy McGee) before this turned into an extremely LONG sob story about my adventures with my favorite band... I'll be back to regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

For the Love of Jen

I made it through BlissDom '09!

For those of you who don't know, BlissDom was a conference for women who blog and was held in Nashville, TN.

(This means about 300 women (mostly Mommy Bloggers) descended on one tiny hotel in Nashville... and half of them were either preggers or holding a new baby... so hormones were a-flyin.)

(I felt left out and wanted to carry Desmond George McFishy around with me, but the hotel did not have a stroller for him... which is just sad...)

To read all about my adventures there, please click here.

The experience taught me a lot about blogging and increasing readership, but it taught me more about myself.

Like how I CAN go somewhere all by myself. (Even if I do call my boyfriend seventy-billion times... sometimes sobbing... oh well...)

Like how I CAN face my fears over meeting people. (Especially with the help of pharmaceuticals! Woohoo!)

Like how I CAN do something that terrifies me. (Again... thank you drugs!)

(See... don't you want to know what I'm talking about? Then you should have clicked there.)

But, most of all...

It taught me that Jen Lancaster kicks even more ass than I originally thought.

Jen Lancaster is one of my favorite authors.

Why?

Because she's hilarious and she isn't afraid to tell it like it is... and she drops the f-bomb a lot, (which I'll admit pretty much guarantees her a little piece of my heart).

She started as a blogger (which she continues today), and then turned her story into three memoirs (her fourth is released this spring).

So I love her even more because she has done what I can only hope to do at some point in my life.

Jen was on a panel at the conference about how to get a book deal, and she gave a fabulous keynote speech.


What I loved most was how gracious and patient she was. She stopped to talk to every single person who wanted an autograph, picture, or to just say hi. And she didn't just shake your hand and walk off, she was very engaging and willing to talk.

It was very exciting to see how down-to-earth she is...

And it makes me feel a little silly for spending so much time at the conference stalking her.

It wasn't scary stalking or anything... it was more me trying to work up the balls to actually go and talk to her.

And involved taking secret pictures of her...


(That's her on the right... upper-right... the one with only her nose and hair showing... I never said they were GOOD stalker photos. I was afraid that if I actually pointed the camera at her she'd see me and then I'd... throw my drink at her and run away...)

(It's always a possibility...)

ANYWAY... I love her... a lot.

And you will too.

So order her books now.

I'll even make it easy for you:

(Her titles are amazing, so I've included them as further enticement for you to get the books...)

Bitter is the New Black : Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass, Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office



Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly, Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why it Often Sucks in the City, or Who are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me?


Such a Pretty Fat: One Narcissist's Quest To Discover if Her Life Makes Her Ass Look Big, Or Why Pie is Not The Answer



Pretty in Plaid: A Life, a Witch, and a Wardrobe, or, the Wonder Years Before the Condescending, Egomanical, Self-Centered Smart Ass Phase (out this Spring)



Seriously. Go. Order them. And laugh your ass off. Because couldn't we all use a laugh once in awhile?

(I mean... other than from this blog...)

(Oh, and I'm not the official president of Jen Lancaster's fan club or anything (though that would be AWESOME...), but I really enjoy her writing and want to spread the love. Plus, I think that it's important to support bloggers-turned-authors, even if they are already famous.)

On My Own: Part Four (A Little Less Drama)

Odd things about this hotel:

1) The guide says 24 Hour Room Service. But when I call the front desk at 12:24 PM I am told that I have to go downstairs because Room Service is not, well, in service. Which was fine, except that they had (maybe) 3 people working the restaurant right when 250 (hungry) female bloggers showed up. Thankfully someone took pity on me and let me sit with them.

2) The only vegetarian thing on the menu was grilled cheese. (Not that I'm complaining... grilled cheese is practically its own food group in our house...) Even the salads had meat, and I was not about to start arguing with one of the two waiters about it, because odds are that if I ordered a salad it would still come out with bacon. The grilled cheese, though, was on the kid's menu (what's up with that? Grilled cheese is totally an acceptable item for an adult) so they charged me an extra two dollars as I am, in fact, over the age of twelve. I was so desperate for food that I didn't fight that either. (Side note: interesting that I had to order off of the kid's menu as I am the youngest one here... besides the babies... there are LOTS of babies... but they don't have to order off of the kid's menu as they're still on the boob...)

3) They have a "Spiritual Menu" in my room. I can call down and ask for any book of faith that I choose. Including the Book of Mormon, The Koran, Tao Te Ching (?), and The Torah (I wonder if it's a big one like from Bar Mitzvahs and if a Rabbi has to bring it up... I'm a bad Jew.) I think I'll go for the collection of books on Scientology... that should help calm my nerves.

4) I already told you about Desmond George McFishy. I was afraid that he would die if housekeeping didn't come soon because they feed him... I think. Thankfully my room is clean, so I'm hoping the fact that he's stationary on the bottom of the bowl means that he's full of yummy fishy food... and not slowly dying. (If this fish dies I am SO going to give them a bad review on Expedia.) (Do fish like cherry sours?)

5) There is a really snazzy ice bucket in the room (candy apple red... goes very well with bag of cherry sours), but the plastic liner that goes into the bucket is not the correct size, so when I filled it the ice went everywhere but into the plastic bag. Now, I assume that the plastic bag is in there as some sort of sanitary device... like maybe there is a history of people peeing in these buckets, or using them are receptacles for their dirty needles, and the plastic liner is there to protect me from hepatitis... so, needless to say, I fear that I am chewing on unsanitary ice. (I have to chew on the ice to get the taste of cherry sours out of my mouth...)

6) They have a little card on the bed that talks about how the hotel is trying to "be green". The card is there to give you a choice between wanting new sheets and towels (bad) and wanting to conserve by saving your sheets and towels. One side says "yes - conserve", the other side "no - do not conserve". So if you want to get clean towels... you feel like a douche for saying "don't conserve".

So the conference is going pretty well. I made the mistake of going to an intro session about Social Media because I had NO idea what Social Media was... yeah, it's Twitter and Facebook. And as I Twitter more than I talk to people, I sort of think I have that down. Since I was far too lazy to gather up all of my stuff and move over to the other panel (and I didn't want to be rude...), I just tried to get the most out of it.

I did learn some new things, and I'm meeting people and have a bunch of new people to follow, which is good.

All in all, much better than my mental breakdown yesterday... and it probably only has a teensy little bit to do with the fact that I took some anti-anxiety medication.

Yay for abusing prescription drugs!

(No... abuse would be a pill with a margarita chaser... and stupid room service wouldn't bring me one... 24 hours my ass.)

On My Own: Part Two from TN

So when I woke up this morning I was SUPER nervous about this trip.

I was also SUPER angry at myself for not packing last night and instead watching LOST.

(Totally worth it, though.)

So I got up early to pack and was cussing out my bag because I couldn't fit all of my "essentials" in there.

Mike then repacked it and fit everything in there by pointing out that I did NOT need my three pound day planner...

(Smarty-pants.)

He then drove me to the airport where I cried for no apparent reason except for the fact that I realized that I was ALL BY MYSELF.

It didn't help when I forgot to take the liquids out of my bag (rookie mistake) thus forcing an old man security guard to search my stuff.

(Thankfully he became convinced that I was a law abiding citizen before he went through all of my undies...)

I then had to go to stupid Concourse A which does not have the sandwich place that I like on Concourse B. So I bought 800 calories worth or trail mix and cherry sours as my breakfast.

When I got on the plane the flight attendant scolded me for having an oddly shaped bag that was not regulation size.

(Which is something you think someone could have told me at the half dozen checkpoints I had to go through since leaving the car...)

And then crazy lady sat across the aisle from me.

To avert any crisis (like me attacking crazy lady with my bag of cherry sours), I quickly asked the mean flight attendant if I could sit in the seat in front of me with the empty seat next to it.

(It wasn't all that necessary, as the woman sitting on the other side of the crazy lady was way more overtly rude than me, thus shutting crazy lady right the eff up.)

(Mean girls are sometimes good for something.)

Then, about half way through the flight the sleeping old man in my row offered me a stick of gum.

I thought how nice, and quickly stuck the stick-o-mint in my mouth.

Then I remembered that you are never supposed to take candy from strangers.

(See... I'm not meant to travel alone...)

So I started to think about if gum counts as candy... I mean, I never sit there and crave a nice, rich piece of gum to melt in my mouth... but it is sold in the candy section of the store.

During all of this I realized that I wasn't foaming at the mouth or anything else that might happen if I was being poisoned, so I just enjoyed my gum and went to sleep.

When I got to the airport I was looking for the shuttle to the hotel when a couple of nice men pointed out that I had to actually call the shuttle to have them pick me up.

So I called and was instructed to wait for a silver car. The same men who originally helped me pointed out what my ride was going to look like. They said it would be a silver van and it would have the hotel's name on it.

Well, at first I was a little offended. I mean, I'm competent and all, I could probably figure out which car was mine... right?

Well, I'm actually quite grateful because soon a silver SUV pulled up in front of me and had those men not just told me exactly what my van looked like I would have jumped up and climbed in the back of this poor man's Explorer.

Which would be awkward.

Especially when I would tell him to "step on it, already".

I finally get to the hotel and get into my room and... I completely lost it.

So I called Mike up blubbering like a baby about being completely overwhelmed and he calmed me down and told me it was OK.

Then I got off of the phone and had to physically restrain myself from ordering Twilight off of the in-room movie service to make myself feel better.

(Because Edward Cullen would totally help...)

So instead I decided to blog (which is just fine... I am at a blogging conference).

I should probably take Mike's advice and go to the front desk to find out a good place to eat.

I think I feel like this because of today's diet of yogurt, trail mix, and cherry sours.

And that can't be good.

Ally B Textin

First, I would like to post the video that I was searching for to go with my last post. I just found it, thank you MTVmusic.com, so here you go.

(Just pretend that you are still reading the post it was supposed to be on: The Joys of Giving.)

Sarah Silverman |MTV Music

And now we shall move on:

Last night I received an email from Lightning Legs.

It had a website that she had used that has a questionnaire about your interests and skills. The site then generated a list of career options based on how you answered.

Her second email said that one of her Top 50 Career Options was a Dude Ranch Operator.

What follows is a transcript of our conversation.

(Is it still a "conversation" if we didn't actually verbally converse? I shall instead call it a transcript of our textathon.)

(BOLD is my commentary-in-hindsight.)

Text from Ally B: PLEASE say that you will at least consider becoming a dude ranch operator.

Text from Lightning Legs: Oh for sure! I'll be gettin' me some shit kickers and a straw hat. What does it suggest for you?

AB: I haven't been able to do it yet, but I will! You'd look so pretty in a hat, and lassos are SO in this season.

AB: One of my top 50 is magician... can I work on your dude ranch? (SERIOUSLY!! MAGICIAN!!)

LL: HAHAHA! Perfect! We'll need talent like that on my ranch to entertain the guests. (Seriously, I about died laughing at your text!)

AB: Well it better have made you laugh... one of my other options was stand-up comedy. (SERIOUSLY!! STAND-UP COMEDY!!)

LL: That's so funny! All of mine were like doctor-type things with random dude ranch operator and engineer and astronaut stuff thrown in. And I took it twice... (Smarty-Pants show off! I'm sitting here with magician, comedy, oh, and greeting card designer.)

AB: Mine are all performance and artistic or being in charge of others (it said that I could be a employee training manager. When I clicked on it to find out what that was, it had a cartoon with a guy demonstrating the correct way to flip a burger... great)... it was actually pretty interesting. Mike is taking his now.

LL: Dustin's (their little brother) second one is a boat captain!

AB: Oh my GOD! When I took one of these in high school I got sailor as my first! (True story) Dustin and I are like long-lost twins...

AB: Mike's first one is dolphin researcher. (Perfect for us COLORADO residents... the reservoir is just full of dolphins this time of year.)

LL: Haha! Dolphin researcher is on both mine and Dustin's but not the first one. (Wait a sec... what kind of family produces THREE dolphin researchers?) Dust said his first from an earlier test was a brew master. (That should come in handy while researching dolphins.)

AB: Mike's are all engineers and designers and scientists... (Of course... another smarty-pants. SHOW-OFF!! But maybe this is a good thing. If he becomes some amazing bio-chemist/dolphin researcher, then maybe he can support me and I can sit at home and blog all day. It pays to be in love with a smarty-pants...)

*************************************************************************************

So watch out world! The Great Ally B will be performing at a hotel bar and casino near you!

Don't forget to tip your waitress!

The Police |MTV Music

They just don't make videos like that anymore... it's a shame, really... well, sort of...