Requirements

At six-years-old I had only one simple requirement for my future husband–his last name needed to come before mine in the alphabet. You see they did everything alphabetically in grade school, and those of us in the lower half of the alphabet got stuck waiting. Waiting to go to lunch. Waiting to go to recess. Waiting to use the drinking fountain. Waiting to get a treat. And one day while waiting in yet another alphabetical line, I vowed that come Hell or high water I would marry up in the world, up in the alphabet that is.

And that's the one requirement that has stuck.

Over the years my list of requirements for my future husband has varied in length and content. This list has at some time or another specified his goals, likes, dislikes, political affiliation, religion, family background, age, eduction, etc. But the one requirement that I've never been able to remove or change is that very first one I ever made. It's silly, I know, but it's funny how frequently it sneaks up on me.

Once after starting up a conversation with an attractive, single man on an elevator, I actually had to hide my disappointment upon learning his last name started with a W. I even find myself having to justify going on a date with a Thompson or a Smith, almost like that 6-year-old who made that promise all those years ago is there passing judgment on my choices.

"So what if his last name is Zambonie? He's a good guy. He likes kids. He's responsible. He's funny. He treats me well. Besides we've only been out a few times. It's not like we are getting married."

While it is still technically on the list of requirements, it is also the first one I will ignore. I'm not about to tell a guy that I won't go out with him because of the FIRST LETTER of his last name. Many of my love interests and boyfriends have had last names between R – Z. However, when a relationship fizzles, it is often the first excuse that pops up. "It never would have worked anyway. I mean his last name started with a Y" or "I can do so much better than him. He was only in the P's. I'm should able to get at least an M."

Ludicrous, I know. Perhaps that's why I'm still single, unrealistic expectations. But it makes for a wonderful retort to that dreaded question, "So why are you still single?" The next time I receive such a uninvited inquiry, I will pause a moment, look thoughtful, and respond "I'm alphabetically picky" and walk away.

Thankful for Real

It's finally happened. No matter how many times I've faulted others for doing this very thing, I did it myself. I told someone that I'd love to hang out with him, even though we both knew we would never see each other again. It smacks of the sort of southern-California fake-ness that has bothered me since I moved here a year ago....

And that's why I found myself on my favorite beach today. Not the white sandy beach that is 5 block from my house, but a rocky beach 30 miles away in Palos Verdes.

It is my patch of real and has been for most of my time in California. It is a place where real people go; people who have not been tucked, lifted, or implanted. They go as families with their children and their unpampered, unpedigreed pups. And I obviously needed "real" reboot.

The beach is mostly mounds of smooth, multi-colored river stones; the only sand being right at the waters edge. You hear the waves crashing into the stony piles, followed by the rumbles of loose rocks tumbling down, coaxed away by the lingering slips of waves. While they are pulled away into the belly of the ocean, they will return some other day, by some other wave.

It's not easy to traverse this beach of rocks. You must step carefully or risk a twisted ankle or a fall. And it is not always beautiful, as these rocks trap trash and other discarded items, but it is real, so such things are accepted for what they are and then overlooked. Instead you focus on the flowering plants rooted in some invisible soil deep below.



Or the mosiac stone pictures of hearts, turtles, and swirls created by some previous visitor.


If you are fortunate to be there at low tide you can visit the tide pools filled with hermit crabs and anemone. There the children jump from rock to rock with squeals of excitement or disgust when they pick up a thick, black creature called a sea hair.

This beach is a restful place where families talk and walk; children laugh and play; and their dogs run free. But as always there came a time for me to leave, to return to the land of make believe, with the hope that my visit will help me stay real.

I hiked back up the steep trail to my car, and passed through the Donald Trump golf course that borders this mecca of mine. The golfers in their well-pressed attire seemed an odd sight after my time at the beach, but it would seem they were only following the rules.

My People

“They’re my people,” my friend said after speaking with a family across the park.
“Your people? Are they from Puerto Rico?”
“No, but they speak Spanish.”
“And that makes them your people?”
“Well, yeah.”

That got me thinking. Does everyone have people? I started listening to find out what others had to say about their people. Some claimed people simply because of skin color. Others claimed people based on their having the same religion or because they liked the same sports teams. I’m an English-speaking, Jesus-loving, white-American mutt. Who are my people? The majority of the U.S. population? If they are my people, then I was obviously adopted.

But there was something to what my friend said in the park that day, he and that family spoke the same language, which meant they understood each other. Perhaps that’s what it means to have people. Your people understand you because you speak the same language. Not a language like English, Spanish, or Zimbabwean, but a language laced with special terms, idioms, movement, and intent that can be immediately understood by those who speak the same language.

Of course that didn’t get me any closer to identifying who my people might be. There are plenty of English speakers, who I don’t understand in anyway shape or form. That goes for white people a well, so I started looking little deeper, and reflected on religion. I am a Mormon, and have been my whole life so I speak fluent Mormon, which is rich with special terms, turns of phrase, and customs. For instance one might hear at the beginning of church: “By way of announcements, please don’t forget the Relief Society activity at the Stake House this Saturday, and please let us know if you can bring a dish of funeral potatoes.” This does not mean a charity organization is bringing their own poisoned food to a restaurant. If you spoke Mormon, you would know this. But does speaking fluent Mormon, make them my people? I don’t know. While I do understand Mormons, I’m hesitant to say they are my people because I am not sure they always understand me.

So who are my people? Who speaks my same language? My people would understand why I randomly do somersaults. My people would laugh (and not be embarrassed) when I make a goofy face or feel the need to go bouncing around the room. My people would join in or at least hum along when I make up a song. My people would quote cartoons and storybooks and Disney movies. I guess that means my people are all about 4-years-old.

California Driving

I am officially California Legal

• California driver’s license – check
• California registered car – check
• Automatic transmission car – check
• Registered to vote – check
• Signed lease – check
• Own one or more of the following – roller blades, bike, surf board, boogie board – check

So I’ve finally done it. I became CA legal last month after getting 100% on the written driver's exam. Yes, California requires you take the $&%^# exam even if you took the exam when you were 16 in your home state, have a stellar driving record, and have been operating a passenger vehicle for over 10 years. Yeah, if that’s not a waste of taxpayer’s money I don’t know what is.

Please bear with me as a vent a little. For starters Let’s briefly discuss the inefficiency of the CA DMV. I had been informed by a few people I should make an appt before going, which I tried to do, but the soonest appt I could get was for 3 weeks out. Considering my license was expiring in a week, I thought it wise to forgo the appointment and just stand in line. To CA DMV’s credit, they have a nifty feature on their website where you can monitor the wait times for each location. When I saw the wait time for my location drop below 50 minutes (believe me this was a miracle) I dashed out the door.

I got to the DMV at 2:30 PM and waited, waited, and waited in a line that wrapped around the outside of the building. Just as my wait time neared an hour, and I was approaching the front of the line, one of the two (count them two) DMV employees assisting those standing in this monster of a line held up his finger, as if to say just a moment to the customer approaching his desk. This DMV employee then looked at his watch, picked up his coat, and walked out the door. Did someone come to fill in for him? No, of course not. Now there was just one person helping those standing in this line. It took another 15 minutes until I could approach the desk. The person working at the desk then looked at the form I had filled out, gave me a number, and told me to wait with the crowds of people inside the building. Yep, you heard me right. I had stood in line to get a number to stand in line. If I had had an appointment I could have skipped the first line and just gone directly to the second line, but can someone please explain the purpose of the first line?

The DMV employee also informed me that I would need to take the written test which they stop administering at 4:30 PM. It was 3:45 PM. I waited and waited and waited for my number. 3:57…….4:05…….4:22……4:28…….4:30……….. 4:32 and then my %*#^ number was called. I approached the counter and gave the woman my form and license fee. She told me she could take care of all the paperwork and take my picture, but I would have to come back on Monday for the test (fortunately I could skip both line 1 and 2). 2.5 hours wasted.

So I went back on Monday right as they opened, and went directly upstairs for the testing. There was one other person in line. We were informed that there was new computer system installed, and they were trying to figure it out. 20 minutes later I approached the desk, where the woman looked over my paperwork and handed me a test. As I sat down and started going through the it, I came across a humdinger of a question:

Smoking inside a vehicle when a person younger than 18 years of age is present is:

A: Legal, if it is your own child

B: Illegal at all times

C: Not restricted by law

Granted I had only glanced through the driver’s handbook, but I was fairly certain there had been no mention of the legality of smoking in the car period, so I answered C. I guessed correctly, but what the *%$#? Why would you test my knowledge of a non-law? What could possibly be the importance making sure of a driver knows that it is perfectly legal to smoke with a kid in the car?

Okay, fine, stupid test complete. So now I went and stood in a line of just me, myself, and I as the three DMV employees (count them three) behind the desk argued over who had the proper training and authority to operate the new camera for taking the picture of some dude who had just passed his test. After 10 minutes, they decided they only needed two people to argue about that, so one woman waved me over to go through my test. After congratulating me on my 100% score, she handed me a piece of paper that is to be my license for the next 2 weeks until my actual license arrives in the mail, and I walked out of the DMV. Thank you to the great state of California for wasting over 3 hours of my life.

Oh the Stories I'm Not Going to Tell You.....

I'm sorry my friends out in cyber-land, but you will not get to hear my most amusing stories. It's not because I don't trust you, well maybe just a little. :) It's because all these stories have to do with crushes, dating, and infatuations, and I have a long standing policy that I will never put those out into the ether. :(

So forget hearing the story of about when my ex-crush, his ex-girlfriend, and her current crush stayed at my house this last week. Yes, it's just as weird as it sounds.

You also won't get to hear about my dry-cleaner (who has had a crush on me since October), and what happened on our one and only date. It's honestly killing me that I can't share this one, it's the best story I've got.

I'm afraid you don't get to hear about canoes in the Charles River, fireworks (4th of July variety), and the fact I apparently smell like coconuts.

And I most certainly can't share with you what happened when I FINALLY went on a date with a guy that everyone and their dog has been trying to set me up with for 6 years. This is a pretty good story too.

And those my friends are the just the tip of the iceberg of what's been happening over the last 8 weeks. That would be yet another reason I haven't blogged much. What could I possibly share with you, when so much of my life has been co-mingled with dating activities? Anyway, it's been quite a ride. I don't know if things are going to slow down at all, but I'm just enjoying it for what it is. :)

I'm baaaaaaack

I don't really have an excuse for not writing for the last 13 kabillion (I'm fully aware that this is not a number) years. Other than the fact, I had been very much in a fragile place with my life. One small mis-step, one misguided attempt at anything, and the house of cards that was my life would come crashing down all around me.

But fear not, I am back....I hope. I'm now in an apartment that I love, with fantastic roommates. I've done more dating in the last 2 months than I have in a long time. I also now have a regular job which equates to benefits and stability--I might even be able to purchase a couch soon. Perhaps this job is not what I expected for me and my life, but after living hand-to-mouth for so long, it is a blessed relief. That being said, I feel like I might be missing some ominous something, that's probably blatantly obvious to everyone else.

Joshua "Easter" Tree

Let me just admit upfront that I am not enamored with deserts. I know what you are thinking. Didn't you grow up in Utah.....a desert? Well yes, and I loved Utah, just the less deserty parts of the Utah. I consider deserts barren, parched, dusty, bleak death traps just waiting to catch you alone without water. Not exactly my dream vacation. So perhaps you are wondering why or better yet how I ended up camping in Joshua Tree National Park (a desert) over Easter weekend. That's easy. #1 Joshua Tree makes me think of U2 songs, not a desert dwelling Yucca plant that has it's own National Park. #2 Someone said camping. I love camping. If someone suggested camping on Mars, I'd ask when we were leaving.

So the first thing I needed to learn was what a Joshua Tree looks like, and what better place to do that than in a Joshua Tree forest like this one.

What? You don't see a forest? Let's try a wider shot.

Believe it or not that whole valley is packed with these trees. Perhaps packed isn't the right term. While the trees were everywhere they are anti-social and maintain 10 ft+ distance between each other. I guess this is one legitimate place where it might be difficult to see the forest for the trees.

And here's a Joshua tree growing out of my head:

Another kind of forest just outside Joshua Tree National Park scares me:


As it turns out the desert is very windy place, making it an ideal place for massive wind farms. Sure, they look all nice and safe in a picture but when you drive through 30 miles of winding roads that are packed with these spinning puppies, you get the distinct impression you are driving into a turbine.

Technically the rocks around our camp should have sheltered us from the wind, but alas the wind knocked my tent down at least a dozen times both days.


But the camp was truly beautiful at night:

(disclaimer: This is not my picture. I "borrowed" from my friend Eric Newnam)

Being in the desert has a way of giving you reason stop and think:


It also has a way of making you into a walking contradiction when you haven't showered in 2 days, your hat is covering your frizzy mess of knots and tangles, you reek of campfire, and you happen to wander out of your tent proudly wearing a dirty t-shirt that declares you are sexy.

I wish I could include all the pictures I took this weekend of all my friends, but my life has been threatened if said photos show up anywhere outside of Facebook. :)

3 Weeks

So it would appear there is a lot going on in the next 3 weeks:

1) I'm moving

This is a very good thing. Perhaps you are aware of the fact I have been living with a married couple for the last 6 months. While it's been fun, it is time for us to part company. Namely they are moving to Utah and I'm moving into an apartment that is 5 blocks from the beach in Santa Monica. I could be wrong, but I think I got the better deal. :)

2) Visiting Utah

I'm leaving work Friday night at 5 PM, driving 1.5 hours to Long Beach Airport to catch an 8 PM flight that will get me to Utah by 11 PM. Then 36 hours later, I'll be on a plane headed back to Long Beach. And that my friends is my weekend. :)

3) Take a Gondala (an Italian boat, not the ski lift) Ride

In November I bought into this really good deal on a gondala ride. I figured sometime in the following months there would be a special someone to accompany me on this trip. Well there's no special someone, and the ticket will expire by April 30th. Fortunately Dave, an awesome friend regardless of his poor judgement of posting less than flattering pictures of me on Facebook, has volunteered to accompany me on said boat ride. I'm still nervous that this has the potential of being very awkward. When calling to make the reservation the conversation went something like this:

"We could book you for an 8:30 trip"

"8:30 PM?"

"The wind has died down by then and the stars are out. It makes it more romantic."

"Uh, right, okay."

" You can bring whatever food you would like. A lot of people like to do a romantic picnic."

"Romantic.......right."

"We also provide you with a complimentary bucket of ice incase you want to bring champagne."

So here's the deal. I didn't really bill this as a date when I set it up with Dave, which means ixnay on the omanceray. I was thinking perhaps we should get decked out as the most touristy tourists, eat left over Easter Peeps, and sip on chilled juice boxes. It would be fun, amusing, and just plain awesome. :)

4. Go to Six Flags aka Magic Mountain

For 6 months I've lived within a 2 hour drive of Universal Studios, Knotts Berry Farm, Disneyland, and Six Flag, and I have yet to step foot in any of them. Today while I was lamenting my plight, I asked my co-worker how much it costs to go to Six Flags, and he gives me a free ticket that he happened to have that needs to be used before April 25th It also turns out that those Diet Cokes I drink like water also have a coupon for a $19.99 entrance to Six Flags, so if I invite a friend, we each get to go in for $10.

Now the trick is going to be trying to accomplish all of this in the next 3 weeks while working full-time, and attempting to find a new job.

Dirty Ducks

6:30 AM:
I wake up to what sounds like Donald Duck cussing someone out. I put my pillow over my ears and try to go back to sleep.

6:35 AM:
The noise continues. I get out of bed and look out the window. A couple ducks are getting busy in my neighbor's pool. I silently berate myself for not investing in a pellet gun, and attempt to go back to bed.

6:41 AM:
Noise gets louder. I look out the window again. The male duck is attempting to drown the female duck. I briefly considered Darwin's theory of natural selection, and how the duck--as a species--is better off if stupid ducks who can't figure out how to procreate, don't.

6:42 AM:
I hear my roommates in the common room yelling at the ducks from the balcony. I exit my room in time to see my roommate go out the front door. I go to the balcony, and realize there are actually 3 ducks, a female and male who are trying to mate and another male who is trying to drown them both.

6:44 AM:
My roommate somehow gains access to the pool enclosure to shoo the birds. The homicidal duck flies to the top of our roof and continues to squawk, while the mating couple move to the far end of the pool.

6:48 AM:
My roommate returns to the apartment, where no one is going back to sleep because we now have Donald Duck in surround sound.

6:50 AM
The homicidal duck rejoins the mating pair and continues to try to kill them both. My roommate's husband goes out to put a stop to the fighting. The mating male duck chases away the homicidal duck before the roommate's husband can stage an intervention. I go back to my bedroom.

6:55 AM
I look out my bedroom window to see my roommate's husband in the pool enclosure attempting to feed the ducks bread crumbs. For some reason the ducks aren't interested in the bread......Gee, I wonder why.

6:56 AM:
I put on my running shoes and went for a run with the hopes that the whole thing is resolved by the time I get home so I can go back to bed.

8:00 AM:
I return home after my run. The ducks are gone. My roommates are gone. All is quiet, but I can't go back to sleep. And that my friend is why I'm writing this blog post right now, and why I have a grievance against dirty ducks.

Biggest Loser - Salt Lake

Yo Utah peeps. I don't know if any of y'all might be interested but the biggest loser is coming to Salt Lake City for casting. I just thought I'd pass the info along.

The Utah Film Commission would like to pass on this information from
NBC's "The Biggest Loser."

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Utah Film Commission,

We are going to be coming to Salt Lake City, Utah on March 20th
and wanted to let the community know about this event. I have attached
the official casting flyer.

When: Saturday, March 20th 10:00am to 5:00pm
Where: NBC Studios 55 North 300 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84180

● Please do not line up more than 3 hours before the open call start
time, please also bring a NON RETURNABLE photo as well
●We will do our best to see the first 500 people in line
●If you cannot attend an open call you may submit a videotape
●You must be at least 18 years old by May 24th, 2010

Thank you,

-- DJ

D.J. Feldman
Casting Director
The Biggest Loser (Season 10 - NBC)
http://www.youtube.com/user/BucksNRoses

Missing Magic

This weekend I took a little time to look through an old journal. It was fascinating to read how much I trusted and believed that anything was possible. I knew there was a life path for me that I had no doubt I would find, and when I did, my life's meaning would be fulfilled. I smiled as I thought of how naive and optimistic I once was. That was back before I moved to Boston, back to when my world was Utah, and even back before I had chosen a major. In other words I had not yet experienced anything in my life, and that was when I believed in magic.

What do I mean by magic? Well, what does a magician do? He performs the impossible. We all know you can't pull a rabbit from a hat. Yet a magician can do it. You can't saw a person in half and then put them back together without harming them. Yet a magician can do it. A magician laughs at the thought of impossible because he/she knows how to harness magic. If a person believes in magic there is no such things a limitations. Anything is possible.

As children we often experienced magic in our everyday lives. Impossible things happened around us all the time. Almost everything you learned in school or in lessons or from the older kids at first seemed impossible. Take for instance riding a bike. You can't tell me the first time you got on one of those things you weren't absolutely convinced that magic was the only way those things stayed up right. Yet 10,000 bruises and a concussion later, you too could do the impossible. Add to that everyone in your life--teachers, parents, and even Mr. Rogers-- told you everyday that you could be anything you wanted. You were capable of absolutely anything. You my friend had magic in your back pocket and the world was a beautiful, exciting place.

I'm not sure when it happens, but eventually the magic starts to fade. Perhaps you just get caught up with the necessities of life. Or perhaps you suffer too many set backs, but eventually you start to look at the impossible as, well, impossible. And that's when the magic is gone. Some adults are better at holding on to it than others. I for one want to hold onto magic until the very end. But I must admit my magic supply is running low, and I can tell you the world is bleak without magic. I want to continue to believe that the impossible is indeed possible, and I will because I believe having magic in your life is a choice. Look for it, and I can assure you that you too will see it. And once you can see it, you'll see it everywhere, even in your own life. So here's to a return of magic and the belief that anything is possible.

Why I Should be Scottish.....

I came up with a list the other day justifying my desire to up and move to Scotland.

1. My name is Gaelic: Aileen is Gaelic for "light bearer."
What's that you say? You thought my name was Aleigh. Well it is.......sort of. It's a contraction of my full name, Aileen Leigh, so I guess I should write it A'Leigh, but that's beside the point. My real and legal name is definitely Gaelic.

2. Half of my celebrity Crushes are on Scottish guys.

• - Gerard Butler: My all time favorite. His best movie is "Dear Frankie"
• - Ewan McGregor: If you don't know who this is you've been living under a rock. ;)
• - Kevin McKidd: I loved him in the TV show Journeyman.
  
• - James McAvoy: Mr. Tumnus from Narnia. Yes, the faun.
  
• - Billy Boyd: Pippin from Lord of the Rings. Yes, a hobbit.

I'd include Sean Connery to the list, but he's old enough to be my grandpa and that's a little weird.

3. "All Scottish food is based on a dare." ~Mike Myers~
It dawned on me the other day that most of my cooking concoctions are the result of someone saying, "You can't do that." To which I respond, "Watch me." A few examples include Avocado lime cookies (very good), Peanut Butter Bacon Bread (disgusting), Banana Chocolate Cake (delicious), and Zuchini Crisp (very good). Granted most Scottish food involves meat, and I'm more herbivore than carnivore. But, it's their interest in food creativity that seems most fitting for me.

4. Hot or Cold
I hate hot, sticky, humid summer weather. I get lethargic. and miserable. But give me an overcast day with a slight chill in the air, and I'm ready to go out for a run. And that's saying something because I hate running. Generally speaking the weather in the UK is fairly cool whether summer or winter. Sounds like paradise to me.

So why haven't I made that jump across the pond? That's simple enough........immigration laws. Regardless of what country you live in or what country you want to move to, I can guarantee there is a litany of rules, regulation, and laws to tie you up in red tape for the next 40 years. Therefore I will continue to pine for Scotland from a distance, until one of my Scottish celebrity crushes whisks me away to the isle. :)

Holiday Mash-up

So what holiday are you celebrating this weekend? Don't tell me Valentine's Day. Why would you celebrate that silly holiday when 2010 has provided you with a cornucopia of other holidays this Feb 14-16?

You've got President's Day which is probably giving you Monday off from work. Thank you Presidents Washington and Lincoln. We salute you.

And let's not forget the Chinese New Years. This one is all about good fortune, not resolutions. All the traditions--from the colors you wear to the food you eat--are stacking the good fortune deck for next year, and aren't we all in need of some good fortune. It's the year of Tiger so if you were born in 1962, 1974, 1986, or 1998 this is your year; you're going to make things happen this year. For all you non-tigers out there check out your horoscope for 2010 at http://hubpages.com/hub/Chinese-Horoscope-2010-the-Year-of-the-Tiger.

Then there's Marti Gras otherwise known as get-drunk-off-your-butt-act-really-stupid-and hope-you-won't-remember-any-of-this-tomorrow day. I usually prefer to enjoy this holiday as a spectator. :) However, this year my ward had a Marti Gras party last night (sans alcohol) and I got all dressed up, was part of a float, collected strings of beads (for benign things), ate gumbo, made a king's cake, and listened to Dixie-land music. I'm glad I wasn't a spectator this year. (Disclaimer: Marti Gras doesn't technically occur until Tuesday, aka Fat Tuesday.)

Doesn't this all blow Valentine's Day out of the water with it's paper hearts and chalky candies. But wait I'm not done yet. For all you sports fans out there, this weekend is extra special. You've got the Winter Olympics and.....wait for it.......the Daytona 500. See pretty cool stuff right? What? You're still stuck on celebrating Valentine's Day? Really? What about Arizona Statehood Day? That's today too. I don't really know what you would do to celebrate that one. I guess drive over the state line and yell, "Happy Statehood, Arizona!" or maybe sit on your couch and think maybe someday I should visit the Grand Canyon. Regardless, we're talking a zero effort holiday.

And yet with all this, you'll still wish at least one person a Happy Valentine's Day today. I can see you are going to be hard to sway on this. Perhaps we could just compromise. You can celebrate all of these together. You could wish everyone a Merry Val-inese Presi Gras Day and Happy Arizona Statehood. And then gather your close friends and family together to watch some car racing or speed skating. It seems like a fine idea to me. :)

Teasing Target

Some people are the object of affection. Other people are cruising for a bruising. I am a target for teasing. What do I mean by that? Well, I'm not sure how I do it, but people really, really, really like to tease me.

I ran into someone yesterday that I haven't seen in about 8 years. I walked up to him and reintroduced myself. We talked briefly about our common past, but he couldn't quite remember me. About 10 minutes later he came back up and said, "I remember you now. I was so mean to you. I'm so sorry that I was so mean." I had left that detail out when speaking to him earlier. He really was. He used do anything to get under my skin, and there was nothing I could do about it. We were co-chairs of a committee so all I could do was give him the evil-eye and wish the ground would open up and swallow him whole. I still remember the Grinch-like smile he'd give me when he knew he's won yet another round of teasing. While I despised that smile, I'd never say I hated him. It was teasing after all. It's not like he was throwing rocks, rotten fruit, or small animals at me*.

And that really got me thinking. Teasing is a huge part of my life. My brothers and sisters tease me. My parents tease me. My nieces and nephews tease me. My bosses tease me. My coworkers tease me. My friends tease me. My ex-boyfriends tease me (before and after the break-up).

Later when I found myself being teased by one of my friends, I asked why teasing me was such a fundamental part of our friendship. He then replied, "You're fun and I never have to worry you're going to take it too serious." He also paid me a lovely complement of telling me that I am one of only two girls at church he would choose to sit and talk with because we are both so easy going and friendly.

So here's a question I will pose to all you readers out there, what makes me so teasable and is being teasable a good thing or a bad thing? I'm really hoping it's a good thing because after all these years, I beginning to think this is a basic component of my existence. :) Talk to me here. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

*if he had thrown, say a wolverine, at me, I might have considered hating him, unless that wolverine happened to be Hugh Jackman. If that were the case, I would have given my teaser a big hug and thanked him profusely.

Never Fail Pick-up Line

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single person must be in want of a good pick-up line. And it would just so happen that a few years back I stumbled upon a pick up line that has yet to fail. Would you like me to share it with you? Of course you would.

First select an appropriate guy. Might I suggest someone you know on a very casual level. Examples might include a coworker in another department, a guy you see on the subway, or that cute guy at church, who you’ve only smiled at across the room . (notable exceptions: the stalker sitting outside of your bedroom window, your roommate’s ex-boyfriend, or your prison penpal.)

Walk up to the guy and ask:

“Do you have a piece of paper?”

If he has one, he’ll give it to you. Then ask:

“Do you have a pen?”

If he has one, he’ll hand it to you. Then ask:

"What's your number?"

This will catch him off guard, but he’ll give it to you. Then ask:

“What time are you picking me up on Saturday?”

To which he will reply:

“Seven?”

Works like a charm. You can then give him your number, and have a lovely conversation about your plans for Saturday.

I have many theories on why this always works. The first is the yes theory. If you can get someone into the pattern of saying yes, they are more likely to continue saying yes. If you can get him to agree to little things like letting you have a piece of paper and lending you a pen, he’s more likely to go along with giving you his number. Once he’s given you his number, it’s not that big of a deal to commit to a date. So there you have it.

You also have to consider the element of surprise and curiosity. You have to admit this whole process is a little unusual. Any normal guy will naturally be curious about where you are going with this line of questioning. The final question will catch him so off guard and amused, he’ll just agree to it. At least that’s been my experience so far.

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If the pick-up line seems too long, and convoluted, you may want to employ the cliff notes version recently created by my friend Michelle. It goes like this:

Walk up to a stranger and ask:

“What time are you picking me up on Saturday?”

It worked for her. (Disclaimer: Actual result may vary. Michelle is tall, thin, and blond). :)

The Resume

Ode to the Resume
(to the little piece of paper that stands between me and an interview )

Oh how I hate you, let me count the ways
Mere black ink on white space
The magic of power verbs and buzzwords
Open doors or kick you in the pants.

Be more specific, more succinct, more applicable
Simply be perfect and then maybe
you'll have a chance.

I'm soooooo tired of writing and rewriting my resume. It has way too much power you know. It's like a picture placed in a personal ad, if the it doesn't immediately catch a person's attention then then gig is up, and you'll never get the chance to prove your worth.

But what can you do? Lying is completely unacceptable. Using "pretty" paper or a fancy font, will only get you laughed at. So you analyze the job description for which you are applying, and compare it to your resume. Perhaps you change some buzzwords, remove a bullet point or two replacing them with something more appropriate, or in rare cases, change the format completely. Whatever the modifications, you do your best to make it "perfect" and then you send it on. Of course you must also include a cover letter (another creature of contempt). Then you pray that this time you've got it right, but you don't bank on it. Instead you start the process over again with the next job description.

Aleigh in Wonderland

You know, I had heard that Los Angeles is a whole different world--like nothing you’ve ever experienced. But I naively thought, how different could it be? I’ve visited before, and it didn’t seem all that different. Then I moved here. Now I feel like I’ve gone down the rabbit hole and live in Wonderland. It wouldn’t surprise me if I walked out the door and ran into the Cheshire Cat or had a conversation with a hookah smoking caterpillar, so it didn’t really surprise me when I went down the stairs of my apartment to see this:

The door leads to the parking lot and locks when it’s shut, so it’s not unusual for it to be propped open with a rock or a brick, but this is the first time I’ve seen it propped open with a head.

Once I stopped laughing, I thought why does someone have a dummy head and why did they think this was a good idea? What, a rock wasn't good enough for you?

But then I started to let my imagination run away with me. What if there is guy living in my building who just broke up with his girlfriend, and she's sending him a "message"? You know The Godfather style. Sure it's not a severed head of a $600,000.00 race horse, but it's not bad. It says:

"You're nothing without me. You're just doorstop."
or
"Watch your back. I'm going to do this to your head for real"
or
"Please get a restraining order because I'm obviously nuts."

Then again, maybe it could be a cosmologist girlfriend/wife who took off in the middle of the night with the best friend of the boyfriend/husband. She left all her stuff at the apartment and her (ex)boyfriend/husband is unloading some of the more useless objects like a dummy head, which happens to make an excellent doorstop. With any luck, the residents here will continue to slam the heavy door into the plastic cranium for weeks and months to come. It's not much of a revenge, but it would give the (ex)boyfriend/husband a certain satisfaction of kicking it each day as he walked through the door.

Ha, ha, it would seem Wonderland is seeping into my brain and is influencing my imagination. You'll know I'm a goner if I report later that the Queen of Hearts is demanding my head. If it comes to that I hope she's willing to accept a doorstop instead. :)

Funny Photos 2009

The holidays have come and gone. The decorations are down, and we are all well on our way to forgetting our new years resolutions. This is also when the blah-ness sets in. I like to call it the khaki time of year. Right about now all the clothing stores stock enough blah brown in various shades to redo your entire wardrobe in nondescript dullness. It's a fitting comparison to how many people feel right about now. For us singles this blah-ness will continue until Feb 15th, but there always hope. You just have to find the little patches of happiness to cheer up this khaki state of mind.

So here are some silly photos I snapped during 2009, that may just make you smile.

Diet Coke Frosty

Just in case you doubted your high school physics teacher, we have proof that water (and Diet Coke) expand when frozen. Thanks for this science lesson, Michelle. Mr. Merrill would be proud. :)

Diorama: The Land of Boredom

This is what happens when I am stuck sitting at a table with my fellow chaperon in a strange boys apartment until 3 am. What you're looking at here is a diorama of the magical land of Boredom. This is of course the ritual sacrifice of the bananas to their god and ruler Hot Tamales. I wonder why I never did a posting just about that? It's a great story. Thanks again Jaxon for your input. I couldn't have done it with out you. Well, I probably could have, but it wouldn't have been nearly as funny. :)

Black Lagoon:

Do you get the feeling my neighbors are upset about something?

Awesome Object Lesson

And who doesn't love a good object lesson? Today's topic: The Whole Armor of God. For some reason I never considered the possibility that the helmet could look so much like Optimus Prime.

Boxing Lesson

This takes the adage "a good offense is a good defense" a little too literally. You never need to learn to block when your gloves cover your entire torso. Thanks for the demonstration my compadre who shall remain nameless (and faceless).

'Nough Said

So what if it's not Easy Street, Wall Street, or even Sesame Street? It's good enough. This would be a good place for Mr. Roger fans to live. It would be your daily affirmation that you're good enough and that Mr. Rogers likes you just the way you are. :)

Well, there you have it, some of my favs for the year. I hope they brightened your day just a bit.