Somebody Pooped in My Pocket...Oh Wait, It Was Me

As sometimes happens, I had 2 meetings scheduled for the same day, same time. One was one I had initiated, so I felt kinda obligated to be there. After about an hour of hashing out why this kid wasn't progressing as he should, I shifted gears and headed to the other meeting...just in time to watch everyone scrape back their chairs and begin to disperse. Oops, but such is life.

I was told by the VP that there were plenty of snacks still and I should grab some up. Never one to pass up food of course, I grabbed a water and a cookie, and stuck 2 foil wrapped pieces of dark chocolate in the pocket of my Bermudas. I proceeded to chat with some of the remaining teachers, head back to my office to gather up my stuff, and then motor over to my mom's to mooch dinner. Again. (Shut up)

After dinner, I sat on the couch, read, wrestled with my mom's (ugly) dog, and caught some tube. Upon my departure, I needed to fuel up, so I stopped at the quickie mart. While waiting at the pump, I dropped my keys into my pocket and pulled out a hand that is covered in a sticky, dark brown substance.

WTF?! Did I have...did I have poop in my pocket?

I (very) hesitantly put my hand back in my pocket to salvage my keys, when I brushed against a piece of foil. Something clicked into place and I realized...I never ate my dark chocolate from earlier!

So now, I not only have dark brown sticky stuff all over my hand, under my nails and all over my keys, but I forgot to eat my chocolate?!

WTF, indeed.

5 scratchy, blue, gas station towels later, I have de-(psuedo) pooped my hands and keys, as well as thrown out my beloved dark chocolate.

In the meantime, I came home to inspect the damage. All I can say is at least it's just the pocket, because I've only worn these twice!

Have you met my boyfriend, Michael Phelps?

Ha ha, fooled you. But a girl can dream, right? It seems like the whole country has Phelps fever (phever?) and the bottom line is he is amazing. No question. He has captured my attention, but not just because of his accomplishments in the pool. In the interviews I've watched and read, he comes across as a very down to earth guy who just "likes to swim fast". Humble much?

Oh and he's freakin' hot.

And honestly, why wouldn't he love me? We have so much in common! Like we're both Americans! We both have tattoos! He was in the last 3 Olympics and I watched the last 3 Olympics. He likes to be in the pool and I like to lay out by the pool. He has all of those medals and I really like sparkly things...

I fear I've just crossed a line of shallowness that I may not be able to return from.

Ok, ok...we live on separate coasts. He's traveled the world and I've barely made it out of California. He's a 23-year-old mama's boy and I'm a 30-year-old soon-to-be divorcee. He's a world class athlete and I have to be bribed with ice cream to work out.

Oh Michael Phelps, what could have been...

Inaugural Blog

What can I say? I'm a 30-year-old girl who spent the last 15 years of her life with the same man. And don't get me wrong, there's no (major) drama surrounding my being on my own now. But that's just it...I'm learning how to be on my own for the first time in my adult life. Which is fun and exciting and disconcerting and scary all at the same time.

This has been a time of transition as I try to get my feet back under me after life has thrown obstacles in my path over the last few months. In the meantime, I'm loving my job, because honestly who doesn't like a vacation every 10 weeks, plus holidays? But seriously, I worked my ass off in school for 10 years to get to where I'm at; I would, however, consider it worth it.

My current obsessions include, but aren't limited to:

• Work
• The Hills
• myspace
• Michael Phelps
• my Wii Fit
• Kashi cereal (it would take entirely too long to explain this one)
• getting a handle on my finances, or at least understanding where I fucked up and not doing it again.