When I was a freshmen in college I started dating a boy sophomore. Without really getting into that toxic relationship right now, let’s just cut to the chase; Crusher and I dated most of my freshman year. We both moved back home that summer which was about three hours away from each other. The next year Crusher transferred to a major university quite a few hours away from the college I was going to.

Thus began my first official Long-Distance-Relationship.

Guess what? They suck.

I didn’t even really like Crusher, and it still sucked. I hated having to someone work my weekend-only job around driving the gazallion miles to spend a Saturday night with Crusher. Now my situation might have sucked even more since Crusher, for whatever reason, didn’t drive. (At all. I know!!) And he didn’t have a job. This meant that if we did do something that required spending actual money while we were together, I was paying for all of it. (Did I mention that I was also in school and trying to pay for what I could?)

I hated feeling the pressure to do well in school, work a part time job, and maintain my first real relationship. I hated trying to get my laundry done during the weekdays so that I wouldn’t have to worry about it on the weekend. I hated having to go without food so that I could afford to put gas in my car. I hated having to drive the hours to see Crusher after I got off my waitressing shift on Friday night. I hated trying to squeeze some roommate/college/study/family time in the middle of all of this.
And really, I didn’t even like this guy. I just didn’t know how to break it off with him. I was young and immature. And again, first real relationship.

In case you hadn’t heard; winters in Utah are brutal. And while I pretty much learned how to drive in the snow before I learned how to walk, it still wasn’t a great idea for me to be driving over the mountain pass from my small town college dorm to Crusher’s university dorm every weekend.

Blah, blah, blah, Crusher was a tool, blah, blah, blah, and an idiot. Blah, I finally broke up with him.

And then I vowed to never ever again have any part in a long-distance-relationship. I made a promise, to myself, and the God’s in Heaven (and my friends and family) to only date boys that lived within 15 miles of my parents.

While I spent less money on filling up my car, the boys that lived closer to home weren’t any less tools then Crusher was. (Maybe the dating years between like 18 and 24 are laden with idiot boys?) (Ah-ha, I’m on to something!) It was nice to not have to worry about driving over a mountain pass to visit my latest boyfriend, but still, boys….blah.

I used to go to The Big City to go dancing or to clubs, but I never met a guy there that I was going to date. Dude, I was very serious about my vow. No long-distance boyfriends. None at all.

My first husband literally lived less then a mile from my parents house. He was like an answer to my promise to the God’s to never partake in a long-distance-relationship. It was like I married him because he lived close by. I was lazy. I didn’t want to have to drive or rearrange my work schedule to spend time with my fellow.

After my failed first marriage, I must have realized, on some level, that this “staying close to home” dating plan wasn’t really working for me.

Enter The King and the 1400 miles between us when we met.

Thankfully that long-distance-relationship didn’t last long because I just packed up my life and moved closer to him. Easy, breezy.

(Yeah, not easy. And not really breezy either. But whatever. It’s been 8 years and we’re still here.)

My cousin, who is twenty, just got a new boyfriend. She slept over a few weeks ago (while The King was away on business) and spent the entire evening gushing over her new boyfriend. He seems like a very nice guy. He’s cute and going to college and has a nice family and is good to my cousin.

The thing is, this new boyfriend is going to university about four hours away from where my cousin is going to university.

She’s been drying the super duper long drive out to visit him every other weekend. Just thinking about this makes my heart ache and my butt hurt (that’s a lot of time sitting in a car). New relationships are always fun. Those first few months with a new person are magical. But dude, I don’t envy her.

Because seriously, I’m just too darn lazy to drive that far for a boy. The whole scenario brings back too many bad memories for me. Memories of not being appreciated and putting all my efforts and eggs into one basket.  And then having that basket run over by a Mac truck.
It’s times like these when I’m thankful that I’m married and that The King lives close enough to me that when I roll over in bed, in the middle of the night, he’s always there.

So tell me, even had a long-distance-relationship? How was it for you?

You know how we bought a fancy camera back when Babboo was born? Yeah, you probably don’t know since we don’t fully know how to utilize all the awesomeness of our fancy camera.

This weekend, while away for a well-deserved over-night excursion, we tried to use the fancy “timer” option that our fancy camera has always taunted us with.

“Oh, we can finally take a picture of all of us together for the interweb!” The King proclaimed and he pushed the timer button and prepared for a family picture to treasure for years to come.

And then we tried again and again to get a picture of us enjoying our snuggle time in the hotel room. Eventually we just gave up on the snuggle-time family picture.

The next morning, before heading out to breakfast, we tried for a family picture. Again. This time, instead of on the bed, we opted for the couch in the hotel room.

We weren’t too successful with the “family on the couch” picture either. Although The King did manage to get this lovely picture of the carpet in the hotel room.

Oh great, we are all actually in this picture. (I mean, our suitcase is also in the picture. But whatever, it’s a nice suitcase.)

The King was now confident in his skillz with the timer function. Now if he could only figure out how to focus. Hey, that’s hard. You have to twist the little thing on the front of the camera. It’s very technical.

After we got back home, I decided to try to figure out the timer and get a few shots of Babboo and me. You know, for posterity.

Crap, maybe this whole “timer” thing is harder then it looks.

Oh crap, and so is the whole “in focus” thingy. Especially when used in conjunction with the timer setting thingy.

Great. I finally get both the timer and the focus to work simultaneously. But Babboo choses to cock-block me and totally steal the shot.

Oh yes, the kid is not impressed with any of my mad camera skillz.

And let’s be honest…neither will any of you.

So tell me, what percentage of your pictures are as awesome as mine?

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Did you miss the Old 97’s on the Tonight Show last Thursday? (Let’s not talk about how lame my DVR was and how it only got ONE MINUTE of the performance). Anyway, go HERE to watch the Old 97’s in all their glory. Feel free to watch it over and over and over again. I did.

It’s almost May. Almost May 11th, more specifically. Which means I’ve been thinking a lot lately about two things:

• Dude, it sucks to be so broke right now.
• What in the hell am I going to buy for our mom’s for Mothers Day (see first bullet)?

When I’ve found myself in this gift-buying predicament before, I simply relied on the craft knowledge of my bestest friend May. But um, since May deserted me moved to Reno, I’ve been on my own in the make-your-own-gift category. But whatever, I knew I needed to move past that. I asked myself, “what would May do?”

May would get herself to the craft store and buy some supplies and make her own damn Mothers Day gifts.

So that’s what I did.

I decided that I wanted to make those cute little glass magnets that you see all over places like Etsy. Guess what? They are so easy to make and so cute, and dude, so inexpensive. They turned out so cute, that I couldn’t keep this craft knowledge to myself. I must share it with the interweb.

First off, you need your supplies. They can be bought at your local craft store. I went to JoAnn’s.

You’ll need: clear glass stones (found in the flower arranging aisle) Gorilla glue (you need extra strong glue to hold the magnet), strong magnets (they need to be very, very strong), decopage glue (I didn’t have any, so I’m using Elmers glue mixed with a tiny bit of water), and a brush (I’m using a crappy make-up brush) and of course, pictures to cut. (You can also use decorative paper, maps, or even magazine pages. I found the little stickers from my Moo Sticker Book were the perfect size!)

Next, find the picture you want to use. I’m using this adorable one of Babboo’s new hair cut.

Trace around the piece of glass that you’re going to use. (Each glass piece is different, so you’ll want to customize each one.)

Next, cut the picture.

A lesson-learned; you’ll want to make the picture smaller then the actual glass stone. (I didn’t figure this one out until I had made quite a few. If May were here, she wouldn’t have allowed me to be such a craft-reject.)

Next, brush a coat of your decoupage (or glue, if you’re too poor to buy decoupage) onto the back of the glass (the flat part).

Just like so….

(Thanks to Vesper for being my lovely hand-model.)

Another lesson learned; don’t use pictures printed out on your ink jet printer. The glue will just make the ink smear. You don’t want smeared pictures!

Next, brush another coat of decoupage onto the back of the picture that you just glued onto the glass. Make sure you put enough on there to ensure your picture is secure.

Set them aside, as you finish the others, so that they can all dry enough for the next step.

After the picture is plenty dry, apply a tiny bit of the Gorilla glue to the back of the picture. If you’ve not familiar with Gorilla glue (and you might not be), this stuff is awesome. And strong. And will ruin anything you let it touch. (Keep it away from your cute skinny jeans. That’s all I’m saying.)

Now you’ll want to apply the magnet (make sure you have the magnetized [is that the right term?] side out or it won’t stick to your fridge), to the Gorilla glue.

Press the magnet down firmly, to ensure correct placement.

Next, lay (lie?) your completed craft goodies out, preferable overnight, to dry completely. Lesson learned; don’t put them too close together as the magnets will be drawn to one another and will mess with the glue placement. The magnets…they are strong. You have been warned.

Wake up the following morning and bask in your (semi) glorious craft skillz.

Because, holy crap, they are cute. And fun. And inexpensive. Plus, I just know our mom’s are going to love them.

So tell me, what are you giving your mom for Mothers Day this year?

While my parents were in town for Babboo’s birthday, my mom was able to meet my older brother and his boyfriend for lunch. My mom said she was really impressed with his boyfriend. She said he was just a really nice guy with a “firm handshake”. (I’m not really sure what that means in this day and age. Do people even still shake hands?)

My mom also mentioned that my brother’s boyfriend looks a lot like my brother does.

Hum. I hadn’t thought that in same-gender-attraction you might come upon someone that looks a lot like you and that you might actually be attracted to them!

And really, how does that work?

Did my brother look at himself in the mirror one morning and say, “dude, I am one handsome son of a bitch. I really need to find a man as attractive as I am. And then date him.”

Isn’t that really the most vain thing a person can do? And also, the most awesome?! It’s like you’re announcing to the world that you know you’re hott.

Unfortunately, if I were a lesbian and ended up dating someone that looked like me, I’d be dating Winnie Cooper.

Or maybe Brenda Walsh (shown here with the boyfriend she met on her trip to Paris, The King).

But I’d really much rather date Angelina. Or Natalie. Or Kristen.

So tell me, who would your same-gender-attraction dopplegänger be? And better yet, who would you want it to be?

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Don’t forget to watch the “Tonight Show” tonight!!  The Old 97’s are going to be performing and I can’t wait to watch it.  (Of course I’m old and can’t stay up that late. But be assured I’ll be watching it, thanks to my DVR, the second I wake up tomorrow.)

A guy in my office came into my cubicle yesterday and asked if I had a mirror he could borrow.

Being the good girl that I am, I have no less then three compact sized mirrors located in different places throughout my cubicle. But also being the suspicious girl that I am, I was quite confident I didn’t want this guy taking any of my mirrors with him into the bathroom to get a closer look at any of his hard to reach places.

And so I lied.

“No, I don’t have a mirror. Sorry about that.”

I turned back to face my computer screen and tried to get the mental images of this old guy and his hard to reach places out of my mind.

I heard him making his way down the hall to all the other cubicle dwellers, asking them if they had a mirror he could borrow. I was relieved that nobody did. I mean, come on, wait until you get home and use your own mirror and your own bathroom.

It wasn’t until later that day when he told me he needed the mirror to get a better look at the outlet under his desk.

On right, that makes more sense.

What’s wrong with me that I automatically assumed he would be using my mirror inappropriately?

I blame my childhood.

Did you remember to set your VCR/DVR/TiVo to record “The Tonight Show” tomorrow night?* The Old 97’s will be preforming to promote their new album “Blame it on Gravity”, which is coming out on my birthday. You won’t want to miss this!

*I’m recording both the regular episode and the HD one. Dude, you know Rhett Miller’s going to look extra hott in High Def.

The spring of my freshman year an open meeting was held for the high school track team. I had always loved running and so I stayed after school and attended the meeting. Everyone who attended that first meeting became an official member of the high school track team.

Track practice was held everyday, after school, up at the high school. I would ride the school bus to the high school, change into my new Nike Air shoes, shorts and a t-shirt and walk out to the track field. The coaches used this time to assess who could do track events the best. The boys all wanted to do pole vaulting or the long and high jumps.

I just wanted to run fast.

I spent that track season running my little fourteen year old heart out everyday after school and on the weekends. There seemed to be a track event every week and I anxiously awaiting all of them. I ran the 100 meter dash. My parents came to every track event and supported me from the bleachers.

That year, the track team won the state championship.

While I enjoyed running track, I quickly realized that I wasn’t a very fast runner. I also realized that I didn’t fit in too well in “team sports”. I continued to run almost everyday, but come the next year, I didn’t try out for the track team.

My sophomore year, still sort of interested in playing some type of sport, I tried out for the high school volleyball team. Tryout outs were nothing like the track tryouts where everyone made it. Volleyball was a little more serious. And strenuous. It lasted all week. Again, I wasn’t too confident in my athletic abilities, but I made the team.

I knew it my heart that I only made the volleyball team because my dad was a teacher at the school (who also coached in his spare time), and the volleyball coaches didn’t want to disappoint him. I tried to act like I made the team because I could jump higher then anyone else on the entire team. I tried to act like it was because I was the only one of the sophomore team that could over hand serve. But the truth was, I felt under qualified and out of place.

I’ve never been able to adequately explain it, but I’ve just never felt like I fit inside my body right. It’s like there isn’t any fluid communication between my brain and my limbs. I have no coordination, no skill, and basically no confidence. This makes doing anything athletic and physical unnerving and uncomfortable.

I played volleyball that season and I truly did enjoy it. Sure the girls and I didn’t become fast friends. Sure I wasn’t good at volleyball at all. Sure I hated the after school practices. But overall, it was a fun time.

The volleyball team won the state championship that year. Seriously, no thanks to me at all. It was thrilling to be a part of another winning team. But it was also embarrassing to know that I had absolutely nothing to do with the win. I got to ride into town on a firetruck, but I knew I didn’t belong there.

I knew I wouldn’t be playing again the next season.

The volleyball season was over and the school year was coming to a close. I rarely gave any thought to volleyball. The other girls on the team continued to hang out together. They ate lunch together. They spent their weekends together. They walked through the halls together. While I don’t think they were trying to leave me out, I never hung out with them outside of games and practices, not even a simple wave or smile took place between me and any of my teammates.

While I didn’t care about waving goodbye to my chances to play team sports, my dad did care. He never said it, but I knew he wanted one of his kids to excel at sports. I was, honestly, his only hope. And I wasn’t much of a hope. That summer off from school, I kept up my running but I didn’t attend the volleyball workshops. I knew that attending the workshops was pretty much mandatory if you wanted to keep playing at the high school level. But remember, I didn’t really want to play.

Volleyball tryouts took place the first week of the new school year. I told everyone around me that I wasn’t going to try out. But secretly, to make my dad happy, I decided I would try out. I just wouldn’t tell anyone.

And so I lied to my family and friends about where I was going after school, I packed up my gym bag with my volleyball uniform and shoes and hid it in my car. I showed up at tryouts and ran laps with my previous teammates, worked on my rolls, and hit ball after ball.

During tryouts I quickly realized I wasn’t going to make the team. My dad being a teacher at my school only held so much clout, and it wasn’t enough to compensate for my mediocre athletic skills. At the end of the week a list of those who made the team was posted. I didn’t even have to look. I knew my name wouldn’t be on the list.

I wasn’t sad that I didn’t make the team. I really wasn’t. But I was upset that I let my dad down. I was also hugely embarrassed that I was the only person that had tried out, but didn’t make the team. I knew it, and the rest of the girls knew it.

And so ended my foray into the world of physical abilities and athletic prowess. I walked away, and never looked back…

…until now.

I’ve been back on the Weight Watchers wagon for almost a month. And while I’m happy with my current six pound loss, I’ve known all along that at some point I was going to have to start actually doing some sort of physical activity. I knew my daily walks to and from work and Babboo’s school weren’t going to be enough. I knew I would have to do something physical and athletic.

I woke up a little earlier then normal this morning and devoted 10 minutes of my day to my flabby abs via my “10 Minute Solutions Pilates” DVD. I know it isn’t a lot and that a measly 10 minute work out isn’t going to do that much. But it’s a start. And knowing myself as well as I do, I know that this is a good place to start.

Too bad I don’t have anyone around that will join a gym with me. It sure would be more fun to have someone to do this with.

So tell me, am I the only one that feels inadequate when it comes to any type of physical activity? And if you are the type of person that likes to be active, what types of activities do you enjoy?

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Don’t forget to head over to SeattleMomBlogs to enter all of their awesome Earth Day give-aways. They are giving away Method Baby products, Belli skin care products, a gDiaper Starter Kit, and even a book to help you live a Greener life.

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And don’t forget to set your VCR/DVR/TiVo to record the Tonight Show this Thursday night!! The Old 97’s will be preforming and promoting their new album (hitting stores May 13th). It’s called “Blame it on Gravity” and by the sounds of it, it’s going to knock your socks off.