Thursday, July 26, 2012


I heard a quote a few months ago that made me pout and I've been stewing over it ever since. As an avid talker, (no, me?!) I wanted to find fault with this quote, or find out it was false-tweeted by Will Smith or something, but it's stayed with me long enough for me to write this blog, so no such success was enjoyed. Ok ok, quit talking about the damn quote and say it. It is this: "You'll never regret what you don't say."

Naturally when I first heard it my mind ran to some generic movie scene where Beautiful Lady is looking forlornly out a train window while it chugs out of a station at which stands Mr. Going Off to War who never told her he loved her. Yes, I think you can regret something you never said. (Also coming to mind: In the Living Years! Oh that song! Makes me think of going to the Donut Kettle after kindergarten class because, that song came out in 1988, I just wikipediad it.)

But I have to be ok with getting behind the sentiment of the quote, which I think is that it's much more likely that you'll get into a regrettable situation via talking than via silence.

And that makes me think about social media. But not in a "I have a revelation and now it applies to all of you" kind of way, because I don't dig that. More in a, "Maria, could this be relevant to you?" sort of way. And I think possibly it could be. Twitter and Facebook and blogging lead to a lot of talking by me. So far I haven't run into any "oh my gosh, I REGRET THAT" sort of situations. But I'm not decreasing my odds by constantly tweeting about loving diet pepsi and Batman or whatever the hell it is I tweet about. (I just looked and my latest tweet says simply "BRAIN ZAPS." So. There's that.)

As of right now I don't really have any dramatic exodus plans, because writing is important to me and I like sharing with other people. But I do just want to be a bit more timid about it. And I especially want to continue to try to avoid what I find to be the Cardinal Sin of social media: passive aggression. JUST DON'T DO IT. (Ie. "I hate it when people do (something really specific that someone who likely reads your tweets/statuses/face tattoos obviously just did to you).")

Coincidentally, James 3 is one of the most wince-worthy passages of the Bible for me. "No human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison." Ach!

Maybe you're like me and your mouth moves faster than your heart, so to you I say, we're in this together and maybe we should eat more peanut butter so as to busy our jaws elsewhere? Or maybe you're not like me and you are quiet and gentle and thoughtful, and to you I tip my hat. Have patience with the rest of us.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

July 11 2012

I don't feel good today. Neither do you, or at least you're not going to act like it. It's too hot here. I had to give a bunch of presentations today in a room that was only semi-air conditioned. I say semi because it wasn't fully air conditioned, and that's what semi means. It was very hot. Yes, I did get Olive Garden salad out of the deal, but don't you dare ask me to be positive when I'm having such a delicious pity party.

Then when I came home I wanted to go to the gym as Wednesday's schedule would normally dictate but I couldn't stand the thought of taking one more step out into the 113 degrees. So we closed all the blinds, ordered Papa Johns and watched two more episodes of Mad Men, which I'm pretty sure is in the thesaurus as the absolute antonym of "going to gym."

Coincidentally, on my drive home, I was getting ramped up on my now fully-fledged pity party and was also daydreaming about Mad Men while I waited in traffic, so when I stopped to get gas I also bought some Marlboro lights. Even if I can only be Betty Draper for just one night, I'll take it. Bright red lipstick and all. (Ok I should tell you all that we are only like, two episodes into Season 2. We're late to the Mad Men party, I get it, blah blah. But DON'T TELL ME THINGS I DON'T KNOW YET is the reason I told you.)

Oh gosh the pity party. We got off track there for a minute. My orange nail polish is chipping! LIFE IS UNFAIR.

I realized yesterday that since I don't work at that hotel anymore I can probably get my nose re-pierced if I want to. But it occurs to me that I'm 25 and I have no idea where that puts me in terms of nose-piercing terrain, but since I spend most of my time at work whining to my boss about how no one takes me seriously enough, it probably wouldn't help my case to put that big glorious silver hoop back in my schnauz. But this adds to the pity party because I was so much COOLER when I had that nose ring. Damn you, adult life. With your teeth brushing and rinse-the-dishes-before-dishwasher rules.

No really, I don't feel good. The heat has given me pains. Or nausea or something. Or like, the sadsies. The I-need-cakesies. Do you know how to make eclair?


Saturday, July 7, 2012


Fridays are my favorite days of the week. You know, everyone's working for the weekend and all that. Piggybacking onto that sentiment, one of my favorite things about blogging is going "along for the ride" so to speak with other fun people with fun words and things. So I thought that maybe I'd start inviting you along with me on Fridays. I'll share a picture and then the conversation that accompanied it, and it will be just like you were there, except you weren't, unless you're like this blue-shirted guy in Exhibit A below, in which case, sorry about that, and also if you read this, IM me (wink wink.) (Didn't AOL get rid of AIM or something? I can't wait for when the History Channel does a documentary on how it changed the course of Gen Y's social lives and probably melted our brains or something and one of us is going to solve the mystery of space because of it. Because like, you could make the electronic entrance of the person you had a crush on sound like a cash register. I don't know what living is without that.)

Last night Aaron and I ate at our favorite Friday night spot, Four Peaks. It's up in Scottsdale next to an auto parts store and Costco. That's what suburbs are like.

Aaron (regarding the baseball player on the TV): "They call that guy Kung Fu Panda."

Me: "...what?"

Aaron: "Yeah. Kung Fu Panda. Because he's fat."

Me: "that guy's not fat."

Aaron: "Yes he is! Look at his jowls."

Me: "I'm sorry?"

Aaron: "His jowls. He has big jowls. He's jolly."

Me: "I don't understand what jowls have to do with being fat. When you say 'jowls' are you referring to actual 'jowls' or some other part of the human body that you think should be called 'jowls'? And anyway, even if that guy were actually fat, why Kung Fu Panda? I mean, what?"

Aaron: "You know. Kung Fu Panda. Like the fat panda in the movie. Pandas are fat."

Me: "There are so many millions of other animals and people in the world that society associates with being fat before pandas. Whales. Tubs of goo. Your proverbial 'mamma.' Roseanne."

Aaron: "Roseanne probably wasn't always fat. Plus, that's a girl's name."

Me: "Is it more normal to be called an animal than a girl?"

Aaron: "I'm just saying, pandas are fat."

Me: "Does that guy know Kung Fu or something? Because I could get on board if that guy is like, an olympic-level Kung Fu artist or athlete or whatever they call them. Although it would be a little weird if he spent most of his time playing baseball when really he's an olympic Kung Fu dancer. USA!"

Aaron: "You're missing the point."

Me: "If there was a point, I think I'm losing my grip on the English language."

Aaron: "Sometimes nick names are nonsensical."

Me: "I think I'd like to write down for future notice to you that nonsensical nicknames are off limits for dinner conversation."

Aaron: "I don't know why you have such an aversion to Kung Fu Panda."

Me: "Baseball makes me cry a little."

Aaron: "You have salad dressing on your jowls."

Happy Friday!