Lessons In Awkwardness: Featuring My Dad

So I may have mentioned my dad a time or two on this site. In case you aren’t familiar, here is a brief summary:

Here’s the thing with my parents.

My mom can’t turn a computer on and is still holding to her guns that The Internets will become the downfall of society. My dad can turn it on, but his technological knowledge consists mainly of creating spreadsheets. Oh, and there was that one time he typed up something for my mom in Microsoft Word and it took about 5 hours – that also included the addition of a clip art photo, don’t worry.

This might shed some light as to why my parents don’t read this blog. I am quite certain, however, that they know it exists. My evidence for this conclusion is that a random family friend mentioned over dinner how they thought it was hilarious when my dad accidentally brushed his teeth with Preparation H while on a road trip with his Pastor.

Incidentally, I was the only one my dad told.

Now, of course, every time I whip out a composition notebook, my parents give me the stink eye. But, two minutes later, they start laughing and say something like, “Oh, I suppose this is gonna be on a blob now, huh?” And then I write down the fact that they called it a “blob” and turn that into a blog too. They can’t win.

But that’s the beauty of my parents. They don’t take themselves too seriously.

So, I’ve got a special treat for you kids today.

[My dad is the Director for a local non profit that focuses on mentoring and tutoring at-risk elementary students. I’m doing a video for them and needed a 30 sec. spot from my dad. This was our THIRD attempt. SIX HOURS +  203 VIDEOS = 10 SECONDS OF USABLE FOOTAGE. ]

I gave him 4 simple rules to adhere to:

1. Remember the words.

2.  No awkward hand gestures.

3. Don’t say the words “touch” or “tie” when referring to children.

4. Don’t use imaginary words.

Am I asking TOO MUCH??

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ocxxx7zi6Ho" width="425" height="344" allowfullscreen="true" fvars="fs=1" /]

As he was leaving the parking lot that day, he yelled out, “Why do I have the feeling that you’re going to be making more than just the charity video?”

10 Phrases I Can’t Respect

I’m gonna start backwards from #10.

It’s just the right thing to do, according to David Letterman.

10.  A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

Additional comments: If I have to apply an algebraic equation to dissect your advice, maybe you should opt for just saying WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO SAY.

9. It is what it is.

Additional comments: Oh, it is? Are you sure it isn’t what it is? Or perhaps, it isn’t what it isn’t? What happened to the the birds? Are they still hanging out in the bush? Or are they in my hand now?

8. The cream rises to the top.

Additional comments: So, let me just clarify -who’s da cream? From what I understand the ‘cream’ is supposed to be the better man, yes? But, in this scenario, the ‘better man’ will also lead to clogged arteries and therefore, ultimately cause a possible myocardial infarction. Please reconsider the philosophy behind this phrase. Or, just don’t say it cause it’s gross.

7. Take the bull by the horns.

Additional comments: So essentially, you’re assuming that I’m the stupidest person alive?

6. Dance like no one is watching, love like you’ve never been hurt, sing like no one is listening.

Additional comments: Quick! Someone SAVE MY EARS!! P.S. Do I have your permission to use my hairbrush as a microphone too? Cus that is about the only thing that could make this scenario more awesome.

5.When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Additional comments: Oh what a sunshiny outlook on life’s difficulties! But lets not set ourselves up for disappointment here. If all you have are a pile of questionable lemons, when you squeeze them, you’re only gonna end up with a cup of lemon juice with a bunch of pulp and seeds floating all up in it. Now, if life gives you a lemon, a pint of sugar plus a gallon of filtered water, then I’ll accept the legitimacy of this poorly thought out suggestion.

4. It takes more effort to frown that it does to smile.

Additional comments: It also takes you more effort to say that, than to not say it. Just looking out for you, chatty.

3. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Additional comments: Interesting theory, young Watson. But from what I’ve seen so far, absence only makes the heart grow fonder of people that it probably shouldn’t be fondling.

2. There is more than one way to skin a cat.

Additional comments: There is? What a relief! That narrows down the chances that I might have been doing it incorrectly all this time! Well, hot dog!

1.  The only thing to fear is fear itself.

Additional comments: Okay. I hear what you’re saying. But somehow, I feel like you’re failing to remember all the snakes and monsters and Osmond TV specials and stuff?

Honorable mentions: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Three sheets to the wind.

Use your best judgement,

Blunt

Blunt Bites: The Boy Who Smelled Like Garlic

[ Blunt Bites break away from my normal, detailed laugh-out-loud (right?) posts. They are like snapshots of a significant part of my life. Sometimes, they’re serious. Sometimes, they’re funny. But they’re always gonna be delicious. Yum. ]

It was 1999. I got let out of the hospital the same day as my Junior year prom, except it was actually a banquet, considering I went to a rather strict high school, where dancing was believed to lead to utter destruction of the human soul.

It was my first official date with you, or uh anyone, and I was nervous that you wouldn’t show up. I was banking on the fact that I had just gotten out of intensive care and only a heartless human being would stand up a girl with a hole in her head.

You were late, wearing a mismatched outfit and one of your dad’s ties. My snow white dress was a perfect choice for your red pick-up that lacked a muffler, but not an over-abundance of Taco Bell bags and quasi-empty Mountain Dew cans. On the way home, I laid my tired, broken head on your lap and you sang me Oasis songs because the radio could only get AM stations. You told me it was too bad I didn’t end up with a metal plate in my head because then perhaps we could have picked up more radio stations.

I fell in love with you despite the fact that you smelled a bit like garlic; and you managed to get past my Jewel-like snaggletooth. We dated for four years. But, for Senior prom, I made you wear a suit – even though you wanted to go as Lloyd Christmas from Dumb and Dumber.


Nosy for more details?

[If you’re can’t sleep until you uncover the mystery of the hole in my head, please visit The Hole In My Head: Explained. For the rest of the juicy details on my first love you can read So I Fell Asleep In A Few Bible Classes. And for the story on how my Baptist school accused me of being in a gang when I was in 7th grade, please check out Back When I Was In A Gang]

I’m Offended For Two Reasons

1. That half of you didn’t even notice I posted a Thanksgiving Giveaway until it was too late to enter. This makes me feel like you’re under some sort of assumption that it’s not worth bothering to check my blog cus I only post like twice a month or something? Pray tell, how and why has your perception become so skewed? This is the problem with liberal media!!

Let this be a lesson to you.

Luckily, Karaoke Activity Partner has not yet been brainwashed to believe such lies. She checked my blog like a good little robot and scored some sweet action Thanksgiving cookies from The Bitter Baking Company.

BUT, because this is the season of giving. And because you’re all so awesome when you’re not making me want to pull my hair out by the roots. And because my blog is considering having a love child with Bitter Baking Company, Blunt Delivery will be doing four more giveaways before Christmas! And not just of cookies, but other Blunt-worthy items that I’ve scouted the fruited plains for as well.

2. ‘Black’ Friday. Really? Even now with Obama and everything? [BTW: my spellchecker just suggested I replace Obama with Alabama]

Speaking of Black Friday… if you were anywhere, doing anything, at 3 am I think you should reconsider your life goals. Perhaps take a Carnival cruise. Move some furniture around. Get some bangs. Something.

My Black Friday Wrap Up= 23 stores. No snacks. No bathroom breaks. Home by 6. Add a spandex jumpsuit and some Air Jordan’s and Black Friday would have been shaking in it’s half-priced winter boots. VICTORIOUS!

Insignificant detail: Had one solitary item on my list and returned home without it.

Whatever.

When I pulled up to my house, confusion struck me. What is this box on my doorstep? I am not expecting anything. A bomb? A puppy? 1-800-FLOWERS? Cus those are all things that I don’t really want. I thought we were over Anthrax scares? What could it BE?!  Did I somehow check ‘afternoon delivery’ on my online purchases this morning?!  No. It cannot be. There is no such thing.

And then I glanced at the return address label and saw that it was my very own batch of cookies from Bitter Baking Company.

It’s was a Black Friday MIRACLE! There I was, starving, exhausted, and broke, and I arrive home to find dinner waiting on my doorstep!

See guys, there is a moral to be extracted from this story. A soul pancake to be eaten. This just goes to prove that you can buy all the stuff in the world and still come home to find yourself starving, depressed, broke and alone. That is, until you discover cookies on your doorstep. Just remember this holiday season that it isn’t stuff that will make you happy.

It’s cookies.

It was my version of achieving World Peace.

And We Didn’t Even Go On A First Date

I just feel like it all moved a bit fast.

There I was, shirtless. And we hadn’t even bantered about our favorite foods. I didn’t even know his middle name. He had no clue of my sorted past with inappropriate men or that I have a constant desire to buy unnecessary office supplies. I didn’t even have the chance to make up some terribly impressive story about how I quit my job to work with Tsunami victims or feed children in Ethiopia.

In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but be filled with doubts that this just wouldn’t turn out right.

But I was wrong.

For the second time I can vividly remember, I was terribly mistaken.

The breast biopsy results were negative.

All the juicy details to follow on the video blog. Why? Because I’m suspecting my only other competition is Wheel of Fortune, Jersey Shore, or one of about 800 shows that chronicle the life of a young law enforcement agent working on the streets of LA who quits his job every other week because he never anticipated how rough it would really be.

If you so much as even consider choosing Jersey Shore over me, we’re through.

On a serious note, I would like to give a big Blunt thank you to all of the people who emailed me and talked me off the ledge during the past month. Specifically, my new girlfriend Vodka and Ground Beef, and my Colorado other half, Twenty Somethings. It’s amazing how much you can relate to people you’ve never actually met. I’d say it’s the main, if only reason, I keep this old blog going.

So between the biopsy, the financial issues, a family crisis, relationship stuff, a bff having a baby – I apologize for my absence. I’ll be getting over to your blogs this week and thanks for sticking around… MUAH!

I’ll be back in a couple days with some introspective Thanksgiving-ish post!

12 Step Breakup Recovery Program

It’s been twelve days since my last post. Accident? Please. We’re not talking about Denny DelVecchio here. I’m trying to subliminally remind that you that the twelve days of Christmas are just around the corner and it’s in your best interest to put the danish down and put the tree up. Don’t be one of those scrooges that waits til the day after Thanksgiving. Why even bother with the holidays if that’s how you’re gonna be?

I also thought we could channel any pent up rage you might have against me for not posting into something beneficial… like, learning. So while I’m working on my new soon-to-be smash hit “She’s Just Not That Into You Volume. 1 of 250,” I wanted to take some time out to educate you on a subject matter that I have mastered: the breakup.

There isn’t a one of you out there who hasn’t been through this dreadful necessity of life called The Breakup. Unless you’re 17, in which case, you shouldn’t require this information because you shouldn’t be dating yet. And if you are, I’m very offended. At your mom. Or dad. Or two moms. Or foster parents for not protecting your innocence. And I’m also offended at you for throwing such a fit about it and playing the “I’ll just run away then I can do whatever I want” card that they had no choice but to just give in and let you. I can just see you doing that snotty little voice that you do.

Darnit, the both of you.

Clearly, this topic is too deeply personal to not convey face-to-face …so I have opted for a video blog.  And I am quite certain if you follow this 12 Step Program, you will find yourself back in the saddle and riding off into the sunset with the strapping, young [and better looking than the last one] cowboy or girl of your choice.

*I apologize if I look like I haven’t slept in about two weeks. Cus I haven’t.

Yea yea, so I cut it off too soon. Whatevs. It was late.

Anyway, thanks for sticking around even though I’ve been MIA. I promise it was for good reason. But can I get some sort of credit for actually replying to my comments these days???

I’ll be visiting you all later today.

Blog Dating Is The New Black/ eHarmony/ Twitter/ SpeedDate/ Facebook Poke

No. This time I didn’t do anything drastic like move to London or start a retail store or give up tanning. But, I did meet up with a complete stranger from New York for a two-day BlogDate in Chicago, which I may have mentioned one, or fifty times, on my FaceSpace. I had to make sure I mentioned it regularly in case one of you had to work or something and missed a status update.

Now I know you’re all waiting with baited breath for the details of this excursion, and I assure you, they are coming at you faster than a chubby, asthmatic kid chasing after an ice cream cart.

 

 

Dear Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred Workout DVD,

Two weeks ago, you entered my home with all of the optimism of Christmas morning.

But lately, I feel like we’re at odds. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but the other night your eyes looked a bit more angry than normal. And I sensed a hinge of animosity in your voice as I was doing my side lunges (with weights, of course, cus the big muscles don’t burn enough calories on their own).

Oh, I’ve been listening.

And I know if I asked you, you would say nothing is wrong. But do to my extensive experience with complicated relationships, I think we both know that’s not the case. So in attempt to salvage what we have left, I feel the need to explain to you what might seem like a lack of commitment on my part.

jillian-michaels-30-day-shredDAY 1: Jo and I did the workout, sans weights. We fell to the floor laughing when you said, “People tell you ‘Just take the stairs’ but that is a FALSE MESSAGE OF LETHARGY that won’t do you any favors!” We then had a glass of wine, watched Grey’s Anatomy and talked about how we wanted to die.

DAY 2: Jo and I did the workout. I used the weights except I only had 5 lb ones instead of the recommended 2 lb ones. We made fun of your eyebrows a little bit.

DAYS 3-5: I lost the ability to use my arms. So did Jo, which confused both of us, considering she didn’t use weights. We decided it best to take a few days off, as not to cause further injury. We’re still waiting on our health insurance from Obama.

DAY 6: Jo and I regained feeling in our arms, so we worked out. She walked in with 2 cans of baked beans in lieu of weights. I marveled at her genius, and found 2 cans of my own to use, however, they were re-fried beans. All was well, except for the fact that I forgot to wear a sports bra.

DAYS 7-9: Due to some intense crying, I figured it best not to workout in such a dehydrated state. Jo figured it best to empathize with me on the couch. She’s a good friend.

DAY 10: My head was still aching, but Jo was determined to workout. I sat on the couch with my laptop. Then, I grabbed a box of Snickers ice cream from the freezer and just watched her, cus man, it was funny. Afterward, when Jo got up to go to the bathroom, her legs gave out on her and she did a face plant into my floor. She said, and I quote: “That’s how you know the workout is working.”

DAYS 11-14: Thought about working out. A lot. But it’s the holidays, so our absence is 100% LEGIT.

I hope this clears things up as I do hope to maintain at the very least, a friendship.

XOXO,

Blunt.

P.S. New blog design coming this week, plus a bunch of other random announcements that you won’t care about!!

The September Of My Years [OR] Screw You January

[Warning: introspection ahead. So, maybe there are a few things I’ve failed to mention over the past year. So, maybe I’m mentioning them now.]

Seriously, screw January. And all of its dreary, pretend optimism.

Here’s the deal: New Years happens in January is because it gives people a shred of hope amid what seems to be an eternal, bleak panorama of frozen tundra and dead things. Or at least that’s the consensus from behind my Midwestern ice-glazed window and $200 gas bill.

Well guess what world? I don’t buy it, and I refuse to accept New Years as my fresh start.

It’s all about September.

Everything good happens in the fall, thus, I’ve decided so should my clean slate. And no, I’m not trying to get a head start on all of your fresh starts. When people begin losing in Monopoly, I conveniently forget to collect their rent cus I feel bad for them. So I assure you, I lack the competitive edge to one-up you on your new beginnings.

When I think back on this past year, I sort of want to curl up in a fetal position. But then, I remember I did a lot of that already…  plus I’m not as flexible as I used to be. A couple months ago, I came to the point where I felt like I had nothing of worth, no direction, and I had screwed up my life beyond repair. Know what I mean?

Since this blog contains only 20% of what happens in my life, you may not know it has been a very pivotal year. I bet you’re thinking that now is when I’m going to start listing off the things that made it so pivotal. In truth, I was about to warm up some spaghetti, but I guess I could take one for the team.

Pivotal moments this year:

I broke off my engagement to the man I thought I would marry the instant he shook my hand. My best friend Kenny moved to California. I went through an almost clinical level depression. My family experienced great challenges. Financial stress, career changes. I caused tremendous hurt to some pretty incredible people. I took some risks that did not pay off. I’ve been paralyzed by Regret.

And Regret, coupled with its slightly better-looking twin sister, Guilt, can ruin your life. It’s like a ghost that lays dormant for years, and then all the sudden goes all ape-shit crazy. So how do you get past it? How do you recover?

First step: I took the summer off of dating to sort myself out.

P.S. Boys, sorry but you do not = drama-free.

Second step: self-reflection. That = no fun. I needed perspective. I cried until my eyes didn’t resemble themselves, wrote some letters, started a collection of over-the-counter sleeping pills, sought a lot of advice, freaked out, emptied several boxes of wine, forgave others, learned to forgive myself, started working with elderly people, started working out, cut off toxic people, went to see Eat Pray Love by myself (sad or awesome?), and spent many lonely nights thinking about my life, my past, and what I really wanted.

Cus if you haven’t got peace of mind, you’ve got nothing.

So, at the start of a new season, what have I got?

Hope. This has been a painful year of growth, arriving with the crappiest of timing. I am happy it is done and I move on with a better knowledge of myself, what I want, and who I want. Belief. I have never doubted the existence of a higher power; but, for a very long time I have ignored what that means for my life. That time has ended. Also, as shocking as it may be, I now believe that two people can exist happily together. Yes, for life. Friends. I have the kind of friends who drive an hour to my house to bring me a Kleenex. Friends who extend their hand in kindness, even after I’ve hurt them. Friends who exist only through written words, yet seem to get me completely. Friends who stay over, just in case. Oh, and Kenny moved back. Work. I have a job, which fell from the sky on a snowy day in January, that allows me to be creative and impact people’s lives. I guess I owe January a high-five for that. Family. When it comes to them, words aren’t good enough. Health. Or so I assume. I have been avoiding doctors for a few years now and aside from the mysterious lump on my rib, the locking hip, and the pain in my chest when I lay down, I feel great! And, finally, Peace. I’ve accepted that life cannot exist without regret.

So, that’s what I’ve got. And world, it’s pretty freaking fabulous.

Cheers to the 800th season of Grey’s Anatomy, falling in love, wearing scarves, figuring shit out, and most importantly – a New Year,

Blunt.

There Is No Greater Pleasure In Life – Except There Is

I’m currently sitting in a room of the criminal justice center, surrounded by a group of my fellow unbiased peers.

I assure you, none of them have formed any prejudices in the course of their lives and they possess the ability, as do I, to hold someone’s fate in their completely non-judgmental hands.

Of course, I’m the first one of 45 to be called to the jury box.

Did it not even matter that I checked the box saying I knew a judge, and an attorney, and a law enforcement official, and have been the victim of a crime?

Well, what in Sam’s hill is the point the boxes then?

To waste my TIME?

Maybe there should have been a box for “almost married the State’s Attorney’s nephew.”

Then I wouldn’t be in this mess.

And at least something good would have come out of that relationship.

And, of course, it’s 2:15 and they have yet to give us our promised lunch break.

Which wouldn’t be such of a big, hairy deal had I not decided that showering and eating was not nearly as important as an extra ten minutes of sleep.

No, you’re right, I couldn’t possibly have eaten and showered in ten minutes anyway. The dice was loaded from the start.

And, of course, I tripped over my dress pants in front of the entire courtroom, on the way to the jury box.

Would it KILL this town to have a decent seamstress?

I can only hope, in the event I flip out and do something so incredibly dumb someday, that I am lucky enough as to be offered this same level of justice. I also assure you that all of us are completely happy to be here serving our civic duty with nothing in exchange except the joy of knowing justice was served in the quickest way possible, so we could all get back to texting in the car.

Now I’d like my $13.00 please so I can go put a down payment on the parking ticket I just received so I wouldn’t have to walk two miles to the courthouse.

Truly honored,

Blunt. (insert one of those stupid heart shaped thingys that I don’t know how to do and never will)