Category Archives: Anger Management

Well played, Martha Stewart, Well Played.



**Shakes fist angrily at the sky.**

I am convinced that pinterest was invented by conservative men that are determined to get the liberal, bra-burning, birth control taking wild women back into the kitchen and back to making things “homemade” and thusly created a website to draw them in and incite a crafting wave that has even resulted in television shows about crafting. Why buy chicken at Boston Market when you can raise and create the entire meal by raising the chickens, growing the vegetable garden, and harvesting the tea leaves (for sweet tea of course) yourself, all in the apron you made yourself from a pattern you found on Pinterest? I believe that we’re all born with talents, and it’s ok to rely on the talents of others – say, a person that knows how to cook versus my pathetic efforts – instead of trying to excel in every “pinned” idea on fricking pinterest, as we are determined to swap recipes, share wedding ideas, and showcase our personal clothing style. There is NOTHING wrong with utilizing the Boston Market drive through to pick up dinner for you and your boo while showcasing your style in betty boop pajama pants, sequined yellow box flip flops and a beanie.


Yes pinterest, thanks to the “anyone can craft like this, it’s easy!!!” attitude, and the wild, waving-your-carefree-hot-glue-gun-in-the-air website of yours I just dropped $62 at Michael’s tonight.


At the cash register I hung my head in shame, and texted the BFE as I walked out the door.

Me to the BFE: “Don’t me mad”

My next test to the BFE: “I just left Michael’s about $62 poorer.”

I got no return text, this warranted a phone call that was basically heavy breathing and one long sigh.

I sighed too.  A $62, pinterest-induced sigh.


I also blame Martha Stewart for part of this. Her corporate plot to corner the women’s market in adorable, crafting supplies and organizational tools while charging exorbitant prices is working, and I’m ashamed to admit I have fallen prey to her ploys. It pisses me off that Stewart knows ever shade of blue or blush that I would peronally enjoy, and uses this information to her advantage, forcing me to hand over my Disney Debit Visa (ha!) time and time again at my local Staples. Seriously, she’s making a killing off of the Pinterest crowd.


Which brings us back… and PINTEREST I’M STILL LOOKING AT YOU!

First, let’s talk about how you sucked me into your ways by making all of the crafts seem easy and fun. I started looking at ideas in August for holiday stuff, thinking, “ooh, this looks easy!” “oh, I can do that!” “Man, doing that myself is gonna save me soooo much moneeeyyyyy…” Huh.


One key thing that most pinterest crafts need: a hot glue gun. Another thing they all need: fricking patience. I did not have either of these things as I ambled into the Michael’s, starry-eyed and excited to produce handmade ornaments for B and I’s first Christmas in our own place.



Craft #1: Cute, painted glass ornaments

All I thought I’d need: glass ornaments, simple acrylic paint and a small amount of competence.

What I actually needed: glass ornaments, a large amount of skill, and Martha Stewart paint (or so she would have me believe)


This is where I say “well played” to our favorite former felon, Martha Stewart. I’m standing in the glass ornament aisle, and guess what brand of acrylic paint is located there? Martha’s! I grab it immediately, ignoring the $3.49 a bottle price tag, as I was so excited to work on my project. As I wonder around the store some more, I start thinking about the acrylic paint I normally buy for projects (yes I’ve crafted before) and how it’s significantly cheaper and also significantly missing from the acrylic paint display next to the holiday ornaments.

I find the rest of the acrylic paint selection on the OTHER END OF THE STORE, no where near the holiday mania and impulse holiday craft shopping on the other side of the store. And guess what? It’s priced at 99 cents. NINETY-NICE CENTS, as in TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS cheaper than Martha’s paint. Determined not to let the felon win, I swap out my “glittery gold” Martha branded paint for the “Venetian gold” color that’s the less than a dollar. I did keep the “pond” color, because, well let’s face it – Martha’s color palette really is dead on. So again to Martha, I say, well played, madame. Well played.

But don’t think the foolishness ends there.


Craft Project #2: Sassy and super cool beaded ornament

All I thought I’d need: Some pretty beads and clear glass ornaments, some level or finger dexterity

What I actually needed: A LOT of fricking beads, clear glass ornaments, A LOT of free time,  A LOT of manual dexterity and… a glue gun!!


I got halfway through my trip to the Michael’s before I realized I did not have a glue gun to hold this project together – literally. I finally found a glue gun and glue sticks and then I had to pick a “cute” glue gun (really Peach??) in a cool design. I’m not proud of the 5 minutes I spent in the glue gun aisle, comparing patterns, but it really happened.


On my way home, I kept thinking how it would have been cool too add in some blue beads on the ornaments and how I should have gotten some. “No worries”, I thought. “I’ll get them on my next trip”.


MY NEXT TRIP – are you kidding me. I’m already planning a future visit.


Well played Martha and Pinterest. Well played. I shake my fist at you while simultaneously burning all the fingers on my other hand, and thinking about what color ribbon I need to use for hanging my ornaments on the tree.

See you both again real soon!


Choosing My Attitude!


Lately I’ve been working on this theory I have – if you choose your attitude, no matter what, your day will be a good one.

People often think of me as this bubbly, perky person. I have no idea where this idea came from. I’m kinda of an a-hole. I try not to be, but I have some a-hole tendencies. When I’m frustrated or if the “triumvirate” occurs: hungry, hot tired – then the a-hole tendencies show up in spades.

That said, I’m determined to work on my interactions with others, and my overall outlook by choosing my attitude each day. I make a conscious decision to be pleasant and friendly to others, to smile, and to be a positive force wherever I go. Mostly to work on being myself, and occasionally just to eff with people. I am an a-hole after all. 🙂

Some day positive thinking works, and some days I get home with a desperate need to bang my head against the wall. I’m doing my best to get up everyday and just keep trying again. My hope is eventually the positive days will outweigh the crappy ones, and I’ll lose less brain cells and make fewer holes in the walls of our new condo.

Yesterday and today are perfect examples of the dichotomy of my positivity efforts: I was fully prepared last night to write a blog about how my experiment in positive thinking was totally working. Yesterday I had a great day at work, was incredibly productive, smiled, felt good, headed over to the Whole Foods where they were playing “Barracuda” in the grocery store which put a little wriggle in my step, joked with another lady that was shopping about how, since it was her birthday, she should just get TWO cupcakes instead of agonizing over which ONE cupcake to get. I walked out of the store feeling just as energized as I had all day.

I got home and had a great dinner with the BFE, we talked about our workdays over dinner, worked out together later, and just generally had a great evening. The positivity from my Awesome Day carried over into my morning today, and I tidied up our condo before I left for work, made myself breakfast, and bounced out of the door to work – ON TIME (sort of). Today had a great start!

Then – it happened.

This WOMAN in a RED SUV zipped out from behind a slow-moving school bus and cut me off on my way to work. This wouldn’t normally be a big deal, but I almost rear-ended her because of how close she cut it. If I had, it would have been the 2nd dent left in her bumper – clearly she’d tried this crap before. I honked at her, to express my displeasure, and she FLIPPED ME OFF! WTH? So I waved my finger in the air in a “no you di-in’t!” kind of way, and tried to let it go. I could see in her side rearview that she was yelling things at me, and then she slammed on her breaks. Seriously. I didn’t think people still did that kind of stuff.

I tried to get around her, but she haphazardly slid her car halfway into the other lane to block me then slid back over. I could see her in her side mirror, making faces like a maniac! It was unreal. Why exert so much energy and nastiness at a stranger? A stranger YOU cut off in the first place? This woman was a bully. A grown-up, ignorant, sorry-ass bully. In a red SUV.


Remember that scene in the movie Fried Green Tomatoes where Kathy Bates’ character goes nuts and rams the back of the little compact car of those two skanks that steal her parking space? She rams the car over and over while yelling Towanda!!! In my mind, I had an “Ally McBeal” moment just like that, where instead of slamming on my brakes to avoid red SUV lady’s already abused bumper, I slammed on the gas and went full steam ahead, crunching her trunk into her backseat. When she got out to yell some more and assess the damage, I simply shouted “Towanda!!!!!” while simultaneously punching her in the throat and kidneys. Onlooking drivers cheered for me from their cars, like I was a gladiator in the ring, grateful that I’d taken the middle school bully down a notch and taught her what happens to aggressive social psychopaths that ruin the morning drive for everyone.

In reality I slowed down and let her speed on. The truth of it was, I wanted nothing to do with her nonsense, I just wanted to get over it. The encounter left me shaky, my heart was racing and my palms a little sweaty. I do NOT like confrontations! And these days you never know what that person is going to do, or just how crazy they are. I remember a story back in Atlanta, where a road-raged-fuled driver would get so angry in traffic that he started baking potatoes every night so that he could throw them at the cars of drivers he thought weren’t driving properly. That’s nothing compared to drivers that prefer bullets over potatoes.


The whole point is, red SUV lady’s behavior kinda pooped all over my day. I mean, a massive Debbie Downer kinda feeling, all before 9 am. I struggled to find the bright side to any of what happened, and just couldn’t. I even thought to myself that harboring ill will wouldn’t do any good, but I hoped in my heart of hearts that I’d see her again and cut HER off to see how SHE liked it. Christ commanded us to love our neighbors. I struggle with that part sometimes, especially with the only “love” I have for someone is my “love tap” I wanna give their car, or how I’d “love” to slap them across the face. I said I was an a-hole. Look, I’m trying ok?


The poopy feeling carried over into the rest of my day, and the funk of crappiness just settled over everything for a while. It took several hours before I remembered to CHOOSE MY ATTITUDE and get back with the program. An evening with friends and the love of my life helped with that. By bed time, things were right as rain.


Seriously, this attitude stuff is a process. It’s hard at times, but I’ve found the more I try the better my days go. The urge to smile comes quicker, the laughter and the jests with the people around me. I’m less inspired to punch people in the throat and spleen and visions of Kathy Bates and her battle cry “Towanda!” are fewer and further in between.


Am I still an a-hole? Pretty much. But at least I’m choosing to work on it!


ugh…people and politics, take 2


For some reason the post got truncated the first time around! Here’s the full conversation:


This is my conversation with Ojeda today about Chick Fil A, same sex marriage, and people’s Facebook rants. Thoughts?



From: Ojeda
To: Sunburnt Peach
Subject: ugh…people and politics


So remember how you were telling me about friends on your FB posting stuff about Chick A Fil or Chick Filet A (however it’s called)?  Well, now I have people on my FB popping out of the woodworks with the same ranting.  I’m surprised at the amount of intolerance spewing out of people demanding tolerance.


I don’t mean to generalize; but it’s come to the point where people’s opinions are “my way or the highway”.  And it makes me sick.


Don’t like the company’s…correction…the CEO/owner’s stance on marriage?  Fine, boycott the chain.  Keep in mind these businesses are franchises.  The franchise owner and his/her staff are affected by you avoiding the business.  You don’t care and wish to continue boycotting?  Fine by me, too.  It’s your right.


But I just read an article where a Chicago official is going to refuse a permit for a Chicka Fila in an area.  Really?  So now because the owner’s politics don’t go hand-in-hand with the mayor they’re not allowed to setup shop?  Since when did government mandate based on business contributions?


It’s a shame.  Seriously….I understand boycotting based on your stance.  But deliberately punishing the company based on their right to choose where their money should go is absurd.


::jumps off the soap box::


I’m sorry I wrote this to you.  Now I’m bothering you through email!

From: Sunburnt Peach
To: Ojeda
Subject: RE: ugh…people and politics


Okay… here’s the thing.


Before I even respond to this, understand that I DO NOT want to get into a debate about politics, same sex marriage or Chick Fil A. I agree, everyone is entitled to their opinion, and no one has to agree with anyone else’s opinion. I just find arguing about this kind stuff exhausting and frustrating, and I’ve already hidden one person’s feed today because sometimes this stuff makes me sick.



I agree, Chick Fil A has a right to believe whatever they want… conversely, people that don’t agree with Chick Fil A have a right to believe whatever THEY want. One way that we show our agreement with an organization’s choices is through our own choice – to buy what they’re selling, or to not. I was mostly irritated last week about the Chick Fil A article influx because my friend in question has an “overkill” kind of personality… he will find 12 articles on the same subject and post them all when one or two might be enough, and when you don’t agree, argue you down and suggest that you’re a bad, hateful person because you don’t. He was literally sabotaging his own agenda. LOL.


My fundamental issue with Chick Fil A is that I do not like the idea that ANYONE can base discriminating against a group of people on something they found in the Bible. IS THIS HOW YOU INTERPRET THE WORD OF GOD? By hating others and putting your money towards it??? I’m tired of people structuring their whole belief systems around one part of the Bible, and thinking that means they can forget the rest that focuses on love and forgiveness. At the end of the day, Jesus urged us to judge not, and he urged us to love others. I am not comfortable with the idea of eating in a restaurant whose corporate headquarters sends funds to organizations designed specifically to assert their religious belief structure as part of the law. Once upon a time in this country horrible things were done to minorities, African Americans and Native Americans, and there were “religious” people back then had the audacity to argue that this was based on a Biblical text that talked about subjugating sons of Ham (Africans). People used Bible verses to explain why keeping black people enslaved was just and correct. Slaves should obey their masters and respect their place in the system. It makes me sick to think of it.


Further, I am NOT saying that churches should be required to perform same sex marriages, but I don’t see anything wrong with governments recognizing same sex unions, especially in terms of benefits and care. We built this country on a separation of church and state, so asserting your particular religious beliefs as more correct and therefore worthy of being followed as part of the law, violates the spirit of this foundation. I have struggled with my conscience over this a great deal – I get why some people think being gay or being in a legally recognized same sex union is wrong, but that doesn’t mean it should be against the law. Anytime something isn’t “normal” or is “uncomfortable” it freaks that certain group of people out, and they work to stamp it out. I really do put being uncomfortable with gay relationships on the same par as being uncomfortable with interracial relationships. People still stare at me and the BFE like we are a freak show. Seriously, why do people care so much??? How does recognizing the emotional bonds of a couple affect you if it’s not even your relationship?


Part of the reason I feel so strongly is because not too long ago, back in the 60’s, in most of the South it would have been against the law for the BFE and I to get married. People went to JAIL for marrying outside of their race. It seems crazy now – why would anyone care what other people were doing? – but that’s how it was. It wasn’t until the Loving case went to the Supreme Court that this was overturned. How can I, having been accorded the rights to love and marry as I please, restrict that from someone else? If the BFE was sick in the hospital and needed someone to make serious decisions on his behalf, I am responsible for this. If someone hadn’t stood up for me, I wouldn’t have this right today. How can I strip that away from another loved one?


That being said – I know there are MANY people, someone of which are my friends – that feel differently. I get both sides. I’m just tired of seeing people parrot things that their minister/ husband/ family/ church group have told them, instead of looking into their own hearts and making that decision. Jesus said love the LEAST of us. How can you love someone if you’re busy telling them that they’re horrible people?


Now THAT being said, I think the Mayor of Boston was out of line for what he said about Chick Fil A being unwelcome in his city. I get that he opposes them coming into Boston, but he technically cannot prevent them from coming, as long as they are within the zoning and permit ordinances. Chick Fil A needs to stick with chicken sandwiches, and the Mayor of Boston needs to stick with… mayoring. You know what I mean. Same for the Chicago official… I think he was just saying that to look good. If he tries to REALLY stop them, the city could get sued. Ha, ironically, it could be a discrimination suit.


As far as dealing with the noise of this stuff on Facebook: I think at this point you’ve got people on both sides trying to shout over the over side. It’s tiring, and it’s making it harder for me to stick with my promise to not post anything political on Facebook. It’s hard. I mean, I come to Facebook to see what’s going on in the lives of my friends and family, not to get brainwashed into whatever’s the drama of the day. But I can unsubscribe from the feed of the ignorant. So that’s what I started doing. So far I have unsubscribed from the feed of two people, one from each side J. I would advise you to do the same! It helps, it really does.


Right now I’m quietly boycotting Chick Fil A. This is actually the first time I’ve even said it out loud to someone besides BFE. I agree – if you wanna boycott CFA, do it without blasting it all over facebook every 15 minutes. If you wanna support CFA, do it without cluttering my Facebook feed with your nonsense. I’m having a hard time avoiding Chick Fil A. I love their food, but I don’t feel like I would enjoy eating there right now. It would be like sawdust in my mouth. I don’t believe that every franchise owner subscribes to this corporate stance (and some of them are going to be hurt by this whole mess), but I think that walking into my local CFA establishment would feel – personally – like I was putting that stamp of approval on Mr. Cathy’s view of what constitutes Biblical beliefs. I struggle constantly to determine my life’s purpose, and to find ways to help my fellow man. Supporting companies that are fine with making someone feel less than is not part of my life’s purpose.


You know I’m gonna totally blog this, right??



From: Ojeda
To: Sunburnt Peach
Subject: RE: ugh…people and politics


You’re such a breath of fresh air.  At first when I saw your soliloquy response I thought I awakened a sleeping dragon.  But everything you said is spot-on to what I think (save for the whole bi-racial relationship…I’ve never been placed in that situation so I can’t speak on my behalf, but I can empathize).  I am just as frustrated and it was never my intention to compose a rant to you.  It’s just I didn’t know who else to turn to since it was boiling up in me.  I thought it through for a while and I think I’m going to begin my own blog, too.  For a long time I’ve had a Tumblr account which I never used.  Today I stumbled on a tumblr site (see how witty that was?) and thought maybe I should use mine as opposed to Facebook.  Don’t like my posts?  Ignore my page.  FB, though it gives you an option to hide the posts, first throws it in your face.  In the case of a blog, people would need to visit you to read it through…So I may do that.


In any case, I want to apologize for the email.  It wasn’t my intentions to compel you to write back or even read the email.  Like I said, I just needed to speak my mind but I wanted to make sure it was to someone level-headed (now I’m being semi-sarcastic) and open to other’s perspectives.


Write all you want in your blog about this.  It’ll just enhance my celebrity status and spawn more followers 😉


–         Ojeda




I wonder, will we “spawn” more follower and boost Ojeda’s celebrity status (he met one of my readers last week and it was an unhealthy boost to his already inflated ego!!), or will we get “burned” by commenters for what we believe?



Wishing you all peace, love and peaches,


The Sunburnt Peach


Baton Bob


Okay, so like 10 years ago, I was walking to class in downtown Atlanta (I went to school at Georgia State University), and as I was crossing Peachtree Street to head into my classroom, I spied the most peculiar sight: a grown a$$ man marching and dancing down the street, head held high, wearing sunglasses, a tutu and marching band boots (you know the ones I’m talking about, that the baton girls wore), swinging a baton and blowing a whistle. It was crazy, and slightly exhilarating to see this random sight in the middle of a very blah school day. I remember texting friends about what I’d seen – keep in mind, TEXTING at that time was on a alphanumberic keyboard and took a lot of time. Obviously I really wanted to share what I saw.


It wasn’t until three days ago (as in 2012!!!) that the identity of this baton-twirling man was Baton Bob.

I had no idea who Baton Bob was until I was looking at one of my favorite blogs When In Atl (it’s the best place for keeping up with my hometown hilarity) and they posted up an article about Baton Bob getting harrassed.

Suddenly it all clicked. I remember Baton Bob! Omigosh, by my recollection he’s been marching and whistling and twirling his baton faithfully through the streets of Atlanta for over TEN YEARS. Amazing that it’s the same guy! To think that I remembered him from all these years. The sight of his one-man parade mesmerized me so much that day; I can still remember it like it just happened.

I’m saddened that someone went as far as to threaten his life, just because they didn’t care for his “lifestyle”. Who gives a flying fart in space about his “lifestyle”?? So what… he’s a little left of center.  We all are (granted, he more than most). The man gets joy out of performing in the streets, why exert the energy and negativity to threaten to kill or hurt him? I’m constantly surprised by the number of douches the rest of us are forced to come into contact with every day. How does his behavior afect you? He’s not harming himself or anyone else. I can personally state that seeing him brought a little joy back into my day that day. He’s like an effing Santa Claus, spreading joy. Who would want to kill Santa Claus?? douches.

What would Christmas have been like if Santa Claus delivered your presents in THIS outfit? Woudl there have been disco music involved? Just asking.


What happened to the Southern adage, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all”?  Another favorite of mine was “Bless your heart”, which is used when you don’t know what to say, or you think the person’s an idiot. Typically this is said inconjunction with another statement and often behind the person’s back. Southerners are NOT very confrontational. Which is why I’m shocked that this ignunt fool got all up in Baton Bob’s grill. How mad must he have been?


Granted, we might believe in Southern Hospitality, bit there’s always just a pinch of crazy in that mint julep.


I mean, are you just that angry and bitter that not everyone falls in with your description of “normal”? Did someone pee in your cheerios when you woke up this morning and that made you into the cranky, self-righteous TOOLBAG who think’s it’s your God-given mission to rid the city of those you deem unacceptable? Or are you just mad that SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE is having… (Lord help us all)… FUN???? Puh-lease. get a grip. Better yet, get a hobby. I’d suggest baton-twirling, but I bet you won’t be as good at it as Baton Bob.


Hell, I wish I had the guts to parade down the street with a fricking baton and march to the beat of my own drummer. If someone tried to tell me I was wrong for doing it, I’d probably throw one of my marching band boots at them. Probably not right to answer hate with violence, but I bet they couldn’t fus as much if their mouth was swollen shut.


Pretending to wave at my subjects while walking the streets of Disney’s Animal Kingdom is about as close as I’ll get to pulling a Baton Bob. Unless alcohol is involved.


I think one of the number one problems we have these days is the number of people that get personally involved in $hit that’s none of their business (example: other people’s uteruses, but don’t get me started) and don’t get involved in enough stuff that’s everyone’s business (i.e., voting, community work, education, the arts).

I’m glad to hear that people are supporting Baton Bob, though. It reminds me alittle of the drama that’s going on with the bus monitor that got harrassed by a douche canoe of $hitty students. Clearly those boys lacked any type of home training. My mom would have whupped my a$$ from sunup to sundown if I’d done something as atrocious as this. After reading another one of my favorite blogs, Angrivated, he mentions that people stood behind her so firmly that they raised enough money to not only send her on vacation but let her retire. Kudos!

Even though I got an update on Baton Bob because someone threatened, it was nice to hear that he’s still alive and high-stepping, bringing a little mirth to the merry citizens of downtown Atlanta. I admire his resilient soul. How about a bit fist (baton?) pump in the air for Baton Bob!!!


Now if only I can find out about the whereabouts of the sausage man… this dude that used to standon the street corner near my high school, wearing sickeningly tight bike shorts. Then the circle will be complete.



I feel like the term “BrideZilla” is thrown around a little too loosely these days, thanks to WE TV. I’m not going to pretend I don’t watch that show (if you haven’t seen it, do! ASAP! It’s hilarious) so perhaps I’m guilty of being easily influenced by this show as well. The minute someone refers to a bride to be as a “BrideZilla” I get irritated. Immediately.

There is a BIG difference between a BrideZilla and a bride that expects great, efficient and attentive service and expresses her opinion. I recently watch an episode where a bride smashed her fist through a gift her friend made, and another destroyed a cake at the bakery because she didn’t get the answer I wanted. Oh, and another one dumped a pail of water on her sister in bed because she didn’t wake up and snap to attention immediately to tend to her needs.

Why is it that whenever a bride mentions having difficulties or disappointment with a florist or caterer or event planner, then immediately someone says “oh, ho ho, you’re not a BrideZilla, are you?” Puh-lease. If someone’s a BrideZilla, not only do you not call them that to their face, but you definitely don’t have to ask. You just KNOW. They make sure you KNOW. Women like that use fear and intimidation to get what they want, and it’s a shame. By contrast, an organized and efficient bride with a plan doesn’t have to use these juvenile tactics. She gets what she wants without throwing cakes, floral arrangements or pouring cold water on relatives.

Now let’s talk about the term “anal retentive”. For me this conjures up images of some straitlaced OCD person with a stick up the bum. Or perhaps some other not-so innocent things. J Usually an anal retentive person smells of cleaning supplies, and freaks out about messes, and folds their underwear. Okay, maybe I do those last two things but still. I don’t think my day to day personality could be called “anal retentive”, but I will freely admit that upon occasion, I can exhibit “anal retentive” qualities. Who doesn’t?

I’ve been called “anal retentive” a few times lately, not because I’ve had explosive episodes of crazy, but that’s the term my family is choosing to describe me when discussing my wedding planning, or my planning in general. They’re so used to me having an itinerary whenever they visit here or I go there that when I told one of my sisters that I hadn’t done their itinerary for next weekend yet, she expressed genuine shock. She wasn’t even being funny – she was genuinely concerned that I was unwell. They’re just used to me being that way. I like to know precisely what the plan is, even if it’s just a “loose guideline”. If I know what’s going on so that I can relax and have fun – I know it sounds weird, but I find that having a plan is comforting. Yet somehow this is translated into being “anal”.

My mom actually dropped the “retentive” part and just called me “anal” when speaking about me to a cruise planner. “She expects a high level of service, if you say you’re going to call her back, call her back. If you say you’re going to do something, do it. She’s VERY detail oriented. You can’t half a$$ ANYTHING. I’m warning you, if you can’t handle that type of expectation, say so now. She’s anal!”

My littlest sis blithely called me “anal retentive” to my face while asking me about planning my shower. She asked if I had a theme in mind, and I gave her my idea (it’s super cute!!! Trust me!!). She kept probing for more, and I told her I was happy to help and give as little or as much input as she wanted. She responded with “I don’t think we’ll need help, I just want to know what you want. You’re really anal retentive about things, so everything has to be on point for your shower. I just want to make sure I do it right”.

THEN, when I was complaining to the middle sis about being called anal she agrees with them. She went so far as to call me “picky”. She’s usually the voice of sanity and reason so I’m starting to wonder if maybe it’s not true.

And let’s not mention the fact that my mom sent an email to many of my friends and my family, with this picture:

Oh wait, nevermind, that was the BFF that sent that! Bringing my anal total up to 4 so far.

Recently, someone asked me how the wedding planning was going, and if I’d turned into a “BrideZilla” yet. I was a little offended. Okay, correction: I was REALLY offended. Now I’m starting to worry that I’ll work so hard to not come off like a crazy BrideZilla person that I’ll appear indecisive, nervous, sappy sweet and anxious to please others. In short, a dithery pain in the a$$ kinda bride. I DO NOT WANT TO BE THIS PERSON. It’s against everything I believe in. Lord help me from being that needy pain in the rear end kinda bride. I’d choke myself to death. Hopefully, my OCD/ picky/ anal retentive personality will win out.

If I’m honest with myself I guess I don’t really mind being called “anal retentive”. It’s an annoying descriptive, but probably fairly true. If people label me as such, and treat me in kind, at least I’m setting a level of expectation and will get the things I need without any fuss. I’m really all bark and very little bite, but no one needs to know this. J If I get great service as I’m planning my wedding because they’re all fearful of displeasing me and turning me into a BrideZilla I guess I don’t care. I know I’m not one, and I can’t imagine getting so worked up that I’d throw champagne bottles at my wedding planner’s head. That’s a waste of perfectly good champagne J. Around here we call that “alcohol abuse”.

Let the Buyer Beware!


Ok, I’m writing this because I need to get it out. I’m not sure if ANYTHING about this post is going to be very humorous.


About 5 years ago, I was living with my current roommates in a house that’s actually right around the corner from where we are now… and we LOVED out house. We were renting from this realtor guy, who, even though he was a bit weird, seemed alright.


Fast forward about 2 and a half years, and we surprisingly get SERVED foreclosure papers at our door one night. Seems that Mr. Realtor guy was taking our rent and not using it to pay the mortage. According to the papers he hadn’t made a payment in over 6 months.


We tried to get out of our situation then, but he turned into a bully, threatening to sue us, citing parts of the rental contract and twisting them to his RANDOM interpretation. After talking amongst ourselves, we decided to stick it out for another few months, until the end of the lease.


Things rapidly got worse. Our landlord Mr. Realtor guy decided to file for bankruptcy, and in the process included all of his rental properties, citing that they were empty. We were given less than a month to get out, and had a hard time finding a house to rent at the last minute.


When this house came up for grabs, we thought ourselves fortunate! Right around the corner from our current place! Lower rent! More space! The owner seemed like a nice guy and was very empathetic when we told him that we why we were in such a hurry. We though we’d found the perfect arrangement and settled into our new home.


We’ve been here about 2 and a half years now, and really feel connected with the neighborhood and the community. Bee and I started looking for our own place to rent once the lease would be up in December and wanted to stay pretty close. With saving for the wedding AND saving for a new place we’d outlined a strategy to get both things done without breaking the bank.


Things were fine until we got SERVED (!!!!) in March of this year. Turns out our landlord was going into foreclosure! We were in the the same situation again!!! As you can imagine, this did not sit well with me or my roommates. We became panicked and paranoid, scrambling to make sense of it all. After confronting our landlord with the truth, he explained that he wanted to remodify his mortgage; these days the banks won’t even talk to you about that unless you’re a few months behind on your mortgage. He assured us that all was well, and after renegotiating the rent down to a slightly lower price, we agreed to stay until the end of the year, when our lease would be up.


My heart rate and stress level was finally subsiding back down to its usual level of mania when the phone call came: our landlord wants to put the house up for short sale! With the intention of somehow buying it back!


How could it get to this point? What made my landlord think that this was a good idea? Or that his tenants would stick around during this process. I feel so effed by it all, and worst of all, somewhat powerless and I hate that. A very large part of me is super pissed that we’re being put in this situation, part of me is in awe at the sheer ridiculousness of my landlord’s decisions to let things get this far. And a not-so tiny bit of me is also pleased.


With all of this going on we’re now contemplating moving out WAYYYY ahead of schedule – August, in fact. Bee and I have been looking at apartment complexes, trying to find one in the area that works for us, and will be our first nest together. 🙂 What sucks is… EVERYONE is looking for apartments right now too.


It’s funny – now that the housing market is going through all this drama people are choosing NOT to rent from private owners, but are turning to apartments and management companies instead. Bee and I are not ready to buy a home, and I know we’ll be renting for a few years yet, and I hate that we’re now so suspicious of rental properties managed by the owners. For a long time the law was on the side of the owners, but now more laws are coming out to protect the tenants, yet I feel that not enough is being done. It’s hard and unfair – if I don’t work out a reasonable deal with my landlord, I’m at risk of “breaking” my lease… even though he’s the one not paying bills. Does that seem crazy to anyone but me? That I’m stuck in someone else’s mess? The process server for the foreclosure has already been by twice. Now we have to accommodate realtors wanting to show the house.


On the flip side, I am more than a little excited that our plans to get our own place together are being sped up. I am looking forward to living in my own place, where I can sit in the living room on the couch in my underpants, eating oatmeal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and not worrying that my roommate is going to unexpectedly bring home a gaggle of people while I’m enjoying Pants Off Friday.


I also won’t have to worry about lawn care. Bee and I enjoy gardening but I’m pretty sure I’ll like a container garden just as well… less ants, less bagworms (WTF?!?), less pesticides to worry about… no more haggling with lawn care companies to cut my grass before it becomes the neighborhood eyesore. It got so bad recently that parents wouldn’t let their kids walk on the sidewalk by our house… they’d quickly usher them across the street. If I was wlaking out of the front door at the same time my neighbor was backing out of his garage, I’d scurry back in until he’d left. Last week’s community garage sale was the worst. I wanted to check out all the wares, but didn’t want to leave through the front door, ’cause then everyone would know that I belonged to “that house”. Until our new lawn care guy bravely ventured in and mowed the yard, I was pretty sure Bambi and his friends were moving into our front yard. I swear I saw forest creatures frolicking around my hibiscus bush the other day. NOT COOL.


Another nice thing will be cheaper power bill! Yippee!!! Our current power bill would make you nauseous. Seriously. It’s pretty bad in the summer. Water will be less, and the likelihood and me having to run down the street chasing my trash guys in my pajamas is fairly unlikely.


One final super cool thing about getting a new place: a toilet seat that’s never been sat on by another butt. I didn’t realize how important this could be until a friend pointed it out. How tantalizing!


It will be weird adjusting to a small place, but I’m pretty sure me and Bee will make it cozy and welcoming… not only for ourselves, but our friends too.


We planned for such a long while about moving in to a new place together, and now it’s coming, whether we like it or not. We’re getting pushed head over heels into this new awesome change. If you know me, you know I HATE change. So why am I so pumped for this massive shift in my world???

A Big Ol’ Peach In A Lil’ Ol’ Orchard


Just sayin’.

You wanna know something random that annoys me?  When people assume that, because I’m a big girl, I want to sit in the front seat of the car. Like I am too fat to sit in a normal seat and must be accommodated. Like, when there’s a group of us and we are taking all the seats in the front and back, including the middle seat, I automatically get shotgun. Like I’m just sooo big that I’ll squish everyone in the backseat with my bigness and all the skinny people will be unable to breathe because they are smothered by my elbow fat and smushed against the window, desperately trying to flag down passing motorists for help.


Yeah, I’m going for the gut today (no pun intended). Sometimes people just assume that you’re too big to cope with everyday life and have to somehow be handled differently. Not that I MIND getting shotgun, it’s just rude when it’s decided that I should ride in the front, typically by others while I’m standing RIGHT THERE but not by actually asking me or flat out saying “hey big girl, you ride in front ’cause you’re big” . Big fat peaches have feelings just like the little peaches. No need to talk about me like I’m not there. I CAN FUCKING HEAR YOU and it’s rude.


You know what else bugs me? Assuming that somehow my day-to-day is different because I’m plus sized. I shop, go to work, go to church, walk around theme parks, drive my car, hit the beach, hold my fiance’s hand, and I do all of this without sweating profusely due to fatigue, wearing muumuus or having to use a scooter. In the grand scheme of things I’m very fortunate that I can pretty much do the stuff I want to do, and not be hindered by size or health or whatever.


I’m not minimizing the fact that I need to lose weight: I know this. That’s not the point. It’s my own struggle, no need to take any of my issues on to yourself. When I need something, I’ll ask for it. I’m not putting discomfort upon you, so why should you care what my deal is? If I am not encroaching upon you, leave me be.


When I lived in Georgia, I rarely felt out of place because I was a big girl. I worked with theater people that were obsessed about their weight and would often comment about how “fat” they were. I’d think “really??! REALLY?!?!” but ultimately just keep it to myself, since each person sees themselves differently, and to one person a size 6 IS fat, etc., etc. I didn’t think too much of it on a regular basis until I moved to Orlando, and I’m surrounded on a daily basis by skinny white chicks who call each other fat, guys that call girls fat, and places that make you feel like you’re too big to be in the room. Somehow, somewhere in the equation, “fat” began to equal “ugly”. It sucks because I unintentionally bought into that idea, and let my self-identity suffer as a result.


At my lowest point of self-esteem after moving here to Orlando, I remember leaving a club downtown because I felt like the fattest, ugliest girl in the room. My friends were all getting hit on, and I felt like the fat ugly chick that skinny girls always bring along just to make themselves feel better. Not that my friends felt this way! The exhaustion of always putting on a happy face and smiling even though I felt like a loser finally got to me, and I retreated. I’m ashamed to admit that this happened more than once. It’s sad, and I hope that no one ever feels the way I did.


I’m not sure when things began to change but I got better at hiding when people’s unheeding comments hurt my feelings. So much so that it surprises my friends sometimes when I finally do admit how vulnerable  I get about the little stuff, like not being able to fit on the Harry Potter Ride, or going to try on wedding dresses at a boutique and being told that they don’t have dresses in my size. A confident exterior is just that, an exterior. Sh!t still hurts.


Eventually keeping up the strong exterior makes it easier to be stronger inside too. I’m getting there, slowly but surely. Having someone that loves you, just REALLY LOVES you for who you are, no change necessary, helps. A lot of stuff doesn’t bug me anymore, but every once in a while, something stupid like giving me shotgun because you think I’m too big to sit in the back, really sets me off. My busty-ness and big peach shaped ass bother you? SUCK IT! And scoot over, ’cause I wanna sit in the back.