Category Archives: Truth

Pants Off Friday

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There is an event that I look forward to every week: Pants Off Friday.

Now that BFE and I are living in our own place sans roommates, I look forward to it even more. Before, I could only celebrate my peculiar holiday when no one else was home or while confined to my bedroom. Now I have the full run of our place! It’s exhilarating!! Some people find my excitement strange, and just further indication of my weirdness. I find it a relaxing ritual that expresses my freedom: freedom from the work week, freedom from prying eyes, and more importantly… freedom from PANTS.

 

The Rules of Pants Off Friday are simple:

1 – Get home, shut door.

2 – Take off pants.*

3 – Relax on seating arrangement of your choice: couch, floor, bed.

 

*Replacing pants with shorts is option. Some people choose to celebrate Pants Off Friday by just chillaxin’ in their skivvies.    Whatever you do, PLEASE AT LEAST WEAR UNDERWEAR. I can’t believe I have to even say that, but when I’ve explained POF (short for Pants Off Friday) to a few people they’re aghast at the idea of just sitting on the couch naked. That’s not what POF is about! Have some decency people!!

 

Some people celebrate Pants Off Friday with microphones. I choose pizza :p

 

Anyway, as you can see, the nature of Pants Off Friday is pretty simple. After a hard week at work, I just think of it as a natural state of being… the ultimate relaxation. 🙂

So this is how it goes: Friday afternoon, I rush home, take off my pants and relax. That’s pretty much it. It’s like my own little mini-break. Sometimes I’ll go “all the way” and have dinner while celebrating Pants Off Friday – usually it’s pizza, Chipotle or Cheerios. 🙂

 

Pants Off Friday is also a judgement-free zone. I don’t give a flying fart in space if people think it’s weird – those are the folks that need to celebrate it the most! Worrying about whether people think it’s weird will only just ruin POF a little bit. Self-conscious about sharing your weekly celebration with your neighbors? Close the blinds. Think the pizza delivery guy might be judgy? Throw on some sweats when paying for your pizza when he arrives. Once you shut the door, pants back off my friend, and the celebration continues!!

 

Last night, I celebrated Pants Off Friday in a big way: pantsless while enjoying a giant cupcake and mac & cheese from Whole Foods and watching Anna Faris in the movie “What’s Your Number?” (By the way, who knew that cupcakes and mac & cheese made with unbleached wheat flour could be so tasty??) After that I passed out in a food come while watching “10 Things You Don’t Know About FDR” on the History Channel.  Around 10:45 I woke up, cleaned up my “couch nest” created from my work clothes, cupcake wrappers, cell phone charger cable (my phone was dying during POF), blankets and Whole Foods containers. Then I stumbled off to bed. Another Pants Off Friday appropriately celebrated. 🙂

 

The more I talk to people about POF, the more I’m slowly converting the masses. Who wouldn’t want to relax pants-free in the comfort and privacy of their own home? The idea really resonates with people!

 

Admit it. You’re thinking about celebrating Pants Off Friday right now, aren’t you?

 

Go ahead, I won’t judge.

 

Welcome to the couch nest my friend. 🙂

ugh…people and politics, take 2

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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

 

I got a letter today

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I got an unexpected letter at work today. It was from my mentoree from this past school year. It really brightened my day J

The letter reads:

“Dear Ms. Renee,

I really miss you. How are you doing. I am fine. Are you going to be my mentor (sp?) next year.

I hope you are. I wonder if you are sick. I am not.

I remember when we first met. I love you!

Love,

Brianna

************

I’ve had some doubts as to whether to mentor again next school year… wasn’t sure if I had the stamina to do it… it’s so hard when you see kids being forced to struggle, and there’s not a whole lot you can do but be there for them, and just… SHOW UP. So that’s what I did, week after week. There were days when it was harder than others. I wasn’t sure if my heart could take another year. I’ve been waiting on the answer, and I think I just got one.

Amen.

Baton Bob

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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.

Here’s a Thought…

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Here’s a thought…

How about I try NOT taking my fiber gummies and then deciding to have oatmeal for breakfast?

Here’s ANOTHER thought…

How about I try NOT taking fiber gummies, eating oatmeal for breakfast, then having a cheese stick for “protein”

 

Just a couple of ideas that popped into my head this morning. I hope this is a learning opportunity for others. I learned way too late.

 

“Fiber Gummies: So good they’ll make you poop!!”

 

 

There Are No Term Limits On Forgiveness

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I was reading this article earlier, “A Teacher, A Student and a 39-year-long lesson in forgiveness”. It was an amazing story about how one act of a young man’s life stuck with him for years. Please read – it’s totally worth it.

 

Everyone has SOMETHING, SOME  THING that you wish you hadn’t done or said. If you could take it back, would you? Is it a choice that affected your life down the road somehow? As the character Merida says in the new movie Brave: “if you could change your fate, would you?”

What if changing the outcome of that one thing would change your life now? Is that something you’re willing to give up?

 

Deep thoughts for a Thursday afternoon.

 

Anyway… after thinking for a bit, I came up with a few things I’d ask forgiveness for:

 

A Few People I’d Ask For Forgiveness From:

  1. My Sisters: For not appreciating them more when I was younger. I love them so much. Mid Sis and Lil Sis are an incredibly good time, even though we all have distinctly different personalities. I can’t help but wonder what good times I must have missed out on by not embracing them sooner. This sounds stupid but as I meet more and more people with estranged family drama I am grateful for what I’ve got.
  2. My Grandparents for not calling more.
  3. Anyone I’ve ever talked about behind their back. It’s a shitty feeling, hearing that someone’s said crappy things about you when you’re not around. It makes me feel bad that I’ve done that to other people and been the cause of discord and distrust. It doesn’t matter if you think they’re cool, you’re completely indifferent or wish they’d step on a rake: talking behind someone’s back, saying things you would not say to their face is BAD.
  4. A fellow stage manager for bailing on her during the run of a theater show one fall back in college.
  5. Myself, for being so hard on myself at times, and not giving myself enough credit at other times. As RuPaul says “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love someone else?!” In the past, my battles with self esteem have made my life a mess.

 

Honestly, this list coudl continue. Once you start playing that game you realize that there are probably quite a few people that you could ask forgiveness from. Isn’t it better to try and live without letting those opportunities slip by so fast? Let’s be honest – to say that you’ll make sure that you never have to apologize to anyone again is crazy; but do your best to treat people right and just try owning up to your actions. I think it’s a great habit to develop. I’d rather learn to own up to my mistakes than reflect back on my life and see a stream of hurt and broken people I’ve left behind.

Bonnie and Clyde say Northerners are LOUD!

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and sometimes, I think my BFE is one of them. Yeah, he has loud moments.

Yes, I said it! After years of keeping this to myself, I am finally saying it. Northerners are effing LOUD. And I think all the years in the Northeast have affected the brains of my deep South honey.

What’s making me speak the truth on Northerners now? Because loud Northern tourists interrupted the ending of the movie that the BFE and I snuck into yesterday afternoon. They actually completely RUINED the shawarma joke from the end of the Avengers movie, and I’m pissed. I worked hard to sneak into that movie, dammit.

Oh, did I not mention that the BFE and I went all Bonnie & Clyde yesterday?? Ok, what had happened was…

Bee and I (I call the BFE that a lot) were planning to go play a round of golf in the morning, but unfortunately Hurricane Beryl had different plans for us… so we came up with a Plan B, which was to go see Men in Black in the morning instead. Since Nature has a sick sense of humor, it turned out to be a beautiful day, but since we didn’t wake up in time for an 8 am tee off, it didn’t matter. Plan B was in effect. Thanks Beryl!! Heffer.

Um, has anyone BEEN to the movies recently? And paid FULL PRICE and had to empty their child’s college fund to do it? Good grief. I remember early in our courtship Bee and I went to the movies and dinner. By then, I should have known for sure that he really liked me, because a 3-D movie for 2 adults in the dining theater (“fork & screen”) on a Friday evening was $38, and that’s before dinner. Now that he’s “put a ring on it” and we’re saving for a new place of our own and a wedding, going to a matinee movie is actually a fricking LUXURY.

Matinee for 2 people should have been $12 total – 6 bucks for each person, but because the ONLY options at all to see Men in Black were either 3-D or 3-D fork & screen, our cheapest option was the 3-D, at $11 a person. So we were already determined to get our money’s worth. Even before we swiped our card at the ticket kiosk I’d already decided that we would keep our 3-D glasses instead of “recycling” them after the movie. We paid for those, dammit!

I’m the kinda girl that has no shame hitting up the Wal-green’s before a movie and getting boxes of Swedish Fish and Mike and Ikes for $1 apiece and sticking them in my bag. I will also grab a Dasani and stick it in there too. Once in high school I brought a Wendy’s combo in my satchel, drink included, and when I waited in line to see the Harry Potter movies at midnight I popped microwave popcorn at home for all my friends and brought it to the line in baggies. Times are tough, you know??? Now that I’m out of college with a fully time job, I had started to think that I didn’t have to resort to those tactics anymore, but with skyrocketing ticket prices and fruit cups that cost 4 DAMN DOLLARS (more on that later) a girl and her Bee gotta do what they’ve gotta do.

So, fast forward to the end of the MIB movie. I’m feeling all heartstrings-tuggy because the end is a little touching. Bee leans over, flips up his bug-eyed 3-D glasses that we’re totally NOT recycling after the movie, and says “Wanna go sneak into another movie??”

I snapped out of my mushiness immediately, look down at the $11 3-D glasses in my hand and decide that perhaps the best way to get my money’s worth is to not only take them home, but to take them into another movie theater first. So I giggle and agree to play “Bonnie” to Bee’s “Clyde”. After a quick pee break, we grab a meal from the concession stand and head into the 3-D theater for the Avengers.

In all fairness, buying 2 hot dogs (plain), 1 medium cherry coke and 1 small popcorn cost us about the price of two tickets. By the way, did I mention that I originally reached for a fruit cup in lieu of the popcorn, only to find that the fruit cup that the Target deli sells for 79 cents was $4.50 at the movies??? I actually asked the cashier, are yall HIGH??? He admitted that in the entire time he’s worked there, he’s never seen anyone actually BUY a fruit cup, which both grossed me out and intrigued me. Hmmmph. Well now I know why. So at this point I’m thinking that bringing our own 3-D glasses plus buying the overpriced food was a fair trade for a movie, right?? Right?

We nonchalantly sidle into the theater and settle in for an AWESOME movie, the whole time Bee’s giggling because I’m muttering the lyrics “breakin’ the law, breakin’ the lawwww” under my breath. It was all worth it though!!! Avengers was AWWWWWWWEEEESOMMMMMEEE!!! If you haven’t seen it, GO!! One of my favorite funny parts of the movie was Tony Stark talking about shawarma… which later relates to a bonus scene after the credits.

So there we are, all delinquent and Bonnie & Clyde-espue watching this silent but funny final scene, and these LOUD ASS NORTHERNERS spoil the final scene by preemptively yelling out “hahahahahaha! Shawarma!!!  Hahahaha!! They walk out, loudly guffawing and yelling about effing shawarma. In that LOUD obnoxious voice that only comes from north of the Mason-Dixon line. The Boston Baked Beans sound that makes you want to stab your eyeballs out.

As we walk out, I whisper to Bee, “Northerners are so LOUD”. He looks at me like I just told him that puppies make great grilling steaks, and then shot his dog. I’d forgotten that he spent quite a few years in the Northern part of these United States and that he too is occasionally prone to the Loudness Syndrome. Regardless of his crazy stink eye, I stood by my statement. People always make it sound like Southern folks are always the rowdy obnoxious cousins that you never want to bring to a tea party, but I swear that Northerners are the loudest. The LOUDEST.

If that makes me prejudiced, shoot me. I don’t think it does, though, since I’m not singling out any particular race, just everyone on the eastern seabord of the United States that regularly sees snow every year. Perhaps as much as I crack on my friend Ojeda about his random statements that I’m convinced will make him the crankiest old Cuban man in the old folks home, the truth is that I’ll be right along side him, wearing my 3-D glasses that I stole from the AMC, poking my retirement home roommate from Rochester, NY with my pokin’ stick, telling her that she “breathes too loudly, just like all them Northerners”.

So… back to our Bonnie & Clyde scenario. Bee and I finish watching our movie and happily toddle on home hand in hand, fueled by our delinquent acts. It was totally fun to be so bad, and completely clandestine (well, it was until I blogged about it). I pulled my 3-D glasses off my head and slipped them into my bag.

Yes, I KNOW it was wrong to sneak into another movie for free, and it’s terrible to say that EVERY Northerner without fail is a loud pain in the butt. I definitely would not encourage the movie sneaking habit in any kids I will eventually have, and I would certainly encourage my children to never stereotype people, because that’s wrong. But this isn’t the “goody-goody, how many nice things has the Peach done today” blog! Thank goodness for that. I’d be effed.

My only regrets? That we didn’t buy the larger sized drink when we were at the concession stand haggling about the $5 fruit cup and that I wasn’t prepared with an appropriate “Bonnie” outfit. That chick wore some seriously cute outfits. And that cherry coke was DAMN good. Slurp.

…annnnd the company I keep (who also lets me blog about them)

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My friend Ojeda is a regular source of entertainment and hilarity for me. We’ve known each other for about 6 years now, and as much as he drives me nuts he keeps me grounded… and constantly laughing. On a regular basis he says something that makes me stare at him and say “you know when you’re old you’re gonna be the most racist old Cuban man in the retirement home” and “You know can’t tell stories about tampons in public! Out loud!!” and “no, we will not steal Star Wars toys from that five year old” (see previous post).

Me and my Cuban Brotha from Anotha’ Mutha’ (who makes some meat cuban pork)

Being Cuban, he often pulls out these off the cuff statement regarding Cuban culture, and then looks at us all like we’re nuts for looking at him like he’s nuts.

Example from last Sunday:

BFE, Ojeda and two of our fairly normal (heh) friends are strolling around the World Showcase at EPCOT, and stop in the Outpost are to look at the shops. Ojeda spots a collection of beautifully carved elephants.

Ojeda: You know, it’s customary in Cuban households to have an elephant in your house somewhere.

**We are stare blankly**

Ojeda: You know, an elephant statue.

**We continue to stare blankly**

Ojeda: It’s for good luck. But it’s only good luck if the elephant’s ass is facing the front door. That’s the way it works.

***We continue to stare blankly**

Ojeda: Shut up! It’s my culture!!!!!

I love him to bits. He’s like the crazy Cuban brother I never had, because that would be weird and require a lot of explaining. And considering he’s confused Alabama and Georgia before, asking “what’s the difference??” he’s definitely not Southern enough to be my brother. But considering we both have zero filter, there’s a good chance we are still related.

Today’s email between me and Ojeda about plans we all have for tonight. I’ve highlighted the craziest parts in bold red for easier reading.

From: Ojeda
To: Peach
Subject: Tonight’s dinner

I want to let you know there’s a small possibility I may not be able to attend the dinner tonight.  I’ve been having the runs all this morning and still in the afternoon.  I’m also breaking a bit of a sweat and fear I may be coming down with something.

I really want to go, however, because it’s a special dinner and I want to be a part of it.  But in case I feel too sick, I wanted to give you advance notice.

I plan on working late in the office and then heading straight to the hotel.  So it’s best to reach me through email until around 7pm when I’m outside of the office and in cell phone range.

Ojeda

_______________________

From: Peach
To: Ojeda
Cc: BFE
Subject: RE: Tonight’s dinner

Oh no friend!!!! This is no good.

I’m sorry you’re sick. Maybe try flushing you system with some water and maybe Gatorade/ powerade? The bad thing about being sick like that is the dehydration that comes with it. It becomes a never-ending cycle because you are losing electrolytes.

I really REALLY hope you can make it but I understand if you cannot be there. Your health is important. If there’s anything you need, please let us know!

–          Peach

_________________

From: Ojeda
To: Peach at Work
Subject: RE: Tonight’s dinner

I’ll definitely keep you posted.  And you’re right about the hydration.  There’s no Gatorade in the office, but I’ve been keeping myself hydrated with a lot of water.  My body, however, is still cramping and I feel the movement to you know where.

Believe me, I want to go…and I expect to.  But just giving you a heads up.  I even wore a collar shirt for today.

Ojeda

________________

From: Peach at Work
To: Ojeda
Subject: RE: Tonight’s dinner

Things that will help your stomach too – the BRAT diet:

Bananas

Rice

Applesauce

Toast

–          Peach

_________________

From: Ojeda

To: Peach at Work
Subject: RE: Tonight’s dinner

Oh, good thing you told me what it stood for.  I was about to go to the nearest elementary and chew on a spoiled kid.

Ojeda

__________________

From: Peach at Work

To: Ojeda

Subject: RE: Tonight’s dinner

I’m totally blogging this.

–          Peach

____________________

From: Ojeda
To: Peach
Subject: RE: Tonight’s dinner

Thanks…I enjoy being part of the blog 😀

Ojeda

This is the company I keep. I hope this explains my crazy, even if it’s just a little bit. No normal person gets emails about the runs, and no normal friend would send them.

I am grateful for my crazy friends, though. Who else would go along with my insane schemes?

Or let me blog about them?

 

“Expecting to Have a Good Time, Of Course!”

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Before you ask , NO I AM NOT PREGNANT!

When I was a young un’ working at a major theme park in Georgia, I learned one VERY important rule: NEVER ASK A WOMAN IF SHE IS PREGNANT. NEVER. EVER. Ever, ever, ever. The fallout if you are wrong could be nuclear.

Back at the theme park I worked in the entertainment and events areas, but I remember one year where the park was open on what was traditionally a school day and since the majority of its workforce was in high school, they drafted the rest of us (the college students and full-timers) to work in the rides department to keep the park functional. I was sent through a day long rides class and taught operational safety, how to handle guest situations, etc.  It was entertaining and educational and very very hilarious.

The funny thing is, after all that training, I only worked one ride, and that was all it took to make a complete fool of myself. In a 6 hour shift I managed to get gum on my pants and then rip those same pants, from the front to the back, right up the middle. Being an “indoors girl”, the sweat and heat had made me quickly droopy and limp like a banana peel. My pants stuck to me like an old snake-skin that I couldn’t shed, and when I lifted my leg to cross over a gate, I heard a RIIIIIIP! The horror and embarrassment of that incident is still with me to this day, and that was just one day over 9 years ago.

The key thing I learned from my GRAT class (General Ride Attendant Training) was that there were quite a few rides that pregnant women could not ride. If you spotted a guest whom you thought was pregnant you were obligated to walk over and quietly ask:

“Are you expecting??”

Then there were basically three outcomes you could expect from this question.

1 – The woman, being pregnant, know what the word “expecting” means, and says yes. (You REALLY hope for this answer)

2 – The woman, being pregnant, does NOT know what the word “expecting means, and is confused. (You really hope NOT to get this answer if she is in fact pregnant, because this means that her state’s education system probably failed her somewhere along the line)

3 – The woman, NOT being pregnant, does NOT know what the word “expecting” means and looks confused (again, another response you HOPE to get)

(I should note here that the BFE, after proofreading my blog, offers up option #4: that the woman, NOT being pregnant, DOES still know what the word “expecting” means, and what he refers to as “a major nuclear holocaust” erupts, and the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse appear out of nowhere, and while ululating “lilililili” like Xena the Warrior Princess, and similar to the “Avengers Assemble” battle cry, take your dumb theme park trained ass out, leaving nothing but a smudge of grease on the ground and the light smell of sulfur in the air. But I digress.)

 

If you get the first response, you move forward with explaining that the ride she’s in line for may not be appropriate for her safety and enjoyment. Typically New Mama understands and leaves the line and waits for her party at the exit line.

If you get the second or third response – and honestly, this is always a bit risky – when they quizzically ask “Expecting what?” You say “Expecting to have a great time, of course!” and get the eff out of there.

 

If  you get the 4th response well… I really don’t know. Pray for rain?

 

To date, I have never had to use this second response. I cannot imagine how you would even begin to try to jokingly say that to a woman without feeling super stupid. All you can do is smile that crazily psychotic and phony smile that all theme park employees master within three months of employment, and just try to make it into a “aren’t you excited to be here??!?!?!?!” kinda moment. I can just visualize trying to do this:

Dorky College Peach, in a nervous voice: “Excuse me ma’am (lowers voice) …are you expecting?”

Eight Months Pregnant Park Guest from Alabama, wearing a shirt in Bama colors that says “It’s A Girl!” with an arrow pointing  down to her ginormous pokey-outey belly, stares down Dorky College Peach, sizing her up: “What do you mean??? What are you trying to say??? Expecting what?”

Dorky College Peach, suddenly realizing that her $8 an hour job would not pay for the medical bills she’s about incur after getting her ass kicked by pregnant woman: “Um… nothing. Just… expect to have a great time on this ride.” (scampers towards break room to recover her dignity and rock quietly in corner in the fetal position.)

To this day, I REFUSE to ask anyone, friend co-worker, stranger, relative… I refuse to ask them if they are pregnant unless they tell me specifically. I will not congratulate them on their baby unless I or someone I know has received a baby shower invite.  I don’t care if you are wearing maternity clothes with thoughtful mom-to-be prints on them, with scampering bunnies and birds all about the hem, and rubbing their bellies while talking about painting the spare bedroom for their “newest addition”. I don’t care if you walk past me, heavily pregnant and carrying a floral arrangement and Mother’s Day balloon to their desk, until you are LITERALLY GIVING BIRTH ON THE FLOOR IN FRONT OF ME I WILL NEVER ASK. Not unless you tell me first.

Two examples why:

1 – I was working as a veterinary assistant (I know, it was completely random) and one of the other assistants was pregnant. A new vet started with the clinic who confused me and pregnant girl, and asked me if I was expecting. The look of horror and upset on my face pretty much said it all. Granted, pregnant girl was only 4 months along, but I was horrified that someone would ask me that! I wasn’t even really a big girl at the time. I went to the back and cried. Then headed home and ate like, 4 donuts. The rest is history.

2 – My friends Case and JT told me this story: while meeting with a clearly pregnant client over lunch, no one would say anything. She dropped hints, made random statements, and still no one said congratulations or asked any questions. Until she said that her baby was due the following week. Meaning this chick must have been like, over 8 and a half months pregnant and had been desperately tugging at her jacket to try to pull it shut over her huge pregnancy belly. As soon as she said the baby was due, everyone at the table was like “ohhhh! Ok, we were wondering!” No one had the balls to say anything. LOL

I’ve known people who are kinda chunky, and just hold all their weight in their midsection. Still I never ask. One girl I knew would always rub her belly, and would lean back in the seat with her hands on her belly akin to your typical pregnant woman. I was scared to death to ask her, and to this day I’m glad I never did.

So the moral of the story is this: Unless you have nerves of steel or work in a theme park backed by bunnies and mice, NEVER EVER, ever ask a pregnant woman if she’s expecting, at least not until her water breaks. If you ever do decide to be brave and ask, take my advice: ask the “Are you expecting?” question, and always, always be prepared to run away.

Toot!

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I accidentally “tooted” at work today, and I have to say, this one took me by surprise. One scale of 1-10 for potency, lingering ability and nasty factor, this one was an 8. Work toots should always be a 3 or below.

While I’m no stranger to passing gas at work, this one was pretty heinous. I had NO IDEA what I’ve eaten over the past few days to warrant something so awful welling up inside me, but I actually gagged.
I try not to do this kinda thing at work, because so many people walk by my desk, stop to say hello, etc. that I just can’t take the chance. Last time I did this, I sat there silently, slumped over slightly, praying that the funk would dissipate before anyone came by. Eventually, I sent out an email to my surrounding coworkers, stating simply, “Do not come by my desk for 5 minutes”. Of course they all knew at that point what I’d done, but I figured that was better then seeing the look of surprise, horror, nausea and disgust (in that order) on some unsuspecting co-worker’s face.

Sometimes, when it just has to happen in public, I’ll try to “crop dusting” tactic. For example, if we’re in Target, I walk away from BBE into a vacant aisle and rip one out, walking the away from it quickly. I stopped doing this after I was on the deodorant aisle one day and walked into someone’s “dust”. My mouth was open, man! I was utterly and unbelievable disgusting. Since then, I haven’t had the heart to place that fate on anyone else. So I bottle up my public farts as much as I can, which makes for bigger “eruptions” at home.

Last night I had a similar “eruption” to the one I had at work today, only I was laying in bed, face down, and the BBE, bless his heart, got a face full of the horror because the ceiling fan blew it right back on him. We were choking and crying and laughing all at once. The sheer shock that something so rotten could come out of a girl’s rear end startled him, I think. We talk about pooting and stuff like that all the time, but this was beyond the pale. Typically our conversations are relegated to the following:

Me: “What are you doing??”
BBE: (under the covers, in bed) “What?” (flaps blankets to augment the smell and share it with me)
Me: “Stop farting in bed! That’s nasty! The fumes get trapped under the covers!”
BBE: “Fine” (stays in bed, flips back covers, farts in open air)

In all fairness, our conversations are also typically:

Me: “Hey, so to finish my story…
BBE: (hears the all-too-familiar tinkle) “Ahh!! What are you doing?!?!
Me: “What everyone does! It’s natural! Didn’t you read the book?!?”
BBE: “You’re disgusting! Stop peeing with the door open! Dammit!!!” (runs in, slams the bathroom door shut, holding it shut until he hears the flush)
Me: “Whatevs. Backitup backitup backitup.”

It’s not a secret that girls pass gas too, I think guys on the whole just think we’re more dainty about it. Not I. I try to be more undercover because I know I’m rotten inside, but there’s nothing dainty about the unholiness that happens after too much dairy. I have one friend that will not poot in front of her boyfriend, to the point that she HOLDS IT UNTIL SHE GETS HOME. I have another friend that holds it for DAYS, until she’s alone in her own place. She literally won’t poop for 48 hours or more, because he’s hanging out with her all the time. I don’t have that kind of time, energy or modesty. If we’re at home, I’ll rip one out on the couch, and so will the BBE. I think part of it comes from living with guys for so much of my life, but I also happen to know that most girls as just as rotten as me, they just try to hide it from their respective partners as much as possible.

I take a different approach: what you see is what you get. So pretty early in our relationship I starting lettin’ ‘em go so the BBE knew what he was getting into. I figure fair’s fair, right?

So… back to my accident parting shot at work today… it was epic. I peeked around to see if anyone was nearby, that starting flapping the air around me with a notepad I had on my desk. Once I was pretty sure it was gone, I sprayed a little body spray in the air, just to give it that fresh smell again. New lesson for today: spraying perfume on top of funk does NOT cancel the funk out. I already knew this, but I thought I could get away with it. Wrong!! So now I’m getting whiffs of poot mingled with whiffs of… cucumber melon. Not cute OR dainty.