Life Lessons from Jessica Simpson

I look back on my mom’s sage advice, and although I chose not to take some of it (to mixed results), I know that it is coming from a credible source. That woman is pretty darn smart.

So that got me thinking about the girls who are being raised by the doofuses of the world. Jessica Simpson, for instance. One day, if it’s in the cards, Jessica Simpson will have children. And maybe one or more of these children will be vertically-challenged, large chested mini-me’s.

One can only imagine the wisdom she will impart on these kids. I think one of the easiest ways to raise my future children is to make sure they understand that they need to do the exact opposite of whatever Jessica Simpson does. Basically, W.W.J.S.N.D. (What Would Jessica Simpson Not Do). That way, they at least have a chance in this world.

Here’s what I would tell them:

“Don’t ever give too much information away.”

Jessica Simpson, or “JS,” is the poster child of TMI. From showcasing her entire marriage on a reality TV show to tweeting pictures of her making out with her super tall ex-athlete guy, this girl does not understand privacy. Many people aren’t aware that I’m a fiercely private person. There is a line, and it isn’t even that fine, that dictates what people need to know and what needs to be kept close to the vest. Keep some things personal and private. I’ve learned by trial and error what to say and what not to say, and the easiest thing is to not say anything at all. You won’t be seeing any photos on my Twitter of me making out with anybody, no matter how good looking they are.

“Have good style.”

I don’t understand how somebody with a staff of stylists managed to emerge in public in those jeans and not get tackled on her way to the stage. First of all, what were those jeans doing in her wardrobe? Someone played a cruel trick. Basically, I’ll leave the younger generation with this: just have style, be classy, don’t look like an idiot.

“If your ex gets engaged to his long-time girlfriend, don’t try to one-up him and get engaged to your boyfriend of five months.”

Basically, you look like a jealous weirdo if you run out and get engaged to a guy you barely know immediately after news breaks of your ex moving on with his life. Taking something like an engagement as seriously as you take your selection of handbag to go with today’s outfit is a recipe for disaster.

“Being referred to as ‘sexual napalm’ by a rockstar who let you shack up on his tour bus for a little while is not a compliment.”

Make sure you aren’t in a situation where someone shows how little they respect you by humiliating you in a very public forum. I felt terrible for JS when the guy with the enormous head, John Mayer, said these things about her in Playboy last year. Yes, guys can be real a-holes. But there is something to be said about not putting yourself in a position for someone to say these things about you.

“Don’t only go for the hot quarterback.”

Great guys come in all shapes, sizes, colors, demographics… the list could go on. When you date the same hot guy over and over, and find yourself single over and over, something is wrong. It’s great to have a “type” and an idea of what you want. You have to be attracted to this person. But don’t pass over an otherwise amazing guy because maybe he isn’t tall enough or maybe his hair is thinning a bit on top, or maybe he isn’t loaded with cash money. Everyone deserves a fair chance. The less attractive guys I have dated have treated me a hell of a lot better than the super hot guys I have dated. “Men who are too good looking are never good in bed because they never had to be.” -Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

“Smart is sexy. Don’t act like an idiot.”

Some girls think that guys want them to be ditzy. These girls are real idiots, and the guys who want this are true douches. If someone wants you to be less than your highest potential, why would you even consider spending another second with them? JS has the ditzy act down pat. No telling if she is truly this dumb, or if it is an act. Either way, not a good way to be. Some of my favorite JS quotes:

“You’ve done a nice job decorating the White House.” when she met the Secretary of the Interior Gale Norton

“Is this chicken, what I have, or is this fish? I know it’s tuna, but it says ‘Chicken by the Sea.’” (the world will never forget this)

“On my first day of Jr. High I was in Geography class, and the teacher asked us if anybody knew the names of the continents. And I was sooo excited. I was like, Damnit! It’s my first day of 7th grade, Im in jr high and i know this answer. So i raised my hand I was the first one and I said A-E-I-O-U!” (Okay. I may have only made an 1130 on my SAT, but when I was in 7th grade, I was well aware that we had continents and could even name them all. I believe I learned that in 2nd or 3rd grade, and we’re talking about Alabama public schools here.)

“Twenty-three is old. It’s almost 25, which is like almost mid-20s.”

Finally, “Be humble.”

There is nothing wrong with knowing that you are amazing, one-of-a-kind, fierce, intelligent, and deserving of nothing less than the best. However, once you cross that line of knowing that you are awesome to the max to pompous, you’re in big trouble. Nothing turns people off faster than body odor and being so arrogant that you are looking into cloning yourself. JS once said, “All I have to say is: Jessica Simpson is the most beautiful woman on the planet!” Wow.

JS has done a lot of good things in her life to help others, and that certainly needs to be applauded. However, her acts of good will are overshadowed by the dumb things she says and does. Maybe maturity will come with age (although she is nearly 31…). All we can do is cross our fingers for her and hope that our children proudly wear their W.W.J.S.N.D. bracelets. Yeah, I said it, I would make those for my kids. Nothing wrong with a constant reminder of what not to do if you want a good shot at amazingness.

Crush Into Me

You know that feeling when you can’t wipe the goofy grin off your face? The same feeling that keeps you up at night, thinking nonstop happy thoughts. The same feeling that causes you to check your phone, your email, your facebook, your twitter, etc. ten more times within the hour just in case something new has come in.

That’s right, my friend. You have a crush on someone.




Crush. That sneaky devil that comes out of nowhere, blindsiding you and rendering you unaware of your surroundings, much like a meteor shower or Bieber Fever. In my 28 (and holding…) years, I have fallen victim to the crush too many times to count. It’s interesting to me how someone can be your friend and then poof! a switch flips and all of a sudden you can imagine yourself with that person. I mean, with that person. Sometimes a good brunch date is all it takes for you to realize that there is some actual romantic potential in this person. Sometimes alcohol is involved. I’m just trying to look at it from all sides here.

But isn’t it fun? The giddy feeling when your heart skips a little beat. I love getting texts, calls, emails, whatever, from him because it tells me that I crossed his mind, even for second. I would like to think that I’m crossing his mind and parking it there, the way that he is doing in my mind. But beggars can’t be choosers. Even one little text can make my day.

It’s really fun at first, and then it will go one of two ways: either the whole deal comes to fruition and you end up with something good or the other person simply doesn’t feel the same way about you and you find yourself clinking glasses with your best friend, muttering things like “He wasn’t that great” or “I’m way too good for him.” It’s how we make ourselves feel better. Who knew it would be this hard to lose someone you never actually had?

It’s scary for me to tell someone how I feel about them. It is even scarier to think of what they might say back. I remember when I was younger we would all get together at sleepovers and warn each other to NEVER tell a boy that you like him because he will RUN! I took that to heart, and was proven right many times over. But as we get older, is this still true? I know that if I’m remotely interested in someone, I love to hear that they have a crush on me. Sometimes it jump starts me and I find myself liking them in return. Someone please shed some light on this. Do guys want to hear if we have a crush on them?

So I have a crush on someone. And he has a crush on me too. Okay, so we're crazy about each other. Okay, so I'm madly in love with him and he's madly in love with me. How exciting is that? This is so awesome.

Little Penthouse on the Prairie

I’m an old-fashioned gal. So old-fashioned, in fact, that if I had a Flux Capacitor and ended up in 1854, I would be right at home. Don’t get me wrong, I love technology, I love electricity and running water… but I’ve gotta say, I really love the old stuff. The hard work with your hands, the simple things.

I don’t have cable and I don’t have the internets, and I get along just fine. Sometimes I miss “big tv nights” like when the MTV Video Music Awards, football, True Blood season finale, and other things are all on at the same time. I’m okay with missing this stuff, though.


Here’s how simple (some would say boring) my life is: I would rather be at home, hanging out with Bama and Cat Stevens (my pets) than tearing it up on the town. I love working in my yard, tending to my vegetable and herb gardens. I cook dinner every night I possibly can. I am an eagle eye shot and have an arsenal of guns at home. I make baby blankets with my hands, and have never even stepped foot in Babies ‘R Us. I alter and repair my own clothing. I recover my own furniture, bonus points if they are antique. I could go on, but you get the picture.

So this gets interesting when I meet a guy. Either they get it or they don’t. One time, a guy suggested we go out to a nice dinner and then for a drink. Cool, I’m down. It was a fine time. Then we went out again and he wanted to stay out for another drink. Then another drink after that… but I told him that it was 10pm, I had to work the next day and I needed to get home. And he was not down. He could not believe that I was so boring (his words). I never saw him again, and that’s perfectly fine with me. I don’t need someone dragging me around Fort Worth until all hours of the night in order to have a good time.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to go out and have a great time. I am a walking contradiction, however, because I am a little bit of a jet setter with a vibrant social life. Yet what most people don’t know about me is that I’d trade all of it for nights at home with my animals, in pajama pants and a tank top. But sometimes that’s hard when you’re a mover and shaker in a bustling city.

So when most folks are hungover on Saturday mornings, I’m up early at the farmer’s market, searching for the firmest okra and the brightest tomatoes. Then I go home and cook it all and enjoy some amazing southern food, on my own back porch. Most folks spend $30 on brunch and don’t get the great view and food I get for about $8. Total.

This is what I'm talking about.

It’s a win-win for me, no question.

C'mon Baby, Light My Fire

Passion. It puts a sly smile on your face at random moments throughout the day, moments when your lover crosses over your mind. It makes your fingertips and toes feel electrified when you are in their presence. It makes you count the minutes impatiently while you’re waiting for them to show up. It keeps you up at night when you can’t think about anything but that feeling. I even like saying the word out loud… Passion. Without passion, you have nothing.

If you don’t have it, you are basically spending your time with nothing more than a friend. A friend who you happen to kiss and whatever else you two are doing. I’ll tell you one thing – I don’t kiss my friends like that. So what are you doing sticking around a platonic situation? If what you want is passion, then you’re wasting your time.




A friend came to me for advice recently, and their question got me thinking about passion, and the dangerous lack-thereof. This is what they sent me:

“I have been dating a girl for almost two years. Things were hot and heavy the first couple of months. But, we are both Christians, and we decided to cool it on the physical side of the relationship. Now days we are like best friends, but it feels like the passion is gone. It feels like the honeymoon is over even though there has not been one. The odd thing is that the more I get to know her, the more she feels like a sister and less a girlfriend. I worry that we may be too similar to complement each other. She is starting to ask questions about where this is all going. Three months in I was thinking she could be the one, but now I don’t know how to answer her questions. What do you think? I would appreciate a woman’s thoughts on the matter!”

I’m glad you asked. Here are a woman’s thoughts: In my opinion, it doesn’t matter if you’ve been together 2 months, 2 years, 22 years or 52 years. If you don’t have passion for each other, you don’t have anything. It doesn’t mean it has to be like when you first met. Passion evolves with the relationship. It ebbs and flows, just like the ocean. But it has to be there. And even if you guys are waiting to sleep together, there should still be an unbridled infatuation. I would even venture to say that if you’re waiting, then it would almost be too much to bear, that fervor between you two. But that’s not the case here apparently.

I think you are in big trouble any time you view your girlfriend, lover, significant other, as a sibling. Your lover should be one of your best friends, no doubt. One of my favorite things about being in a relationship is getting to hang out with one of my best friends all the time. But not just any best friend, one that I get to kiss anytime I want. There is a balance here, between lover and friend, that is absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, your relationship seems to have completely crossed over into “friend zone”, and that’s dangerous territory if she is expecting a future with you.

She is asking questions about where this is going, and you owe it to her to talk to her about it. I will tell you this, I’m not sure if passion is something that can be created. If it’s not there, it may never show up. And you need to be prepared for that. Ideally, it should just be there naturally. If not, then that’s a big sign that you aren’t with the right person. And if that is the case, you owe it to yourself and to her to end it.

I’ve ended relationships for this exact reason before. I promise you’ll be thankful later, when you are with someone who makes your spine tingle just by walking in the room, and who makes your heart race just by looking your direction.

New on the Endangered List: Privacy

TMI: Too much information.

Many people are guilty of blurting out too much information, no matter who is around, or whether anyone even cares about said information. I am constantly subjected to seeing and/or hearing stuff that nobody should know. And now with the social networking at an all-time high, there is no such thing as privacy anymore.



Kim Kardashian was on a recent People cover with a headline that read something like, “I thought I’d be married by now.” Well, Kim. Let me break it down for you. You're a beautiful girl. I think it’s possible you would have been married by now as well, if you didn’t have that sex tape from a few years ago, your reality show with your entire life on national television, and things like this People Magazine interview where you talk about how you just can’t find a good guy. I’m going out on a limb and assuming that the good ones are running from you, and frankly I don’t blame them. I know that I am not on board with dating someone with that level of privacy. And by “that level” I mean nonexistent.

I promise I’ll stop talking about her soon, but here’s another life lesson from Jessica Simpson. Tweeting unflattering pictures of kissing her boyfriend and jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around him when the paparazzi are around (like people do in the movies) does not bode well for her. Who does that in real life? I’ve been super excited to see someone before, and not once has it crossed my mind that I need to leap through the air and wrap my legs around him like a spider monkey. Especially with cameras around. Queen of TMI, that girl.

Something that not many people know about me is that I am fiercely private. I have been in many conversations about this, with folks who assume that since I write about dating and relationships, have a Twitter, have a Facebook, have a Linkedin, etc. that I am letting it all hang out. What is misunderstood, however, is that I have been dating for over 14 years. This column is a culmination of all those years of dating, not dates I’ve been on in recent weeks. Some stuff is from years ago, but still very applicable today. My life as it is today is very private. Nobody gets to know that stuff.

I haven’t always been this way. Maturity came along one day and hit me upside the head, letting me know that I don’t have to publicize every move I make. Besides, nobody really cares anyway. Thank goodness I learned that lesson quickly. It’s exhausting to update the world, letting them know what you just ate for lunch and whatnot.

I have a lot of respect for people who understand the importance of keeping things close to the vest. I dated a guy once who simply could not wrap his mind around the fact that I am a writer who writes about dating and relationships. No matter how much I explained that I keep my personal matters to myself, he just couldn’t get on board. He was terrified I would write about him. And he ended up breaking up with me after a few months of dating. I have a sneaky suspicion that a lot of it had to do with my blog.

I’m not Taylor Swift. She says that she gives fair warning to the guys she dates, because it is a well-known fact that if they so much as slight her in any way, she will be at the drawing board, writing a song about them and what they did to her. I give her mad props, but that’s just not my style.

So, set that Facebook to private. Don’t Tweet to everybody in the world that you are on a date. Don’t run to change your “relationship status” as soon as possible when you realize you like someone. And speaking of that someone that you like, be a little mysterious. Putting it all out there isn’t ever a good idea. “Go Tell it on the Mountain” shouldn’t be your theme song for romantic relationships.

Some bits of advice, with love from me to you:

Keep important things close to the vest, keep special things special.

Make them seek you out, don’t be so available.

Don’t tell your friends every small detail, good or bad. That will bite you in the ass later.

Be yourself. And if they don’t like that, then they need to keep moving.

Secondhand Dating

Some call it frugal. Some call it thrifty. Some call it downright cheap. I call it smart.

I spend next to nothing for my thrift store finds, and I get compliments on my outfits all the time. You don’t have to look like a hobo while wearing second hand finds. In fact, you can have three times the wardrobe and constantly wear something different, while not spending your two-week paycheck on those jeans you’ve been coveting.










The same goes for relationships. Sometimes the “gently used” people are the best ones to date.
I’ve been in the uncomfortable situation too many times, where I find myself out and about with a newbie, someone who has little to no dating experience. It’s so uncomfortable for both people when someone is fumbling and inexperienced. Besides the fact that I don’t have time to hang around and feel like I’m on a high school date. Let’s be grown-ups and date like we know what the hell we’re doing, shall we?

It is interesting to me that sometimes people show enough confidence that their inexperience is masked for the first few dates. I’ve been duped by this before. They start off great, and then I find out that they have only been on a couple dates in their life, or that their only serious girlfriend was for a few months five years ago.

The bottom line: I don’t teach. People who have been through relationships and have been down the road once or twice are going to go a lot farther with me. I prefer to date men who have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly, because they will appreciate me and what they have with me. That is one thing I am thankful for – I know what I want, what I don’t want and where I’m willing to compromise. This is a good thing for people I date because I won’t be dragging them around while I’m trying to figure out if I want to date them or not. And of course I appreciate the same thing from the people I date.

The solution for people who aren’t yet “gently used?” Get out there, date up a storm and get some notches in your belt. It will serve you and your future relationships a great purpose. Best case scenario is you meet the perfect person. If you don’t meet them for a while, at least you’ll know what you don’t want.

The flipside is the “holes in the knees” people. You know the type: they have been around the block too many times. Their reputations aren’t the best, you know several of their exes… they are on other end of the spectrum. I feel like I am in the middle, between the newbies and the serial daters. I would prefer to not date new people constantly, but apparently that is what is in the cards for me seeing as how I am still single. That said, I turn down dates that I know are going to not work out.

The moral of the story is that you can find some amazing used things, bring them home, take good care of them and they will last you a long time and make you feel great. Turns out, the same goes for people.

When His Hermes Handbag Trumps My Louis Vuitton... We Have a Problem

I spotted him as soon as I got in the airport security line. He was tall, thin (but not too thin… fit), with dark hair and good skin. He was impeccably dressed, from the Ferragamo shoes to the Versace eyeglasses. His suit was expensive, but not so expensive that he appeared to be trying too hard. I noticed his amazing Hermes leather satchel and turned to him. “Great bag,” I said, nonchalantly. In a voice higher-pitched than Jack from Will & Grace, he squealed, “Oh THANK YOU! So much.” He might as well have added a heel kick and an “OMG!” to the end of that sentence.

I’m surrounded by girly men.

Are straight men ever this stylish? Follow-up question: are said straight stylish men ever low-maintenance? Ahhh, that’s the ticket right there.

I’ve dated this guy before… the questionably straight girly man who dresses better than me, has more hair products than I do, and gets more facials than anyone I know. This man is one in a plentiful breed. Let’s explore the characteristics of this ever-growing population.

They take forever to get ready. They iron every item of clothing, including jeans they are about to wear to the grocery store. Their home is decorated almost as nicely as mine (almost). They don’t know how to fix anything around the house. They cook over-the-top meals that take many hours and about 30 ingredients. They know when my eye shadow is different. They have polished shoes. They have softer hands than I do.

I’m not saying any of these are bad things. It’s the combination of everything that makes it hard to date this guy. I can’t tell you how many times I sat in the living room, ready to go, while Girly Man was putting more stuff in his hair or looking for the right watch to match with his outfit. Now I know how guys feel when the girl isn’t ready when they get there to pick them up. Annoyed.

I love a sharp-dressed man. But is it too much to ask for that sharp dressing to be easy and effortless? And what about a low-key beauty routine? What happened to a man taking a shower, and smelling like soap? A little smell-good cologne isn’t bad, as long as I’m not searching for the gas mask when we get in the car. C’mon guys! Get it together.

I like to be the girl in the relationship, who holds the cards on knowing which night cream is best, and whether to use body scrub once a week or more frequently. It’s just my old fashioned nature I guess. Not a fan of the guy knowing more about this than me.

So are there any men out there who are impeccably dressed AND somewhat mountain man-ish? Is this possible? My experience is from one extreme to the next, so a middle ground sure would be nice. Obviously I am willing to compromise, but after dating Girly Man, I have declared my unwillingness to date a man more girly than myself.



Please follow me on twitter: @danaseals

Twisted Sisters

I’m in a book club. One with great girls, delicious food, wine and dessert, and fantastic book choices. Here’s how it goes down at my book club: Each month, someone chooses a book. We all read the book, then meet every six weeks to talk about the book. Except we never talk about it. We talk about everything from vampires to babies to baby vampires to gossip to Gossip Girl to girls being cooler than boys. You name it, we talk about it. But the actual book?

No, we don’t usually get into that. Until last night.

This month, the ultra cool Punky-Brewster look-alike, Lacey, chose Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by John Krakauer. This book delves into the world of a branch-out sect of a certain denomination. Without going into a religious commentary, I will say that I am just not on board with these extreme fundamentalists. I’m serious, they believe in some batshit crazy things. A large component of their belief is that men are allowed to marry whoever they feel like marrying (including step-daughters and nieces), and marry as many of them as they want.

Hold up.

Pump the brakes.

As one of my book club gals put it, her husband made a comment to the tune of “I can barely handle you and the baby AND my job. Throw in more wives and more babies? No thanks.” Agreed. However, I can see why these guys want so many wives, because they are only allowed to sleep with a woman if she is in ovulation. Well, if you have tons of women in the pipeline, you don’t have to wait too long before your next sexy time. I mean, I get it. If you're a sex-craved maniac who likes to control women.

Plus, they don’t have to pay too much money for these other wives because technically they are not married, so technically they are single moms (of a billion kids), so they get a bunch of government assistance from tax dollars, such as food stamps. In light of this information, I’d like to give a shout-out to all the crazy plural wives out there: “You’re welcome.”

The men in the book all had so much in common: they are controlling, egotistical, and looking out for No. 1. Basically, they exhibit all of the personality traits that I can’t stand.

I haven’t seen the reality show Sister Wives, because I live in 1975 and do not have cable television. But we talked about this at length last night. These women (picture on left with Mr. Main Man in the center) claim to be 100% fine with their husband sleeping with the other women. Ummm, no you aren’t. I’ll go on the record right now and say that there is not one woman out there who is perfectly fine with her husband sleeping with another woman. Don’t tell me they don’t want to bitch slap each other on a daily basis.

It is "how they were raised," "God says it’s okay"… this is how they justify it. I just can’t wrap my brain around this concept.

I am not generally a jealous person. But I would be bold-faced lying if I told you that I don’t feel a twinge of some kind of jealousy if an ex-girlfriend calls or if he is chatty kathy with some girls while we are out. I think that is pretty natural to feel that way. But I am skilled at rationalizing what is cause for concern and what is not worth the emotional drain and the potential argument.

I have known some people who were insanely jealous, all the time. I always feel sorry for these people, because they are severely missing out on a happy, cool life if all they think about is what this other person is doing. Until it turns into “who” they are doing, just calm down. Give somebody the benefit of the doubt and see what happens.

If any of you jealous nellies out there read this and heed my advice, I may have just saved you a lot of stress.

Unless, of course, you are a plural wife. In which case, you probably aren’t reading this, except for the rare instance that your controlling husband is letting you read a blog about dating and relationships. The same blog that regularly tells you to grow a pair and take control of yourself and your happiness. Yeah, I didn’t think so.

(Although slow in a few places (because it goes deep into the history of the religion... zzzzz....), Under the Banner of Heaven was a very interesting book. Check it out here.)

Would You Like a Gin and Platonic, or a Scotch and Sofa?

So you’re out with your friends, looking all amazing and having a great time. You spot a good prospect over at the bar, so you try hard to look cool and not like the total stalker that you are, sneaking glances over in their direction. You tell your friends about this person, and then are mortified when they ALL look over at once.

Girls might do a little hair flip. Guys might do the smoldering stare. If there is any mutual hair flipping/smoldering staring going on, somebody will make a move. It’s like playing chess. So here you are, standing right in front of each other.

Now comes the pickup line...


Such a crucial time – this first impression pickup line situation. It can be funny and sexy, or it can fall flatter than Amy Winehouse on a sidewalk. I have heard some hilarious, great pickup lines and I have heard some that made me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit. The success rate is usually pretty low if you go for gimmicky, however. I don’t care how much swagger you have walking up to me. If you throw out something ridiculous, I’m not picking up what you’re putting down.

Back in college, I was at a bar with some girlfriends. This cowboy sauntered up to me and licked my shirt sleeve. He literally rendered me speechless. Then he put his arm around me and said “C’mon sugar. Let’s get you home and out of those wet clothes.” That one didn’t work.

One time, back in Alabama, I was at a Waffle House (I know…sexy) with some girls and a much older guy leaned over to my friend Michelle and said “You look so good, I want to put you on a plate and sop you up with a biscuit.” That one didn’t work either.

I overheard this one a few years back: “You be the tree, and I’ll wrap you like a Koala.” Kind of cute, but more oogie than cute.

I also got this one recently: “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see around here.” Clever, but clearly he didn’t know of my disdain for the Tennessee Vols. Regardless, I just wasn’t interested.

I polled my friends and here are the best pickup lines they have ever heard:
(Note: These are real life, real talk, non-fiction.)

(At the gym, flexing his bicep) “Are you a pediatrician? Because these babies are SICK!” –Angela

I was walking through Wal-Mart last July 3rd, and I had a halter top on. I had so many mosquito bites, and I was scratching my shoulder. A gross older guy walked by and asked if he could “help me with my itch”. Freaked out, I was truly speechless and for some reason on instinct my answer came out yes, thank you. I quickly corrected it, and 5 minutes later he found me on a different isle asking “Can we start from scratch?” –Tiffany

(On a college campus) “Damn, you look so educated.” –Katie

“Can you buy me a beer?” from an obviously underage girl. –Jared

“Wanna get some Nachos and F***?” –Amanda

“Hey gurl. I want to feed chu. Whatcha name is?” –Natalie

“Spend the night with me and I will help you with the restraining order in the morning.” –Wally

“Honey, is your daddy a thief? He must have stolen the stars and put them in your eyes” –Sarah

‎”Hi. What have you got to lose?” –Jonathan

“Hi. You’re my type.” –Mack (they’ve been together ever since)

“Would you like to test drive my car?” –Mandi (now married to this guy)

My favorite:
“Hey, could you loan me a dollar for a beer?” I made him sign a note that he would pay me back $1.25. He did, and 3 years later we got married. –Karen

One of my girlfriends' buddies reads my blog religiously (thank you!). He said that he reads my stuff for a girl’s perspective, to get advice. So here you go: this is what works. Walk up to them confidently (not cocky – there is a difference) and say “Hey, what’s up? I’m (insert your name here).”

That’s all you have to do. Really.

To-Go Book Review: Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn?

The glamorous, vivacious and infinitely sexy Marilyn Monroe once said, "I'm only comfortable when I'm naked."

Almost in response, the more subdued, classy Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis said "There are two kinds of women, those who want power in the world and those who want power in bed."

Two seemingly opposite women with more in common than you think.

I just finished one of the best books I've ever put my hands on. Are You a Jackie or Are You a Marilyn? by Pamela Keogh is so brilliantly researched and written that I, someone who has loved both of these women my whole life, learned more about them than I have ever known.

Keogh has a way with words that made me want to read until the wee hours of the morning. She is funny, clever, and totally relatable. I can't wait to get my hands on more of her work. Through her witty commentary, I learned that these two women were deep. Intense. Strong. They were self-made in more ways than money. They were powerhouses. Dynamos.

I knew Jackie came from money, and I knew Marilyn came from nothing. But what I never knew is that Jackie had a very tumultuous childhood - one that money could not rectify - due to the fact that her hero, her father, was a raging alcoholic. One who was so far down into the bottle that he was too drunk to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. She "learned" from her father that men cheat on their wives and walk out on their families, and she never expected more from any man in her life. She became a very independent woman who found out early that she would need to blaze her own trail. She could not rely on a man.

Marilyn did not have a father to make a bad example for her. Instead, she grew up in orphanages and found her independence extremely early. She let her guard down once she experienced a family structure, only to have that family abandon her as a teenager. She looked next door and decided that it would be a good idea to marry her friend and neighbor. She found herself alone again when he went to war, and the first second someone suggested that she was pretty enough to model, she left tire tracks and a trail of dust on that life. She worked harder than anyone in show business and became the most famous actress in the world.

Their similarities don't end there. They were each incredibly critical of themselves and drove themselves further than anyone should drive themselves. And it paid off. Jackie met the man of her dreams (twice) who could provide her with a comfortable life and Marilyn was allowed to enjoy the love and adoration that she so craved from the world. Everyone wants to be loved and everyone wants to be comfortable monetarily, but these separate successes met deep yearnings for these women. The desire overtook them; therefore they would stop at nothing. That is admirable, really.

The more I read, the more I lost respect for Jackie and gained respect for Marilyn. I am critical of myself, but I would never be critical of others. Jackie was so critical of others that she didn't allow daughter Caroline to eat more than a very small portion because she didn't want her to get fat, and thus not attract a suitable husband. I get that people need to take care of themselves, but when you are telling this to a young girl, you are setting her up for some serious self-esteem issues. Jackie expected the highest level of perfection from everyone around her. I know I expect a lot, but I also try to understand that not everyone is going to live up to my expectations, and there are people in my life who rarely do. But I love them anyway. I have to make a decision sometimes: make them live up to my crazy high expectations (and drop them if they don't), or love them the way they are, quirks and all. Sometimes I choose the latter. Sometimes I choose the first one. It just depends. But for Jackie, it was never the latter.

Marilyn was more understanding. An imperfect, wounded bird herself, she didn't expect anyone else to be perfect either. She knew that people would have good days and bad days, and memorably said, "Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." That's my kind of girl. I could hang with her, no problem.

Although Jackie was known for her brains, Marilyn was also very smart. She is rumored to have had a higher IQ than JFK. The "dumb blonde" act was just that - an act. Marilyn once said, "I've never fooled anyone. I've let people fool themselves. They didn't bother to find out who and what I was. Instead they would invent a character for me. I wouldn't argue with them. They were obviously loving somebody I wasn't." At home, she was known for not wearing any makeup or jewelry. She was incredibly down-to-earth, and just plain Norma Jeane. She had to spend hours to "become Marilyn."

If you know anything about me (reminder: hopeless romantic), then you know I enjoyed reading about the two women's many lovers. Both were surrounded by men at all times. Men really liked Jackie. But men LOVED Marilyn. Men felt that Jackie was interesting, intelligent, riveting. But men were CRAZY about Marilyn and couldn't get enough. They would camp out on her doorstep and show up every day with flowers, just hoping for a few seconds of her time. Two very different dynamics.

JFK was not the love of Jackie's life. It is clear from what I read that JFK was a very inattentive lover, but that Ari Onassis was the polar opposite. When times were good, Ari and Jackie were crazy about each other. However, a little time passed, Jackie's spending was out of control (an average of $50,000.00 per day... seriously), and Ari was struggling with the sudden death of his son. They separated and Jackie came home to New York while Ari was grieving. Then before any reconciliation could happen (if that was even in the cards), Ari died of a heart attack. Who knows what could have happened between them and what the future held.

Marilyn was married three times. After leaving first husband, James Dougherty, for Hollywood, Marilyn eventually ended up in the arms of Joe DiMaggio. They had short, passionate, tumultuous marriage. Joe wished that Marilyn would always be the person she was at home. But she could not make him understand that the public expected her to be "Marilyn." They divorced after a year of marriage, and attempted to rekindle the flame many times after that. Eventually Marilyn married playwright Arthur Miller, who showed her a slower pace of life. She welcomed it for a time, but became restless. They soon divorced. In the end, Joe DiMaggio was the love of her life. Before she died, she and Joe were talking about getting married again. It was Joe who claimed her body at the morgue and planned the funeral. Joe loved her so much that he sent flowers to her grave three times a week until he died twenty years later.

Jackie lived a long life, whereas Marilyn's was cut short. And although Jackie was around a lot longer, it is Marilyn who has remained as famous as if she were alive just yesterday. Marilyn created sexy, and although many have tried, no one can touch her unique persona. Jackie is an icon, no doubt. But it is Marilyn who will remain timeless.

When I picked up this book, I figured that I was 50% Jackie and 50% Marilyn. I am like Jackie in that I am classy and polite, I immediately send out thank you notes for even the smallest favor, I pride myself on my intelligence, and I can rock some nautical stripes and big sunglasses. Adversely, I am like Marilyn in that I am rarely on time, am constantly searching for approval and adoration, I love to laugh and be giddy, and I can be overly critical of myself. And I'll never forget where I came from, no matter how amazing my life turns out.

But now, I figure that I am 25% Jackie and 75% Marilyn. And I'm proud to be more like Marilyn. Above everything else, she was kind. To me, that matters more than anything.

Before I read this, I would have put money on the idea that Jackie and Marilyn were polar opposites and would have never existed in the same universe. Although similar in most ways, the two never met. Something tells me they would have severely disliked each other. It would be interesting to know who would have won, if they were to fight each other. Jackie was athletic, Marilyn was scrappy. My money is on Marilyn. "Scrappy from the streets" almost always wins.

(Go to Pamela Keogh's website - http://www.pamelakeogh.com/)

You So Crazy

If you were to ask most people how they feel about any of their exes, I would put money on the answer being something to the tune of “He/She is crazy.”

I’ve said it a hundred times. I can describe pretty much every guy I’ve dated as “crazy.” They don’t usually start that way. There is something about the demise of a relationship that makes people crazy, or do crazy things.

This got me thinking: are we already screwed up? Or do they make us crazy…
I may be eccentric, but I am not crazy. Although I have done things that sure make me look it. Certain situations have made me do things that I am not proud of. I have polled many friends, and all are in agreeance that men make us crazy. We do so many things that are out of character for us, for instance:

Back in the day, I was known to sometimes sit by the phone, obsessing over whether it would ring. I have done drive-bys, just to see if they are home. And if they are home, I then wonder why they aren’t calling me back? I have been way too available, have dropped plans at the first chance to spend time with a guy, have Google-stalked the heck out of someone (then acted surprised when they told me things I already knew about them, but couldn’t admit that I knew). You name it, I have done it. Because I was young, over-eager, hopelessly romantic.

Whatever the reason, I was crazy. I’ll own up to it. It’s the merging of two ideas in your head: you are alone (read: lonely), and this person is pretty great. So clearly, this match-up could be awesome and lucrative for you. So you get excited (too excited), and you make a fool of yourself.

I may be a tad old-fashioned, but I feel like the guy should be the pursuer. Otherwise, how am I supposed to know if he’s actually into me? If I’m the one doing all the work, then he could just be going along with it because it’s so easy and convenient for him.

Thank God I’ve gotten past the crazy. I no longer obsess over situations, or people. If he doesn’t call or try to take me out, or if he acts uninterested or plays games, then he clearly does not understand how awesome I am (and the rest of you are just as awesome, fyi…). We are all lovely creations, and people who act aloof are not deserving of our time and efforts. My brain simply doesn’t have enough room for worrying about what to do when he doesn’t call. Life is way too short for that kind of ridiculousness.

So, as much as you might like that guy, or as perfect as he may seem, let him go if he isn’t pursuing you. You deserve better than that. Because, really, when you are old and your grandkids ask you, “How did you guys meet?” you certainly don’t want the answer to be, “Well, sweetheart, when I met your grandfather, he was lukewarm on me, but I stalked the hell out of him and chased him until he finally gave in and we have been married ever since.”

Vampires SO Don't Suck

I have a confession to make. I am loving this vampire trend. I have read all of the Twilight and all of the True Blood books. Subsequently I have watched all the movies and shows. Many times. Over and over again. As in, I can recite them. This is nothing new: back in the day, I read the Anne Rice books, marveled at how Dracula came to be, watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and even auditioned for the Interview with a Vampire movie when I was 9.


I share this love with a small group of girlfriends, and inevitably when we get together the focus of the conversation leads to some kind of vampire talk. Whether it be discussing what hot vampire actor is now making out with another hot celebrity or just marveling at that new cover on Rolling Stone. Seriously, it’s a goosebumper. We are all highly-educated, badass, professional women … yet we get all giggly at the thought of vampires and their steamy hot fake lives (or non-lives, since they are dead… or… yeah).

This week we decided to pay $8.50 to go see that Vampire Sucks movie, simply because it involves our favorite thing: you guessed it… vampires. It was as predictable as any of those Wayans Brothers-type movies would be. But I found myself laughing out loud uncontrollably, and then looking around embarrassed until I remembered that, aside from the 5 of us, there were only 4 other people in there. We made a drinking game out of it (which is a tradition we hold every time a new Twilight Saga movie comes out), which included instructions such as “drink when Jasper looks constipated” (applicable to both the real movie and the parody). Somebody please get him a laxative.

It wasn’t an Oscar contender by any means, but it made me laugh. And it gave me an excuse to get together with my fellow vampire lovers and spend some quality time.

Now to get ready for Harry Potter coming out soon! It’s okay if you want to make fun of me, I’m not ashamed.

Fort Worth vs. Dallas

I may take some flak for this, but here goes nothing. I am a Fort Worth girl. I wasn’t raised in Funkytown, but I love it here. Sure, I would leave in a second for something like true love or a $100,000 pay raise. The point is, it would take something major to get me out of this Cowtown that I call home.

Top 10 Reasons I Like Fort Worth More Than Dallas:

Reason No. 1

The home prices are not so exorbitant that people my age can afford great homes with pools. We don’t have to break into apartment complexes or hang out at hotel pools for some rays and chlorine. We can if we want to, but it is just one of our many options.

Reason No. 2

Less traffic. I drive everywhere I need to go in under 10 minutes. That includes time on the freeway if need be. Try to beat that, Dallas North Tollway.

Reason No. 3

Our guys look good in boots and a cowboy hat. And no one thinks they are heading to a costume party.

Reason No. 4

Fort Worthians can hang out in our downtown at any time of day or night and have a blast. People travel great distances to spend time in our amazing Sundance Square. Dallas boasts of a has-been West End, which is home to tons of people wearing convention badges. Snoozefest…

Reason No. 5

JFK had much better luck in Fort Worth than in Dallas. We didn’t shoot J.R. either. Which leads me to…

Reason No. 6

We can’t claim fame to the “Dallas” mansion, South Fork Ranch. But neither can you, Dallas. Congratulations, Parker Texas. Guess “Parker” didn’t have the same ring to it.

Reason No. 7

Our zoo kicks your zoo’s butt. Fact.

Reason No. 8

I didn’t see SMU at the College World Series when I was there in June. TCU, however, was there in full force. Side Note: Good luck playing us in football this year, guys! You’re gonna need it.

Reason No. 9

Nobody worth knowing in Fort Worth wears Ed Hardy clothing. Or Affliction. Period. To expand on this, our men are good with their hands, and have never had a manicure. And they don’t have waxed chests.

Reason No. 10

Dallas is known for its “$30,000 Millionaires”. You know the type: that guy sitting at an ultra lounge with bottle service who is trying his hardest to appear that he clears between six and seven figures a year, but is actually swimming in debt due to his Ed Hardy and partying habits. (See: Reason No. 9). Sure, Fort Worth has a few of these guys. But I’m going to go on the record and say the ratio is 25:1. Check that fact. It’s true.

Basically, here’s the deal. In Fort Worth, we don’t have an identity crisis. We know where we are, which is not L.A. or New York. We are in Texas. Dallas has forgotten that it is located deep in the heart of Texas, and to quote my gal Krystal: “Unlike most cities across the country, Fort Worth has not forgotten where it comes from. Dallas has become mainstream and business focused, leaving much of the attraction of the city to become suit and tie and pencil skirt focused.”

I’ll take my prairie skirt and cowboy boots any day, thankyouverymuch.

Contributor: Keeley

Flying the Coop

I have been recently thinking about when I flew out of the nest. You know, that necessary time when you must leave the nest, where you have always been warm and fed, for a life of independence.

I went to college at 17, and got my own place with a girlfriend during the first semester, but I was just mere blocks from my folks. So although I was “on my own”, I really wasn’t. When I graduated college at 21, I was so excited to get out of town, get my own apartment and turn into an adult. I was under the impression that this made you an adult overnight. And I was ready.

But I never counted on the bills piling up because maybe I didn’t budget so well. Or the nights where my house is creaking and I wished I could run to my mom down the hall. It has been years since my own “independence day”, and while I have all those kinks worked out and have gotten into a good groove of living on my own, I can’t help but wonder what my life would be like if I had stuck by my childhood aspiration, which was to live with my mom forever and we would take care of each other. I remember telling her that, and she said “Sounds like a good plan, sweetie.” Awww.

But obviously we need to grow up. Remember when we were kids and we had “growing pains” when we hit major growth spurts? I was the really skinny kid who would get a little chubby in the cheeks and then shoot up like a weed. But I remember those growing pains kind of hurt sometimes. It hurts to grow. Anyone who says it doesn't is lying. I've heard that it's possible to grow up - I've just never met anyone who's actually completely done it. Without parents to defy, we break the rules we make for ourselves. We throw tantrums when things don't go our way, we look for comfort where we can find it, and we hope against all logic, against all experience. We’re just big kids, really.

When I first lived alone, my single girlfriends were my salvation. We commiserated together, healed each others’ broken hearts, tried to make each other laugh. Think about it. If you are single, after graduation there isn't one occasion where people celebrate you. Hallmark doesn't make a "Congratulations, You Didn't Marry the Wrong Guy" card. And where's the flatware for spending your Friday nights alone? There isn’t a registry category for this, is there?

But you can’t get down. I have always looked for the positive angle. Although I do sometimes wonder if maybe, after a certain age, we have to start applying pessimism daily, like moisturizer. Otherwise, how do we bounce back when reality batters your belief system and love does not, as promised, conquer all? I guess all we can do is hope for the best, prepare for the worst and who knows… we just might be pleasantly surprised. Or not. That’s just the way it goes.

Although I still have those girlfriends and I love them with all my heart, I eventually did not need to cling to them for salvation any longer. This is probably healthier for our friendships anyway. I found the real salvation, and instead of leaning so heavily on my girls, I have been able to give my yoke to God when the going gets rough. Now when I hear that creak in my house in the middle of the night, I no longer wish my mom was down the hall so I don’t have to be alone. I know now that I am not ever alone. That’s a relief.

At the end of the day, I look around and appreciate my grown-upness. But in a city like Fort Worth, with its pace and its pressures, sometimes it's important to have a 13-year-old moment -- to remember a simpler time when the best thing in life was just hanging out, listening to music and having fun with your friends -- in your very own home. That you own.

“If you're tired, you take a nap-a. You don’t move to Napa.” –Carrie Bradshaw

Every once in a while, a girl has to indulge herself.

So my girlfriends and I embarked on a “journey” (yeah I said it, Bliss) to Texas Wine Country, Fredericksburg, for a weekend of wineries, laughter and friendship. You know, friendships have to be invested in. You can’t expect to wake up one day when you are old and find a huge lump of money in your savings account for retirement. It’s the same thing with friendships. So we had an “investment weekend.”

You know I don’t use names on here, so here you go: The girls refer to me as Sammy, then you have Awesome Blossom, Rashelle, Hymie, and rounding out the crew is Rollin with the Homies.

We left after work on Friday and headed south. Rollin with the Homies owns a large momma-mobile, so we all piled in (with my dog Bama as well). We decided to take the scenic route vs. I-35 and I am so glad we did. We saw some amazing sunset views and got to stop in Lampasas.

Lemme tell you. Lampasas is an interesting place. And what is up with their Dairy Queen? Listen up, Lampasas Dairy Queen: When you are dealing with 5 girls and a dog with extreme 8pm ice cream cravings, throw us a bone here and make your parking lot easier to navigate. Awesome Blossom had to do some serious stunt driving to get us in and out of that place. When you leave the drive-thru, you are literally driving into a drop off that makes you feel like you are falling off the face of the Earth. We barely made it out of there alive. And we blame Joe Jackson for this (father of Michael). (Sorry, you’ll see a lot of Joe Jackson in this blog… inside joke. You had to be there.)

Ice cream cravings satiated, we made it into Fredericksburg by 11pm. The directions indicated that the cabin was the “last house on the left”, to which Rashelle exclaimed, “Great. We are going to die.” That’s the spirit, Rashelle! Turns out the cabin was not scary or horror-movie-ish in the least. Bullet dodged. We stayed at the adorable and comfortable Potbelly Stove Cottage (shameless plug: http://www.fbglodging.com/lodging/potbel.htm - seriously, go there.) My friend’s folks own the place and I’m serious... They did an amazing job with it. We piled in this cozy cottage, with 2 girls in the bed, 2 girls on the floor and me on the love seat because of my amazing cat-like curling up skills.

The next morning, we woke up and started pumping coffee into our veins. We looked outside noticed that deer were meandering all around our cabin! Too cool. So Hymie announced that she was going to go outside and be a deer whisperer. She claims that a deer (that she named Moesha) came within 3 feet of her, but we saw the deer running for “deer life” (get it?) after she went out there. I’m not sure which story to believe at this point.

Right before leaving for the day, Rashelle confided in us that the two best things in life that have ever happened to her are low rise jeans and hair straighteners. I feel a lot closer to Rashelle now, since she opened up to us about this.

So we decided to kill time and hit downtown Fredericksburg for a bit to check the place out. What a neat place! With the exception of the store that has tons of outdoor iron décor (which was seriously high quality and amazingly low-priced), we couldn’t afford much of what we saw. But we sure saw some gorgeous stuff. I have a bunch of decorating ideas now, ideas that I fully plan on crafting myself at home and implementing into my décor. I took a million pictures of lamps and bed frames. Yeah, I’m cool like that.

We headed back to the cabin just in time to meet our limo driver, Bobby McGee (as we referred to him). He was a class act for sure, totally professional. The limo was amazing (for the record, this was my first ride in a limo, in all of my 27 ½ years. Now I wanna do it again, many times over, on a daily basis even). Armed with mimosas, wheat thins and hip-shaking music, we proclaimed loudly, “On to the wineries, Jeeves!”

Warning: the details, such as order of wineries and pretty much everything else from this point forward, are really fuzzy. So I’m going to do my best and not concern myself with order or any other details. Here’s my best recollection of our winery tour:

First winery, Rancho Ponte. This was a nice place with a cool, punk rock server named Tuesday. Unfortunately, the wine was sub-par. Well, actually, it was bad. I’ll be honest. We blame Joe Jackson for this. We decided to slip on out of there and head to lunch. The Peach Tree Tea Room was adorable and quaint, just like it sounds. I felt very girly in there. We had some delicious food and headed out for more winery action!

Second winery was Becker. Amazing. They also have a lavender farm out there, and you know I’m a sucker for native Texas herbs. The place smelled so good. I felt so calm I could have laid down on the wine tasting bar and taken a siesta for twelve hours or so. But I managed to stay on task and we tried the wines. We all like Becker wine anyway, so this place was a shoe-in.

Third winery was Grape Creek. There was a country western guy singing outside and the wine was decent. That’s kind of all I remember. So there you go.

Fourth winery was Woodrose. Loved it. Very much. This was my favorite place, and I think that had more to do with the atmosphere than the wine. The wine was good, no doubt, but this was the only place where we had a table on a patio and the wine was brought to us. Everywhere else, we stood up and tasted the wines from a bar-like apparatus. The patio was shaded and we listened to a guy playing guitar and singing. It was hot outside, and we didn’t even notice because it was so fun there. Awesome Blossom ran into some old sorority sisters. Random. At least they weren’t Hymie’s sorority sisters. Rashelle and I would have never let her live that down.

Then we headed to the snootiest winery of the trip, Pedernales Cellars. Again, Joe Jackson’s fault. At least the view was spectacular and the wine was decent.

Last but not least, we stopped in Torre di Pietra. This place had potential, but unfortunately the kid that was serving us was a total jerk and was making fun of us the whole time. I felt like we had traveled to Dallas or San Antonio all of a sudden and were attending a bachelorette party at Dick’s Last Resort. You know how the waiters are mean to you there? Well, we got a taste of that at this place. Rollin with the Homies named him “Jacob” (not his real name), which I took a little offense to. Because that name is sacred and she knows it. But no matter, we downed our wine samples and hit the dance floor! This place had a live Beatles cover band, and we got down. Rollin with the Homies can do the tootsie roll like you’ve never seen. And Rashelle has more soul than all of us combined. We danced our socks off for one song, and then Bobby McGee joined us on the dance floor! He told us it was time to go, but once that dance machine started dancing, you couldn’t get him to stop! He said to us, “One more song!!!” which was fine with us. We reluctantly left the dance floor after that and headed back to our romantic cottage.

We laughed so hard in the limo on the way home, partly because we were very tipsy from 6 wineries and partly because we are just such great friends that we know how to hit each other’s funny bones. We ordered two of the most expensive pizzas we’ve ever had and sat on the patio of the big house next door until the wee hours of the morning. We had our iPod going, Rashelle and Rollin with the Homies taught the rest of us the “Kid and Play” dance. Where was I when this was popular? I do not remember doing this at Jacksonville High School Elite Night in the 8th grade…

We laughed. And we laughed. And there was nothing like it in the whole wide world.

This blog post stars the following cast:

Hymie (The Trip Planner and Itinerary Queen):

Awesome Blossom (The Engineer):

Rollin with the Homies (the Hot Momma):

Rashelle (the Rump Shaker):

And Yours Truly.

OMAHA… Somewhere in Middle America.

Last week I had the pleasure of hanging out in the Mecca of College Baseball, Omaha during the College World Series. And at the last run of Rosenblatt Stadium, to boot. My man’s brother plays for South Carolina, so we donned our garnet and black and headed north.

My man and I got to his folks’ house ‘round midnight on Thursday, and tried to sleep a few hours in preparation for the 3am departure time coupled with 10 hour road trip. I fell asleep and it literally felt like I woke up 5 minutes later, but it had been a full 3 hours. I haven’t felt like that since college, where we would wisely fall asleep at 5am, only to wake up in time for our 8am test. We were very smart back then, obviously. But I digress… While I was getting dressed and talking myself out of laying back down for about 12 hours, my man’s dad (“MMDad”) was loading the car and, in his sleep-deprived state, managed to set the alarm off. Luckily I was already awake and aware of my surroundings, because otherwise I would have come out with swinging some kung fu kicks and probably would have managed to hurt myself and knock a few things off the walls in the process. He quipped “I guess you’re awake now,” to which I replied, “Well, my family uses alarm clocks, but if that’s the way you do it around here, I’m on board.” MMDad: 0, Me: 1.

I think my favorite thing about this situation is that I met My Man’s Mom (“MMMom”) for the first time, and although unconventional, it worked! Instead of the usual “Hi, nice to meet you at this fine restaurant where we will get to know each other over some fine dinner and a fine glass of wine. P.S. I really like your son.” Instead, it was “Hi, nice to meet you at 3am, yes if I had my druthers, I would have makeup on and maybe brushed teeth, let’s get to know each other while we ride in a car together for the next 10 hours, and while we’re at it, let’s spend the next 72 hours together! P.S. I really like your son.”

You know what? I wouldn’t have had it any other way, though. We had an adventure! And we have some great memories. And those folks are truly awesome people. Their son didn’t fall far from the tree, either.

The car ride was good, I slept a lot. MMDad and I were chatting about my job, and I was telling him that I just started recently and am so thrilled to be here. He was asking about the interview process and I told him that it was down to me and one other guy, to which he quipped, “So you won it on good looks?” To which I replied, “No, I’m pretty sure I won it on the swimsuit and talent portion.” MMDad: 0, Me: 2.

Omaha seems like any other town, but Omaha during the College World Series is a crazy place. I felt like we were at Spring Break in West Palm Beach, or maybe at the Texas State Fair, if everyone who attended the entire time came on the same day. We got there in time to watch the South Carolina batting practice, and my man suggested that we go to the outfield to try to catch one of his brother’s homerun balls. So we sat amongst the sweaty, but super cute pre-teen boys, who had their catcalls down pat. They were working the outfielders, trying hard to score a ball. His brother hit a bunch of homeruns (he’s just good like that), but one came real close to us and bounced off the bleachers and right back into the right field guy’s glove. He spotted us and threw it right to us. So of course we had to have his brother sign it. And of course it was super awesome.

We headed to the hotel and rested a minute before heading back to Rosenblatt for the Opening Ceremonies, which were amazing. I felt like we were watching our own personal version of the Olympic Opening Ceremonies. We had a military band, parachuting military guys, Barry Bonds, Will Clark and tons of baseball greats. But the best thing? The fireworks. Holy moly. I have never seen fireworks as gigantic and beautiful and breathtaking as the fireworks at this place. Here’s a picture from thestate.com:



They were larger than life. We predicted we would hear “Proud To Be An American” and “Put Me In Coach” and we were correct on both counts. I will never forget how beautiful those fireworks were.

Slept like a rock and it was time to wake up for a day of baseball. TCU was playing at 1pm and we were able to watch it due to the hook-up prowess of the man himself, Hymie. He got two random tickets for us and we tried the first seats (but they didn’t work too well) and then we tried the second seats and they were just fine. We had a great view of the game, we didn’t have to pay anything and we got to sit next to an adorable baseball loving little girl named Jessica. And TCU won! Good times.

After the game, we headed to a steakhouse called Gorat’s and had some pretty good food. The best part was sitting with my man’s brother (“MMBro”) and another teammate and his folks. Our waitress is a real life sumo wrestler, a burly white lady with a bun on top of her head. Crazy. Everybody is so nice and funny and so much fun to be around. And MMDad picked up our check. That was so generous of him.

After dinner, my man and I went to the Old Market area for some one-on-one Man/Dana time. We walked around, saw some crazy people, and settled in at a brewery (the name escapes me at the moment). It was so relaxing and nice to cozy up in that booth outside and watch the people, drink some good beer and talk about how much fun we were having. We walked back to the car and stood on a bridge for a while watching this borderline amazing waterfall thing that shot really high up in the air. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like a wall of water, and the wind would catch it and send it leaning like the Tower of Pisa. And it had lights in the water! Omaha, you keep impressing me.

Slept like a rock again and got up with some baseball anticipation. South Carolina was playing at 1pm, and we looked out the window to see…. RAIN. Now, let me go off on a short tangent for a minute. I love rain. I love rain so much that I would be the happiest girl in this town if it rained every day. That’s my favorite thing about northern Florida – the fact that it rains every day at 3:00pm. I dance in the rain at my house, in the grocery store parking lot, wherever. Love. It. You picking up what I’m putting down?

However, I’m not in love with certain rain drops that jeopardize our ability to see MMBro play some College World Series ball. Bottom line, we hoped for a break in the clouds all day but it didn’t happen. So we headed back on our jet plane, with no South Carolina game-watching under our belt. But on the positive side, we got to hang out with MMBro and his teammates. We got to see a game. We got to spend time with MMDad and MMMom. I’m putting this weekend in the win column, for sure.

And… as it turns out, unless you have been hiding under a rock, you know that South Carolina WON the College World Series!!! WOO HOO!!! Go Gamecocks!! (and that is the only and last time you’ll ever hear me say that… please forgive me, fellow Bama fans).

Till next time.

"Maybe it's a tumor" -the kid from Kindergarten Cop

A dear friend of mine recently received some news that nobody wants to hear. She found out that she has a tumor in her left breast.

Before this occurred, her life was extremely close to perfect. I’m telling you, this girl is blessed. She has a fantastic job that pays well and makes her happy. She has fabulous friends and family who love her unconditionally. And then there is this amazing guy who makes her heart race and her knees weak. So this reality check isn’t ideal, but it's life. Life can be messy. And scary. And inconvenient.

Here’s the story: She went to the doctor because of sharp pain in her right breast and he ordered a sonogram. She wasn’t worried, just ready to figure out what was happening. The right side turned out to be just fine (what a relief), but the left side revealed a tumor that is in the very back and isn’t detectable by self-exam. She said that the sight of that black circle on the sonogram screen felt like taking a bullet. With the needle biopsy right around the corner, she is mentally preparing herself for a little pain and hopefully some good news.

How does that work? You go to bed one night, wake up the next morning, and poof – you have a tumor? Don’t you think you’d feel something growing inside your body the way a woman feels a baby growing or the way I felt my stomach growing when I ate cheese quesadillas at lunch?

I think we all want to feel “normal” and there’s nothing like a tumor or something similar to make you feel anything but. But what is “normal?” I guess it is the halfway point between what you want and what you can get. And she is trying to feel normal, and is trying to keep her mind off of it. But I know it’s got to be bothering the heck out of her.

But it isn’t like the movies. She didn’t crawl into bed and wallow in self-pity until some cheery person waltzes in, opens the curtains to bring in some sunshine, and orders her to get up and stop crying. When real people fall down in life, they get right back up and keep walking. So that’s what she did and will continue to do until this is all over.

She is full of hope, which can be hard to maintain sometimes. Is hope a drug we need to go off of? Or is it keeping us alive? There is no harm in believing. And her strong faith in God is going to carry her through this, no doubt.

So I told her ‘that which does not kill you makes you stronger’. I read that in my favorite magazine, Convenient Theories for You Monthly. And I'm sure it's true.

When Charles Dickens wrote "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," I believe he must have been dealing with something like my friend’s situation. Wonderful life with a curveball thrown in. But nothing she can’t handle.

Nine Is Enough

I am writing this remotely while traveling through East Texas. Bama and I are in a black Dodge Ram with my folks and their dog Buddy, en route to home from a busy and crazy family reunion in DeRidder, Louisiana. My dad is the youngest of 9 kids, who each have big families of their own, so you can imagine why I felt like I was in the middle of the Duggar Family TV Show (that wacky family with 19 kids).

It is easiest to go by numbers in this family when writing about them, with 1 being the oldest kid and 9 being the youngest. We got there on Friday afternoon and chilled out, in preparation of the insanity that was to come on Saturday morning. Aunt No. 5 and I swapped funny stories and she told me a doozy about my sweet Aunt No. 3. Once upon a time in the mid-70s, No. 3 went to visit No. 5 where she was living the hot single life. No. 3 had never tried alcohol before, so No. 5 (who preferred shooting straight whiskey) recommended screwdrivers, that seemed harmless enough. Four or five screwdrivers later, No. 3 was telling everyone she could get her hands on that she was drinking "pliars." She even yelled at the drive-thru guy at McDonald's, telling him all about her "pliars". Knowing sweet little No. 3, this is just too good.

I walked into the kitchen to visit with my Grandma and a girl walked into the house, kissed my Grandma hello and gave me a hug and said it was good to see me. I have never seen this girl in my life, so I told my Grandma that I had no idea who that was, and she said, "Well, neither do I!" Oh, brother. See what I mean? Haha...

Then my favorite uncle (No. 4) got there, along with his entourage. You would have to see this strapping man, who works with his hands and has a glass eye, to fully appreciate the entourage which consists of two of the fluffiest, frou-frouest Shih Tzus you have ever seen and his girlfriend of over 13 years. It is always good to see Uncle No. 4 because he is so kind and so funny.

Then it got to be time to take a quick nap, so my mom and I took my 4 year old cousin to our RV for some rest and had to play a game with her to get her to rest. This extremely clever game, created by yours truly, the BBE (Best Babysitter Ever), consists of a contest where we see who can keep their eyes closed the longest. Well this worked for a little while, and by a little while I mean 15 minutes. Everyone stayed up late, swapping stories about our family and discussing the ins and outs of Gary Coleman's death, but yours truly took my tired bootie to bed super early. I had to do everything necessary to prepare for Insanity Day.

I awoke Saturday morning with the same anticipation one would have on the first day of school and dressed in my hot weather best. 13 years in this family has taught me that there are many cameras around and these photos always get framed. So I busted out the liquid eyeliner and some lipstick, while simultaneously attempting to not look like a streetwalker.

Before I knew it, there were over 65 people inside and outside my grandparents' home. What freaked me out the most was that I was looking at kids who aren't kids anymore. I have rarely had the moment when I see kids who were 5 years old the last time I saw them and are now in high school. Talk about freaking me out.... sheesh.

I did "girly things" with my niece, who, as it turns out, is a fantastic makeup artist. I put beautiful makeup on my beautiful girl. I put some gorgeous silver eye shadow on her and some "cat eye" eyeliner. After getting my fair share of blue eye shadow applied to my eyelids, we settled in and played games on my iPhone. I love that girl, and I love my nephew, who is hilarious! And so intelligent. Those are some good kids. I'm so proud.

I ate some of the best, worst-for-you food that I have eaten in a long time. If you know me personally, you may know that I am a semi-vegetarian, who strives for full vegetarianism every day, but only succeeds approximately 6 out of the 7 days of the week. I ate boudin sausage, which was amazing. I ate plates of potato salad, which were amazing. I ate four, count them: FOUR, desserts! Wow... So I'm still trying to come out of my food coma. I ate a caprese salad for dinner, so I'm somewhat back on track.

What a fantastic time. I am so appreciative to my grandparents who made this such a great weekend, especially my Pawpaw. He's so wonderful. What a great family I lucked into.

The Best Kept Secret

A wise woman once said that the secret to a happy marriage lies within the 4 F's:

Fun
Faith/Fellowship
First
Friend

You need to have Fun. I list this first because this is the easiest thing to spot right away. I have been on fun dates and I have been on dates where I wanted to find a rock to climb under just because that seemed like it might be more fun. I picture myself growing old with someone I have fun with because I personally cannot go a day without a big belly laugh. Usually I end up cracking myself up throughout the day but I sure love it when somebody can make me smile and laugh.

Faith/Fellowship is so important. If you don't believe the same things, then you are just asking for trouble. I once made the difficult decision to stop seeing a very nice guy because he refused to go to church with me. I am aware that I may have been jumping the gun a little bit, but I am not marrying a man who doesn't go to church. If he isn't going now, that is not something I can change. Nor do I want to. I just don't have the time or patience to try to change someone. I have always said that we are who we are. People don't change. Besides, I am not going to be getting the kids up for church in the morning and telling them how important church is, only to get this in reply, "Then why doesn't Daddy have to go?" No thanks.

You have to put the other person First. I have had enough of seeing people put their jobs, their hobbies, whatever else, in front of their significant other. You are spending your life with this person, so I think they deserve to take the top spot in your list of priorities. I'm going to take this one step further, however, and say that both people need to collectively put God first and then the other person directly underneath God. See, here's how I picture the organizational chart playing out:

Yeah I said it, the kids go on the 3rd rung. The way I look at it is this: Those kids are going to be out of the house one day and I don't want to be sitting across the kitchen table from someone who I don't know the first thing about, because the kids have been the priority for all those years. I have seen way too many marriages collapse after the kids leave. I'm no expert, but I have a suspicion that it has something to do with putting kids and everything else before your spouse.

Finally, you have to be Friends. I look forward to the day where I get to hang out with my best friend every single day. This person needs to be your go-to person for everything good, bad, indifferent, ugly, whatever, that you want to talk about. That is going to be pretty awesome.

It's a simple formula, really, and it works.

Fathers, Be Good To Your Daughters

The oh-so-poetic John Mayer once told the fathers of the world to be good to their daughters. This is because, according to Mr. Mayer, the daughters will love like they do. I have found this to be true for both of my cases. You see, I have two fathers. One abandoned us when I was very young and the other came in and rescued us, in a sense.

Sometimes I am slow to love others. That is one thing I learned from my first father. I have found myself at times to be guarded and gun shy, as if I’m going to be hurt beyond recognition. I guess I just remember what it was like the first time I had my heart broken by a man. Twenty years later, it’s still not all the way back together. Nothing has ever been as bad as that first heartbreak, and I hope it stays that way. That heartbreak, however, hardened me a bit. So now in my adult years, I have the ability to always handle heartache with stride. I’m proud of myself when I am able to hold back tears and not fall apart at the worst times. Because whatever the current situation is, I have been through worse. He taught me that.

My second father loves his family more than anything, and I adopted those ideals immediately. I can see him in myself in so many ways, even though he wasn’t in our lives until I was a teenager. When I finally do open up my heart to someone, I find myself loving them the way he and my mom love each other. I’m proud of myself when I can be so unconditionally loving and caring. He and my mom taught me that.

The song resonates with me, “Oh you see that skin? It’s the same she’s been standing in since the day she saw him walking away. Now she’s left, cleaning up the mess he made.” I always feel something in my chest when I hear that line, because it feels like he is describing me. Some people say that a daughter’s relationship with her father is the model for all of her subsequent relationships with men. If you were given a less than perfect model, does that mean a life of less than perfect men? Sometimes it does. But the opposite is true for me. The actions of my first father made me incredibly picky because I refuse to end up with someone who will hurt me and our kids and leave us in his dust, picking up the pieces.

Every girl needs to be picky until she finds that man who is solid. Bonnie Raitt said it best: “I ain’t looking for the kind of man who can’t stand a little shaky ground. He’ll bring me fire and tenderness, and have the guts to stick around.”

I have been thinking about fathers today because it is my second father’s birthday. He has been a saint for our family and I hope he knows how loved he is.

Oh, and one more thing before you go. I can’t forget to mention that other father, the most important one of all. He is the true definition of unconditional love and kindness and I am thankful to Him every single day for getting me through the pain of my early years to make me strong, teaching me valuable lessons to make me wise, and for bringing that saint of a stepfather to us to help us see what a real man is made of. I am so thankful.