We're just ordinary people...we don't know which way to go...

My life can be pretty boring. My days are pretty routine. Wakeup, shower, work, lunch, work, home, dinner, television, sleep, repeat.

Occasionally the gym will be thrown in there. Or beer. Or Trivia. Friends. Family. Still pretty routine.

Perfectly ordinary. And that…is….great!

The alternative? Beyond ordinary. Or rather “Beyond Ordinary.” Still not understanding?

How about:

OnDemand => TV Entertainment => Discovery Networks=>TLC => Beyond Ordinary

You know who you’ll find there? The Man Whose Arms Exploded.

Gregg Valentino. 28 inch biceps. It looked like he had tennis balls in his arms. I bet if his arms had a commercial, they could bring back Ellio's kid and have him go "blub blub blub" because that's what I am reminded of by his arms. Blub, blub, blub.

You may also meet his friend, Octopus Man. Or Ukrainian tall drink of water, Leonid Stadnyk. He’s checking out the scene at a towering 8 feet 4 inches. Or “Incredibly Small” Kenadie Jourdin, a two year old who weighs 8 lbs and is 24 inches long.

I don’t even know what they would title my “Beyond Ordinary” documentary.

“The Girl Who Likes Hot Dogs Too Much”
“The Girl That Overquotes the Simpsons”
“The Girl That Can’t Stop Giggling”

Sounds pretty lame. Awesomely lame. Awesomely ordinary. And that's just fine with me.

Now it's out into the open...I call her, ring ring, she's not there...

So apparently there has been a little controversy surrounding my last post. Thinly veiled references are just that, and you may have thought that I was talking about…well…..you.

I think we should use this as an opportunity to learn about ourselves and grow. Walk with me for a moment….

(And we’ll change names to hide actual identities)

I have a friend named Gym.

Gym thought I was talking about him when I mentioned a “grumpy curmudgeon.” For the record, I was not. The person I was talking about doesn’t even know I have a blog. I’m not even sure he knows my last name. Let’s be honest, he may not care that I’m alive but he is connected to my life and a big fat grumpy curmudgeon. Moving on.

Gym. I was not talking about you but you thought I was…does….does that mean that you think that you are, in fact, a grumpy curmudgeon? Have you been called that before? Even though I wasn’t talking about you, maybe you should still try to be happier in 2009? Less curmudgeon-ish?

Another example. If you read my post and said “did she just say I wasn’t funny?” do you know what that means? That means that I think your girlfriend looks like a praying mantis…and so do YOU!

It registered. I mean, the reference was pretty broad. You thought I was talking about you. That means somewhere, in the deep recesses of your soul, you think your girlfriend looks like a praying mantis.

Maybe you should rethink that? Maybe you shouldn’t date that girl? What would she say if she knew I made a reference to an insect and you thought I was talking about her? That’s just cruel. (And since we’re being honest, I would not only say praying mantis, but also Flik from “A Bug’s Life”)

I probably was not talking about you in my blog. But if, even for a moment, you thought I was….maybe you need to do some soul searching.

Live. Love. Grow. That’s what sarcastic blogs are all about.

Welcome to the fray….

Control yourself. Take only what you need from it.

Lots of people take a few months off during the winter. Like bloggers…and baseball players. Now that that is out of the way….

I have a proposition. 2009. “The Year That Everyone Tries to be Nice to One Another.” How about it? Yes? No?

Now I’m not talking overly nice. I’m talking run-of the mill nice.

If someone says hi to you in the hallway at work…say hi back. Smile.

Smile..even if you don’t feel like it.

Say thank you. Say please.

Why?

No one wants to deal with your negativenessocity. Do not make your bad day part of my good day.

Am I a nice person? Majority of the time, yes. Do I talk about people? Yes. Do I have bad days? Oh yeah.

For example, here is a list of Facebook status messages I have wanted to post but did not:

Lisa thinks...your girlfriend looks like a praying mantis and you are not funny

Lisa thinks…you are a grumpy curmudgeon and I’m tired of reaching out to you

Lisa thinks…your Halloween costume was unoriginal

Lisa says…just because you’re skinny, doesn’t mean you’re pretty

Lisa thinks...you peaked in high school

And so on, and so forth.

There are some issues one can run into by being a nice person. My least favorite is a phenomenon I like to call “too cool.” When you notice a common friend, or a shared interest with someone, and attempt quick small talk. The person responds as if you are trying to establish a deep connection and eventually get matching wrist tattoos with both of your names on it and half of a design so when you put your two wrists together, it makes the infinity symbol. Get over yourself. I was just bringing up a “small world” situation because I happened to like this mutual friend or see if I could get additional information about this shared interest. Not you.

Okay, that seemed angry, but it’s not. It’s more eye-roll-inducing than anything. I will still continue to be nice to everyone, even if it is not reciprocated.

I just think that if the three people that read this blog make an extra effort to be nice in 2009, the world will be a better place.

And those that aren’t nice…will continue to be called out in thinly veiled passive aggressive blog posts.

NICE IN ’09! CATCH THE FEVER!

Go on and put your ear to the ground, you know you will be hearing that sound....

Have you ever met someone and felt a connection?

Like a for real, serious face connection?

It’s like every word this person says is a direct reflection of the deepest recesses of your soul? Echoing thoughts and feelings that you never believed you could share with another person?

The very idea that there is someone in the world that not only understands you, but feels the same way, rocks you to the core of your being?

Like, “for reals” feelings. Feelings that I didn’t even know I could admit to myself.

I’ve met that person and I’m scared.

Scared of rejection? Scared to end up alone? Scared it’s too soon?

No.

Scared because that person is Amy Winehouse and that bitch is on crack.

Besides our obvious shared love for liquid eyeliner for daytime wear, we both run around just so we don’t have to think about thinking.

Our tears dry on their own.

We can both sniff out Tanqueray.

I relate to every song.

(Except maybe Rehab, I think the closest I’ve come to needing rehab was when I almost put myself in a diabetic coma by eating an entire bowl of uncooked brownie mix one night in college. What? We made it without eggs. Make brownies not frownies.)

I guess it just goes to prove that you can find a soulmate in the last place you would expect. Maybe it’s a colleague of your best friend that you’ll meet in a local bar. Maybe it’s a boy from your fifth grade class. Maybe that person is passed out in a dark alley known for its thriving and active drug community.

I guess the moral of the story is that he/she is out there. Keep looking. Also, don’t do drugs.

Life: The Compliment Sandwich

If you’ve ever had a performance review, you know all about the compliment sandwich.

It’s supposed to lessen the blow of criticism. It gives you a high five, punches you in the face and ends with ice cream.

Por ejemplo:

“Jackie, you are extremely creative and bring some great ideas to team meetings. Unfortunately, you are a horrible writer and we’re terminating your employment, effective immediately. Lastly, I like those earrings, green is a good color on you.”

See what I did there?

I’ve decided to add a reoccuring theme to my blog called “Life: The Compliment Sandwich” and discuss something I like, something I hate, and then something I like, again. Hopefully, by using this tried-and-true feedback method, life will eventually improve its overall performance.

Life, I love….

The combination apple corer/slicer. Holy cow. This had made eating an apple an efficient and enjoyable experience. I won’t even consider eating an apple without one. I have one in my office and one at home. I don’t know how I survived without it for so long. All that gnawing and spinning the apple in your hand to approach it from another angle. If you don’t stop biting soon enough, you end up at the seeds. I never really had that problem because about three bites into an apple, I was bored and just stopped. Apple? No thanks, that seems like too much work. I always wished apples came in neat, prepackaged slices like its long time comparative counterpart, the orange. Combination apple corer/slicer makes what seemed like an impossible dream…a reality.

Life, I hate….

Puka shell necklaces on guys. Stop the insanity. It’s like a beacon hanging from your neck , just peeking around the corner of your collar, telling women around you, “Hey ladies, do NOT take me seriously.”

Guys, if you’re approaching a rack of necklaces and other assorted neck wear, recite the following:

If it’s from the sea...just let it be.

Life, I love….

Unexpectedly finding money in a pair of jeans, winter coat, during a purse change or inside of the front pocket of a hooded sweatshirt. The other day I was making a brown purse to black purse transition and found $10 in the small zippered section. Granted, that money was mine to begin with, so it’s not like it’s “new money” and all of a sudden you have $10 you didn’t have before. You always had it, you just didn’t know its exact location. Here I am, going about my day, having NO idea that I’m secretly on a treasure hunt. You would have thought I found the meaning of life. Maybe the meaning of life is money by surprise? If money was no object (which it very much is) I would just hide money in clothes on purpose, to be found at a later date. You know, be the change you wish to see in the world....

Don't call it a comeback...

And hello.

So I’ve been on a little hiatus. A blogging sabbatical, if you will.

There has just been a lot going on up in this piece. Some good, some bad, some crazy awesome, some horrendously unawesome.

I haven’t really been doing a lot of writing and I’ve clearly failed you. I’ll make you cookies (or buffalo chicken dip), just ask and you shall receive.

I’ve been trying to figure out what to write as my “comeback” post and was inspired by a little touch of heaven. A website we all know, some love, some hate, some use it to stalk, some use it to date….and all I know is, MySpace has been cracking me up lately.

What is it about the online community that makes people turn into creepy lunatics? Honestly.

Talking to people, in real life, is just not that difficult. After about age 20, if you tell me you’re shy and can’t talk to people, I might try to punch you in the face. You’re not shy; you’re just not trying hard enough. If you’re normal, just say normal things. Simple.

The same rules apply when talking to people online. Usually if you’re writing to someone online, it’s completely unsolicited. That being said, mayyybe try a simple introduction. A nice, PG-rated compliment. Some inquiries about one’s day, life or interests? Perfect.

Am I going to write you back? Probably not. I’m not looking to meet anyone. However, even if I was, which I am not, most of these guys would never get a reply because on a scale of 1 to 10, they are scoring an ELEVENTY on the creepy-meter.

What do they say, you ask? Well read on, kind sir or madam. Below please find my top five creepiest messages I’ve been sent recently. What would compel a person to respond kindly to these messages? Why do these guys, ages ranging from 22 through 36 years, lack the grammar, spelling and punctuation skills of a 10-year-old child? Is one of these an actual threat? Am I going to hell for posting these? You bet. Was I going before I posted these? You bet. Behold! (My comments and edits are in bold)

Subject: hello
Body: you are awesome! not 2 many girls are like you at all!! nice, pretty and sweet...well unless you have an evil side that is vicous!!! Niiiiice (what?)

Subject: hello
Body: Hello , I dont know how to beggin my message, but i will try, and i think i have to do it, to say all what i think...
So first, my name is *deleted*, i'm from morocco, i'm 30 yrs old, and i'm running a business of real estate, in marrakech, the city were i was born and where i'm living.
So let me say then, that i have seen ur profile, and i found it so interesting, that's why i'm sending this message, but let me say too, that i find u so beautiful, so sweet, and u sound a very interesting person.
So, that would be a great pleasure for me to talk to u and get know u if there is no prblm? So i will not be longer, i just shall say I wait ur message ... impatiently and i hope that I will get an answer from u, that would be really a great thing for me. take care sweet lady, and have a good time (what?)

Subject: hey
Body: add me as a friend im the funniest mother f**ker you will ever talk to i promise im a stand up comic by trade i will have you laughing your beautiful little a** off everyday no sh*t give me a chance if you dont think im funny you can block me this is my job ill have you rolling on the floor i need the practice and you are adorable (ummmmmmm)

Subject: No Subject
Body: U are very very sexy :) I would love to b on my hands and knee's tonight obeying ur every and any order ! Sorry If I pissed u off. I had to b honest (actual cell phone number) give me a text or call ; - )
(This guy is single. Can you believe it, ladies?!?)

Subject: No Subject
Body: What's up You're kinda cute and seem like a semi-normal person with a fun sense of humor , perhaps you'll consider getting in touch with me. No, not touching me...GEEZ we don't even know each other. Talking..
Check out my profile, I think we'd get along well and make friends not to mention enjoy some stimulating conversation and if you're lucky perhaps we could meet up someday for a cup of tea "wink".

(That last one got included, not for the touching comment, but rather for the wink after the cup of tea. I don’t really know what that means. I don’t really want to know what that means. Boys are scary.)

*sigh*

You can go your own way...

I get that pedestrians have the right of way. Fine. That crosswalk is made for walking, and that's just what you'll do.

You'll walk in front of my car, we'll make eye contact, you'll wave and say "thank you." I will put four fingers up while still holding the top of my steering wheel with my thumb to say "no problem!"

I deal with this daily. The town that I live in has a pretty crowded Main Street with crosswalks about every 25 feet. It's a pretty expected interaction.

My one plea to citizens of ColorMeBlah-ville...maybe stop before walking in a crosswalk? Give the old, "Oh, does this person see me? Are we making eye contact? Is he/she going to slow down? Yes? Ok. Great! I will proceed."

Please, for the love of all that is good and right and just and great, do NOT put on an Invisibility Cloak, crouch down and hide behind a parked car adjacent to the crosswalk and then BOLT out into the crosswalk like Jesse Owens.

You know who you are. I hate you.