Holy Cows

Do you ever feel like someone out there is trying to tell you something? Be it God, Alah, The Divine Goddess, or just the Universe, do you ever feel like one or all of them is subtly (or sometimes not so subtly) trying to get a point across?

This is something that I've been living and thinking about for years. I can't tell you when I first experienced a well-timed message, but I do remember when I first realized that maybe there was more at play than just sheer coincidence. It was almost 10 years ago, after my grandmother passed away, and I started to notice that when I would think about her, I would hear a certain song on the radio. I know what you're thinking - songs get played in heavy rotation on the radio, so that's nothing strange. But this wasn't just any song, it was 'What a Wonderful World' by Louis Armstrong, a song from 1968. When was the last time you heard 'What a Wonderful World' on the radio? This quiet reassurance still happens from time to time, and the messages haven't stopped there.

Most recently there was the gollywobbler message. Intrigued? This was a strange message, to be sure. My Mom and I were heading to the Honda dealership in Natick, and our conversation led us to a former customer of hers at the marina. He passed away a few years ago, but during our conversation my Mom mentioned that years ago he had had a boat named 'The Gollywobbler' docked at the marina. That same morning I read a Thrillist: Boston daily email (the same Thrillist: Boston email that I usually delete before reading) about the new Sea Dog brew pub in Hull, that serves Old Gollywobbler Brown beer. Gollywobbler. Sometimes when you think you have nothing in common, along comes a word like Gollywobbler to remind you that you really are two of a kind.

Admittedly, not all the messages are good. One of my most recent messages was more of a rude awakening than happy coincidence. In June I was in a car accident that I was very lucky to walk away from. I fell asleep driving on a road I drive almost every day. The accident site itself is practically in my back yard. Today when I drive by the spot it's hard to tell there was an accident there, but a few days after the accident that wasn't the case. The guardrail was visibly scuffed, and the road showed tire marks from my sudden braking. My Mom and I were driving home from work, down that road and we slowed to look at the accident spot. It was the first time I had been by there since the night of the accident. We saw the shoe that was flown from my trunk upon impact, the marked up road, and the general debris that any accident leaves behind. And then we saw the license plate of the car in front of us. SRVIVR. Seeing that license plate made me sick to my stomach. All I could think was, message received. Loud and clear. Yes, it's easy enough to say that was a coincidence, but every other 'coincidence' I've experienced tells me otherwise.

They haven't all been other worldy or ominous. In fact, today I was thinking about one message that made me laugh more than any other. Oreo Cows. The name oreo cows is a Jill Sandy moniker, and I had never heard about them until Vermont. In the fall of 2009, Jill and I took a road trip to Vermont just for heck of it. We only had a few hours to take everything in, so we decided to deliberately get lost in the countryside. We drove down roads that I thought for sure would swallow my car whole, but we managed to get down every one of them. Road trips are great for story telling, so Jill was telling me about her last trip to Texas and seeing what she called Oreo Cows, aka Belted Galloways, and her cowboy friend's disgust at her choice in nick name for them. So we're driving and laughing at her redneck faux pas, when we turn and see none other than a pasture of Oreo Cows. In all my life I'd never seen one, real or virtual. And then, as if we'd conjured them up, there was a whole field full of them. Again, message received, loud and clear. We were meant to be friends, in that car, driving down that road, talking about Oreo Cows.

That's what is so great about the messages in my life. They confirm the existence of 'meant to be'. Whether it's a connection to my past, a life lesson that I have to learn, or proof that I am meant to have these people in my life, every one of the messages teaches me something, and reminds me that I'm not alone. That there really are people looking out for me, whether I'm aware of it or not. Seriously.

Secret Life of American Trash

Ok have any of you seen 'Secret Life of the American Teenager'?

What. The. Fug.

I can't help but wonder if this show is one giant mockumentary. I mean, when the show is all said and done, are they going to be like - Psyche! Just kidding! I haven't been a big follower of this show, for many reasons, but I decided to watch a few minutes of it tonight. Now, the last time I tuned in, one teenage girl had a baby with one guy, but she was dating a different guy, and her mom was separated from her dad but having a baby with a different guy, maybe, and everyone else was busy trying to have sex. Tonight I turn the show on, and now another teenage girl is pregnant, by the boyfriend of the girl with the baby... and everyone else is still trying to have sex. Did I mention this airs on ABC Family? Seriously.

This show makes me blush and roll my eyes at the same time. I don't understand the logic behind creating a show this in your face provocative that targets teenagers. I'm not a prude, but these kids are talking raunch every other sentence and basically molesting each other left and right. Plus, add in the unlucky offspring of these teens, and this show is way past watchable. Are there really parents out there that let their kids watch this? Seriously? If so, epic fail.

I gave it a chance because - hello - Molly Ringwald is in it! But this is so far from a John Hughes experience. The Breakfast Club was edgy, but compared to this show it's an episode of Barney.

Wasted Weekend

Happy Monday Everyone!

I know, I know... I'm not usually the first person to characterize any workday as 'happy', but it was quite the crappy weekend, so I'm glad to be moving on from it.

Saturday was spent with an awful migraine and the accompanying nausea that only I seem to get. Add to that an annoying lecture from grandmother for leaving my flip flops in the hall, and I was really not loving my life on Saturday. Seriously.

Sunday was a better day. Slight headache still, but I was able to function without getting sick, which was a relief. Later in the afternoon we all headed to my Aunt Karen's house to hang poolside and cook out.

It was a full house there, including Aunt Karen's in-laws. We're all relaxing and enjoying the company, when Helma, my Aunt's sister-in-law, mentions that she works for a card company. She then tells everyone to remember that fact when we need thank you cards or wedding invitations, because she gets a good discount. My brother Matt's girlfriend Angela is sitting next to me when she says this, so my Mom tells Angela to remember that for the future. Angela then says 'Yeah Kristin, remember that when you need wedding invitations!'. Without missing a beat Helma follows up with 'I'll be dead by the time she needs wedding invitations.'

I'm sorry? Seriously? Is this an episode of Golden Girls? Did I really just get burned by a 70 year old lady? You, my friend, are no Betty White. Step off!

Yum!

Fall is coming, and for me, professionally, that means the return of the weekly chocolate workshop is also on its way. Amazingly, my boss and I are on the same page and being proactive in preparing for its return. Meetings have been scheduled, survey results have been analyzed, and we're actively trying to make this event more of a well-oiled machine, per se.

The first of the meetings was scheduled for today. Our two chocolatiers, myself and my boss all met to discuss how to initiate the evolution. My boss and I work out of different locations, so I left to meet everyone at his office. This being a story about me and my day, it will come as no surprise to everyone that as soon as I arrived at his office I realized that I left some important printouts on my desk, back at my office. Our offices are only 5 minutes from each other, so I decided it was worth turning around to get them, ultimately making me late to the meeting.

I rushed into the meeting, only 15 minutes late - which, let's be honest, is pretty good for me - and instead of hearing animated dicussion on survey results like I expected, they're talking about bacteria. More specifically, they're talking about bacteria found in infected piercings. Seriously. Philip Seymour Hoffman and Captain Obnoxious (my boss and my least favorite of our chocolatiers) are sitting there acting like middle school drop-outs, while our one refined and classy chocolatier is sitting there, legs crossed, lips pursed, hating her life and everyone in the room.

Way to legitimize your start up, bossman. Because your wardrobe courtesy of 'Life is Good' and duplex residential/commercial office set up (complete with sink full of dirty dishes and a litter box for your dog) aren't enough of a telltale sign that we're running a top notch joint here.

Seriously!

Midgets, Scotsmen and Manholes, Oh My!

So yesterday was an interesting day.

I work with two other women, one of which is currently on crutches. She and I share errand running duties most days, so since she is still on the mend, I ran to pick up lunch yesterday.

*Aside - not a fan of The Half Way Cafe. The name says it all.

We had called the order in, and upon arrival, they tell me that they are out of clam strips, which is what one of the girls ordered. Seriously? You couldn't call us to tell us this ahead of time? So I call the office, find out her back up option, and they tell me it will be 10 minutes. So now the other food is getting soggier (not just soggy - soggier - because it was gross from the start) while I wait for the new order.

I decided to make the most of the down time and opened up the newspaper that was sitting on the bar. The news is pretty grim. $500,000 spent on road signs in Massachusetts. And then - gloriousness! Four pages in this is what I see:

Stoughton Police Officer Skips Beat To See Dwarf Porn Star

Wait, what? Seriously?!!

Okay, so for months I have been driving by this "Gentlemen's" club and seeing their advertisements for a special appearance by Bridget the Midget, XXX porn star. Every day on my way to work, there it is. Bridget the Midget, Bridget the Midget, Bridget the Midget! And that by itself has been entertainment enough, but this article was a figurative jackpot for me! And I quote:

"A part of me wants to say, 'Where was the news when I pulled someone out of a burning car last year?' "

Was the midget porn star on fire? Is that why you left your post protecting the folks that pay your salary? Or, was it your pants that were on fire? Is that why you needed a lap dance? Seriously? Seriously. Wicked smaahht. That'll be a lucky lady that nabs you big boy.

And for the rest of us girls, the good times are sure to continue. Bridget the Midget will be back for a return engagement in Stoughton at the end of August. Can't wait to see what headlines that brings!


Football at Fenway was last night! Scotland vs. Portugal. I've never seen so many redheads in one place, I LOVED it! Sitting behind us was an import with the best Scottish brogue I've heard in a long time. Definitely almost burst into tears from missing Jill Sandy.

And then it happened. 'Sarah will you marry me?' on the jumbo tron. Sarah was sitting a few rows from us. And I'll admit it - I said 'Aww' with the rest of the crowd. And then I saw Mr. Sarah and wanted to scream to her 'say no!'. Mr. Sarah was hairy. Really hairy. Hairy like 'Harry and the Hendersons' hairy. Poor girl. She's going to be spending a lot of time with her vaccuum after the "I Do's". I hope she at least thinks to register for a Dyson. And lint rollers.


The ride home from Fenway was also a treat. This is Boston, so of course every road surface is torn apart. The stop and go can be a bit annoying, so to make us Massholes giggle the Commonwealth is good enough to put up hilarious signs to entertain us along the way. For example, 'Caution: Raised Manholes'. Seriously?!!! I'm supposed to keep a straight face after seeing that sign? It's like they've hired Chelsea Handler to keep us safe. I highly approve! More signs like that and I'll pay my taxes on time next year.

It starts.

Welcome to Seriously? Seriously. - !

This little bit of heaven is my day-to-day take on the crazy, absurd and just plain ridiculousness of the reality that is my life. You'll laugh, you'll cry (well, at least I'll be crying...), and you'll definitely find yourself saying 'Seriously?'. Seriously.

Let the blogging begin. (dun dun DUN!)