Thursday, December 31, 2009

A Decade Of Awesome... Wrapped In A Bow...

*This post inspired by a cutey-patootey named Amy from Rainy Saturday... Check her out, if you haven't already!*

As a new decade approaches it is time to look upon the last 10 years to figure out what the hell I did with my 20's... (sigh) Buckle up, it's bound to get bumpy...

2000~

My 21st year on the planet, and the first of this millennium, didn't fare well for me... I was in the grillionth year of a relationship with a man who possessed all the qualities little girls dream of... controlling, manipulative, dangerous, terrifying, dominating... a real asshole! T'was a mess! By the end of that year I somehow mustered up the courage and the where-with-all to move out and sever all ties... Broken, defeated, but ready to reclaim myself, I welcomed 2001 with open arms and an empty dance card.

2001~

I was lucky enough to reconnect with all the friends I had left behind in the disaster that was my previous couplehood... One of these friends had just been through a similar situation so we were stuck like glue. Decided a move would be in our best interest... a change of scenery to heal the weak and wounded. And where better than Phoenix, Arizona... or actually, where worse? Palm trees, sunshine, swimming pools, and a whole slew of men we'd never met...So a few weeks later we packed up a U-Haul and all of our worldly possessions and headed to the desert...


After years of the men in our lives holding us at arm's reach we, understandably, rebelled. We became fast friends with some amazing drunks... we ate too much, we slept too late, we drank and drank and drank and drank, we dated disaster after disaster never wanting to cuddle or commit. It was A.Maz.Ing. And just what the doctor ordered... if the doctor hated our livers and resented our dignity...



In July of 2001, my dear, sweet, beautiful friend Natasha committed suicide. It was a very dark time for me. And I coped the only way I knew how at the time... by forgetting and denying and partying...

RIP, my sweet girl
July 21, 2001

2002~

About halfway through our second year drowning in a sea of bad decisions and liquor, my desert cohort decided it best to move home to Seattle... I couldn't blame her. Our lives were littered with dead end jobs and dead end men, but OMG did we have fun! I decided to stay. And play. I got a new job and a new apartment and made a new friend, who happened to be one of the funniest people on the planet, which didn't suck...

She held my hand for the next year as I began to deal with the mess I was now responsible for cleaning up.

2003~

Then she left me. Moved away. Like they do. Yet I stayed. Alone. In the desert. I'm pretty sure I was afraid to face my life. I was hiding within the vast beige-ness just 10 degrees north of hell, knowing that if I opened my eyes for even a second I would have to answer to someone other than myself... Around this time my bestie from back home and her husband were transferred with his job to Walnut Creek, California. At this point I was making really good money and didn't have anything or anyone to spend it on, so I started taking trips to Cali. to visit...
Just about every other weekend...














And sometimes... just to have someone to watch ALIAS with...


Or to go to a Halloween party that she was throwing...

I spent a majority of 2003 in Walnut Creek... And I wouldn't have traded it for anything... But by December I realized that maybe there was a significant reason that I was hopping on a plane to get out of AZ every chance I got... So back to Seattle I went, tail between my legs, ready to grow up...

2004~

 I moved to a fabulous little apartment on the beach...



and picked up right where I left off with my original Arizona cast away. We threw lovely "dinner" parties and had "intelligent" conversation with "respectable" men... We went camping, and trolling, and dancing.


 
I went back to the job I had in high school (oddly, the very same job I have now) which launched me into a full fledged nervous breakdown and forced me to take a very real look at what I wanted in the future. Right out of high school I had moved to NYC, fearlessly carried on the wings my dreams. I was an actor. And I had lost sight of that. I was forbidden to act in my previous relationship, and had spent a little time on stage in Arizona, but certainly nothing to be proud of. So this was my time. I was 24 and I was going back to school. And damn all those who doubted me.

I auditioned for and was accepted to Cornish College of the Arts. I started my freshman year in the Theatre program in September 2004. I was the third oldest person in my department...



2004 cont.-2008~

The next four years are a series of muddled memories and out of sequence images in my mind. 16 hour days, rehearsals, homework, performances, high school style bullshit. It was by far the hardest and most rewarding time of my life.

I made friends...



I lost friends...



I cried...

I laughed...

I learned...

I created...

I was on stage all day, every day...

I was living my bliss...



My friends all got married... and started having babies... and attending reunions... and I was still in college.







I traveled to London and Paris and Rome to witness firsthand all the beauty it doth behold...

 
I went to Vegas and Traverse City and Crescent Bar...
 








I met these two... who I soon learned would be with me until the end...














They had both gone through terrible break-ups with their own brands of shit bag boyfriends and took refuge in my apartment by the sea...they never left...


And somehow I was lucky enough to be set up with my very own Fish Boy... (they're like royalty here in Seattle)



And for whatever reason... he fell in love with me...


In May 2008 I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Cornish with my BFA in Theatre. I was 28, and so proud.




After college, I got a job as an Executive Assistant for The Devil Who Doesn't Wear Prada. It was super awesome... on opposite day. It took only five months for me to turn in my notice and accept the inevitable doom of having to go back to being a medical receptionist until this economy picked itself up by it's bootstraps and stopped forcing my life to suck balls...

2009~

While at Cornish, I had taken a playwrighting class (yes, that's how it's spelled) and submitted one of my plays to The Actor's Theatre of Louiseville. The play was about me and my ladies talking shit on the men in our lives and cracking inappropriate jokes. We thought it was hilarious, and seriously doubted anyone else would... Apparently we were wrong... about the second part...

I got a call from The Actor's Theatre asking if they could produce my play. Of course, the answer was yes. And in January of this year, me and my wifey (bestie #2, refugee #1) packed our bags and headed to Kentucky to watch our lives played out onstage. It was surreal.


(Director, Sean Daniels)


(The cast of my play, Everyday Is Tuesday)


In February, my fish boy, his family and I went to Sayulita, Mexico. Again, surreal. The beauty, unparalleled.



And the Pina Coladas were the size of my head!


 

In March, wifey and I figured, why stop there? So we took a little trip to Disneyland... because you're NEVER too old for the happiest place on earth...





In the summer I took an Intensive Shakespeare class from one of my former Cornish teachers. The class had a clique of 20-something mean girls that I was not invited to be a part of. I made friends with the fellas and we in turn mocked and ridiculed the bitches quietly to each other. They are the reason for this blog. I realized it wasn't fair to keep my funny to myself anymore. There is far too much in this world I loathe, and it's about time I share it. So thank you, hookers in my Shakespeare class! Your intention was to ostracize me and instead I've made 58 new friends. How does it feel?

September 2009 marked the end of my twenties and my journey in the dirty thirties began...




And as this era ends, and a new begins, I'm counting myself lucky...

I have my ladies and my tramps...



(The guy in the middle is considered one of the ladies... FYI)



I have family I would kill for...


(Best little bro in the history of little bros...)



(Funniest big bro in the history of big bros...)


(Cutest little sis in the history of little sisters...)


(Mom who rivals Mother Theresa in love, generosity, and sainthood)

A best friend of 16 years that fully encompasses the term "best friend"...



And a man who smells of fish...




The only thing missing is a career... and that shit can wait... I'm only 30...

Happy New Year! Here's to the next chapter!

Sunday, December 27, 2009

I complain on Sundays...

A gaggle of gripes to satiate your craving for the bitter within me... Don't act like you're not excited...


After a minor holiday hiatus, you'll be happy to know that I am once again ready to fulfill my blog-ligations...


This week...

The Snuggie... WTF? (spoiler alert: controversial opinions ahead)

The other day, upon noticing a hoard of Snuggie-drunk morons posting pictures of themselves on Facebook draped in yards of fleece, I updated my status with the following:

"Jill thinks the Snuggie is the love child of bad ideas and trashy infomercials, but apparently a blanket with sleeves is the second-coming to some people... who knew?"

To which I received these comments:

  • "You can't "hate it" until you try it...I swear it's great for reading by the fire...when your arms are just a little too cold!"
and
  •  "Charlie* begged for one for Christmas...and he got it!!!"  
*Charlie is like 6 years old

etc...

So I've composed a list of 13 reasons why the Snuggie is possibly the LAMEST gift this side of the Chia Pet. Please to enjoy.

1) When you put it on, you look like this...


    2) It's about as provocative as a flannel nightgown... which is to say, you will NEVER have sex again

    3) The Snuggie is just a robe... but backwards... and less flattering

    4) Answering the phone while covered with a blanket is not a difficult task. Nor is, say, watching television, knitting, cuddling, or reading...If you have trouble doing any of the aforementioned, perhaps your problems are bigger than those solved by adding sleeves to an already functioning object...



    5) Comfort is never a good excuse (see: Crocs)

    6) Long sleeved shirts provide the same solution and won't mortify friends and family members when worn in public

    7) Any garment that has a cult following should be avoided

    8) Wearing, covering with, or generally participating in, anything for the sake of matching your dog should be ruled a crime against humanity




    8.5) Dogs have fur. No Snuggie required.

    9) It's called a "Snuggie"... does anyone else have a problem with this? Is baby talk a widely accepted marketing tool now?

    10) The competition is called "The Slanket"... enough said

    11) If you are able to complete your Christmas shopping at the local drug store, and you do NOT belong to a family of prescription drug abusers, you are a terrible gift giver




    12) There is something fundamentally wrong with anything that claims to be One Size Fits All

    13) It's a "blanket"... "with sleeves"... The Snuggie is the biggest scam pulled on the American public since Dry Cleaning

    To those of you who have decided to drink the kool-aid and are happily reading this wrapped in an As Seen On TV fleece-tastrophe, I ask, why stop there? Perhaps flipping a light switch has become daunting and clapping is the perfect solution. Maybe you're bored with your regular old house plants and you long for shrubbery that resembles an array of zoo animals or cartoon characters. Rest easy knowing that some chode is out there right now counting his millions, as his sinister chuckle echoes throughout the palace you helped pay for. And you, my friend, are at home in the fashion-free zone looking like a gihungus ass-hat for the low low price of just $14.95...