Desperaux

I'm not sure about you, but I find that NYE (New Years Eve) tends to be an even more desperate holiday than Valentines Day. See, many people can argue that Valentines day was created by Hallmark in order to sell more cards throughout the year, so many people tend to disregard it or use it as a day to celebrate their friendships rather than love interests. NYE on the other hand is something we can't ignore or manipulate - "Sorry, what? It's January 2009? Noooo .. It's still December 1995."

While there's a ton of pressure on "males" (boys, men, gentlemen, dbags .. yes pretty much all of them) to perform on Valentine's Day, it is the tradition that comes with NYE that puts pressure on EVERYONE. The New Year kiss ..

When I think back over my New Year celebrations, the common goal for most of my friends (high school, college, the after life ...) was to find someone for midnight (I'm not saying that I never had that same goal .. trust me, I did). But that goal wasn't satisfied with just a peck ("a kiss"). The underlying meaning of that goal was to have a make-out session .. hook-up .. the rush of being with someone while ringing in the new year. You're considered lucky if you're attached. There are no worries for you - you're guaranteed that thrill.

Since I wasn't attached to anyone this NYE, I started to find myself saying things like "I won't have a new years kiss" or "I'm going to have to hire someone to be my date for the evening". I also worried about what he would be doing. Was he going to have a NYE kiss? Would it be someone he knew or a complete stranger? Would he do more than just something at midnight? I stressed myself out and started to make it a competition in my head. Must . Have . New . Years . Kiss ... otherwise I miss out on "tradition" and lose.

But the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that if there's one thing at all I can be proud to say is that 'I'm not desperate'. If it doesn't happen, well, then it doesn't happen. There is no need for me to 1. make it a competition 2. make myself think that in some way I'm rising to the occasion by throwing myself at someone that I most likely don't have any interest in and 3. what if it was just absolutely terrible? Sure, being single has its benefits (making mistakes, no "responsibility", trying on someone new for a change, etc.), but being single doesn't mean making yourself do something that won't make you proud, happy or feel good because your desperation took over. Plus, no offense, I wasn't about to kiss any of those boys in the bar anyways.

So, as we counted down to midnight (with me standing on a chair), I looked around at everyone - some are attached, some have found new mates, others are pumping their fists and yelling with me and very few are alone. At that moment, internally, I hugged myself because I knew I didn't need a kiss from some boy/dude/guy/man on NYE to validate whether or not my new year was going to be robust, wonderful and fun. Sure, I missed him and he was probably making out with "something" and it made my heart twinge a little bit, but I wasn't about to cry at the fact that I was 'alone' because in reality I wasn't. Here I was on a chair, with my friends that I have been more than lucky to meet and I knew that I could man-up and tell myself it was going to be a good one no matter what. I stepped down from the chair and pecked a good gf, who probably lived up to be the best new years kiss ever .. no regrets & no drama.

It's about being with the people you care about & drinking lots of champagne :)

Aura

Or maybe it should be called "Glittah" because I think there are sparkles in the paint on the outside of the building. Yup, there definitely is.

That should be the first indicator of what you're about to walk in to.

The first time I ventured to Aura, I tagged along with my girlfriend to her fiancee's friends bday party. I was kind of excited to meet his friends and potentially some cute boys, but was instantly let down when I knew they spent more time getting ready than I did.

We finally made it through the glittery walls after a short trip through the 'backwoods' of Uptown. I immediately noticed that 1. I forgot that the dress code was just my santa lingerie 2. I might need to renew my tanning membership and 3. if I were a boy, I'd need to find a seriously good waxer because shaving my face just wasn't good enough anymore. I meekly looked down at my 'winter' skin and fully buttoned silk forever 21 top (I was feeling cute that night too!) and realized I didn't seem to make the cut with this 'elite' Dallas crowd. And normally, for those of you who don't know, I have no problem storming the dance floor, but there was no way I could compete with 'wanna-be' brunette Britney sloshing her wine glass all over her jersey knit dress and girlfriend's sweat-matted hair. Instead I cautiously bee-bopped in our little circle and was only jostled when a "young lady" in a very fitted red dress thought it appropriate to slap my behind not once but several times and yell, "you like that girl!" Needless to say, I was not going back to Aura any time soon and we moseyed on over to Knox St. Pub.

But there I was again at this glittery, uptown, dance-poppin', douche bag crawling, small dress wearing club, guiltily standing at the glowing bar with my girls on both sides, ordering a cherry vodka and soda from the overly large bartender. What I felt even guiltier about was that our names had been on a list to get past the 10 people that actually were standing in line to get in. Which really meant that barely anyone was there; therefore there was no one to compete with on the dance floor. It was soon ours and stayed ours for the entire time we shook our business. It didn't matter what whoo-whoo's and dbags sauntered and creeped around, because none of them could even keep up with the 8 booty poppin' girls and wouldn't dare try. The next day I had muscles that were only sore after a great night of dancing.

So here's my lesson learned: if you're gonna hit the "clubs" .. go with your girls, get there early, forget the dbags, ignore the staring whoo whoo's, shake it like it's no one's business and drink like there's no tomorrow. It doesn't matter where you go - sticking to those fundamentals can make any place fun!

Thanks for a great weekend ladies!

A Kick To The Head

This is the first post that goes out to team MKBC ..

For those of you that don't know, adult kickball is making a "huge comeback". Actually it's just another 'phenomenon' that I've given in to. It's the childhood game that we all loved to play except the players are adults and there's, well ... booze. Check out the website http://www.kickball.com/. I'm not lying it's a pretty big deal and some 'players' take it way too seriously for my taste. I mean serious enough that at a pool party I went to this past summer the boys that were hosting (all of course play on a team together) were talking "strategy". Excuse me, what? It's a Saturday. Let's get over it.

Anyways, at this point in my life I have a love/hate relationship with kickball (as time goes on and I enlighten you more with my life experiences, you'll learn why). I'll be going in to my 3rd season at the end of January when at first I never thought I'd be a part of this hoop-la they call kickball.

My ex and I used to sit at a relatively popular spot for "Dallas locals" and one night a swarm of men and women wearing matching t-shirts came in to the bar. Eventually it got around that they were a kickball team and played in a league through this particular bar. How absolutely lame. What was even more lame (according to my ex) was that they played a game called flip cup. Now, unlike my ex, I was familiar with the drinking game and enjoyed it. It was something we played back home (California, wha wha!) and it made me think that the kickball kids maybe had something going for them. But oh no, we both agreed that these people were totally lame. We sat there laughing and making fun of them, "oooo I'm on a kickball team, I'm soooo cool."

Not more than two months later my ex gave me the news ... "Baby, Brad* signed me up for a kickball team." And not more than another month ... "Baby, can I call you back? I'm playing flip cup." At first he played it off that it "wasn't that cool" and "didn't think he'd do another season", but as time went on he got sucked into the adult world of kickball. I, on the other hand, stood strong and weathered the storm that my significant other had gone against his word and joined ... a cult.

Then I met Brooke. We were placed in the same group for our Advertising Campaigns class - the culmination of our advertising careers (in college). After we had spent hours laboring over "Likewise", I learned that she too was on a kickball team. Groan. Did it ever stop? Did God want to torture me with this lame organization? (Note: I address a lot of my questions to the man upstairs) But if you know Brooke, it sounded like she had a lot of fun and there was something different about her ... she had a life and friends outside of the kickball cult. Goodness, whaaaaaaaaat a concept.

I swear she badgered me in to it. I tried to resist, but she was very very persuasive ... threatening. I took a deep breath and hit submit on my registration form. The phone call to my then-boyfriend wasn't as easy (I'll leave out that conversation for his sake). Fortunately, we were in different leagues, playing on two completely different teams, so it didn't appear to his friends that he was letting his girlfriend 'invade his "me/guys/kickball" time' and we didn't have to play each other. And I would have been embarassed if I did. I sucked. I prayed that our pitcher would strike someone out so there wouldn't be a play in the field, relied on the boys around me catch all of the balls, cussed when we only had 1 out when I thought we had 2 and closed my eyes when I kicked the rubber jelly ball rolling towards me. I was even scared to play flip cup with my team. Instead, I would sit at the bar and eat cheese fries hoping that no one would pressure me into flipping a cup that I would soon realize was my friend.

As the season went on, I eased up a little. My ex was slightly encouraging - giving me tips here and there when we had conversations about how our teams were doing and I made an effort to get to know my team better. I made a point to keep my eyes open when it was my turn to kick and even started to participate in flip cup games. I suprisingly wasn't that bad (thanks to my California training, wha wha!). It felt great to be a part of a team! But game after game I convinced myself that I wasn't going to do another season; that I wasn't good enough to really be an asset to the team or our flip cup winning streak and it was more my ex's thing than it would ever be mine.

And then it wasn't Brooke pushing me to sign up, it was Piper - sending out e-mails and gchatting me up. And theeeeen my mom called ... "Lauren, I just read an article in the newspaper about how kickball among adults is making a come back and a great way to socialize and meet new people - network!" No, really mom? I didn't know that. It was a lot easier to badger me this time. I had a taste in my mouth of a new found world; a world where it didn't matter whether you sucked or were MVP because everyone was too drunk from playing flip cup to remember (at least that's how my team operated). I realized that the point for us was to have fun, not strategize in a pool on Saturday about how we were going to get around having "unathletic girls" on our team and let it consume our lives. That made it a lot more appealing.

So, there I was a few weeks later... staring at the submit button on my computer screen with a credit card in hand debating whether or not I wanted to subject myself to the idea of being a part of the cult for another season. But despite not knowing what would doom upon me in the upcoming season (that's worth several posts that I'm not sure I'll ever write), I gave in to my inner desire to be a part of a team and hit the submit buttom once again. That's how I became a Moose Knuckled Beaver Cleaver. Please, don't ask.

'*' Change of name (although most of you can probably figure it out)

Why God, Why?

Yes, here I am. I have finally given in to the phenomenon known as 'blogging'. A lot of you might ask the familiar question, "why?" And luckily for you all my answer is simple. I want to talk about ... myself.

Kidding.

It's soooooo much more complex than that. I believe it was when I hit puberty that my life went in to full rollercoaster mode and has yet to stop. It's been loop after loop, flip after flip, scary plunges into nothingness and a few corkscrews here and there that have made my stomach turn inside out and jaw drop to the floor. My life is a mess. And oddly enough, I wouldn't have it any other way.

So, what's my point?

Well, we all have a lot of gut wrenching experiences in life and somehow manage to think we're alone; that we're the only people that have ever felt what we're feeling, done what we're doing and have had things happen to us that we'd really like to bury deep in our inner closets and forget ever happened. But H-E-L-L-O ... reality check, we are not alone. There are 6.7 billion people out there and I guarantee that someone else has already done and felt it all before. I'm not saying that person is me (for all I know you could have a body buried in the backyard -- that's waaaay messier than me), but I'm definitely not afraid to honestly share with you all what I have experienced (in moderation .. I need to leave some things for my book :) )

I can only hope that you all will enjoy reading blips about life for a girl from the West coast (California, wha wha!) stuck in Texas. And I promise I won't bore you to death with day-to-day details or pour my feelings out in this blog, but rather provide content about my life and the others around me that you all can relate to and perhaps get a chuckle out of. So stop asking "why?" and just read.

Enjoy!