Senseless

Yesterday God took a healthy baby boy weeks before he was to be born.  So many words come to mind: surreal, devastating, and heartbreaking.  But the word that resounds with me when I’m at my angriest for my family’s loss is senseless.

God chose the senseless act to take a life before it could even begin.  Before we could say hello to him, before we could hear him laugh for the first time, before we could swaddle him, and spoil him - but not before we could love him. 

I sit here, miles away from a grieving family, and I can’t help but be amazed at how affected we all are for a little man we haven’t yet had the chance to meet.  Doesn’t that almost sound senseless?

Life is a miracle that unites us all.  And maybe death is too.

The only time death can truly be senseless is when nothing is learned or taken from it but grief.   Death is a lesson in strength and character.

It’s a lesson in love.

What Do You Mean the Next Stop Is Hell?

I've never claimed to be normal.  Well that one time I tried, but then I swear I could hear god lighting a match to set me on fire, so I quickly took it back.  I wonder though, are the things that amuse me really that weird, or am I just the only one admitting to it? 

Here is a list of things that make me laugh.  Feel free to add your own to it or comment on mine.  Hell will be more fun with company.

1. People falling. OK, this one makes most people laugh, but I didn't want to scare you away too quickly.
2. People in my office who look like Kenny Rogers and are not male.
3. Ugly babies.  This one is extra funny because the parents almost never know.  So they excitedly introduce me to their kid, but in my head all I hear, is "This is our new pride and joy....SLOTH."
4. Joirds (joined words).
5. Porn. Although this is a 50/50 cuz sometimes I'm just impressed.
6. The word salami and especially the plural of it.
7.  The Bloggess
8. Angelo the Cat. He's so terrifying and odd. And every grown man who as even encountered him won't walk into my house alone. 
9. Listening to fat middle aged men talk about how hot their female avatars are on their computer games. Oh, at work.
10. Owning up to the fact that I watch Glee now
11. Watching people from other States watch 2 jersey people converse.  They look scared from all of the hand gestures and loud talking.
12. THIS and the friends who tweet about it.
13. Creating lists that end on a random number.

At least “self absorbed” is still true?

Yeah…not only am I terrible at blogging in any consistent manner, but now my blog is also a web of deception.  I’m no longer Jaime Mac, I’m Jaime-FER [said like a drunk, retarded person might say Jennifer]. 

Thanks to my house being done and the wedding out of the way, I also am no longer over-scheduled. But please don’t think that’s gonna free up my time for more than 1 blog posting a quarter.

But if there’s one thing you can count on with me – it will always be self absorption.  I’m pretty much the neatest person I know.

This wasn’t that funny, so I put this funny picture. LAUGH MONKEY.

I look like Hugh Hefner. Neat.

Men accused of wrestling python outside McDonald's

Oh how many things could be wrong with one little headline? 

FOUR. I counted.

1. Wrestling python: I always thought wrestling involved arms and legs.  A python can't pin you down for the count of five.  He has no way to win this match....unless it's until death.  Then my money is on the python.

2. Accused: What more proof do you need than 50 horrified obese onlookers?

3. Men: As in there is more than one idiot doing this.

4. Outside McDonald's: Um hai, there are delicious cheeseburgers and fries in here or a giant python outside. That's when you know you have to check your priorities.   

Here's the actual article, which adds even more humor to the story because they actually stole the python before walking up to McDonald's and tag teaming it. That sounds wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.  Which is why I'll leave it as-is. Because it makes me laugh and this is my blog. So I do what I want. When I want. Cuz I want.

XOXO,

Jaime

The Crazy 13: A Pre-Aruba Tale

I leave for my bachlorette party in a few days.  You know, just *12* of my craziest closest friends taking me to Aruba for a long weekend to celebrate my pending nuptials. 

Side bar: I totally make a vow to jot down the funny things that are sure to occur while we are away and blog about them on my return 

Allow me to give you insight into the motley crue group I’m traveling with so that you can fully understand why I’m excited and terrified at the same time – excitified?

Angela – FILMS everything we do and then puts it on youtube. Probably *the* most dangerous one in the group.  She has single handedly removed any chance of any of us ever running for president some day with her incriminating footage. 

Bird – My partner in crime in the trouble causing department. I’m fairly certain you’ll be bailing us out of an Aruban (<-is that a word?) prison before the weekend is over

Larry – Oh yeah, Larry will be there too.  Probably for punching a cop in the face. Or sexually harassing hitting on him.

Natalie Ray – The fast and furious drunk of the group.  She will be drinking before most of us are awake!

Kristle – I actually think Kristle will be the only reason we make it ANYWHERE on time.  She’s clutch to have in such a big group.

Erwin – Will make sure the party does not end. I guarantee she will be the first to yell “Just one more drink before we leave!”

Diane – Our resident beer sports enthusiast and happy go lucky drunk

Harv – My work wife and also one of the funniest people in attendance.  She’s insane awesome simply for the reason that she goes along with all of my crazy schemes

Rach – The “quiet crazy” type.  I once watched her break out in fluent Spanish in a graveyard, just CUZ.  Seriously people.

Aimee – If my cat was a person, he would be Aimee. Prone to random acts of violence or break out dance parties. 

Nikki –The sweet heart of the group.  She usually isn’t responsible for starting the trouble, but she’s always down for being part of it

Rosie  – Always well meaning, but just a little *too* happy about weird ass shit.

And then of course there’s me.  If you’ve read this blog AT ALL you would know I’m the icing on this cake full of crazy.

All in all, I’m pretty effin lucky to have so many women in my life who would hop a plane to Aruba for me.  I’m a HUGE advocate for women needing women in their lives.  

Every one of these chicks has touched my life in an amazing way and helped shape who I am today.  So much of my confidence, happiness, and sense of humor are based on the times we’ve shared and the knowledge that they’ll always be in my corner when I need them.  

PS - As I was pushing my last post live Rachel and Harv sent me this email:

Subject line:  Rachel & I are working really hard...

Also, we’re really easily amused by the emoticon’s in MS Communicator.

 

NOW do you get it? 

XOXO - 

Jaime Mac

Caught (Unfortunately) on Tape

These are not recent occurrences in my life, but they do give a little insight into who I am.  And isn't that the point of a personal blog?  If I could give you one piece of "life advice" it would be: Don't get caught on tape. 

Youtube is like crabs. It's uncomfortable, ain't going anywhere, and anyone who knows about it WILL want to see it and laugh at you.

Whitest sock puppet rap in town.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IByTwemTiCE

First Wine Club Meeting - the night my vision for a club came true

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUF126wr0JA

Jersey Shore Themed Wine Club - the night I realized I suck at clubs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8MjQXEYz9M

Keep it classy. 

XOXO,

Jaime Mac

I’m not that badass, Gmail.

Dear Gmail,

Gmail "gets" me.

I’m wondering why based on the content of my emails you feel that my biggest concerns today will be KNIFE THROWING?  You clearly read my emails and decided terrorizing friends at my bachlorette party could be made better with a high-quality throwing knife.  

It makes me wonder if my weekends always look this horrifying from the outside? 

I can't think about that now though - I gotta to go look up some quality throwing knives to get through airport security for our Aruba trip in two weeks!  None of that cheap shit for me, thanks. 

I'll let you know how it goes!

(no, I won't)

(I might, if it's good)

(If you know me at all, a Bail Bonds ad would come in handy next)

Dear God - I'm sorry?

Ever had a priest flirt with you?  I did last night and trust me, it’s definitely as double hawk [awkward] as it sounds.  My question is, does smiling back help me get into heaven or throw me on a fast train to hell? 

I mean a priest should have some pull with the big dude upstairs right?  But then another voice in my head just shouts, “He’s a PRIESSSST”.  Then another voice in my head would tell THAT voice, “But he started it”.  This debate continued the entire meeting with the priest, so I pretty much missed anything he said. 

I miss the simpler days of religion - when all it had to do with was money. 

XOXO,

Jaime Mac

My Ten Things

How many times did you want to say something to someone, but didn’t?  Were you scared to hurt the person? Push them away? Pull them in too close?  Maybe it was just that you couldn’t find the right way to put it?  Today I’m listing ten things I wish I could say to ten people because it’s high time I start opening my mouth….that’s what she said.

**********************************************
1. You are my very best friend.  I want nothing more in life for you then to be happy and independent.  You have the strength for both.

2. You were the first of a small group of my friends I consider a “forever friend”.  I’m sorry for pushing you away in college and thankful everyday that you learned to see a little of my side and forgive me for my flaws.  One of my favorite things about us is that we don’t need to talk often to know the other is still there if ever we need it.  I know I’m lucky to have you and your support in everything I do.

3. I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone else in this world, yet I still don’t feel like I’ve said enough.  

4.  I’m worried about you.  I want to look you in the eye and tell you to slow down and think about your choices.  I haven’t said it yet because I can’t find the words that will make you listen, but I know I will soon. 

5. I forgave you when I was 11- before I even understood your choice- because I loved you. Your actions forever changed me.  They made me too protective of those I love. 

6. I hope someday to have exactly what you have.  You show me everyday that love is real and solid and give me hope for my future.  

7. You drive me up a wall, but only because I let you.  

8. I’m terrified every day that I’ll lose you the same way I lost another.

9. I resent the fact that you are a better person than me.  I struggle to understand why you love me some days, but I’m thankful you do - because you make me a better person too.

10. Thank you for loving me as your own when you didn’t have to, when I wouldn’t let you.

XOXO-

Jaime Mac

I declare a change is needed!!!!!

…to work emails.  Well, more specifically – their subject lines.  How many emails are we bombarded with every hour?  Between personal and work, I am continually checking 3 different email accounts a day.  

I asked myself if emails arrived at all 3 at the same time, which would I check first? Guess work email…YOU LOST.  Loser.

Yeah ANYTHING that arrives in my Yahoo! (yeah it’s embarrassing to admit I still have a yahoo email) and my Gmail (totally redeems me for the first one) is automatically a 1000% better.  You might think, well that’s because your friends email to those.  You’d be wrong. Loser. I jest.  

In actuality most of my friends email me on my work email. So why then?  It’s the subject lines.  They are sooo much catchier on my personal email.  They are witty, personalized sales pitches dedicated to grabbing my attention.  And guess what? I love it.  OR else I would have unsubscribed already.

My point is, try as I might, I can’t unsubscribe from your boring, rambling work email.  So can we least try to improve them?  Make the subject line hilarious, random, terrifying, and/or inappropriate.  I don’t care, just make me want to open it!  

I’ve come up with some that I plan to begin using today:

A maelstrom is a very powerful whirlpool.

I have 7 eyes.  Do you know where the other 3 are located?

Robot masters the robot dance.  Check it out!!

Check out my latest blog post (you a-holes BETTER open that one.)

-Jaime Mac

PS: It’s social media day.  In honor of it, I graced you with a new posting.  Lucky.

How to start a wine club

I debated titling this "How to make alcolholism socially acceptable".  

My wine club came from my failed attempt to join a book club.  I never went to a single meeting, because I never read the book.  After 3 missed meetings, they stopped including me.

Still, I was sad when I was shunned out of book club because I had been excited to meet new people, socialize, and laugh.  I LOVE to read just about anything until you tell me I have to read it. Then suddenly it's worse than a trip to the dentist.

But tell me I HAVE TO drink wine with my best friends and suddenly I'm not so quick to push back.  Viola! WINE CLUB was born.

The rules are simple:
1. Don't talk about what happens at wine club
2. Create a face book page - if you're nerdy enough to start a wine club, you're nerdy enough to follow this rule
3. The host picks the topic and supplies "sobering" apps - topic's can range from type or region to funniest label
4. The guests bring the wine or get the fuck out. That second part is more of an "unsaid" rule
5. Everyone takes turns talking about their wine while those around them get sloshed on it - this also usually means we end up shouting over the speaker to talk to each other about the wine. It's cool. Embrace the chaos.
6. The person closest to sober takes notes and posts to the facebook page - our notes have gone a bit...downhill.  Check out our facebook page to see.

If I could change one thing about my HBIC Wine Club it would simply to be that the president/founder should get a crown and scepter.  Hindsight truly is 20/20.

Is it tacky to go buy your own though? As *the* HBIC can I just create a 7th rule forcing the girls to band together and buy me queenly gifts?  Probably. But it seems a little late to enforce such a rule.


So, I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH - get your tiara early and think out your rules ahead of time.  No one likes an unorganized HBIC. 

Good luck with your club and be sure to make me an honorary member!

Jaime Mac

PS - I'm not going to explain the picture up top.  If you expected me, then you are not yet ready to start a wine club.  Rules are invented for reasons. Mostly saving face kind of reasons, but reasons nonetheless. 

Don't Argue With a Weird Person. You'll Never Win.

Nick just asked me why Tank is always running around the house with my underwear.  I told him it's all summed up in my blog post An Open Letter to Tank.  To which he responded, “I’m not reading that voodoo shit”.  Voodoo shit? Did I hear that correctly?  I here I thought I was the weird, dramatic one.  But even I don’t call anything pertaining to the web and social media voodoo.  He also refuses to get on Facebook or check out my twitter page.

So naturally I yelled, “You never listen to me when I talk….viamysocialmediachannels.”

This was followed by a I’m-concerned-for-your-mental-health kind of look and confirmation that I am still the weird one in this relationship.  

 Jaime-47; Nick-0.

Discrimination on a young adult.

Last week I ran into Barnes and Noble to buy a few books I needed.  It was definitely not my proudest moment when I got up to the register and a *sweet* old man smiled and asked “what lucky kid are these for?”

As I glanced down at the 3 Harry Potters and just released Twilight novella I had in my hands, I couldn't help but want to stab this man.  

Why did I want to stab this man I just met? Because his job is to know books.  

And anyone who knows anything about books knows these are classified under the “young adult” genre.  The thought that this MAN could so easily apply a stereotype of the books reader age group is an injustice to shoppers of B&N. 

A stabbing would allow ME – the common consumer – to take a stand on discrimination. It would be my little way of making the world a better place.   

It would also make me feel better for being called out on my cheesy purchases in front of a long ass line. :)

UPDATE: I actually went on B&N’s website.  Twilight is listed as teen reading and Harry Potter under the Childrens section.  I can only assume this is a conspiracy against me for taking a stand against the man.

 

Part genius, part bad ass, and just a dash of ego.

I’m special today. Why? I came up with an email idea that proved very successful - successful enough to be included in a blog from an industry expert.  Um hello…that makes me part genius.  You may be wondering what the other part of me is…bad ass.  Genius and bad ass it’s a killer combo.  I might also have a smidge of overzealous ego, but that’s a story for another posting. 

Today is about my big idea.  It proves that a “big” idea doesn’t have to be big at all. Knowing how attached we are all to our smart phones, I got to thinking about mobile strategy.  Do people really want deals to their phone? The answer I came up with was maybe. And that was enough reason to build a test.

I had my email vendor take a campaign we were already pulling together and design a smart phone optimized version of it.  We sent this version to anyone who had opened one of our emails on a phone in the last year.   The results were pretty astounding.  A 20% lift in open rates.  It was the SAME email,  just better rendering for this type of user.

Although I was not mentioned, nor was I given a tiara or [even an] award for my ideas, I am still pretty proud to see them in writing.  So…here ya go!

Blog Posting:

http://www.e-mailprecisely.com/2010/06/pushing-the-envelope-in-email-design.html#more

Creative sample: http://img.ed4.net/avis/2010/us/savers_37157_0421/3/postcard_mobile.html

Happy reading!

Why I Will Never Be a Stepford Wife.

I originally named this post "An Apology to My Future Husband".  But after reading back, I realize Nick is the root of most of these stories.  

This morning I woke up to Nick complaining that the socks I went out and LOVINGLY purchased for him were too big.  After a brief pause, he then had the nerve to say “Oh well, I’m sure you’ll shrink them when you do laundry”.

I tried to throw a remote at him except I was slightly delayed due to my sleepy state – he wasn’t even in the room when it happened.  And also except that it wasn’t a remote, but a water glass that shattered. Awesome.

I dragged myself out of bed to go get a broom.  When I got to the kitchen I started thinking about all the ways I fail at domestic life.

-          I can’t boil an egg.  Boiled 18 eggs and when I went to peel the shells off about 67% of the egg whites came with it. AND I FOLLOWED A RECIPE.

-          I shrink laundry at least once a week. Although apparently this is good for my sock purchases.

-          I can’t figure out where you buy vacuum bags.  Seriously.  I feel like shop-rite is conspiring against me. I have been looking for vacuum bags for at least 3 ½ weeks and it just dawned on me now [as I type this] to maybe try the manufacturer website.

-          I keep using the vacuum. My house smells like burning dog hair every time I run the vacuum. 

-          I bought Nick awkwardly shaped boxer briefs.  I’m just going not explain this one. Thanks.

-          Nick cut his foot on the glass I left on our bedroom floor while I wrote this list. 

I can't write anymore because I can't think over Nick's shouting.  
Until next time people! -Jaime Mac

Random Weekend Recap

If you know me at all you know that I am a random human being. Allow me to further solidify this concept with a crap I did this weekend segment:

Went and saw an amazing band [Junk Punch] at a local dive bar where I was quoted saying “Tonic is for pussies”.  

 <- Me being bad ass

Continued the night with a dance party in my living room from 2-4:30 a.m. with some really cool people.

Tried to give my dog away after he ate a pair of 6” burlesques heels I had out for the dance party.  Surprisingly, there were no takers.

Life Lesson: Don't drink and try on shoes.

Got bored and decided making and canning jam would be a perfect time killer. So far made 24 jars of jam.  I actually ran out of jars, and already bought the fruit for another 24 jars.  I’m taking bets on whether 8lbs of fruit is destined for a slow, rotting death in my fridge or if I’ll actually remember to go buy more jars.

I also decided on a name for my Jam business if I ever started one: 

Watched the LOST season finale.  Doesn’t sound odd, right? Well it is when the only episode you’ve ever seen is the first one.  Still, feel like I guessed correctly on the ending back then.  So this leads to the last thing I did this weekend:

Confirmed I’m mother-effin- psychic!

An open letter to Tank.

Dear Tank the Dog,

We adopted you about a year ago.  From day 1 you were my dog and, I your master.  I think Nick was a little jealous of those close bonds we formed so early on.  But what did we care?  We had each other.

It hasn’t been all peaches and cream, but you’ve generally been a great dog – with a few exceptions. It wasn’t until early one summer morning that I truly began to realize just *how* much you loved your momma.

I remember the day well.  You were being a terror – refusing to go potty outside, chewing on everything, and sneaking off when I wasn’t looking. I decided to put you in your crate – trying to salvage my last few minutes to get ready for work.

As I dragged you near the crate I couldn’t help but noticed your blankets seemed extra….fluffy. “FLUFFY? That’s odd”, I thought.  But I was determined that you would be spending the day in there wreaking no more havoc on my house.  That is, until something shiny caught my eye.

Upon closer inspection, I noticed a half chewed up picture of me had been lovingly nestled away in your blankets.  Confused, I started to pull both the picture and blankets out.  To my surprise I found a treasure trove of Jaime memorabilia – a dress, 1 sock, the picture, a ponytail holder, 2 different shoes and my favorite bra. And yeah, you read that right - an entire dress was in there.

It was 1 candle short of a shrine.

As I turned around in stunned horror, it was though you just HAD to go the extra step to prove your utter fixation with me. That’s right little puppy, you then proceeded to barf up a bunch of my panties.

There was an awkward moment where we both sat there looking at each other.  You, with a manic love in your eyes.  And me, with a new dawning that you might love me just a little too much.

Since then, you’re panty passion has never wavered.  Why just the other day you chewed on 3 more pair as though it was your own personal doggie feast.  Leaving my yard looking like a screwed up version of an easter egg hunt.

I want to scream “cut it out”! But I’m not disillusioned enough to think this letter will change your ways. Mainly because you are a dog and you can’t read. Now who’s the weirdo??

Sincerely,
 
Your Sketched Out But Ever Loving Momma
Jaime Mac

THIS JUST IN: Living in NJ may cause heart attacks.

I’m not a doctor or anything, I’m just really, really smart.  I kid- I’m not smart either. Did you read my attempt to connect returning shoes to MURDERING KITTENS?  ‘Nuf said.

Although I’m talking about NJ, I prefer to make sweeping, inappropriate and dramatic generalizations about topics.  So it seems fitting to define “NJ” as “the-entire-mother-effin-north-east”. 

NJ people talk fast, drive aggressively, and are some of the most high-strung people I know.  NJ is like a heart attack waiting to happen.  Am I biased because they are also 99% of the people I know? Nahhhhhh.

These hyper-strained tendencies of NJ folks are most glaring when you travel to “friendly” States - a.k.a. anywhere but the-entire-mother-effin-north-east.  For instance, when I went to Denver everyone sounded like Ned Flanders to me.  Every time I met a new person all I heard in my head was, “Hi-diddily-ho, Jaimereenos”. Uh, did some hippy just call me a ho???

Makes me wonder what I sounded like to them? Stabby and aggressive most likely – which is actually pretty awesome.  Although that disproves where I’m going with this post, so disregard how bad ass I am for a second.

My question is why are we in such a rush? I think it has something to do with how hectic we make our lives.  I captain killer flag football teams, start wine clubs, squeeze in martial arts workouts, on top of building a house and planning a wedding.  I’m also constantly trying to make time with friends, get errands done, and work a full time job. 

Most importantly, I try to keep my puppy alive and be a non-absentee fiancé.  Did I just make up a word? Its okay, I totally fail at that last one some days anyhow. Which stresses me out!

No wonder I drink 57 cups of coffee a day. No wonder I always feel like I’m late to my next stop.  No wonder why I’m so freaking anxious all the time. This can’t be healthy – even if the anxiety burns enough calories to put about 4 fat camps out of business.

When I read back through the list of things I do, I can’t help but notice “down time” is not on there.  Maybe the right idea is to kick a couple items off my to-do list and schedule some me time.  Clear my head and re-learn the art of doing nothing.

Maybe with all of this extra time I can take a defensive driving course or learn how to relax with a hobby like bonsai gardening…

AND THEN START A CLUB FOR IT!

Shoe Bulimia Kills Kittens

Anyone who knows me knows I have a love affair with shoes. You need only look as far as my closet to get the idea. TRUST ME when I say this is only a sliver of what I've packed into this closet.

This is why shoe bulimia is so unsettling to me. That’s right, shoe-bulimia.

It’s your standard splurge and purge reaction. I have a friend with this disease. To be clear, I don’t mean “Friend” in the way where everyone thinks I'm talking about myself accept ME because I'm in such crazy denial. No. I'm talking about a *real* friend, but for anonymity purposes we'll simply call her Shaimee Craybrook.

Shaimee will wander around a store buying up gorgeous shoes left and right. Within 10 minutes of her purchase she'll be weighed down by a guilt so heavy, its the equivalent of having eaten 3 ice cream sundaes. This is where she begins talking about why she must return them.

Common lines heard from a shoe bulimic are "I don't have anything to wear them with" or "I already have 2 other pairs like it" and even "they looked better in the store".

To Shaimee [and all shoe bulimics out there], purging these shoes will help her sleep better at night and not have to explain to her hubby why the house bills had to go unpaid. All excuses! And along the way her stories and rationale begin to make her the victim of a rushed purchase.

But shoes are the TRUE victims to this disease. They are the cute, but homeless kitten of the shopping world. Do you adopt pets and return them??? No. Because that's about on par with being a kitten murderer.

No one likes kitten murderers. This is why I had my closet designed to house 75 pairs of shoes. And guess what else, it's FULL. I buy up all the sexy shoes I see with no remorse or second thought.

Why?
Because I'm generous to a fault.

It's a heavy burden to carry, but *someone* needs to think of others before themselves.

The moral of my story is to stop murdering kittens.

Food is totally asking for it if you ask me.

Is it creepy if you can relate to Glenn Close’s character from Fatal Attraction?

I think about food a lot. What can I say? I have a crush on food. To be fair, it’s hard *not* to think about food because it’s everywhere - at home, on every street corner, at every social function. It’s practically begging to be stalked. Food it totally asking for it if you ask me.

This is why dieting is so difficult. My downfall to dieting is that it *requires* me to think about food even more. When we get hung up watching carbs or trying to eat 57 small meals a day, thinking about food can turn into obsession terrifyingly fast. We become Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction intimidating anything delicious in the house. “I will not be IGNORED. Ice cream.”

I really don’t have an answer to this diet-conundrum. The best I can come up with is to keep your brain busy maybe with some hobbies.

Plus, if those hobbies involve burning calories its killing two birds with one stone. AND if those hobbies involve killing a bird... it’s killing THREE birds with one stone. That seems like a VERY efficient use of your time to me.

Regardless, today I am going to do my best to not obsess about food. I’ve got my own, busy life to think about. I don’t even care what food does.

What's that? You heard food was with someone else? Well I'm just going to take a quick ride by food’s house and see if that's true….

Showers – You’re doing it wrong.

Showers of any kind are awkward and boring. Well, except for the kind where you clean yourself. If *those* are awkward and boring for you, then you’re doing it wrong. Just sayin’.

No, this post has to do with baby showers and wedding showers. Don’t run boys! This post will give you some serious insight into girl-world. (I’m probably lying)

I guess back in the day there may have been more of a point to these *stick-a-lavender-scented-candle-in-my-eye-to-get-out-of-sitting-through-another-four-hours-of-present-opening* events. But let’s face it, people get married later and have two-income households. No one needs 187 gifts in one day.

I dread my own wedding shower. Not because I don’t want party with friends and family, but because I know how much I dread these things. When did I become the inflicter of this pain - on my loved ones no less?

But what about those who are always the guest, and never the inflicter of pain? Don’t THEY have a right to impose this pain on their loved ones?

SO NOW IT'S YOUR TURN. Go register for all that crap you have always wanted and throw yourself an un-shower. A shower for just being you. A shower for being a strong, single, wonderful woman.

Why not? I promise to attend and celebrate where YOU are in YOUR life.

And hell, I’ll even bring a gift. I’ve been wondering what to do with this creepy porcelain basket that could serve no other purpose than to hold stale, *chewy* hard candy. ;)


PS: This is dedicated to my bestie bird for being an inspiration to me in more ways than I could ever list.

The good, the bad, the Jaime.

I actually stole this title from a friend who once blogged about me. How cool is that? I thought I was a rock star for 5 whole hours. But slowly it dawned on me, people *still* don't want my autograph. What the eff?

Anyways, this first post is to give you enough background on myself to hopefully make you WANT to read about me, without revealing too much to make make you WANT to turn me into the police or anything - yet. OK, here goes nothing:

I'm planning a wedding into a nutty Italian family. I have a million stories that will make you laugh, cry, and never accept an invitation to an Italians house on Christmas eve. All of which I do promise to share at some point.

I'm also an Email and CRM Marketing Manager for a fortune 500 company within the travel industry and have lots of great knowledge on the topics that they actually pay for me to know. I'm challenged daily to stay at the head of my industry in both maintaining a strong foundation and testing fun, new enhancements. I'll be happy to drop some tips now and again. Or just give a shout out if you have a specific question.

Lastly my "fun" side (and by fun I totally mean random and crazy). I started a wine club called the HBIC Wine Club. That's Head Bitch in Charge for those not in the know. It's pretty much awesome because I get the title of *THE* HBIC and have an excuse to drink to access with all of my favorite people. To counter-act all my boozing ways, I also captain a flag football team and love to try randomly violent workouts like Cardio MMA and SLAM!

Finally, here is a little insight into my personality. For better or worse...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IByTwemTiCE