Cracked iPhone, Cluttered Mind

It happened. I did it. I cracked my brand new iPhone 4 screen. For any of you who have an iPhone, you know this is both a devastating and traumatically frequent event. This being my first time, I wasn't aware of the mental process. Considering I'm already the most melodramatic person ever, you can imagine 'the my life is over' attitude I adopted.

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Either way, I figure that shattering your iPhone is a feeling similar to losing your child at the mall on a Saturday and discovering your bank account is in negative numbers.

Stage one: utter panic coupled with a knot in your stomach and feeling like the world is crashing around you. In this stage, you have no idea what life will look like beyond the current trauma.
Stage two: attempt and rationalization at trying to fix the situation. During this phase, you are ignorantly positive about the outcome of the situation.
Stage three: realizing that you cannot, in fact, immediately turn the situation in your favor. Panic ensues, this time coming back in the form of snapping violently at anyone that tries to tell you 'it's going to be OK.' As a matter of fact, the simple phrase it's going to be OK, just might send you into a raging, cursing, outburst. Something that starts with, 'it's NOT going to be OK!!!!!!!!!!!!'
Stage four: get wasted. Apathetic mood sets in.
Stage five: wake up feeling like more shit than you did pre-iPhone destruction. In this stage, a part of you thinks what happened was a horrible nightmare, but your gut is saying it is real life, and real life sucks.

Well after 24 hours of feeling pretty sad for myself and my sorry phone that I admittedly think has capacity for human emotion, I decide to take action.


I have a lot of opinions about The Apple Store. HOWEVER, my negative feelings about The Apple Store have ADD. What I mean by this is, any complaints about The Apple Store tend to lose focus when presented with something shiny. Play this scenario out: you bitch about how long it's taking to talk to a 'Genius', how expensive something is, how many people are in the store, how hot and smother-y it is, and the high concentration of nerds that are better than you. As your mind is going off in a violent tangent at the ridiculousness that is The Apple Store, you see something that sparks your eye. Eh, maybe I'll just look at this. But I still hate it. Tap, tap, tap. Slide, slide, slide. Click, click....oh, wow....cool...that's...OMG! THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING I'VE EVER SEEN. YOU MEAN I CAN _________WHILE I _______???!!!?!?!?! MY QUALITY OF LIFE WILL SEVERELY SUFFER IF I DO NOT OWN THIS. At this point, The Apple Store is the best thing that has ever happened since Nintendo 64 and you are SOLD. Even though The Apple Store has caused you more anxiety in the last 20 minutes than you had during your entire first interview, you cannot live without it and must convert your entire technology collection into Mac products, TODAY. You have officially drank the purple drank that is The Apple Store. 

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The point is, I'm not going to complain about The Apple Store because, inevitably, I will look like an asshole. Currently using: iPhone, iPod, MacBook...need I go on?


Apple has the genius-ness of creating products that cause utter euphoria in their users, and when these products fail to work as we want them to, users experience pure anxiety and are completely helpless until their product is returned to a functioning state.


So I go to The Apple Store in Houston and put on my best pouty face, bat my eyelashes and hope for the best. I am embarrassed how many times I've used the line, 'I just moved to Houston.' Lucky for me, this Genius was a total sucker. I got a total iPhone replacement and didn't pay anything.  As a result, I'm feeling much more at ease with a crack-free phone. Anxiety relived. For now.

digitaldaily.allthingsd.com

Welcomes for the free advertising, Apple, Inc. Kudos. 

The Daily Grind

So I don’t know what is happening with America but Fridays always seem to stress me out more than any other day of the week. Isn’t the opposite supposed to be happening?

About a month ago, I was having THROBBING MURDER POUNDING pain in my tooth/jaw/head. This went on for several days and it was maddening. At the time, my only rationalization was that I definitely had a brain tumor. Intense pain mixed with a new life with a dash of my inherent paranoia makes me slightly irrational. Being new to Houston, new my job and unsure whether or not my health insurance had activated, this gave me substantial anxiety. When I had just about enough, I end up going to a Lady Dentist and spending a good portion of time taking X-rays and sitting with my mouth open, thus making my jaw and head throb in even more intense pain. After a couple hours, Lady Dentist reveals to me the geniusness that would cure me, I was GRINDING my teeth at night. First of all, I can’t even say grind without getting the hee bee geebies. Second of all, WHAT FOR? WHY ME?? Lady Dentist tells me in her doctor voice that most often, teeth grinding is a result of stress. For me, this is probably caused by significant life changes such as moving and starting a new job. So she gives me some muscle relaxers (which I’ve realized is a doctor’s way of saying, chill the fuck out) and sent me on my merry grinding way. Eventually, the muscle relaxers gave me stress-less sleep and the MURDEROUS pain went away. I assumed my grinding issues were behind me. Look how stress free I am!

 

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WELL. Last night around 3am I wake up to boyfriend handing me a cup of water. My first impulse is WTF but my second impulse is, what do you want me to do with THAT? He says in total desperation, ‘here, please take a drink.’ So I’m like garrrr whaattt?? whyyy?? And he says, you are doing something with your mouth, here. Apparently that was good enough reason because I took a drink and went to bed, hydrated nonetheless.

So this morning getting ready for work this comes back to my memory and I'm trying to remember if it was real life or a dream....so I’m like, skkkkkkkirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrttttttttttttttttt … boyfriend, WTF was that? He says I was grinding my teeth so loud it woke him up. What you need to understand at this point is that boyfriend sleeps through anything. Examples:

Did you hear the storm last night? Nope.

Did you hear that car alarm last night? Nope.

Did you hear that dog last night? Nope.

Did you hear the bomb under your pillow? Nope. 

Did you hear aliens land on the roof and abduct me? Nope?

‘That clicking noise woke me up.’

?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

So apparently I’m stressed out again and now I’m having anxiety about the anxiety I may or may not be having and WTF is this doing for my teeth and brain??

NO. 

wemetatcrabracing.wordpress.com

Sorry I'm Not Sorry?

So another significant thing I’ve noticed about Houston is that in media and social settings, anything goes. It seems to me like Oklahoma City is pretty safe, in terms of what the media discusses and what is deemed socially acceptable for a reasonable person. OKC pretty much stays under the radar. What I mean by this is…you can’t fart in Oklahoma without offending someone. Either Houston gets offended by very little, or no one gives a shit enough to censor anything. Ain’t no shame in the Houston game.

There is a morning radio show in Houston that I sometimes listen to on the way to work and occasionally they have a feature called ‘What You Doin’ at the Courthouse?’ Yes, the exact title. You don’t realize how much it hurts me to type botched grammar. You cannot make this shit up. Take a second to really soak that in. Basically, the premise is that one of the hosts of the radio show posts up outside the downtown courthouse and interviews people, asking them why they are at the courthouse to begin with. This is quite possibly the most intrusive radio feature of all time. It also happens to be amazing and something that I have found myself to be addicted to. One of those things that you hear and your ears perk up and you instantly turn up the radio, like the opposite of what you do when you hear Ke$ha. Although the answers are hilariously random and perfect, there are definitely some common denominators. Such as: 1) it’s never their fault 2) their grammar is questionable 3) they think they’re going to be famous, and never hesitate a shout out. This isn’t The Price is Right people, you’re going to jail.

Well listening to ‘What You Doin’ at the Courthouse?’ this morning got me thinking, several times a week I come across something random and think, ‘that would never happen in Oklahoma.’ Last week, I was looking online for some parties/bar events going on for Halloween. And let me tell you, there is a plethora. So I’m reading and see something about a swingers’ party. Cute, a costume, Halloween-themed, swing dancing class! Maybe boyfriend and I could…wait…no…I think that’s…OHMYGAWDDD…Yes. A legitimate Halloween party for those who swap spouses. Not only that, but it is advertised and promoted on a very popular Web site in Houston. Maybe I’m the most naive person ever, but, WTF. EW?

In addition to this, there are sex shops everywhere, a strip club called ‘The Church,’ (see what they did there? ‘Honey, I’m going to Church on my lunch hour today.’) liquor is sold in gas stations, and alcohol in Hobby airport has a to-go option. 

This is the shit that dreams are made of.

Did I mention liquor is sold in gas stations? You know what is also sold in gas stations? 40s. Not just 40s, COLD 40s, in a cooler, with ice. Drink and drive much?

Are you offended yet?

Me either. This is fascinating.

UPDATE: An instructional article outlining the basics of buying your child their first gun. This is too much. 

Favorite Sons Club

kudos:  http://tirashandmade.blogspot.com/

So I read a recent article that discussed how parents are harder on their daughters than on their sons. Well, I would just like to say 1) wtf? and 2) I have been saying this for years. I originally thought it was just the fact that I’m the oldest, prettiest, or my brothers are the best liars of all time, and those are all true, but now I think it’s mainly because I’m a GIRL. Growing up, I got away with NOTHING and my brothers got/still get away with EVERYTHING. In related and more general news, when boys fuck up its charming and funny when girls fuck up it's pathetic and going to ruin everything. Maybe I'm jealous? So what. If I knew then what I know now...

If you don’t have a brother, stop reading. I kid, I kid. Keep reading, this is famousness. We've all felt a little jealous at one point or another of our siblings' ability to sway our parents. Whether it’s a brother or younger sibling, don’t you find yourself in a constant state of WTF in regards to everything they get away with? I tell ya, tis murdah.

I’d like to give you a couple of examples of the differences in boys/girls upbringing. Feel free to comment any experiences you might have in this area. This is therapy, people. Let it out. The quotes are what parents might say, if you aren’t catching on. Exclamation points for happiness, periods are for sarcasm/epic disappointment. Disclaimer, this might be a slight exaggeration.

Drinking in high school

BOY: “Oh silly boy! Yay, you have friends!”

GIRL: “You’re ruining your life. Grounded.”

Having several significant others in a short span of time

BOY: “Oh, he’s such a ladies man!”

GIRL: “Oh she’s such a slut.”

Having a meltdown/going ape-shit directed at another family member

BOY: “He has a bit of a temper”

GIRL: “She’s on her period."

Getting in a car accident/speeding ticket

BOY: Boy’s will be boys!

GIRL: WTF?!!! OUR INSURANCE??!!!

Spending all your parents money and making none of your own

BOY: “He doesn’t have time to work. You know, he’s so involved.”

GIRL: “Getcho broke ass a job!”

Not dating anyone for an embarrassing period of time

BOY: “You don't need a girlfriend, you're better off. Have fun!!”  

GIRL: "You need a boyfriend."

The passive-aggressive ‘what’s for dinner’ question

            BOY: Well, what do you want? Imakeyousomething!!

            GIRL: You’re an adult, you can make something.

PS: My parents never really said any of this.

PPS: I adore my brothers, even if they are shitheads who get away with everything. 

PPPS: Have you noticed how much I love italics?

cheesy quote of the day that makes me warm inside

Guido Culture

Monday, Monday, Monday. Arghh. If I get one more email that has that ridiculous freaking red exclamation mark, I’m going to throw myself down the stairs. “This email was sent with high importance.” Who the fuck says? You are not highly important to me and neither is this email. Delete.

Do weekends ever make you more tired than you were before? Me too, always.

This weekend boyfriend and I met some fellow recent college grads at a sports bar on Washington called Brixx. We like this place because it is a laid back football crowd rather than a clubby scene of Guido juicehead monsters. There is a much larger juicehead population in Houston than I had anticipated. I figured being in the South I was at a safe distance from Guido Culture. Wrong. They bounce their way through the Houston club scene and party-boy on babes at the gym. Consequently, I hear enough of them growling and grunting at the gym, I’m really not interested in seeing their mating rituals on the weekends as well. Neighborhood bars are much more predictable and safe.

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Most of the neighborhood bars in Houston are open air so we sat outside and because it is October in Houston, it was 90 degrees so we got molested by an industrial fan that misted water periodically. This was fun for like 5 minutes.

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Mmmm…Relaxation.

Either way, a few draught brews in, I hardly notice the man-eating fan.

I’ve realized that working 8-5 makes day drinking extremely socially acceptable and borderline necessary. What I’ve also realized is that Houstonians party, EVERY NIGHT. The youth of Houston finds reasons to party seven days a week no matter what responsibilities they may or may not have. I imagine they are all heirs and just shit one million dollar bills and that enables them to party every night and neglect all grown up-isms. I think this is because I'm jealous. The reasons, I’ve observed, are as follows:

Friday = obvious, unless you’re a cop or a nurse.

Saturday = College football

Sunday = NFL

Monday =NFL

Tuesday = it’s almost the weekend?

Wednesday = hump day. ha ha, get it? Because HUMP?

Thursday = honorary weekend day 

Obviously, boyfriend and I aren’t cool enough to take the seven day party route, but we do what we can to conform. Saturday was one of those days. Our Brixx group consisted of a people from my college, several from his high school and then some misfit college grads new to Houston (why I don’t categorize myself into this group? Because I’m writing this, fuckers. I get to be who I want). Regardless of who belongs where, we all proceed to get completely shat-faced. It’s pretty obnoxious how a group of semi-strangers can turn into best friends after everyone has had 11-16 beers. See? It was that easy to make friends. After an expensive bar tab and lots of drunken over-share, we stumble over to a mutual friend’s house to repeat the pattern. Sophistication.

Either way, the whole day/night was a blast. I feel like I am starting to belong to a small niche of people here in Houston, and isn’t that everything? Having a sense of belonging can really do wonders for your psyche.

Sorry this was a bit all over the place. Rainbows and butterflies!

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Catch Me if You Can

So...I am extremely kind of addicted in to running. No, not that treadmill shit, that's just cruel. The outdoor, pound the pavement, murder your joints, endure ridiculous weather conditions, old-fashioned running. It's been my happy place for years and since I've moved, I've found much solace in running. I have used running as a way to find my way around and sort of explore what I don't see driving to and from work every day. Unfortunately, when you're working 8-5 and no one in your office takes a lunch, there leaves little time to run. So for the past couple months, I've been trying to stay committed to running before work. It's been working out pretty well but the only down side is that it's dark outside when I run. Well, I'm used to Oklahoma City where you leave your house unlocked, your cars open with the keys in the ignition and all your valuables in your mail box. So I thought nothing of it and actually felt it to be therapeutic. Turns out, big cities come with big crime and boyfriend decides it's time to make a change in my routine. If I'm going to be running in the dark I can at least not be a dumbass about it. OK. FINE. So we went to Academy and got some gear in order for safer 5am Houston running. 

So what I end up with is:

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And something like this: 

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So the next morning, I get all suited up in my gear and find that the mace makes me feel EPICALLY EMPOWERED. This also makes me run faster. But a really big part twinge of me just hopes someone will jump me so that I can ninja them and save the world and be famous. 'Mobster attacks runner; she attacks him back and kicks his ass, breaking his legs' famousness. I have reenacted this several times in my head. 

So what I feel like is this: 

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RAAWWWWWRRR IF ANYONE MESSES WITH ME I PROMISE YOU THIS RUNNER'S MACE WILL SHOOT AT YOU LIKE A VELOCIRAPTOR AND MOLEST YOUR CORNEA, BLINDING YOU FOREVER. 

But some part of me still thinks I look like this***: 

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***With a reflective vest on

But, now boyfriend and mom sleep better at night and I still don't give up hopes of ninja-ing the first criminal that has ever been awake at 5am. 

Offensive Driving

Well, I guess I should start with the obvious. For any of you who have been to Houston, you know the traffic is obnoxious. That’s actually a really polite way of saying, wtf? Even more charming are the radio traffic report every morning and evening. Like, really? Let me do you a favor, Houston radio, and just let you know where there’s not traffic. Because that doesn’t exist. “Hey it’s so and so from blah blah radio station, traffic in the Houston area is everywhere and were seeing slow downs on every highway. Now here’s Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream for the 6^th time this hour.” What a waste of time.

So, traffic is an obvious hurdle of any big city. I truly wasn’t surprised or taken off guard by the mass car stoppage twice a day. What I was completely shocked by was how blatantly rude Houston drivers are. Just, not nice in any way. And maybe it hurts my feelings? Maybe I take it personally? For example, are you ever just in one of those really random good moods while driving? The radio is blaring, and it’s probably something embarrassingly girly, and it might be Alanis Morissette? So your driving, dancing, looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling empowered and on top of the world, and you are in traffic because you’re in Houston, and some desperate little Toyota Corolla is giving you the mad blinker because they need in your lane. So, you happily let them in, taking a pause from singing horribly loud and just silently dance for a second. AND THEN. YOU WAIT FOR IT…WAIT FOR IT….WHATTTTTTTTTTT?????????!!!!!! THAT MOTHERFUCKER DIDN’T WAVE TO ME. WHERE THE HELL IS MY ‘THANK YOU’ WAVE? I’LL TEACH THAT LITTLE SHITHEAD WHAT’S UP. And then you proceed to ride their ass until one of you exits and in that moment, you pass them and give them the evil stare down of their life. As if looking at them is going to make them all the sudden smile and send a thank you card to your office. Mood ruined. Music is off.

Well enough of this behavior and boyfriend decides it’s time to teach me a thing or two about driving in Houston. Apparently, I drive too nice and far too cautious. Well, boyfriend happens to be the most aggressive driver in the history of all aggressive drivers. You know how driver’s education teaches you to be a defensive driver? Boyfriend is an offensive driver. At any rate, I could use some Houston driving tips so I’ve been paying attention. After a few months of driving in Houston with him, I’ve gathered a few important tips:

1) If someone honks at you, no matter whose fault it is, you violently give them the middle finger for their injustice

2) If someone is going the speed limit, they are assholes and deserve for you to ride their bumper until they move over.

3) Driving a truck gives you permission to be a dickhead to anyone with a smaller car.

4) Cut everyone off. 

5) Any parking spot is fair game. And you should whip into it like you’re a Nascar driver. 

6) "One way" really translates to ‘do whatever the fuck you want’ 

7) "Stop" really translates to ‘do whatever the fuck you want’

Welcome.

visithoustontexas.org

Recent college grad and even more recently an immigrant to Houston, Texas from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. I work in advertising in Houston and find the city and my unexpected life changes to be quite hilarious. So amusing, in fact, that I made the narcissistic decision that they were blog-worthy. This city just gives me a creative mind-rape because of the outstanding mental illness of the human race so I needed a way to put all my thoughts and observations into one place. So for the 3 of you that care of the happenings in what I like to call Houston, Mexas, thanks for reading. I'm impressed you got this far. Here goes...