My So Called Mid Life Crisis.

Have you ever wanted to just drive, until you were tired of driving? On Tuesday I was on my way to work, when I thought to myself, "What if I didn’t get off at my exit? What if I just drove right past it?" Eventually I would end up in Philly, but once I was there, what would I do? Walk down South Street? Sit in Love Park all day, by myself?

Then on Wednesday, I almost broke the sound barrier trying to get to West Chester for a nine o clock meeting. I passed three cops, but miraculously none of them pulled me over. I flew right by a brand new Ford Mustang who was also moving pretty quickly, the driver of which looked at me as if I had absolutely no business driving that fast. Which, of course, I didn’t.

This leads me to ponder: Is this what I was meant to do? Is there something better suited for me out there somewhere that I just haven’t found yet? I tend to believe there is. How do I find it? Should I just keep waiting for it to come to ME? What in God’s name is it?!?!?! I’m getting fed up with the mundaneness that has become a daily routine. How much longer can I live in this rat race? And if I’m having a mid life crisis, does that mean I’m only going to live to be 50? If so, that kinda sucks, because I think I have more than 25 years left in this body of mine.

I really had hoped that 2008 would be a stellar year. So far, it hasn’t been so bad for me.... but sickness, tragedy, and even death have hit some people very close to me. I’ve done my best to try and be there for every single person that’s needed me, but it also leads me to wonder when the extremely bad luck will impose itself of my life. I really hope it’s no time soon, and if you’ll excuse me, I now have to go find the biggest piece of wood on the planet and knock on it.

In the meantime, I have a less stressful dilemma. I recently welcomed a new kitty into my home. I don’t quite know how it happened, I just woke up one morning and I found her in my dining room, much to the dismay of my father who only days earlier laid down a "no more cats, ever" law. So you can imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon the sleeping furball, whom my mother just, "Had to adopt"... whatever. Anyway, she needs a name, and I’m asking you, my friends, to take a look at this picture and give me some ideas. Right now we’re calling her Ichthyosaurus Fluffbucket, because she’s a bucket of fluff that eats plants. It just doesn’t seem like a nice name for a cat. It’s definetly suitable, but it’s certainly not cute. Any help in this matter would be greatly appreciated. And if you give me some stupid shit like "Cutie Pie" or "Kitty Kat" you’re getting punched in the face. Just a heads up.

Friends, just a reminder that I love you all dearly. I thank the Lord there’s people out there like you!

How do YOU measure a year?

I know, I know. 500, 25 thousand, 600 minutes. I know all that already. But really, how DO you measure a year? Is it how successful you were? Is it how much money you made? Is it keeping your "status" in tact with friends and family? Is it how you carried yourself throughout the year? Is is anything that matters?

I know it sounds corny and cliche, but.... how about love? I mean, really?

My hope for 2008 is for us to love each other a little bit better. Maybe we should try to pay a little more attention to each other. Maybe we should take the time to stop and smell the roses. Let's appreciate life a little bit more. Is that too much to ask?

Today I read every blog I've posted here. My first blog was in January of 2006. It's baffling what 2 years can do for you, how much can change in that length of time.

2007 kicked my ass. I have nothing but high hopes for 2008, and I'm entering this year with a positive outlook. Let's put on our party shoes and boogie down.

With that being said, I wish all of my friends a happy and healthy new year. I love you all to pieces. I mean it!

I ask you to remember that tomorrow is not promised. R.I.P. Aimee Gumpper 7/87 - 1/08.

Hooray for holidays.

Ahhhh, the holidays. That magical time of year when we get together with the ones we love and make total asses out of ourselves.

*During the drive to a relatives house, I will inevitably be criticized by backseat drivers who have no business being in a car with me in the first place. My mother will scream at me to make a left, because she's absolutely certain that's the way to go. My father will outscream her and tell me to make a right, whichever I choose will be the wrong choice, guaranteed.

*Family members will rudely ask me about my personal life, because obviously it's their business.

*My mother will say something completely innapropriate at a family gathering and not even care.

*My cat will rip off the face of an unsuspecting young child who just wanted to "pet the kitty" (my cat doesn't like you; please don't touch him).

*Someone will get drunk and fall down the stairs. It will probably be me.

*I will call my cousins boyfriend "Tom" when his name is actually "Joe", not knowing that she dumped Tom 3 days prior for Joe. She will cry, it will be my fault.

*A family member will give me the gift of a shirt that is 5 times too big for me, insinuating that I am a fat cow. I will cry and skip my 3rd helping of dessert.

*Everyone will bring a "dish" to dinner, except for me of course, because I am 25 and can't make toast.

*The Christmas tree will fall over on my 97 year old grandmother, who never saw it coming because she was passed out drunk anyway.

*My relatives who swore they'd be there on time will be 2 hours late, and since it is "rude" to eat without everyone present, I will be forced to drive to McDonalds to get a double quarter pounder, which will end up all over my holiday dress.

My dear friends, I hope your holidays run smoothly, and I hope you get everything you wished for. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white!

Or not, because it sucks to drive in the snow.

My amazing adventures at Costco.

I am not very familiar with Costco. My boss took me there when I first started my job to get a membership and get my picture taken and the whole hoopla, but that was the only time I was ever there. I decided to go back yesterday to get a festive holiday basket filled with goodies. It was kind of a disaster.

First of all, the Costco near my work is in the worst possible location, and it is almost unreachable by car. It is right near 202 and Mall Boulevard in King of Prussia, which is a very tricky spot to be getting in and out of. Once you get there, you realize very quickly that the parking lot is way too small, and that the chances of your car being hit by another car are 99.9%, which is a ridiculously high percentage, but it's true.

Anyway, I found a parking spot and made my way towards the entrance. The first door I hit was the "EXIT" door, but you are not in any way, shape, or form allowed to pass through that door unless you are indeed exiting. So I made my way to the "ENTRANCE" door, to be greeted by a little old man who will not let me enter the store because my Costco card with my ghastly picture on it is not visible. He makes me stand out in the freezing cold to rummage through my purse and wallet until find the card. After about 5 minutes of looking, I would think perhaps he would just tell me to come inside, but no, I must remain outside in 3 degree weather until I find this hideous card. I finally find it, I show it to him, and he lets me through.

Once I get inside, I have no idea where to go. There is no rhyme or reason to this store, everything is everywhere. I make my way over to the spot where my boss took me the last time we were here, which is where I am supposed to find festive holiday baskets. Alas, everything has been moved. In place of the baskets I find a plethora of memory foam slippers and 35 dollar down pillows. I make a mental note of the location of the pillows for future reference.

After wandering aimlessly around the store for 25 minutes, I finally spot the festive holiday baskets. I pick one up to inspect it, only to find out that none of them are marked with prices. I throw a mini temper tantram in the aisle for 5 minutes before realizing that all prices are above the objects. How the hell was I supposed to know? I choose the basket that is within my price range, and I pick it up to see exactly what kind of goodies are inside. And as I am standing there, unmoving in my spot, the ugliest woman I have ever seen drives her cart directly into my body. I am so astonished by this, seeing as how I had been standing there, stationary, in my spot for at least 30 seconds. It's not like she was even going that fast, or like she was coming around a corner and just didn't see me.... nor was I standing in the middle of the aisle, taking up the whole aisle like a big fat cow. I guess she just felt like she could push me out of her way, literally. As the cart struck my left hip, she tried to act surprised, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you." What does she mean she didn't see me? What could she possibly MEAN by that? I had been standing in the same spot for 30 seconds, as she was meandering down the aisle with her cart, slowly inspecting each item in the aisle! You knew I was there, crazy woman, I had been there for at least 30 seconds. I just said, "It's ok" and walked away with my basket. I didn't feel like getting into a fight at Costco.

I made my way over to the registers, and it was a nightmare. Every single person in the King of Prussia area was in the check out line at Costco on this particular day. I picked the slowest moving line possible, of course, and it also happened to be the one with all of the Scrooges in it, complaining that the line was too long. Look, we all know that it's a long line, there is no need to talk about it loudly so that everyone else can hear you. Do you think that will make the line move faster? Because it won't.

I am next in line, and I realize that Costco checkout lines are different than any other checkout line I am used to. Your items go on the belt, you go in one line, and your cart goes in another line. A Costco guy comes and escorts your cart to the other end of the line, where he will stock your cart with your purchases of the day. I get to the checkout woman, and she holds her hand out.... ohmygod, she wants my Costco card. What the hell did I do with it? Did that crazy little man ever give it back to me? Sure he did.... but what did I do with it? I check my wallet, but no, it never made it back into my wallet. I dump my purse out onto the register, but it's not there either... I stick my hand in my coat pocket, and much to my delight, I pull out the card. The grumpy old man behind me is muttering about how long I am taking. I, of course, ignore him because he is old and his opinions do not matter to me. I give her the card, give her my money, and the guy who is stocking my cart THROWS my festive holiday basket into my cart like he is slam dunking a basketball. I make my over to the "EXIT" door, and there is woman there, who will not let you leave the store until she sees your receipt. Of course I've already lost my receipt, even though I just left the register. I find it in my pocket with the Costco card. I angrily shove it in her face, she marks it with a black pen, and lets me leave. I then wonder if there is a final test I must pass before I can completely leave the store and forget this whole horrible experience ever happened. But no, no one checks to make sure that I have a black pen mark on my receipt, so I cross the parking lot to get to my car.

And wouldn't you know, the hideous woman who hit my left hip with her cart has parked her monstrous minivan next to my little car, and she has all of her damn doors open as she loads her ONE item into her minivan. I had to wait for her to close all of her doors before I could get into my car. It is 3 degrees out, and all I want to do is punch this woman in the face.

I drive over to the hotel that I actually bought the basket for (it's a giveaway for a monthly drawing). I take it over to the manager, and as I am getting ready to tell him about my horrific experience, he says, "I don't like that basket".

This is my life.

Screw you Costco, for ruining my day.

Snake!

I swear, every time I try to have a nice relaxing evening, something crazy happens that prevents me from doing so. Such is life.

So yesterday was Sunday, the day I normally use to recuperate from any weekend activites that may have occured. I was watching the season premier of Family Guy, and everything was going quite well. I was sitting in bed, laughing at Stewie's crazy antics, when I hear my mom scream. I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway, and I shouted "Where are you?" She was standing in the kitchen near the basement stairs, but I couldn't see her, I could only hear her. She then screamed, "Gretchen!" (which is me), "Brian!" (which is my dad), "Flash!" (which is my cat), and then "Snake!" (Snake? Did she really just say snake?) She then screamed something completely unintelligable about finding my father and killing a snake, so I did what any person in my position would do.... I ran to find my daddy.

I ran up the stairs to his bedroom, and of course, he's fast asleep, and has no idea of the craziness that's occuring downstairs. I wake him up by yelling, "THERE'S A SNAKE IN THE KITCHEN, MOMS FREAKING OUT!" He's still half asleep, and he says to me, "Did you say snake?" So of course, I yell back, "YES I SAID SNAKE!! WE GOTTA GO!"

So we run down the stairs and my mom is screaming, "Don't come in here! The snake will bite you, he's under the fridge!" The next few seconds were complete pandemonium. I grabbed my cat, who was very interested in the situation, and threw him into my bedroom and slammed the door. My dad grabbed a rubbermaid bin, the kind you would put your summer clothes in to pack them away. He took the lid off of it, handed it to me, and we made our way into the kitchen. Sure enough, there's Mr. Snake, slithering around under our fridge. He must have made his way in through the gap under our side door in the kitchen.... we had it open all day long.

So my dad starts yelling about how it's definitely not a garden snake because it has bands around it, my mom is screaming because she thinks she's gonna die, and I'm holding the top to a rubbermaid bin. My dad slid the bin towards Mr. Snake, and he willingly slithered into it and we slapped the top on like nobody's business. We all took a second to breathe, and then my dad and I came up with a game plan. We are going to release the snake in the woods across from my house. For those that don't know, I live on a pretty major road, and crossing it is not advised at any time, especially at 9:30 at night. But nontheless, we grab our trusty flashlight and head out there.

Other than the fact that my dad is only wearing boxer shorts and sandals, and I can't see shit because I don't have my contacts in, we get across the street with pretty much no problem. My dad tips the bin over, opens the lid, and Mr. Snake slithers out into the darkness. He was about 3 feet long. My dad and I made a made dash back towards the house, we didn't want to stick around and hang out in the woods with Mr. Snake anymore.

So, the moral of THIS story is, praise your pets when they do fun things, like play with snakes. Flash was the one that spotted him slithering around in the kitchen, and my mom went over to see what he was "stalking". If Flash hadn't have seen him, my mom would have stepped right on that bitch. Guaranteed. Because that's just how things work.

Rock on with your bad self, Flash!

It's a train wreck, bitch.

Oh my. Britney Spears. How do I love thee.... let me count the ways.

Your lip synching is amazing, as is your stellar choreography. Did you choreograph that yourself? I bet you did, you little vixen. I especially enjoyed that sexy outfit that emphasized the beauty of your baby fat. I just can't keep my eyes off of you, Britney. Keep doing that sweet thang you do.

Anyway........In case you can't tell, I watched the Video Music Awards last night. I don't want to talk to much about THAT, but I do want to talk about the thrilling programing that MTV has lined up for this fall.

1. Pageant Place. A bunch of beauty queens living in a house together, fighting over lip gloss. Drama ensues.

2. Kaya. A young rocker starlet doesn't know how to cope with her new found fame. Drugs, alcohol, and promiscuous sex? Christ, I hope so.

3. A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. 16 lesbians con 16 horny straight guys into falling in love with them. All this while Miss Tequila attempts to find a boyfriend. I'm wondering why Tila Tequila needs to go on a reality show to find a man.... I need more info. Also, Miss Tequila reveals her huge "secret" to the world... she's bisexual. Is this really a secret? Because I've known this for quite some time now.

Since I dont have enough time in my day to watch all of this fabulous programming, and I can only allocate one new show into my schedule right now, I've picked the one about Tila Tequila. Surprised? Didn't think so. I mean, they all sound good... seriously, these three shows are going to blow My Super Sweet 16 right out of the water.

I don't get no respect!

Do you think if I dyed my hair brown, people would stop treating me like a brainless blonde bimbo? That's the question of the day.

I've never been one to say things like that, but sometimes I guess certain things just have to be said. Now, I am in no way, shape, or form attempting to associate myself with the likes of actual brainless blonde bimbos (such as the "Girls Next Door"). I have never once claimed to be a sexy supermodel with the IQ of a peanut, and I would appreciate it if you didn't lump me into this horrendous category.

All I'm trying to say is that I'm not a total jackass. Don't treat me like one. I'm not going to get on a soapbox and use the old, "I graduated from a great college, I've acheived this or that in my career" bullshit. I'm simply saying that I'm not a fucking moron. So don't treat me like one or you'll get punched in the face. Not slapped, punched. Only bitches slap.

love,
me