A summation of why this weekend (actually just the race) blew.

This is coming a bit late, and most of the world has heard the totality of this story but, because I don't ever want to have to repeat it again, I will let it live on in infamy in the infinity of the internet. (I totally DARE you to say that 5 times fast.)

As I recapped in my work blog post A Lesson in Pride (http://anjasmith.blountblogs.com/) I attempted my third long distance race this past weekend and failed miserably. I dropped out at mile 6. I give all of my excuses on the other blog so I will spare you those, instead, this blog post is going to be about how the cop who picked me up was a jerk. Below is a transcript of the events as they would replay in a dramatic re-enactment:

Setting the scene: I am running, moving at a 4 mile per hour pace, cop car literally riding my ass and just passing mile 6.
Race guy on a bike rides up to me from ahead and says: Are you ok?
Me: I don't know.
Race Guy: You don't look so good.
Me: I don't feel very well.
Race Guy: You need to get into the car (meaning the cop car riding my ass).
Me: (crying) I just don't feel well at all!
I walk back to the cop SUV and go around to the passenger door which the cop opens from the inside. I get in and here the cop talking to bike guy through the window.
Cop: Well where do you want me to take her?
Race guy: Back to the beginning? (with confusion)
Cop: What? That's like seven miles away. (seriously cop? Are you going to follow the race route? It is like two miles away in reality.)
Race guy: Well I will stay with the end until you get back.
Cop: Ok.
Cop then radios in for a backup person to go follow the race route until he gets back. He is driving on the wrong side of the road. And hasn't spoken to me once, let alone seen if I am in any kind of questionable medical condition. We get to the intersection at the end of that road.
Cop: Where do you want me to take you?
Me: If I can borrow a cell phone I can call a ride and you can leave me here.
Cop hands me his cell phone. Never actually looks at me.
I call my parents house, no answer. I miraculously remember my girlfriends cell phone number and she of course, freaks out and I try to tell her where to pick me up. Problem is we are in bumfuck. I lived in Greer for a year and I had no clue where we were. So I say to cop ...
Me: Where is the nearest intersection?
Cop gives the intersection we are at. Blah blah blah blah. So unhelpful.
Me: Is there a landmark nearby I can give her? She isn't from around here ...
Cop: Um. No.
Just then Cris says something about passing Mutt's.
Me: Can you take me to Mutt's?
Cop: Yes.
I tell Cris to meet me at Mutt's and hang up because he is reaching for his phone just as I hear her say she can't actually get to the Mutt's parking lot because of race traffic. Terrific.
We get to the Mutt's parking log. Cop curses that he can't open the door from where he is and gets out to open the door and once I get out promptly drives away. Still hasn't asked me if I am ok ...
So then I start walking in the direction that is most likely where Cris is coming from. Because she can't get to the Mutt's parking lot. About a quarter of a mile down the road I see her sitting in traffic and get in and cry some more.

Way to protect and serve jerk cop. This is why, even though I am not a trouble maker I hate cops. Because they are usually jerks. No offense to my cop friends. :D

I won't ever not prepare for a race again. There were other factors but that was the worst of them. I am already planning my next full marathon, and I will train correctly this time. I know I have it in me! Geez. Other than that the weekend was great!

I HATE YOU PUNKS!*

This post is about me being peeved. Not just the pet kind, but the occasional peeve that pops up out of no where. These "occasional peeves" always seem to stem from punks though. Christy and I have had many a conversation about punks. She says she is already like that old lady who is yelling at kids to get off her lawn. And I can't blame her. Punk kids are destroyers. Case in point: There is a sculpture show in the park behind work right now. Some punk kids vandalized one of the sculptures to the point that it is basically ruined. Someone put their heart and soul and probably a lot of money, into creating this beautiful thing for the public and some kid thought it would be awesome to tear it down. PUNKS! I HATE YOU! It just makes me so mad.

My pet peeve is drivers who don't get over until the last second when they know that a lane is ending. Especially when there is road construction or an accident on the highway and the last minute people are what are making traffic stop and start. Why should you get ahead of me just because you are a less consciousness citizen? You are taking advantage of the system! You think you deserve to get over later so you don't have to be in the slowed down lane! OH I GET SO MAD! My dad is one of those people. And he is proud of it. He gets sick joy out of upsetting me although I think it is out of love in a really perverse way. Anywise, that is my pet peeve. Please, oh readers, share with me yours.

*Punks, in this blog, are referring to kids of an unruly nature who have no regard for human decency or society. I have no problem with punk music or punk rockers. In fact I love the Sex Pistols. (So, yes, sing about chaos and wear a mohawk just don't destroy art.)

Organization. FAIL.

If you are reading this blog, you know me well enough to know that I am sooooo unorganized. I probably don't know where my sunglasses or my insurance card are off the top of my head. I have a very precarious system that is basically my memory. I have a pretty good memory so I can narrow down somethings whereabouts fairly quickly. But just because I am unorganized doesn't mean that I like it. I wish I was organized. I see how quickly some people find things and how neat their houses look and I dream of a tidier me. Sometimes this yearning pushes me to the point that I attempt it. This usually ends in ice cream and/or beer. Because I get frustrated and sad.

This weekend, I was alone. That is usually bad news. I tend to way over schedule myself for times like this because I can't stand the thought of being bored. Saturday I stayed busy, even had to cancel with some people because I wore myself out. But Sunday ... I stayed in the house all day with the intention of cleaning. It is not that I am not "good" at cleaning. When it comes to wiping surfaces, mopping, vacumming, etc. I can clean with the best of them. I just can't pick up the clutter that stands in the way of getting the real cleaning done.

Clutter is like my kryptonite. I walk into a room that has stuff lying all over it and I seize up and panic. I don't know where to start. I don't know how to start. And it is always made worse because in my life, nothing has a place. It isn't like I can just put everything in it's place. Because there isn't one. There may be an ...area. But even that is wishful thinking. And all of this stuff that doesn't have a place I am just confounded by. Because, it is not like I have super strange objects that have no logical place. I did once upon a time. I used to have boa's and swords and oversize boxing gloves. But that was high school. I have grown up and now my things are normal. Books, magazines, jewelry, shoes, etc. No matter where I put these things, it always seems ... wrong. And messy. And the mess takes over my life!

Our friend Rachel hired a professional organizer to come in and organize their house. First of all, when did that become a job? Not that I should care since I am distinctly unqualified for it. Secondly, IT IS BRILLIANT. Maybe ... just maybe, if it were organized for me I could upkeep it. But who am I kidding. I couldn't. I got past some of my fears yesterday and organized my closet. I didn't quite finish. It got the best of me. But it is a good start and I have to say it was very pleasant getting ready for work this morning, everything having a place and me knowing where that place was. But I am fearful. Because I know that lurking in the near future is the chaos. It is coming for me ...

Side note: The one area of my life that I am super organized in is my email. I can't stand for messages to sit in my in box. Nothing stays there once I have read it. It gets put into a folder or the trash. I keep emails for about a year and then purge them. I just have to figure out how to do that with the rest of my life ...

I want a tea party! Can my dolls come?

Tea parties. Really?

First off, let's discuss the historic relevance. The Boston Tea party was protesting taxation without representation. Taxation by a government thousands of miles away that had no claim on your life. That is not the same thing as your party not being in power in a democratically elected government. NOT THE SAME.

Secondly, I don't agree with the amount of tax money that is going toward the war. I would much rather that money go toward social services to enrich the lives of EVERY American, rich or poor. BUT, our tax money going toward the war is not something that is new under this administration. The only thing that has changed is the transparency of the amount that is really going overseas. The fact that we are no longer ignorant of the amount does not suddenly make it an injustice.

Thirdly, If what you are protesting is your extremely high income being taxed at a higher rate than my extremely low income, shame on you. Your secretary should not carry the burden of taxes over you. You are not PRIVILEGED to any degree higher than that which your large amounts of money will buy you. You are not a special flower or royalty or any other grand illusion that you may have just because you are wealthy. What you are is what we poor people refer to as the "haves". This is not to say you should provide for the "have nots" we are just saying, do your freaking share. Because you certainly haven't been for the past eight years. If you can't find a way to "survive" on less than $100 or 200 THOUSAND a year then I suggest you live on my salary for a year. Might change your perspective a little.

Finally, these Tea Parties are nothing more than a horse and pony show. They are not a constructive use of your time in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week. Like all of the feeble Republicans these days you are not offering a solution to any problem, you are merely whining about it. You aren't accomplishing anything more than pissing liberals like me off. There is no great impact on society here. It is a waste of your resources and brain power. Why don't you use your powers for a greater good ... like solving the problem. Then, I will personally serve you the best Early Gray I can find.

OH, but the goals they will have.

I guess at some point during childhood they tell you that life will be hard. That maybe all your dreams won't come true and that things may take a while. But boy, do I NOT feel prepared for the shit storm that is adulthood. First of all, bills. Bills suck. Really badly. They are never ending and feel like throwing money away. THROWING IT AWAY. I would like to go back to childhood where earning something meant dusting your moms collectibles.

Secondly, careers. Uh, huh. Being a "career driven adult" is something that I have always striven to be. But, the problem with striving towards something and having it become part of your identity is that when you reach a certain point, you feel like you should have then reached "the goal". But then, you realize that maybe that isn't the goal you meant to have reached. So then you try for a different goal. And you realize then, that maybe that isn't the right goal either. And there is this constant cycle of striving and achieving and being unsatisfied. I think it is because we enjoy the striving more than the achieving. You really know when you are striving, there is forward movement and progress and then achieving just feels like treading water. You got to the deep end, now you have to stay afloat. Bah. How depressing is that?

At least the relationship thing is working out. For myself at least. Some of my friends aren't so lucky. And I don't even know why that is. Why is it so hard? It is dang Hollywood and the stupid Romantic Comedies. Like falling in love should be this series of mildly humorous events and then happily ever after! So not how it works. There were actually some studies I read about a few months ago that confirmed that fact. That lots of people have trouble finding love because they expect it to be like the movies. Aside from being a bit obvious and not really worthy of a study it is also a bit pathetic. Real life people. If it was like the movies, movies wouldn't be worth going to see.

I realize that all of this is a bit of a downer, but it honestly isn't meant to be. Just a reality check. Reality is a bit of a downer. As evidenced by a whole slew of 90's movies. There I go again living in the movies. Except in reality we all aren't heroine chic. Oh 90's, why did you make us think we could wear over sized flannel?

The cat story. (For I shall have only one in my life.)

In the wake of being denied the nanny-ing job I needed some good old little kid tlc time to cheer me up. So, I offered to sit for some friends of ours kids and we had a great time. I was very responsible (note: responsible is a key word here). Drove them to gymnastics and everything. Got them to bed in a fairly timely manner. The whole nine. Yep. Ms. Responsible.

I got home a little bit after midnight, and feeling very weary I went to go dump my coffee cup from that morning and my lunch bag from that day on the kitchen counter. And then I noticed that our backdoor was open. Yikes.

I wasn't really alarmed about someone having broke in because I had walked through the living room and all of our stuff was still there ... but my second thought was, "Oh CRAP. THE CATS." The cats, Salem and Oscar, have a very good life. They get wet food often enough and treats all the time and I even brush them (!) but they still tend to try to escape, as cats do, when the door is left open.

I knew Salem was there because he was being very vocal. As per usual. But I couldn't find Oscar. So I take the treats out of the cabinet and shake them. Usually, this is enough to make him come leaping across the room in a fashion that is almost frightening. But he didn't come. So I went out on the back porch and shook the treats. Nothing. So I put on my coat and grabbed a flashlight and, treats in hand, head out to look for him. In the very cold, slightly wet, middle of the night.

I was on the phone with Cris by this point and she is very upset. After all, they are VERY MUCH her cats. But after a 45 minute excursion, checking under all the decks and all the cars in the neighborhood, still no Oscar.

My next plan of attack was to put wet food in the front and back of the house hoping the smell would lure him in. And then I waited. I couldn't go to bed because that would defeat the purpose of luring him in. So, I made my lunch and got the coffee ready, etc etc and at some point (2:30 a.m. actually) something catches my eye outside and Oscar is on the porch. Just hanging out.

So I open the door and of course, he darts away. I shake the treats, which intrigues him. But is also the point that Salem decides to run through the open door. I am officially cursing and kind of want to cry because, did I mention I had been up since 5 a.m. the day before?

Finally I got the cats inside. Both of them. And locked the door. And in case you are wondering, the door was open because I didn't lock it and it opens easily when not locked. The wind broke into our house.

The people my mother warned me about

Disclaimer: This is one of those posts that are going to make people feel sorry for me. That isn't my goal. I talk about this stuff because I think it is important for people to understand how this kind of ignorance/hate effects the people it is directed at. It is only through that understanding that any real change can be made.



When I came out to my mother, I remember her saying that she was sad because "this is going to make your life harder." And I remember thinking that was a crazy thing to say. After all, I like being gay, I have no inner turmoil. I am lucky enough to not have a religion that bans me to hell for it and my family accepts me. And on a day to day basis, my life is not harder. I am in a committed, monogamous, and blissfully happy relationship with very little squabbling. I would say I have it pretty darn good, not HARDER.

Meanwhile, I am living my happy little life and money is a little bit tight. So, I come up with a brilliant plan to nanny part time for the woman that I do freelance for occasionally. I have been at her house while she is trying to work and her kids are begging her for things every few moments and thought to myself, 'How does she work like this?'. So like any good entrepreneur, I saw a need and thought I could fill it.

Now, way back when, the very first time I met with her I was very nervous and wanted very badly to have the means to move to Knoxville. So when the subject of my significant other came up I let it go when she referred to Cris as 'he'. I immediately regretted the decision but what was done was done and after all, it isn't her business. We are working together professionally and I had no reason to go into my private life. But it always bugged me that I felt like I was lying to her. I never used pronouns. Always referring to Cris as Cris, but I knew I was being dishonest.

So when the time came that I was going to be around her for several hours at a time, watching her kids and being in her home, I felt it best to come clean. I could tell that she is conservative, so I knew it was a gamble, but I felt strongly that she should know.

The meeting and the coming out when WAY better than I thought. We talked for an hour about things like education, discipline, instilling morality and allergies. I was psyched. She ended the interview with wanting ME to think about it to make sure I really wanted to do it.

So, I sent her an email Friday saying that I was really excited about it and that I could start Wednesday, blah blah blah.

And then.

I get an email this morning saying that her and her husband are just not comfortable with it and thanks so much anyway.

I tried really hard to not let it bother me. I did. But ... what the hell? What does me being gay have to do with how well I care for your child? I have been babysitting since I was 12 and those kids are teenagers now and not one of THEM are gay! Do they think I am going to brain wash their kids or worse ... molest them?!? What exactly is going through their minds? I just don't understand. I knew this kind of ignorance existed but I really didn't think it was prevalent in today's society. I guess that is MY ignorance.

I am just so ... sad ... about it. I was really looking forward to it. But, there you go. Mom was right. Today, it made my life harder. It hit me personally and professionally and it is hard. I just have one thought about this. You don't learn to be gay, it isn't something that is taught. But ignorance and hate ARE TAUGHT. I only hope that those kids are lucky enough to find their own way and make their own decisions instead of being caught up in the cycle that their parent's obviously are.

Stop lying to me Chick-Fil-A

So this morning, Chick Fil A brought us a free lunch! Okay, so we are guinea pigs for some new menu items but, still, a VERY nice thing for us poor newsroom workers. I do however, have a complaint. They brought us two new "healthy" breakfast menu items. A smoothie and a parfait.

Don't get me wrong, they were both REALLY GOOD. Fresh strawberries, granola, the whole nine. But healthy, they are not. Both of these items had sooo much sugar in them that they could easier be called dessert items than a healthy breakfast alternative. I suppose if you trying to decide between a milkshake or a smoothie, the smoothie would be healthier. Or if you are worried about saturated fats from a breakfast sandwich, the yogurt parfait might be a better alternative. I just find it misleading to call an item, laden with high calorie sugar, a healthy food item. This is why America is fat.

We have been tricked by marketing into thinking that items are healthy when they aren't. One of my favorite examples of this is Cris (sorry honey) and her Dark Chocolate Raisinets. They have healthy labels all over the front the of them. Touting things like anti-oxidents and 30% less fat ... and oohhhh aren't they shiny? And compared to a Snickers bar, they are better. But HEALTHY and GOOD FOR YOU ... no.

So this is the thing. Stop eating fast food. Period. Nothing sold there is good for you. If you are put in the situation where you need to eat fast food ... well, first I say rewind. Can you pack a meal? Because that would be better. But say you can't pack a meal. There are definitely better choices out there than a Big Mac and Fries (not too many, but going with the grilled chicken is a good start). But you shouldn't be eating out, particularly at fast food places, if you are trying to watch your weight. It just isn't going to work. I just wish they would stop lying to people to make them think otherwise.