Dear Past Me, You're a Moron.

In the car today Brad Paisley's song "Letter's to Me" came on the radio and it got me thinking about everything I've done in my past. I started reflecting on the last 22 year of my life and I came to a realization...I've done A LOT of dumb shit. Like really really dumb things...and the best part is I usually got caught.

I've decided to write a series of letters to myself over the years.


Also, for legal reasons...MOM, if any of this is news to you sorry bout it. You've missed your window of anger and can hold nothing against me. Love youuu.



Dear me at 3: Your sister is not going anywhere. This means stealing the Skin So Soft (bug spray) out of your Dad's soccer bag, hiding it in your Play School oven, and drinking it at 11:30 one night in hopes of getting the attention back is a terrible idea. It only ends bad for you; they make you eat charcoal and your father will spend the 20 minute car ride back (and some random afternoons to this day) yelling at you.

Dear me at 7: I understand you're new at this school, but telling the other kids you have a pony that lives in your bed room will blow up in your face. You'll start to make friends, and when you do they'll come to your house and ask about said pony. You'll get out if it by telling them it died, and crying.

Dear me at 9: Don't try to curl your sister hair with a power drill, it won't work. Sorry Syd.

Dear me at 12: When you fail your first math test, don't forge your moms signature, but if you do don't hand your teacher a check right after. You won't be able to talk your way out of this one...telling your teacher your mom was pretending to be left handed for a day won't work. Neither will crying. Chalk that test up as a loss, you'll quickly learn numbers aren't your thing.

Dear me at 15: Taking your parents car to go get dinner while they're out is a bad idea. You need to remember, that sister you harassed for years can now talk and she will enjoy telling on you the moment they get home. You'll be forced to go a month with out AIM and your cell phone. You'll think about running away  but I'm letting you know now your bedroom window is a lot higher off the ground than you think. Don't try to sneak out of it. You will try, and you will fall. HARD.

Dear me at 16: DON'T TAKE THE US HISTORY TEST OFF OF MR. ABBOTT'S DESK. You and Mike, and everyone else will get caught. Don't take it to the library and make copies of it, you will get caught. Don't give them to Alexa to pass out, you will get caught. You will walk into class the next day and it'll be a COMPLETELY different test, and you will be screwed. You will then be called to the office and forced to tell the wonderful Mr. Abbott about why you and all your friends thought it was a good idea. You'll have fun with this one.

Dear me at 17: You and Liz shouldn't throw a party at her parents' house. In the event you do, DO NOT PUT THE PICTURES ON FACEBOOK. You'll get busted for lots of things because of Facebook, so you should avoid it. Starting now. You'll be forced to spend the next two summers hiding from her parents. Sorry Betty Ann and Keith.

Dear me at 20: You're so close to 21! Don't use your fake ID at Angry Ale's. The bouncer will take it, and your boyfriend at the time will leave you outside, BY YOURSELF, because "its not his fault you're not old enough." But wait, there's a plot twist....after he leaves you outside, you'll realize he's your ride home. HAVE FUN WITH THAT ONE.



After reevaluating my life, I'm beginning to have second thoughts about my Life Coaching Career. But just for the record, I still stand by my dead horse story. Sparkle just couldn't handle the move.

Is College Really that Important?

According to some old dead guy, there are two kinds of people: Students and Professionals. Both have equally stressful and hectic lives. Well folks, I have somehow managed to become a combination of both.

I am a Professional Student. Thanks to the wonderful people at UNC Charlotte I have taken the "5 year plan" to a whole new level, and by level I mean its turned into the "5 1/2 year plan." Clearly the Public Relations department at my school needs the whole summer off, and feels no need to offer summer classes. This being said, I have started a new campaign called "things I'd rather do instead of going to college."

This is just a rough draft, so bear with me... 

1. A Rapper. 

•  As some of you know, I have a hidden talent: mad rapping skills. I do enjoy free-styling in my spare time. I understand that having "mad rap skills" is a must, however there a few other prerequisites I feel I have. Like most rappers, I enjoy an adult beverage while lounging in a "hip new club" with my "homies" and have no problem "popping champagne like I won a championship game". Another qualification: I look amazing in a flat bill hat. 

2. A Race Car Driver.

• I personally think I'm a great driver. If anyone tells you otherwise they're mistaken or lying. I can totally drive fast, and thanks to my AMAZING internship I have added driving fast in circles to my skills. Also, if I win, I am fabulous at popping champagne (note above).

3. A Surgeon

• At this point in my life, I have not only seen enough Grey's Anatomy to have the skills to operate, but I have in fact preformed medical procedures...on a dog. Welllllll, I pulled a tick off of my roommates dog once... that counts, right?

4. Life Coach

• I make great life decisions. Judging by this blog, I clearly have my life together. I obviously have the skills to guide others in their life-altering decisions. Obviously. 

5. Private Investigator

• Some people call it stalking, I call it conducting an investigation. Its only stalking if you get caught... by the police. I have uncovered so many "who done its" and "what ifs". A girl said her uncle died: FALSE, she went white water rafting - BUSTED. You say you're tired and staying in: FALSE, you're at your boyfriends - BUSTED. You say you left your charger at home: FALSE, you just turned your phone off - BUSTED. You say you have a serious boyfriend: FALSE, you went out on one date, one time - BUSTED. You get the gist. 

These are just a few of the things I feel like I could do instead of finishing college. Some might say I'm ridiculous, others may totally disagree. I for one think these are wonderful ideas...

Update: I just ran this by my father. He loves all the ideas and hopes I can make enough to pay him back for my first 4 years... I may reevaluate this plan after all. 

Lady Drivers.

I look at myself as an expert on a number of topics, today I will touching on something I feel I am extra qualified to comment on. Lady Drivers. I feel I am qualified to write about this for a number of reasons- I am a lady (yes, a lady...and a very classy one at that), I am also a driver.

In the state of North Carolina we are forced to take an extensive class that last for the greater part of our high school careers. It covers the basics...turn signal, parking, staying between the lines...all the things necessary to become a totally functioning driver. You then proceed to take the road portion of the driving test,  in which the student actually drives, on actual roads. I feel like this is where most girls, and their serious inability to drive begins...

I don't know how many of you remember your driving teacher, but if I remember correctly I was more qualified to instruct this portion than my actual instructor was. Mr. Willy was a 87 year old man, whose feet could barely touch the passenger side brakes, he wore your standard Coke Bottle glasses....

I'm not kidding, he seriously looked like this. 

This man, as sweet as he was, had more interest in flirting with sixteen year old me, than making sure I could drive. You could tell this man just wanted a friend, because let's be honest, sixteen year old me...not super cute..

...But really...

Judging by the looks of my hot mess of a sixteen year old self clearly implied how lonely, and desperate this man was for a chatty friend...and let me tell you, Gramps had met his match. We spent a majority of our time chatting about the weather, my hopes and dreams, and how he he fought in some war the we won (whoo america). To be quite honest I have no idea who else was in the car with me those few days, all I know is I had a new friend for life. 

Not to toot my own horn, but I'm a pretty awesome driver (references available upon request). I would almost like to consider myself an amateur race car driver...and I'm sure like myself, there are a number of ladies that have worthy driving skills, I however know none of them. 

 Let's skim over the list of drivers in our group of friends...

• We have one girl who feels like going the speed limit is considered speeding. She also believes that trucks that read "Stay Back 100 yards" really want you to add an extra zero to the end. Needless to say, I wouldn't have her drive my get away car. Many mistake her for an elderly woman, but no. she's twenty-two. 
• The next on our list has almost killed all of us at least once. The most recent time was on a trip back from a wonderful beach week. Now, I am fully aware of the fact that texting while driving is frowned upon in the state of North Caroline, but sometimes things come up. I understand, and respect that. THAT BEING SAID, when you're on the interstate going SEVENTY MILES AN HOUR with one of your closest friends riding shotty YOU SHOULD NOT DO IT. I'm shocked a cop didn't pull us over, and preform a sobriety test at 10:30 in the morning. She might as well been drunk, or at least I thought she was. 
• My best friend talegates like its her job. 
• One of my roommates manged to receive TWO speeding tickets in a six month period, then proceeded to con me into going to her state mandated driving class, in which I wasted a eight hours on a perfectly good Saturday...This same roommate was also almost killed because some dumbass we used to be friends with was unaware that making a successful left turn involved having three traffic free lanes, not two. 

I understand some of us can blame our drivers ed teachers, but when you are the one causing yourself to be a crap driver, you should be taken out back and shot. 

Example: 

  Meet our new neighbor. This is her giant red truck, that she doesn't know how to park. Our apartment complex is built on a solid parking system, to which everyone has their own unspoken assigned spot, she just happens to be taking the spots that belong to me and my roommate. I know it is possible to park a truck this size, my roommates boyfriend does it all the time. 

So please ladies, can we please not make our cases worse? When buy a car to drive, make sure you can ACTUALLY drive it, because if you can't you're making everyone else looks ridic...and lets be real, some of us don't need anymore help with that. 

love, lailz. 

there is a reason you were fired...

as most of you know for the last two years i've worked as a hostess at an amazing restaurant here in charlotte. after working at the from door for as long as i have, i have been blessed with the honor of seeing all the hot messes that have been hired, and just as quickly let go.
as i am sitting here in class, doing everything in my power to NOT pay attention, i have been reflecting on these previously stated hot messes...so in an attempt to continue my lack of desire to participate in class, i would like to discuss some of the ridiculous decisions made by the, now terminated, people i have worked with.

DISCLAIMER...No real names are used. You can't yell at me :)

- most jobs require a uniform...a very strict uniform, and when you get hired they provide you with the resources you need to obtain this uniform. my uniform at work requires a lovely combination of black dress pants, black belt, and super cute button down shirts (thats a lie). THIS UNIFORM IS NOT HARD TO FOLLOW....that being said, there was this one girl, lets call her Ocho Milla (loosely translated to eight mile, i however referred to her as one of the faces of meth) so when Ocho got hired she was well liked by the staff...little did we know she was bat-shit crazy. Ocho had successfully managed to screw up every aspect of her uniform MULTIPLE times. not only was she unaware of the differences in the colors black, and navy blue but she also did not grasp the concept of deodorant...home girl had to go....

- like i've said before i am a hostess, however i work with a staff of mostly servers so i have a basic idea of how that aspect of the restaurant works...now before everyone i work with yells at me, i'm not saying your job is easy, but i don't think its rocket science. that being said, i feel like some people think it is...i have an amazing management staff, i do however thing we need to edit our hiring process by including an IQ test...
we hired this one girl, she was super super sweet, we'll call her Honey (because after you hear this story you'll want to hug her and say "ohhh honeyyy"). Honey was a super cute girl, they hired her as a server...after being there for about a month she still didn't know the menu, but since she was so sweet they let her stay around and keep studying the menu. At first i thought this was a great idea....it wasn't...there were warning signs no one took into consideration until it was too late...there were so many, but i really only have space for one...
...Honey left her car door open during the entire length of her shift. now, when i say open i don't mean she left it cracked...i mean this girl left her door WIDE open, for hell and half of Georgia to see. the problem i, and many others had with this situation is the logistics of the whole situation...in order for her to manage to leave her door open she had to unaware of what was going on in her life simply based on the location of her car in reference to the front door of the restaurant.
        see what i mean? i bet you said "ohhh honey" in your head.

AND FINALLY....this one might be my favorite....
-This next employee was a total gem. To be quite honest, I can't use the name I normally call her because my other reads my block...So we'll call her Tuesday (here's your hint: See You Next Tuesday.)
...One night Tuesday decided to go out one night, get shawasted, and go on a date with a Cop to a groovy little spot in uptown Charlotte called JAIL. The only number Tuesday had was the number to the restaurant, and thank goodness someone was there to answer her call!
                 
 Sidebar: The person who answered her phone call was probably the worst person to have      answer your "i'm a dumbass, and got a DUI I need phone numbers call". Don't get me wrong, I loved our kitchen manager, however, he is not the person i want when i'm trying to pull the sympathy card.

When she was finally bail out of the slammer...which caused her to no call/no show on her shift....she decided to go into work and explain herself. I'm sure you can imagine how that conversation went. I like to play it out in my head something like this

(When you read Tuesdays lines please read them using the voice of Roz from Monsters Inc. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtWBlDC2-ss if you need a reference.)
Tuesday: OH MYYY GOD, i'm so sorry i missed my shift...for a totally legit reason.
Management:  blah blah blah you're a moron. it's 5:30 in the evaning...on a tuesday, do you seriously smell like shitty Merlot?
Tuesday: WHATTT? no. it's my new prison smell.
Management: you're a moron, but since we're good people we'll give you two weeks to find another job.
Tuesday: blah blah blah i'm a moron.

Look at the wonderful management stuff given Tuesday a helping hand! I bet you can't guess what Tuesday did just the next day...She got so hammered she over slept her shift and didn't show up for work again!
what a winner! This doesn't even included the series of ridiculous events that is her personal life...Including, but not limited to: passing out in the front seat of her car in the wrong drive way, being fired from another job for the same reason, getting busted about lying about her age, having a gay man tell her he has a better chance with a straight man, getting kick out of numerous peoples houses- specifically for her stinky feet and  atom bomb farts.



Looking back at the few that I've mentioned today i've realized something...whenever i feel like i'm having a bad day, just think about these people and it'll turn things around.

xoxo

i am willing to admit i'm wrong this time...

i've always liked hanging out with guys rather than girls, i used to think they weren't crazy.

my best friend and i have somehow managed to get stuck with a few of the same guy friends since high school. one is a frat-tastic smart ass, another doesn't really think before he acts..or lights crap on fire, and the third is a ginger. I have kept them around because when i get a little crazy they usually give me two options. one, stop being a brat (its usually a different B word) or you have to buy us beer... and usually only one of those things happen...hint: its not choice one...

but as the last week has gone on i've come to realize something. something that doesn't happen very often...i might be wrong about this whole thing...

if you keep up with my blog you should remember the post crazy eyes are a real thing. this post confirms the fact that women are crazy. there is no argument there. but after some serious research I've come to realize that one, guys are crazy, and two they're part of the reason we're crazy.

i'm sure every guy reading this just rolled their eyes, but just wait...i have examples.
Men are giant 8 year olds.

 "if you don't stop texting me, i'm gonna text your mamma and tell her to tell you to stop." 

• Yes, those words were actually sent to a girl i have a class with, by her ex...who is 25 years old...who did in fact text her first. i watched this conversation take place. As if the argument taking place via text wasn't enough to take me back to the days of rocking out BSB on my portable sony cd player (which i still have), when told he needed to "grow up" he the proceeds to say something to the effect of "I hate your guts."
  ...the third grade called, it wants its insult back.

We're not the only ones that have a special "time of the month."

• i'm not going too far into detail with the biology behind this one, but trust me it happens. think about all the men in your life, guy think too. whether its your boyfriend, your bros, or your dad it happens. everything is fine. then boom. there it is. 
• example: i was in the middle of the rant that inspired this post today with a friends whose been with her boyfriend for about a year. the moment i took a second to breath, she chimed in with the words "Lailz, i think you're right." the sound of those words were like music to my ears. she then goes on to tell me that her boyfriend became rather hostile towards her, over something that was completely HIS fault. there was some arguing, then click. someone hung up on the other one...but was it her? one might assume so. it was him. within five minutes he then committed the, popularly used to us ladies,"guilty conscience call back." this is a call placed with in  1-5 minute period of time when the hostile party he yet to simmer down, and is still riding the emotional crazy train. this call usually consists of a little whining, unnecessary begging for forgiveness, and sometimes to occasional tear. all of while we later realize was completely irrational and uncalled for. well folks, yes. his call back, as far as she would admit, did contain 2 out of three of the ridiculous emotions listed above.
  now guys, when your girl acts like this what is the first though that comes to mind...exactly...my point has been proven. (if you can't figure it out, i'm not telling) 
• example: in class today, i happened to catch the tale end of a conversation between the two girls behind me...
  chick one: girl, my boo got so mad sunday night, we ain't twlked since.
  chick two: aww shoot girl, why?! did he hur about you and dion?!
  chick one: no girl, i lost the remote.
  me: not to intrude, but you have got to be kidding...
  that is a prime example of an over-reactive mood swing, trust me. i know.

please correct me if i'm wrong, and i mean PLEASE, but i see a few good reasons to believe i'm right. you hear people say things like men are simple, or don't read too much into it because he is a man. 

blah.
blah.
blah.

when you have one go from not speaking to you for two weeks, then calling you twenty-two times in thirty-six minutes...or another who you speak to everyday, then somehow falls off the face of the planet...or one whose getting a divorce, but still lives with his ex wife and wants you to come visit...or one that steals your dog and moves to Las Vegas...or that reminds you he still has a key to your house...

so next time, before you tell your friends about your "crazy ex-girlfriend" check your stats bro and make sure you're not the crazy one.

cupid, i work in a restaurant, its nothing personal..

i hate valentines day.

a lot.

yes i know. typical single girl response; but before you sit there and roll your eyes, let me explain something to you. i hate valentines day for another reason.

don't get me wrong, i may or may not be a little hostile i don't have a "valentine" per say, but my hatred stems from a much  deeper, more complicated place...that place being where i work.

i love my job, i really do. i work with some crazy, but amazing people; not to mention the guest that come in on valentines day.

FOR EXAMPLE:

1. i work with this girl, she's great. i do however hate her boyfriend. every year right around valentines day he sends her flowers. not just your standard ,make every girl in the place vomit, roses. NO. he sends her these giant works of art that have to be fork lifted in. under normal circumstances i would only gag, and give a subtle eye roll but on this day the flower delivery man had AMAZING timing. he though it would be a good idea to come in, at 12:30...in the middle of our lunch rush and hand me the flowers. which then causes everyone within a 15 miles radius to ask me who sent me my beautiful atonement. flower man, you suck.
side note: i would also like to mention my two wonderful roommate are in relationships with men who like to
send flowers, so i get to spend tomorrow with florist of south charlotte.

2. apparently valentines day is the one day of the year men think they're creative. well men of the world, your creativity is a pain in my hostess butt. i hate to break it to you, but i am not impressed by your last minute Harris Teeter flower purchase that you so kindly (i wish there was a font for sarcasm) ask me to put on your table...along with a bottle of champagne you'd like pre-ordered...and have me put on your table...in ice...and the order of guacamole you'd like to pre-order and have me put on the table...oh and you'd like to sit in the corner table that seats six...for three hours.
sorry bro. this isn't burger king, and you can't have it your way.

3. valentines day has been the same day for a million years. the day DOES NOT CHANGE. so when you call me the night before and ask to get a table at 7:30 and my response is "we only have 5:30 and 8:45 available." please refrain from having this conversation with me
bro-"ok. well, what about 7?"
me- "No sir, i'm sorry all we have is 5:30 and 8:45"
bro- "what about 7:45."
me- "how about 8:45?"
bro- "no."...and hang up


now please, someone explain to me how your procrastination is my fault?




these are just a few of the, strictly, work related reasons this holiday is crap on a stick.
i have yet to mention chocolate covered strawberries are everywhere, and they are my one weakness...but i refuse to buy them...so if anyone i work with reads this, you should being me some tomorrow night, because i can't be rude and say no.

i need to find a rock, and just stay under it.

Public. Public is a place people can congregate openly. Public is where you are free to be who you are, and the world embraces it. Public, public. for the people. by the people. 

that being said, public is not the place to do non-public things. perfect example: you do not empty your bladder in public, that is, in fact something that is frowned upon. i'm going to take a guess, and this is a long shot, and say this is why they created public restrooms. 

the public restroom is a wonderful creation, it was created so the public could take part in out of home activities without natures call impeding on their time out and about. 

some places have big bathrooms, some places have little bathrooms, but all in all everywhere has a bathroom. 

all that being said, lets get down to business (pun intended)...

in a perfect world i would be able to go outside and only interact with a select few. this is clearly not a perfect world (they let Madonna perform at the Superbowl, get real america). because of this not so perfect world i am forced to live day to day not knowing what moron is going to jump out and, in Chuck Norris fashion, roundhouse kick the crap out of my afternoon. 

As a woman i know the ups and downs of make-up. i know touch ups are necessary. i also know that anyone who carries around a curling iron in their purse deserves to be voted off the planet....

I was at lunch, in a public place. this place had a public bathroom. this public bathroom was clearly made for quick trips. one sink, no counter, and the i'm pretty sure my iphone screen was bigger than the mirror, yet there were two stalls (add this to the list of things that blow my mind). there was clearly only room for one person in that bathroom, and i had to make my move. i go in, do what i need to do, then as a clean member of society i decide to wash my hands. 

i get in line behind what looks to be an imitation Dolly Parton. She stand there touching up her eyes, her lips, and all the other plastic body parts attached to her face. i literally stood there for five minutes waiting in her to finish. after a solid seven minutes i thought to myself "maybe she just doesn't know you're behind her."...once this thought crossed my mind i then took upon myself to suffer from a tuberculosis like coughing fit. i assumed she would notice me, and be on her merry way...

FALSE.

Dolly turned around, smiled at me, and told me i should really get my cough looked at. as if that wasn't enough she then proceeds to pull a CURLING IRON out of her purse, and plug it into the wall. i was at a loss for words. me. no words. when does that ever happen? 

she then curled her hair while i stood there in shock, she even got a little hair spray on my face....

just when i though i had just endured the most ridiculous public bathroom experience in my life, once Mrs. Parton packed up her big 'ole bag of tricks and walks out, she stops halfway out the doors, turns around and looks at me...(this is the best part)...and says "patience is a virtue young lady."

i have now loss what little faith i had for the public, and Dolly Parton.