Sunday, November 30, 2014

It’s Thanksgiving Season Yall #30DaysOfGratitude

So, it was Pearl’s idea to bring back #30DaysOfGratitude. You know, taking time out of your day to post something you are thankful for. No matter how big or small. Just getting outside of your stuff, to think about your life through a critical, thankful lens. So often we get so busy with our day, our life, our family, our issues, that we forget to remember that those are usually the places where our most profound gratitude is located.

That’s exactly where I found much of my gratitude this month. Especially that first two weeks. Baby Pey remembering who I am?! OMG. Nothing like it. She was a minion for Halloween, so I bought a pack of minion Mike & Ike’s for her trick-or-treat pail. AWB text me this month and said that she walks around the house shaking them, and saying my name. Being remembered? – gratitude. Realizing that my capacity to love is much more than I could have imagined? – indebted to Baby Pey forever.

I survived Rock n Roll Las Vegas this year…even with the double running! Though the original travel plan and group didn’t work out as planned, I had an amazing time with my friends, made new ones, and got to meet a living legend. I was inspired by every moment of solitude as I laid me down to rest at night…or morning…or whatever time it was. And woke up ready for the world.

I continue to remain challenged by the awesomely difficult career path I’ve chosen. But unlike any other tactic I have used to meet these challenges where they are, I have learned the power of my silence (when used strategically). I embrace it. I have lost nothing in my silence. I have, however, gained peace of mind like none other.

Of course, there were many other moments of gratitude…like My Uncle changing his clothes after a long day of work, fighting through traffic to the auto parts store, and fixing my blinker light thingie on the car. Milk for cereal. Pops! 2 dollar bills. Angelica Rollerskates & E-boogie’s born day celebrations. Halloween candy being 90% off at CVS. Bacon being a “free” add on item to my grilled cheese sandwich. My bed. Kindness. Mail. Poetry…of course I am always thankful for words #ItCameFromConcrete #ItsTenacity #ItsWillToReachTheSun. And lest we not forget, red wine. It helped me get through when Shonda Rhimes came for every single one of my edges like Sallie Mae does my loan payments with those season finales! #FatherGodBeAnEdgesHairPlugReplacement

But then something happened. The verdict came in. Or, the non verdict came in about Michael Brown. And I got so sad. I was detached from my gratitude like Avatar Korra and her past Avatar lives. I couldn’t sense gratitude and thankful feelings because the City of Ferguson was burning…like the hope in my heart. As social media so eloquently posted, retweeted and instragrammed… What kind of world is this, where we KNOW a man will get away for murder? And why am I thankful for it?

It would have been disingenuous of me to not mark this moment to you. At least to those of you reading this here blog. Up until this point, I’ve been making straight A’s, right? Setting the bar high and soaring over it in a leer jet. But since that day, it took a while for me to get back to it…to tell the world what moment made me realize gratitude. And it was a heartfelt memory from my childhood, being played out the night before Thanksgiving. As I sat with my bowl of dark chocolate cheerios and last bit of milk, I was so thankful. For memory, for family, for MY cereal bowl, the warmth of this apartment, and to be filled. I have a day without hunger. To have a meal that really and truly satisfied my being. There are people in the world right now longing for a feeling that just came to me. Without having done nothing but lived long enough to experience it.

That next day, Thanksgiving Day, I ran a 10K. Not a PR by any stretch, but an amazing moment to see JustBob take off and complete his (probably) fastest 10K ever. He’s had to endure so many #MedalMondays of mine that he’s going to have a couple of his own. And the first one, we will share together. Thankful. As I walked the finish line area, I awaited Angelia Rollerskates as she completed the 3rd running event of her #4in2014. I could not have been more proud to take our #MedalRunDay pictures with our hair wrapped up. Thankful.

I cleaned up, cooked up, and high-tailed it to the Juke Joint to spend Thanksgiving Day with my family. The womenfolk prepared everything in the kitchen while the kids (anyone under 18 and/or dependent in whatever way to an adult for their daily existence) did the dishes, cleaned up around us, and basically, indentured servants. We all held hands and shoulders in the kitchen as the sounds of the football and basketball games played in the background. And, when the youngest grown up male in the circle was asked to bless the bountiful dinner, we bowed our heads and closed our eyes. He began… Jesus Wept. And ended. Hella Hungry. And kinda thankful? Yes, he had to do the prayer over… It wasn’t much longer the second time. But it did include more nouns, verbs and adjectives.

That night, after I salivated over the spoils of multiple Thanksgiving Meals in various homes around the Bay Area, I got a text from JustBob wanting to know IF I wanted him to stop by with a slice of his sweet potato pie, because apparently, one needs permission to being ME pie. Oh, okay. #nomnomnom Um, I mean, thankful.


Even in my failure. I still...gotta say..Thank You.
I haven’t posted since milk for cereal. Not because I’m not back, or I don’t feel any more thankfulness inside of me. It’s there as it always has been. I’m just stretching myself. I am learning what it feels like to fail, no matter how small…because aside from relationships, I do not fail. The old me would have pulled out a calendar and thought back to each to do remember what I was thankful for, to post it…to catch up. But the new me? I’m going to sit with this…and find the gratitude in it.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

About Las Vegas… #Race17Medal16 #redemption #ChallengeMedal4

Redemption time. Time to get it. Go after greatness. Pull up my camo running pants, take photos in a tutu, get to my corral, and make history. Third time is the charm.

But it’s hella cold tho. I mean, like really. And I’m in like one of these hella late corrals… I’m going to be here a while, waiting, in the cold. I mean, she hype as hell on the mic, but it looks like it’s warmer on that stage than it is out here on this dusty pavement. I shoulda took a bathrobe from the hotel. #NBMA

Plans to meet Rikki before the race turned into plans to meet her exactly before we were ready to get in our Corrals. But, that didn't stop us from taking that picture in our tutus. You would not believe how anxious I was...about wearing a tutu. Not about the 13.1 miles. Or the fact that I had been getting it in the past few days Vegas style. No...a glittery tutu has me clicking my heels wishing that I was someplace else, and not in these camo running pants. And she was so gracious. I had to take a picture in it, because I promised, but she let me take it off for the run. I owe her big. Like my butt. That looked pretty damn big in the tutu...and kinda the same size in the camo running pants... #message

Okay, decisions, decisions. To stop at Mile 1 and take a photo at the Welcome To Las Vegas sign or not. I mean, I have one from last year. Well, I don’t “have” one. MarathonFoto has one. I mean, they keep it on their servers, but it’s a picture of me, so it’s like both ours. Anyway, I digress. Okay, I’m not gonna do it. I’m going to run this race as fast as I can. I got this… PR time…

*minutes later*

F*** that. I’m too cute to be passing up picture opportunities. Let me work on my pose and smile since I got all this time before my corral starts. *takes a selfie*

Start Line: I’m not taking a picture at that damn sign. It’s too cold. Just finish the race and be great already. Damn. Please?

Mile 1: Like seriously, it’s cold as a mutha out here. Who pissed Mother Nature off? I can feel each of my fingers. I think they hate me more than my feet will when I put those heels on after this… #ItsVegas *sees people taking the pictures at the sign but keeps running*

          I have no will power. I’m next.

Mile 2: I actually feel good. Like really good. I think this might be a good run. Sure I totally f’d up any hope of a PR with that 5 minute photo shoot. And, maybe it was a bit much to ask that lady to take a picture of me from her camera and text it to me. Point is, I’m the most fabulous person you know. And runners are hella nice. And her camera was better than mine in that moment. #MySmartAssPhoneWontLetMeBeGreat

Mile 3: Are. They. Giving. People. Beers? As in, beer from the finish line side of Las Vegas Boulevard. As in, people who are only 3 miles into the race. And, you’re not going over there to get one because, why?

Mile 4: My hands feel like they are made of adamantium. I just cut my tongue trying to pop one of these Jelly Belly energy beans. Man…that means Wolverine probably can’t eat finger foods when he’s mad. That sucks.

Mile 5: Wait, why am I running in Las Vegas? Because it’s fun? Oh, okay. Just checking. I mean, I didn’t get that from what I was doing right now, but if you say so. However, the fact that this air is so fresh and so clean, I’m only like 75% upset that I’m out here freezing. Like seriously…people still smoke? How is that even legal?

Mile 6: This is when the strip gets interesting…I wonder how much I could pawn my common sense for? It’s not like I use it ever. I mean, current situation…

Mile 7: I want some french fries. From McDonalds. Man it’s cold. Maybe Riki was on to something with that whole tutu thing. I’m f’n freezing! Mother Nature hates every part of me.

Mile 8: I think I need to use the bathroom. I’m not going in those porta potties though. Those things are fckin disgusting. *pace gets slower and slower* Okay, I mean, they aren’t so bad. It’s not like I don’t have this lovely hand sanitizer with me. I mean…they brought them all the way out here for us, so I should maybe use one. *peed so long I almost missed The Return of the King*

Mile 9: Yoooooo I’m like fckin speed racer tho. Where did I get all this energy from? I mean, I literally cannot see anyone’s face because I am moving at the speed of light! Yasssssss running!

Mile 10: I wonder what this gu would take like spread on crackers? Or apple slices for that matter. Imma try that. I bet it’s hella good. You’re welcome life. You are welcome for that.

Mile 11: I know what, if this lady runs in front of one of my epic race picture faces one more time…I swear fo’Lord she ain’t crossing the finish line with her shoe laces. Yea, I’m petty. So what.

Mile 12: Wow. These people next to me have run 20+ miles in the time it took me to run 10+ miles. That’s pretty amazing. I am also running very slow. I am actually Speed Racer’s alter ego…

Mile 13: You know, it’s just cold enough for me to perfect my Kappa shimmy. *begins to shiver/shimmy uncontrollably to the music…on beat ‘cause I’m fancy* Where Cori at??? #Yassss #UCA #StadiumParkShenanigans

Mile 13 (0.1): Pictures are stupid. Why are you trying to take a picture of me when you should be handing me a martini? I’m not smiling for you. I’m not here for that.

Finish: My medal please. Thank you very much. Now excuse me, they’re waiting for my photo shoot. Hair and make-up!! *snap*snap* Let’s make this happen! I’m on a schedule.

Man, and believe me, there was a photo shoot. Like literally every photographer that works for Marathonfoto was there. I just wanted to take a picture Jesus, and get some chocolate milk. But it took forever to get past that part! But when I did, I drank that chocolate milk like it was Sunday morning and I was sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons trying to not get ready for church. Yupppp Thundercats… And then I went back for another one.

Things got bad though when I got to the banana station. I reach for a banana and was like, that’s weird because it was super soft. So I figured that particular banana had been out in the casino gambling and things didn’t turn out so great so I reached for another. But they were all the same. Now, I have had nothing but WONDERFUL things to say about RnRLV despite not getting a medal the first time #NeverLettingThatGo but that? That offense? That crime should be punishable by shin splints! I NEED MY POTASSIUM SIR! Those bananas felt like pudding on the inside! Who puts the pudding inside the banana? I can’t deal Jesus. I’m trying to stay near the cross Lord.

And I realized that I had all the time in the world to have that thought completely because I was still in the medical tent area. When will this ever end? I just wanna get my remix medal and get some eat. You can’t open things very well with adamantium hands. They aren’t that flexible. And my feet are giving me their 30 minutes’ notice. So I have to move with a purpose.

When I got back to my room, I looked down at my race bib and my medals. I ran a second race with those 3 words…sweet and simple. Run to Win. Those were the words Meb placed on my race bib yesterday. We all run to win. But what are we winning? Certainly not these race medals; we pay for these…its part of the fees. And if you don’t come in first, technically, you lost, right?

Well, technically yes…but technically no. What does it mean to “win”… What will it take to impress the critics? How many impossible things can I make into blog posts? We’ve often associated this word with being the first one to cross the finish line. That was my mistake entering into this #14in2014. I had a goal. I had a plan. I knew what I wanted to do. But, I never defined the word. And after every single medal, I was closer to a goal, and farther away from that feeling. From feeling like I won. Like I did it. I spent the whole year going after a goal, because that’s what Mr. 20D says I do.

I did not create the rubric for what it means to win. I won’t make that mistake in 2015.

I’ll define it. And I’ll do it. …and I kinda want my tutu back.

This Race: Rock N Roll Las Vegas #StripAtNight, Half Marathon, Las Vegas NV
Medaled Miles to date: 92.97 miles
Total Raced Miles to date: 116.07 miles 
-2 Medals To Go ǁ 114% Complete
(Challenge Medal 4, 20 Medals ǁ 143% Complete)

Monday, November 24, 2014

Viva Las Vegas! #StillRunnin #Race16Medal15

I’m back. And it’s sure to be amazing because 3rd time is the charm, right? There was 2011 #nomedal #neverforget and then 2013 #VegasRedemption...because when you leave your very first half marathon without a medal you go to Spain the next year. And now we’re here. Back at McCarran Airport, praying that your bag comes out of any carousel, except 13.
 
This year was the very first Remix Challenge for Vegas. You know, that silliness I did in San Jose
#5kSaturday then #13pt1Sunday?? I’m back at it. But this time it’s different because it’s at night. I get to rock the strip at night, twice!
They still won't let the #HalfOfTheHalf be great. SMH
 

But....I should probably pick up my race bib from the expo. Because yesterday was Friday, its Saturday morning, and you’re running tonight. To the expo I go!


This year, Tour Pass holders got to meet
Meb Keflezighi. Autographs and photos! Right? You know, just the guy who won #NYC2009 and #BostonStron2014… You know, just another runner… He was hella excited to meet me! Anywho...I got to the front of the line, introduced myself, shared with him my congratulations as he’s gonba be an Uncle again *his brother & I went to school together #Bruins #BruWins, I’m not like family*, took a picture, and he signed both my race bibs. Awesomeness.
 

The rest of the afternoon was spent staring out of the Aria room hotel, wondering about that. My real life interaction with a real life winner. Then my phone reminded me of the Black Girls Run Happy Hour, so I made my way to Yardhouse. 


There, at Yardhouse, was the most excitable groups of black women from all over the United States, ready to rock and run. Women from everywhere and every level or running. One of which, was doing her first 5k that very evening. Her run cherry being popped in the city of sin, just like my half marathon cherry in 2011. And they let me tag along to see it.

Start Line: Remember, you and Ketel One had an intense conversation last night. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. And you have to run like a whole heap of these 5k’s tomorrow. Nobody cares what you do here. They’re all drunk and gambling.

Mile 1: I swear I hate vodka. My chest is on fire... Oh, hey Mr. Black Men Running…you just gonna GoPro me and my new friend here running? Oh, okay? Maybe I should look like I’m excited…Okay…
         
Black Man Running: You ladies warming up, right?
         
Black Girl Dying (me): Yep! We sure are! Just getting warmed up! *please Jesus let him hurry up and run past me…I…Can’t…Breathe…And…Smile…And…Run* #atthesamedamntime #MyHeartMightFail I mean, he looked like he was cute…well sounded like he was cute…anyway…Maybe I should try to see what we looks like…or breathe. Maybe I should just do that.

Mile 2: That was close. For a second there, I thought I signed up to do a 5k in Vegas the night before the half. A night after epic #AriaShenanigans.

Oh wait. Dammit. Wait...where did all my friends go? Dammit!

Mile 3: HOW DARE YOU OFFER ME A DELICIOUS DRINK MADE WITH VODKA! Please sir, go back to your gambling. I am a serious runner and would never take a drink (from a stranger) while running! The nerve! What kind of woman do you think I am? #HeActuallyKnowsMeQuiteWell

Mile 3 (0.1): I wonder where that guy went? I didn’t even ask him what kind of vodka was in that drink. I was sorta rude...
         

Finish Line: There they are. Each one of my friends…and I don’t know any of their names. Waiting for me to finish. Not only do #BlackGirlsRun but #BlackGirlsRock too!

We ended the running experience just as we began. Making sure the group was together as we traveled through the packs of people. Taking pictures of every moment. Smiling for selfies. Posing for group pictures. Trying to talk the MarathonFoto people into hooking us up with a picture or 10, you know, runner stuff.

It’s amazing the people I have met, the courses I’ve seen running, and the incredible things I have been able to do. All from the discomfort of my Saucony’s… I got to enjoy that race experience with people I just met…and was greeted by my dear friends who desperately made their way to the finish. Of all the things I have been during this running experience, I have been lucky. Lucky to experience such acts of love.

But there was this one thing that happened before the start of the race. There was this super tall and completely obnoxious white guy behind us pack of #BlackGirlsRunning being a total jerk. First it was funny photo bombing our group selfies… But after the 10th time, it got a little old. Like his dry humor and corny jokes. But we let it slide because runners stick together and ish, right?

Well…he thought it would be funny to scare me. Righttttt? So he acted like it was running from something behind me, and kind of shook my left shoulder, to startle me. I obviously reacted like a person would, with unknown chaos behind them.

He and his friends erupt in laughter… Awww, did I scare you? I’m so sorry…We were just playing…Are you okay? So everyone is looking at me, my new friends, to make sure that I am okay and checking in. I look back at him. And he’s expecting me to laugh it off. But, um, I’m trying to figure out, when did homicide become comedy? Because I was ready to end the life of whatever it was behind me. Sure you’re 7 feet tall. However, lest you forget at 5’2, you groin is easily assessable. And my elbow was made in Texas… Sir, count, your, blessings, that my Mama told me to act like I got some sense in public. My mother saved your life. And bail money. The fact that I don’t have enough bail money saved your life.

Jerk.

This Race: Rock N Roll Las Vegas #StripAtNight, 5K, Las Vegas NV
Medaled Miles to date: 89.87 miles
Total Raced Miles to date: 102.97 miles 
-1 Medals To Go ǁ 107% Complete
(Challenge Medal 3, 18 Medals ǁ 129% Complete)

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Follow The Directions.... #therearenowordstho

IKEA is stupid. It’s a stupid store. With stupid stuff inside. With ugly people. Because, maybe this one time I was in IKEA because it was close to the house and on way to this other place I was going. And perhaps I went inside and saw some beautiful stupid furnishings.

Yes. I went to IKEA. I mean, apparently your apartment doesn’t come fully furnished in the real (not Res Life) world. And even though you are totally okay with your clothing management system (the storage bins are clear…I can see everything), in adulthood and being “grown up” such is frowned upon.

I bought furniture. I bought two dressers, a night stand, and small table. What’s crazy is that in the store, you would have thought I KNEW FULL WELL what I was getting myself into. Went to get one of those cart thingies that you just slide the stuff in. Found the boxes on the right aisle and bin numbers. Made my way to check out without asking for assistance at all!

Then… Card Declined.

Um, bruh? What? So I call the bank, right? Because I’ve convinced myself that this furniture thing is going to happen, right?

Ma’am, thank you for calling. We’ve noticed some strange activity on your account and stop charges to prevent potential fraud.

Ugh. Fine. Whatever. Just ask me whatever you need to ask me. I’m kind of trying to make a purchase.

Did you make a purchase at DSW, in the amount of…

…yea, yea, yea, that was me. Don’t judge.

Then DSW again?

…yes, I went back. #HowYouJudgingMeForHowISpentMyMoney

Okay. *tone changes, she thinks she found the fraudulent charge, she’s getting happy* Did you happen to attempt to purchase something…at…IKEA?

OMG! Yes, that was me! The card didn’t work! Are we done? I’m trying to buy furniture. #STOPjudgingme!!!!

Oh, okay. My apologies. And…*continues reading script while reactivating the card*

Friends, what we have here is a sign. This was the Good Lord trying to tell me something. Even my bank knew I was doing too much. After all these years, they were like, Yea, right…like she’d willingly buy and put furniture together. Gurl Bye. Declined! *they erupt in laughter* I should have known this was going to be all kinds of wrong, but I pushed that cart thingie right on to the parking lot. To the car. That’s backed into the parking spot. Because, I have no idea.

No big. Get car out of the parking spot. Block all the traffic in and out of this parking area. Throw boxes in car. Carry on with the weekend. Oh, I haven’t actually picked up this boxes because a slid them on this cart thingie. Wow, these things are heavy. Kinda like furniture, heavy. Wait. Did I just buy multiple pieces of furniture by myself. The hell?

Now some Jerk wants my awesome parking spot. I haven’t gotten the first box in the trunk. My back is permanently bent. I think I have ahernia. Yes, ahernia…cause it was awful. After a good struggle with the last box, I decide that this was probably not the smartest thing a UCLA graduate did with their time on a Saturday.

And I proceeded to forget about it. I embarked on the most amazing, rest of the Saturday ever! It was awesome! Ate lots of food. Hung out with Baby Pey. And had some of the best sleep ever. I was winning.

But, Sunday came around. I woke up with a headache. I came down the stairs, step, by thought, by step. Trying to piece together what happened. I mean, I picked up some mail. I hung out with friends. I got to hold PeyPey. Did I lift boxes somewhere? I feel like I was struggling. *back starts to tingle* No, no. That didn’t really happen. That was just a dream. I didn’t go to IKEA yesterday. I didn’t. *giggling like Miss Sophia at the table* That’s silly. I’d never do anything like that.

*walks out to the car in a tank top, hoodie, sleeping boxers and rain boots* then *pops trunk*

Whoa. That. Actually. Happened. *face palm* #TwilightZone

I actually went to IKEA and bought furniture, with the intent of putting it together in the privacy of my home. All alone.

At this point I’m embarrassed. Who am I going to call for help? Like anyone is going to believe me. I don’t even want to fix my lips or my text messages to even speak this. Wait a minute here! You are an educated woman! You have degrees! You even run! You can do this. I mean, all you need is like a hammer, some nails, and glue and it’s done. Stop being a little punk and get it done.

I was hella pumped. Then I tried to get the first box out of the trunk. In boxers and rain boots. It did not go over very well. But, 30 minutes later, all the boxes were in the living room, so yea, that.

I have decided that I am going to do this thing, right? I am going to put the furniture together and it’s going to be amazing, right? I open the box and take out all the pieces. I see the pre-punched holes and divots and such, and I think to myself…This is IKEA. It’s so easy a caveman can do it. Why are you trippin? I open the instructions sheet and I see that they even have pictures of all the little screw and nail thingies that you have to use. I sit in the middle of the floor counting them out, and matching them up with the pictures. I’m so smart. Take that IKEA engineers.

So I begin putting things together. I totally got this. I get to Step 8 and I’m like, Hold up. It’s not working. What happened? And like the smart ass that I am, I go through all the steps to see where things went wrong. I mean damn, I used all the pegs where they showed me. And I certainly did. Starting at Step 5. As in, skipping over Steps 1 – 4. I feel like they should put more than pictures on these damn instruction sheets. I respond better to written descriptors. My mind is far more advanced than a normal human, and as such, these pictures do not provide the stimuli needed. #LiesYouTellYourselfToKeepYourselfMotivated #YouHaveSoMuchMoreToDo #ThereAreNoWordsOnAnyOfThePages #NotAOne #FckYouIKEA

So, I get a glass of wine. Do Steps 1 – 4 and make it to Step 8 with success. I feel so much better about myself and I re-realize that this is so easy a cave child could do it. I mean, how many Highlights magazines did I beast in the dentist and doctor’s offices. I’m a damn champ! Lemme start acting like one! And I am back into the swing of things. Sure I don’t know the anatomically home depot approved names of these things I’m using, but it’s working, and that’s all that matters. You and your stupid Swedish meatballs. You’re a meatball IKEA.

Well, apparently, I thought you could just build this thing from the ground up. Like each step would build upon the other and like in the movies, you’d put the topper on and be done. Or nah. So, now, amongst all these images #StillNoWords #IShouldTakeASLclasses #HelpMeSamAndKarla, now they have another dude helping the dude that’s supposed to be me, stand these pieces up! Da hell?!?! Nobody told me I needed to have a friend here! I would have called someone! DAMMIT!!! I haven’t showered. I still have on my boxers and rain boots. I can’t call someone over. Then I’d have to share my wine.

Thanks science. With prayer, masking tape, and shoe boxes, the building continued. Masking tape was used multiple times through this adventure in not using any of your resources and loved one to help you.

You know what’s sad? Being at your lowest point, sitting cross-legged, in rain boots, watching football with a screwdriver in your hand, knowing you have to finish, but unable to move. Because you can’t believe what you’ve just done.

Halftime is over, so I’m back at it. And it’s coming together beautifully. I am knocking these drawers out and screwing these thingies in and I’m like man… This is beautiful. And it’s so awesome that they put all these extra pieces in here. I mean, what if I broke one of these screwie thingies, or lost one? I would not have been able to finish this.

I. Am. Amazing.

So I did what everyone else in the world would do. I took pictures and posted them on Instagram. Because, quite frankly, the world needs to know of my greatness. And like it.

I felt so damn good. Until I made it back to reality. I realized there, in reality, that a store wouldn’t put this many extra screwie thingies in this package. Especially these because they have all these extra components and holes and whatnot. Attempting to prove myself wrong, I go back to my instructions that I have not translated from ASL to English because well, yo hablo espanol. I’m getting happy because every picture I’m like Yuppppp, I did that. All I needed was a box of crayons; I could have colored them in.

Then, nearing the end. I realize that one of the reasons it was difficult for me to stabilize the top of the dresser, was because it was being held in place by 4 wooden dowel thingies and not the 4 fancy screwie thingies that I have in my hand. At least that’s what the picture said.

Yeah I fixed it. So what it took forever. And maybe I did hit my elbow on my disappointment and bruise my ego on my pride. Point is, I have 3 fully functioning, less extra pieces, dressers built.
This thingie does not help you move your furniture. Trust me.

On the carpet. Of my living room. Downstairs.


You don’t want to know how I got them up the stairs to my room. #iWillTellYouAtHappyHour #ThanksObamaCare