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

Denzel's Redemption #2GunsRevisited

…and with that Denzel, you’re redeemed. #ItsWasHerAllAlong #iapologize #InMyAnitaBakerVoice #rememberhersittinginthatchairtho

Remember when I told the internets about that time that I had a really dumb idea which included staying up hella late and watching 2 Guns? The night before the Double Road Race? Yea, that night.

A particular line in the movie stuck with me. Stung me. And it just so happened to be about that thing, that always seems to get me. Love. And all the feelings like it, right. Whatever they mean.

It's never what is seems, hunh?

She asked a simple question to a man who in kind honestly replied. With his intentions. Of everything he was, and was not, he really did mean to love her. How about that, right? He gets partial credit. #justlikeIwroteitmyself #ikindadid #royalties

I kinda sorta, actually stopped watching the movie at that moment. I mean, once you say a thing like that, there really isn’t anything else left to say. Or watch. Right?

Fast forward months later to me flipping the channels to what movie? 2 Mutha F’n Guns Yo! Right around the same place I stopped watching it. And it seems that time has reconciled my feelings for Denzel and the person responsible for writing that line long enough for curiosity to capture my attention.

And I saw the movie to the end. But before we got to the happy ending, Denzel and Paula are together once again. Well on the phone with each other. He finally knows the truth of it. How she deceived him. Set him up. Intentionally intended on HIS demise. She really meant to love him. But didn’t. #thedarkconofwoman

Lots of things happened to me in that moment. Did I really love him? Or did I just mean to? Was I the one masterminding the charade? The Puppeteer?  These are real questions, right? I mean, if we are going to objectively figure this thing :::::that has absolutely NO closure::::: out, we must consider more than one possibility. How else could have Dag & Mia’s murder beensolved? #thegirlthatplayedwithfire #OhLisbeth

But we know the answer. We know what the investigation will turn up. And there’s one piece of evidence missing that confirms that answer for you.

I was left with nothing. I had no back-up plan. I didn’t prepare for what I got. What I did prepare for never happened. Which is actually a proverb, or a quote or something I read in a Keep Calm book. What we worry about never happens. It’s always what we didn’t expect.

Now don’t go feeling all sorrowful for me. It’s actually terribly stupid to not plan for it – especially in these days and times. Geez, in days when the tenure of a marriage is documented in HOURS, you gotta believe that people will invoke their inner Keyshia Cole and change their mind.

This is where I mess up with heart affairs...and the things like them. I’m too unwilling to deceive (not in a bad way, more like a heart preservation kind of thing) and very willing to forgive, to let it go, to be Denzel on the other line.

Crazy part? When it comes to love, and the affairs like it, I never easily believe – I’m always a skeptic in the beginning. Once I’m convinced, I am persuaded like none other. I believe it. I believe you mean it. And that settles it. Of the things that have changed and/or evolved over time concerning me, this particular thing has not. And I am not sure that it will.

I am never going to figure chess out, but I like guns.

*face palm*

We Are Spartans... #Almost #ThisAugust #ImNotSmart

If you don’t believe peer pressure is a real thing, then you:

a)    …are an only child who was home schooled prior to social media.

b)    …don’t have a single friend. Not even on one of the readily available internets.

c)     …don’t log on to GChat while at work.

I swear, some of the dumbest idea’d stuff I’ve ever idea’d or agreed to, was confirmed in a gchat with one of my “friends”. I call them “friends” because either they’re posing as friends, or we define the word “friend” differently.

You have no idea what you just agreed to do. #Gotcha

So, in this last gchat session, we have my “friend” CJC. Yes folks, she’s back again. Usually she is on the receiving end of a dumb idea I’ve idea’d, but not on this day. Nope. As it would take too long for you to read our entire gchat…and you would probably lose your job from the uncontrollable emotion coming from your #waitforit, office, I figured I would share a couple of pieces of the exchange...

Wanna read it? Here it go…

CJC: So………(I should have known something was up with all that extra punctuation) you know how you always said you wanted to run a Spartan race? Uh no. Actually, I don’t. …you get free admission to the race… Okay, I’m listening. Maybe this was something I always wanted to do. …so I and YOU do it for free???? You down???? I don’t know what this is, but it’s free. Of course I’m down.

CJC: The sprint is only 3+ miles…we can do it! You’re right! I can do 3 miles. *somehow, I forgot there was a “+” next to the 3 miles*

Me: *clearly sold on this idea with only the aforementioned information* Do we get medals?

CJC: HUGE ONES *I’m SOLD!* …and the right to brag that you are a Spartan…only the cool kids get to do that. Wait. I am cool. You damn right I gotta do this! You’re an amazing friend CJC. I absolutely love you.

You know how to "skip", right?

*oh, I’ve already signed up before I know anything about the medals or being a cool kid for doing this, or what the “+” means next to the 3…in case you were wondering about that*

CJC: So let me tell you…I am sore as hell right now from the training…get familiar with burpees, push ups, sit ups…that kind of stuff…LOL.

Me: *You’re sore from the training…that’s odd? Um, I don’t drink soda really, so I’m not sure what you mean about that burping thing… Push up? Sit up? Wait, what the F is this? I don’t see anything funny in this gchat.*

Me: I can’t just run? *I mean, this is a medal race, right? #14in2014, right?*

CJC: Girl…you wish! Running is the FURTHEST thing on your mind.

*insert Real Tears here*

Me: *crying from my side of the internet* Is there a training plan or something?

CJC: Yeah…you wanna know the one I did last year or the real one? *WTF?! They make knock off training programs for this –ish? #ICANT*

CJC: Can you climb a rope? Crawl under barbed wire? Scale a 6 foot wall? If you don’t do an obstacle, you have to do 30 burpees.

Me: *No. Why? You can’t be seriously asking me that. I DON’T DRINK SODA! What is with this burping nonsense!* cries, just a little *googles burpee: Um, do 30 WHAT?!?!!?!? I’m an idiot*

*by this time I’ve emailed Alicia maKeykey about it and tagged her in a post on Facebook…she comments back about there being a BBQ at the event because she saw a picture with fire*

Me: *scared out of my mind* There’s no fire? Right? O_o

CJC: I am so glad that you sign up first…then ask questions. *Dear UCLA, I have done nothing with that degree you gave me. Signed, Idiot.*

Me: Flames? *as in there are multiple flames* You not about to have me looking like MJ! I have a perm!

CJC: The flames aren’t that high. It’s a small pit honestly. Honestly? Honestly you are out of your gottdamn mind! That’s me, being honest.

*I’ve finally gotten the bright idea to get BACK on the website and look at the FAQ’s*

I'm an idiot. An idiot who's not done yet.

We have signed up to do a SPARTAN RACE. More specifically, the Spartan Sprint. The Spartan Sprint is a 3+ miles run with 15+ obstacles. The organizers of this event state that there is fire, mud, water, barbed wire, and occasionally Hell on Earth… Oh, okay. That’s all? I guess I’m supposed to not feel any kind of way about that last thing, because it happens on occasion and not all the time and I’m saved? Oh. Okay.

Somehow, this is a sprint because it only contains 15+ obstacles. Which isn’t a lot. Because 15+ isn’t a large number at all. Because it is the least amount of obstacles in a Spartan Race. Yeah, sure. Okay.

It also happens that my “friend” CJC has done one of these events before. Remember when I said that this was the Sprint? As in the shortest distance and least amount of obstacles? Yeah. She did the Beast. As in, first there’s the Sprint (3+ miles, 15+ obstacles), then there’s the Super (8+ miles, 20+ obstacles) and completing the trifecta (because you’ve got all the time in the world to do this 3 times in a calendar year) is the Beast (12+ miles, 25+ obstacles). There is even an Ultra Beast. But when some brave soul inquired if they were tough enough to do it, the response was probably not. I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to be okay. But, okay.

Did I mention my CJC did the Beast first?

I did?

I’m not okay.

Denzel & I Are Breaking Up #NoooImNotReadyLawd

There was a time when Denzel Washington could say ANYTHING to me and I would pledge my allegiance to his sweat. Well, that was up until December 22, 2013. Who knew there would be one fictional response (even after he was Detective Alonzo Harris & Frank Lucas) that would change my unwavering allegiance to his body excrement?

I was watching 2 Guns when I should have been resting for the Pleasanton Double Road Race. In a scene, it happened:

her: Did you ever really love me?

him: I really meant to love you.

And, there came a few real tears. Ain’t that some sh*t? Try watching a movie, having a private emotional moment, and your friend sitting across from you on the couch. And all these years I have loved Denzel. Who knew this day would come?

...and that's what it means.

She asked an imaginary question that has been burning in my actual spirit for quite some time. A question that I have wanted to ask with a desperation only known to men traversing deserts in search for water and Alchemy. I want to know if he ever really loved me.

I could just ask. It’s not like I don’t have the phone number, email, address, or social media everything to do it. Damn technology – it would have been nice to have an excuse NOT to ask. I could ask, and then I would know. I would really know. But, something tells me his response is going to mirror Denzel’s line. And quite frankly, I have no time for what that might really do to me.

He pursued me. I think I could accept that response if he did not pursue me. With stealth like commitment he shot me down over foreign land #NoPassport #NoExtraditionTreaty #LoveLand. He got to know me and pursued in ways that compelled my heart to love him, especially his flaws. I loved his imperfections first…then I (im)perfectly loved him. I honestly love(d) him. And honestly believed he loved me.

He knew me. And not because I told him who I was…hell, I don’t always know who I am! He studied my non verbal responses, my awkward phone silence and impeccably worded text messages. He decoded my sad eyes, sad songs and sad smiles. I think that I could deal with that answer if he was absent in my sadness.

He wrote me. Well, there is indeed that. Like I need to explain to you what words mean to me. Or what I would or wouldn’t believe if it wasn’t written (or typed).

He gave to me. Without asking, requests or begging, he gave to me. Liberally. Willingly. Surprisingly. As I sit and think, much time passed before I ever asked anything of him – I mean I made requests but never in excess or seriously. I never intended for him to do anything for me that I wouldn’t actually do for myself. He gave to me anyway. On purpose. Most times before I could do it for myself. That response would make (im)perfect sense if he never gave me anything. But, he gave her sunflowers too, so I guess there isn’t much to the giving thing. (there is, but I’m feeling some kind of way right now)

And though I clearly don’t have this all figured out, the question remains. The answer does too… Maybe he honestly meant to. And maybe one day that will be okay. Just not today.

Welp.

Needless to say, I have not seen the end of 2 Guns.

Random Thought: Does 2 Chainz have 2 Guns? 

*don't ask me where that came from, that was my honest thought, and the original title of this post*