Save the date?

There's a situation I've been longing to blog about but have refrained for many reasons. I can no longer keep my mouth shut but will tread lightly in telling this story for it is no urban legend. Sadly, everything I am about to share is indeed true:

Once upon a time there were two single women living in the city. These two women shared a mutual friend in college, and became good friends after both moved to a new city across the state from where they grew up. Both lived downtown (until one fled to the suburbs in hopes that living in suburbia would help her realize her dream of being a soccer mom) and both were often shunned by their married friends for being single. These two women spent many a Valentine's Day together and went to dinners, bars, festivals, movies on a regular basis. Both struggled with their weight, which made them basically "undate-able" in the very superficial world they (and we) live in. They talked on the phone nearly every day - telling tales of work drama and mutual friend drama.

While they had a lot in common, they were also very different. The younger woman believed in things like helping her community and scorning chain restaurants, whereas the other believed in...well, the mall. These different philosophies caused some tension from time to time, but nothing insurmountable. Even after the older one moved to a condo in the suburbs they remained friends. The pair also had different philosophies on dating. The older one was always on the lookout for "the husband (she) hasn't met yet" while the other believed if it's meant to be it's meant to be and if it's not, it's not. Both had insecurities about entering the dating world.

Eventually, both gained some confidence and ventured into the wacky world of online dating because neither was the type of girl to get hit on at a bar - both needed some extra help in that department. In the beginning, they shared stories about bad dates and the crazy profiles of men they encountered online. Then, one day, the older one told what was certainly one of the worst first date stories ever! She met up with a guy she was matched with on eHarmomy and on their first date he looked at her and called her "chubby." Yes, chubby. And, by the way, this man was estimated to be about a decade older than her, and did not exactly have the abs of Ryan Reynolds...or even Jack Black for that matter. The friends gathered around for this story, as well as the waitress at the restaurant serving their table, all told her to forget the guy and move on. The conversation turned to other people at the table and other topics and the evening progressed into a fun girl's night out.

And that was the last time the older one was seen or heard from again. Well, for the most part. It turns out she didn't run from Mr. Old and Flabby. In fact, they eventually moved in together and got engaged. She cut her friends out of her life to date and now marry the man who called her chubby on their first date. With the wedding quickly approaching, her save the dates have gone out. But not everyone from her old life received a save the date...in fact, her former friend - the (cool, hip) younger urban dweller who scorns chain restaurants - was left off the list, despite the fact that the two of them spent nearly five years of their lives being each other's go-to single gal pal. And after the snubbed friend discovered she was snubbed, she de-friended her former friend on Facebook and the two never spoke again. The End.

OK, so the "de-friending" may be an exaggeration but the story needed to wrap up!

The moral of the story, kids? Don't ditch your friends when you get into a relationship. And, if you do, at least invite the people who supported you through your single years to your wedding to celebrate your new life, even if you have no intention of continuing the friendship. After all, these are the people who supported you through some of the most difficult times of your life and should be included in your special day, if for no other reason to have closure to your friendship and to wish you best of luck in your new life as Mrs. Old and Flabby!

My life flashed before my eyes

I had a near death experience today.

Well, sort of.

OK, I am being dramatic. It has been a ridiculous day. Which is ridiculous because today is Saturday - Saturdays are supposed to be wonderful, not craptastic!

I decided to improve my mood by going for a run - usual route through the 'hood. To make a long story short, here's what happened (and if you want to read the long story check out my brand new running blog Running in Pearls):

I approached an intersection, running parallel with traffic that has right of way. Cross street had a stop sign. I saw two cars rolling toward stop sign - a white van and a burgundy p.o.s. pickup truck. I realized I was not running fast enough to cross before van stops, so slowed down and van came to a complete stop then proceeded. I proceed. 'Cause I HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY. Burgundy p.o.s. - who made eye contact with me while I was yielding to the van - just followed van and tried to RUN ME OVER. I ranted, I raved, I guess I'm lucky he didn't have a gun (and admit I did wonder what Suzanne Sugarbaker would do in this situation!). He crossed the intersection and slowed down, presumably to look at me in his rear view mirror, then kept going.

Ridiculous.

He better watch out. I remember what the crappy truck looks like and I guarantee he lives in my neighborhood and our paths will cross. And, I know my rights. According to Code of the City of Grand Rapids section 10.122 titled Crosswalks, I totally had the right of way. So, in the words of Kathy Griffin, "suck it" you a-hole!

Give me a brake - fall 2010 edition

Wait! Didn't I already write an entry with this exact title? Well, slightly different story, totally different day.

My car, my car. Winter is upon us,'tis the season I loathe my car more than usual because it doesn't have four wheel drive.

(Not so) lucky for me, my car failed me the day before Thanksgiving...and it wasn't even snowing.

On Wednesday of last week I made the cross state trek to visit my family for Thanksgiving. After nearly an hour and a half on the interstate, I exited and made a quick stop at an outlet mall and then headed to my hometown. Shortly after exiting the outlet mall and getting onto the one road I would take for the remainder of my trip I came to a stoplight. My foot was on the brake ('cause I was stopped at a stoplight) and I leaned over to pick something off the floor of the passenger side. As I sat back up, I felt my foot (remember, it's on the brake pedal) go all the way to the floor. Immediately I thought, "That's not normal!"and then I freaked out and thought I broke the brake pedal.

Suddenly the light turned green and it was time to go. I had a line of traffic behind me so I went. I thought maybe it was a fluke, so I decided to test my brakes. And that's when panic set in. When I hit the brake the car would slow, but definitely wouldn't stop...and oh yeah, my foot was still going all the way to the floor.

Now, you have to understand, at this point I am traveling down a two lane highway that runs through some farms, fields, new housing developments and a golf course. There is nowhere to stop to get my car fixed and my head is spinning at the thought of paying a towing bill. What do I do? Not the smartest thing...I keep driving. I know that about 15 minutes up the road is civilization, and know that there are several car dealerships about 25 minutes up the road.  However, what I also know is "civilization" is where the highway crosses and where traffic is always very heavy. I ponder all of this, and decide to press on. After all, I can slow down, I just can't exactly stop.

Thankfully, luck was on my side. It is sort of like the seas parted. I only hit one red light after the brakes went out, despite the fact that I passed through several stop lights. Then,when I arrived in "civilization" traffic was light so I was able to drive slowly into the Wal-Mart Super Center parking lot. I thought a lot of Wal-Mart stores had car repair places....but when I pulled in I quickly realized I was wrong.

What to do...what to do...coasting along the back of the Wal-Mart parking lot, I spotted a quick oil change place dead head. Bingo. I didn't know if they did brakes or could help me, but it was something.

Pulling in to the bay was interesting, I rolled down the window and told the guy I couldn't stop the car - he insisted on standing in front of my car as I pulled in anyway. Luckily, I was able to throw the car in park before mowing down the oil change guy.

Once stopped, a sign caught my eye, "We repair BRAKES." Jackpot!

Long story short, two hours and nearly $200 dollars later my brakes were repaired. Turns out the brake line simply broke. And now, I'm broke.

On a side note, I've started a blog specifically to tell tales of my running adventures-check it out:
http://runninginpearlsgirl.blogspot.com/

"My kid's just gonna be going for candy..."

A friend and I attended a local event called the "Santa Parade" this weekend. This event attracted all types of people from our city, including --of course-- families since the headliner was Santa Claus. However, attending this event with children was certainly not a prerequisite for snagging a spot along the parade route.

My friend and I planned ahead, arriving early enough to claim a prime spot on the sidewalk near the start of the parade route. Nice families set up chairs on each side of us, including one poor dad with five small children (I don't know how he managed that-but he managed it well!).

All was fine and dandy until the start of the parade....that's when a guy with a young daughter asked if he could get in front of us with his daughter so she could see. He was nice and she was a little kid so of course we accommodated. However, I was a little irritated....I wondered why he chose us...but whatever, it was time to enjoy the parade.

As the parade started, I noticed it was one of those events where people walking with floats throw candy out to kids.

About one second after the first Tootsie Roll was tossed, this asshole guy with his daughter came barreling through, practically shoving my friend and, as he brushed passed us said, "Yeah...my kid's just gonna be going for candy the whole time so we're just gonna stand here" and proceeded plant himself and child DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF US.

At least this other guy asked!

Asshole's wife stood behind us and said nothing. Eventually some of her skanky friends showed up and the ridiculous amount of perfume one of the skanks was wearing (probably b/c she hosed herself in her fave Victoria's Secret body spray after an all night bender at the bar) was so overwhelming it drove the family of the guy who asked to get in front of us (and who, by the way, sat on the curb as not to obstruct our view) away.

As the parade progressed, people came and went and we had room to move a few steps over to have an unobstructed view. However, the whole thing was incredibly irritating. What, I can't go and enjoy a community event because I don't have a kid with me? Why did two dads choose my friend and I to cut in front of? Why didn't they find a spot where they could squeeze in further down the parade route? What makes them entitled to take the spot I arrived early to claim? If you want a spot on the curb near the start of the route then arrive early like I did!

Bah Humbug to Asshole Dad....I hope Santa puts a lump of coal in your stocking!

A trip down the stairs and an all time low

"And I'd finally die fat and alone, and be found three weeks later, half eaten by wild dogs." - Bridget Jones

Many single girls have this fear - dying alone (and fat) and not being found. I'll admit this fear creeps to mind every now and then.

Today, it almost became a reality.

Yes, after what has been one crappy week after another this month, I hit an all time low today when I slipped and fell down the stairs in my home. That's right - like a frail old lady. Boom, boom,boom -there I went down eight steps! Thankfully my stairs turn mid-point and the turn stopped me from going down all 16 steps.

Once I stopped I just laid there not moving, with a death grip on my BlackBerry, in pain and in tears.

The jury is still out on this numbness in my right hand and arm (can't be good, right?) and these shooting pains I am now feeling in my hip, right butt cheek and right shoulder....but I am just thankful I fell backward and not forward.

Seriously, peeps, if I fell forward I would not be typing this right now. I'd be lying there dead, unconscious or paralyzed. Since I live alone and keep a crazy work schedule and already talked to my mom and sister today no one would look for me until at least Friday...and that's only because I have plans to run a holiday themed 5k with a friend that night.

By that time Gracie the dog would get hungry and would start munching on my cold, dead corpse. And then the cats would join in. That's even worse than being eaten by wild dogs!

I would be a punchline on the local evening news: "Spinster's corpse eaten by pets!"

While still on the stairs I BBMed my friend Emily to let her know about my mishap. She's local and has a key to my house. I didn't need assistance...but I just needed someone to know I totally could have just died!

I know, I know, I'm being a total drama queen....but it's a little freaky.

Tonight I'll thank my lucky stars I fell backward rather than forward and hope I don't wake up with a forearm the width of a basketball. I bet I will have some wicked bruises on my back tomorrow! In the mean time, I am going to sit here and watch "Bridget Jones's Diary."

Oh God, I really am Bridget Jones. Shoot.

"Have you got a boyfriend? A real one?" - Bridget's dad to Bridget....yes, I could see my dad asking me this...if I actually had a boyfriend - that is.

Snippets from my single, super broke and definitely not fabulous life

I'm back!

Honestly there hasn't been much to write about lately - a few small things but nothing "blogworthy" so here are snippets from the single, super broke and definitely not fabulous life of Jen:

• That whole Marie Claire article on Mike and Molly by Maura Kelly....if you haven't read it yet you need to....and if it makes you mad, read my favorite writer's "counterpoint." As someone who has been many, many sizes, more large than small, I have no right to judge anyone about their weight, but it's something I find myself doing. I think we all do. At the end of the day I believe this...I would bet my bottom dollar that there have always been "fat" people in the world: Neanderthal times, Biblical times, best of times/worst of times, etc.  We all come in different shapes and sizes and whatever size we go through life, if we're happy that's what matters!

• Trick or treat in 'da 'hood! Once again I had hundreds of trick-or-treaters, including teen moms with so many children they must have had their first born at age 11 or 12; a woman in her 40s or 50s trick or treating for herself on her scooter while sporting a velour jumpsuit - for real, she didn't even dress up!; two dads of babies carrying two trick or treat bags, one for the baby (oh yeah, cause that six month old is gonna go home and chow down on that Almond Joy!) and one for themselves.

• Important life lesson learned: No matter what, no matter how hard you work, no matter how hard you try to impress others, it doesn't matter. What matters is how you feel about yourself and the work you've done. So, don't waste time trying to exceed the expectations of others, focus on exceeding the expectations you set for yourself and celebrate your accomplishments, even if you are the only one singing your praises. Yeah, I should have learned that years ago. I think I did and actually I forgot it.

• Stress (according to Dr. Oz) can years seven years to your age! That is why above life lesson is a good one to remember!

That's all I've got!

"Sparty On?" Yeah, not so much

It is 4:09 a.m.

I should have known it would be a restless night of sleep.

The signs of the disturbance started around 10 p.m.....cars gathering on the street near the rental house on the other side of the street. Cars driven by college age looking people.

I left a bunch of lights on hoping to deter any potential violence against my beautiful and giant front porch pumpkin (speaking of pumpkins, the DQ has brought back the Pumpkin Pie Blizzard and it is as delicious as I remember...I fell off the wagon...twice. Good thing DQ closes for the season this weekend!).

All night I've been restless and after finally falling into a nice REM cycle something woke me up. Sure enough, a party...still going strong at 3:45 a.m.

Don't get me wrong, I love college students. They party, but generally mean no harm. It's all in the name of fun and I clearly remember those days (ok, sometimes not so clearly). However, I don't want to live near them. In fact, I used to drive one hour back and forth to work to avoid living in this not so little college town called East Lansing, a town notorious of riotous college students who burn couches at the drop of a hat. Those Michigan State Spartans can get a little out of control over basketball wins or because it's a random Friday night. "Sparty On?" No, no thank you. I am too old for that.

Now, I'd rather live near college students than say....a crackhouse...and if you read this blog you know there are a lot of transactions involving crack within one mile of my home.

However, I don't enjoy being woken up at 3:45 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

This particular home where the party is currently underway had been for sale forever, and finally it appears the owners gave up and rented it out. The last group of renters were a bunch of Emo and hippie looking people. They were totally harmless and often had friends over but noise never came from that home. They probably just sat in the basement and smoked pot.

A new group of normal looking college age students moved in this fall, and they've been quiet until tonight. They could be celebrating the local university's Homecoming weekend (though we're not IN the town of the local university...but you never know) or they could be celebrating Michigan State University's win over University of Michigan this evening (and let me point out we are nowhere near either school). If that's the case, I suppose I am lucky they aren't burning a couch.