Fuck You February, You've Won Again.

How is that February is the shortest month of the year, yet the longest?

There is a part of me that loves winter. I look forward to the time of year when I can bundle up in my cute winter accessories and cozy up with John in a warm pub like Duke of Perth for all we can eat fish and chips and sip Hot Toddy's until we begin to drift off at the table (it only takes two, BTW).  Getting out of the house and the cold sun will be shining for Saturday afternoon walks to Starbucks, window shopping on Broadway and evening treks out to Lincoln Park Zoo for ZooLights and hot chocolate.

Then February rolls around and BAM! The sun has not shown itself in days, maybe weeks, it is cold, dreary, and the city seems cruel. I find myself doing little more with my time outside of work than watching really bad TV on the CW and living off tortillas that I char on the stove and melt cheese on.

I wonder why on 'Hart of Dixie' that it never seems to get cold or cloudy in the quaint little town of Bluebell. And how on earth you can find a Southern town in Alabama with that many attractive people? Not a single person in that town resembles the meth-heads I usually come across when I am on the other side of the Mason-Dixon line.

I watch 'The Carrie Diaries' and wonder when that cute-as-a-button AnnaSophia Robb will begin to resemble the original Carrie Bradshaw. Will she be hit by an MTA bus on the way to her unrealistic, yet fantastical, fashion magazine internship resulting in that famous crooked schnoz? Or how about when will she pick up that nasty cigarette habit that was such an integral part of Carrie's character on 'Sex and the City'?

On Thursday's I tune into 'The Vampire Diaries'. OK, well that is only because that guy who plays Damon is hot. I have no other excuse. It's not because the writing this season is just 'soooo good' with the convoluted plot lines and 'whoa-is-me' attitude of the main character, Elena. There are times when watching the show I just wish Buffy would show up and knock some sense into all of them.

When I am not glued to the television, I find myself fantasizing about living in an endless summer. Like going back to Hawaii and trading in my job and Blackberry for a retail position and nights spent at beach parties. Or I even begin to convince myself that Los Angeles wouldn't be such a bad place to live, even though if you approached me in any other state of mind than the one I'm in in February I would argue that nothing could be worse than living in that congested, dirty suburgatory.

The truth is, in February, being anywhere is better than being where you are. And dreaming about better days when the sun is shining and the city is alive again are in reality just one way to cope with this most depressing month of the year. Longing for summer that is just around the corner and once again getting to live my life in sundresses and sandals while heading out to the nearest street festival to shop the artwork and drink beer while listening to the cover bands.

But for today, on March 5th 2013, February still has its grip and Chicago looks like this:

Forced to reserve our parking via lawn furniture. 

Braving treacherous afternoon Starbucks trips

And finally, working from home because it's just too damn cold.

Fuck You February, I hate you.

Are You Better Off Now Than Before?

With this election season come and gone the question 'Are you better off now than you were 4 years ago?' has been thrown around a lot over the past few months.

My grandmother passed away last August and so for the first time in 4 years John and I packed up the Jetta and headed down to Cape Girardeau, MO. Of course the focus of these few days in Cape should have been on Grandma and the funeral, and they were, however the conversation among my conservative family inevitably turned to politics. The points mostly being on how Obama hates small business, religion, and puppies. It's as if Rush Limbaugh is speaking the Gospel and they cannot get enough. In fact, one of the first things my grandpa asked John and me, after not seeing or speaking to us in 4 years, was whether or not we were better off now than we were 4 years ago. John looked him straight in the eye and said 'yes'. And it couldn't be more true.

In the past 4 years, it seems as if nothing but great things have happened. John has been at his current company and moved positions, I have been at my current company and been promoted. We also got engaged, bought a home in Lakeview, made some of the best friends that we could ever ask for, and got married in a nice little ceremony on Oahu. We have really started to make a life for ourselves here in Chicago. Personally and somewhat superficially, my professional pursuits have rewarded me with a growing collection of Burberry coats (my weakness), a shoe collection that I can't seem to stop adding to, and the occasional shopping trips to Neiman Marcus and Anthropologie. Not to even mention that for the first time since we both started working professionally that we have had the opportunity to travel enough to use up all of our allotted paid vacation time in 2012, which I consider an accomplishment to strive for every year from here on out.

Of course the economy (and maybe a bit of luck) has had something to do with this success. However, the real catalyst that set this crazy journey in motion was Christmas 5 years ago. John and I dutifully headed down to Cape Girardeau to spend Christmas with my grandparents. Unfortunately, this Christmas was not merry. My mother, who I have no relationship with, and who I had not seen in 10 years at the point of this trip was having her annual bout of crazy. Aside from the usual asinine comments and behavior from my grandparents such as:

1. The only redeeming quality John has is that his family took him to a Methodist Church. - Grandpa (They went to a church for about 6 months to sing in the choir.)
2.  You are living in SIN! - Grandpa (Yep, we had a really cute apartment in Roscoe Village at the time.)
3. You really should wear more makeup, you are not naturally pretty. - Grandma (Whatever.)
4. You will never get anywhere in life whoring around. - Grandma - (Sure.)
5. After work, do you go back to your 'room'? - Grandma (Um, I don't live in a dorm, thanks Grandma!)

The icing on the cake of this already shitty holiday, my Grandpa took it upon himself to pull me aside, without John my boyfriend of 3 years at the time, to tell me that it was my duty and obligation as a member of the family to support my mother. I had to sit there and listen to how much my mother did for me, most of which was a fabrication on my grandfather's behalf. When I tried to remind him that my mother is someone who dumped me, at 15 years old, in Cape Girardeau, MO; emptied out my bank account, stole what little jewelry I had from my other Grandma so she could pawn it out of spite, and then disappeared. Literally, I came home from school one day she was just gone. Over dinner the night she took off, my grandma told me "You know, we really don't want you, but we feel keeping you here is the 'Christian thing to do'." But with all of that aside while commiserating my future duties with Grandpa, if I refused to take care of my mother it showed how 'ungrateful' for everything my grandparents ever did for me. Especially extending the 'kindness' to take me in.

With that conversation, I went into the living room without saying a word to my Grandma and told John that in no uncertain terms that it was time to leave. So we threw our things in the car, leaving whatever Christmas presents behind and not saying goodbye and drove home to Chicago and had our own Christmas. The next day when I checked my email I was not surprised to find a nasty-gram from my Grandpa telling me how disappointed in me he is and that I was indeed 'disowned' from the family. That was the last communication that I had with my Grandpa prior to my Grandma's funeral. And looking back on this situation, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. If it wasn't for that Christmas, I wouldn't have finally realized that my happiness and success in life is not dependent on anyone but myself and nothing is worth putting up with people who have the ability to make me that unhappy because life is too short to deal with that bullshit. So yes, in short, I am infinitely better off than I was 4 years ago. Or maybe ever for that matter.

Whoops! You're Judgmental.

A couple of months ago, I had a friend accuse me of being 'judgmental'. I thought about it for a minute and came to the realization that everyone is judgmental because we all have opinions. Whoops, sorry to be judgmental and voice my opinion. Forgive me!!

Well anyway, in retrospect, I guess I should have apologized for processing the sad-sack, pathetic stories she would spew and formulate an opinion from my natural thought process. Oh wait, no, I will never owe someone an apology for being myself and having an opinion. And in retrospect, I should have told her from the beginning, exactly what I was thinking as it would have saved me a lot of future headaches. But I digress...

After all, I listened to her opinion that at 27 she deserved an apartment in Chicago with an in-unit washer and dryer, 3 bedrooms, jet-spa bathtubs, granite counter tops, and stainless steel appliances because at her age she felt that she should have things like while only working a part-time receptionist job. When they were forced to leave this apartment because they could barley afford the rent with her husband working and when he lost his job they could no longer afford the rent at all. I listened to her complain about her mean landlord who probably just wanted them to sign a lease or get out, either way, the fact is that the guy has a property business to run and her problems were not his. Sorry!

But I never said that...

When she chose to stay in a part-time reception job that 'she loved'. I stayed quiet as her husband lost his job and watched both of them struggle to keep the expensive roof over her head that she was so deserving of. Even as she threw out her back requiring paramedics to arrive and an uninsured stay in the ER, I said nothing. I listened to her complain how the doctor screwed them over for charging her for making rounds and doing tests and how they were denied funds from a hospital charity program that pays bills for people who are needy. I kept my opinion to myself that those programs are for people who are actually needy, not for those people who simply choose to not to work.

But obviously, the hospital was just as 'judgmental' as I apparently am...

When her lifestyle could not be sustained any longer, I listened to her complain that she had to get a full-time receptionist job. And how hard it is to work full time, and keep her house clean, and play on facebook, and keep food in her mouth, and take the L to work. In fact working full time is so hard on her that she has to take a nap on her lunch break. Answering phones and filing mail is so strenuous that she must steal away in a VP's office and take a nap on the couch, and if that office is occupied by the VP doing his job then she must pull two office chairs together in an empty cube to rest after such a hard morning. Never mind that I work 40 plus hours a week, have a home to keep clean, and a dinner to put on the table. Just like everyone else. She just couldn't understand how on earth that life is possible.

And as she became more and more resentful of her husband for forcing her into full time work, I still just listened...

I guess I should have apologized for taking her out for Brunch and mani/pedi's for her Birthday. And when we went downtown to do some shopping afterward, I never should have bought the two pairs of Tory Burch shoes that I wanted because I liked them. She didn't like them and couldn't understand why I would want them or why I would want to spend $600 on shoes when she buys her clothes from consignment shops. I guess I should apologize for how I spend my discretionary income and hide it from people who may be offended, or daresay 'judgmental'. I guess I owe her an explanation for my financial successes. No wait, I don't. I work at a very demanding job, that is also a career. I will spend my money at Bloomingdale's however I see fit and still have money leftover to put in my savings accounts and 401k or else I wouldn't be shopping.

So Fuck You.

When she complained about being fat, I listened and stupidly tried to offer advice. Not to bring her down, but to legitimately try to help her. That was a mistake. After all, she is not fat because she eats too much. She is fat because she contracted parasites in Mexico 7 years ago. You see, if you snorkel in the Caribbean and accidentally swallow the sea water, you will start to uncontrollably gain weight. It will have nothing to do with in one evening eating a full value meal from McDonald's then spotting a Hardee's order a second value meal and hoovering it like an emaciated African child. When I gently offered the advice of maybe trying to record what you eat for a week because she insisted she 'doesn't eat very much', I was met with the retort 'WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!'. I should have responded with a profound 'fuck you' and ended our friendship there, however, I didn't. And that was a mistake. I know she doesn't realize that in restaurants she is the only person that eats her full deep fried meal and everyone always waited patiently while she ordered and finished dessert. But, I'm sure it's the parasites, not the White Castle, fountain sodas, Doritos, or anything else she forces down her gullet in a day that makes her obese.

Cancun Parasites.. totally legit. 

I listened to her complain about her friend who got knocked up by some hillbilly who was controlling her in some cult-type atmosphere. She was planning on a caravan up to Michigan with her husband to rescue this friend from the evil clutches of hillbilly-dome. As I listened to this story, I nodded, and made profound statements such as 'wow', 'that's too bad', and 'it's horrible she got herself in that situation'. Well, with that I was met with a 'It sounds like you are judging my friend' dig. Well, I guess I was. But truthfully, I couldn't give two fucks about this girl or her situation. I was just listening to my friend drone on to be polite. Whoops. Was I supposed to just not respond in this conversation at all? What was the right answer here?

I guess I will never know...

I am happy that this friendship ended. Because it was never a real friendship to begin with and life is too short to deal with high school level drama in my 30's. My only regret is that this girl wasn't kicked to the curb before I pulled my work strings to help that leech fly out to Hawaii for our wedding. Because, strangely, she only let on how many issues she had with me and my being 'judgmental' afterwards.

Coincidence?

I do take away some valuable lessons from this situation. From this moment forward, I will work on trusting my instincts because I have learned:

1. Sometimes your first reaction and opinion of someone is the most accurate.
2. If you know someone who is constantly, 'getting screwed over' by someone, something, some company, some anything. Then that is probably a good indication that this person is quicksand and you may soon be the person who they are telling everyone that 'screwed them over'.
3. I know who my real friends are and you shouldn't have to work that hard to get along with someone.
4. You never have to apologize for who you are or what/how you feel.
5. That being judgmental only means that you have an opinion that the person you are speaking to doesn't agree with. And there is no shame in that.