6 Reasons to Marry Your Best Friend

Today I’m supposed to talk about my best friend, which is going to get really sappy really quickly because Will is my bestest best friend. But before I get to him, let me say that I have amazing friends, all different, and all special to me in their own ways and for various reasons. I’ve got friends I’ve had since before I can remember having friends. I’ve got friends with whom friendships were forged under the most trying of circumstances – adolescence. I’ve got friends from college who watched me (and bore with me) as I did a fair amount of growing up and becoming myself, making a fool of myself as expected along the way. I’ve got friends from New York who took on the big city with me, who didn’t bat an eye when I started cutting my clothes up and got my nose pierced, but loved me, accepted me, and appropriately challenged me. I’ve got friends from Raleigh, who, though they are my most recent acquaintances, have become family. Literally.

And when I say literally, I literally mean literally. Whitney has spent the last couple of Christmases with my family, yes, and she is very close to literal family, but I’m talking about the friend who is now actually my family – my husband. We sometimes have surreal moments when we just can’t believe that we are married because still, after two years together, only a quarter of our relationship has been romantic in nature. We were friends for six years before we ever got together, so we often find it hard to believe that we get to kiss each other whenever we want, and we often find it hard to believe that there was ever a time we didn’t kiss each other.

Smooching is only one perk of marrying your best friend, though. Here are some more:

1. Hanging out with friends is simple.

We each have some friends that the other doesn’t know (or doesn’t know well), but we don’t hang out with them all that often because they don’t live nearby. If they did, we’d try to hang out with them a little bit more. The friends we hang out with the most are the ones we’ve both known for years, the ones we knew before we ever got together, the ones who, when we started dating, said, “Well it’s about time!” So I almost never have to go to awkward parties with Will’s friends and make small talk (introvert problems), and he’s only had to do that once or twice with my friends and family. Nope, none of that. We just hang out with people we both know and love.

2. Spending time together is fun and easy.

You’re friends! You’ve already spent time getting to know each other and developing “your things” – the things you always do together and/or the things you only do with each other. You have your favorite restaurants and hangouts, you have your inside jokes, you probably enjoy a lot of the same things, and you know what to expect from each other. Sure, Will and I have our disagreements, and we get frustrated with each other at times, but for the most part, being together is enjoyable. We don’t get tired of each other. We just do the things we’ve always enjoyed doing together, and it’s great!

3. The relationship moves at a comfortable pace.

I have two things to say about this. First, a lot of Christians get married lightning fast. The joke is that they just want to have sex, but they have to get hitched first, so they speed the process along. I’m sure there’s some truth to that, but I sincerely hope it’s not the whole truth because marriage is a huge step, and you really should be sure you’re ready to commit to marriage with that specific person before you do it. Otherwise, you are likely in for a bumpy road and a lot of heartache. I believe it is entirely possible to meet, fall in love with, and commit to a person for the rest of your life in a very short span of time (my parents did it), but it’s rare. By marrying your best friend, you can take it fast AND slow at the same time. A lot of people we met when we were engaged (or about to get engaged) were shocked that we’d only been together for such a short time, but as soon as we told them we’d been friends for six years, they were fine with us getting married.

Second, I always hated online dating because it took me six dates to decide whether I liked a guy enough even to be friends with him, much less date him. But by the time you’ve been on six dates with someone, news flash, you’re dating. The pace of it always made me uncomfortable. But with Will, I already knew I liked spending time with him as a friend. I then learned pretty quickly that I loved being in a relationship with him, that in fact I loved him. With that knowledge, stepping into engagement was a no-brainer, and even though marriage is a scary prospect that brings a lot of change, we were WAY ready for it by the time our wedding day rolled around.

4. There aren’t a lot of surprises.

Will and I were friends for six years. By the time we started dating, I knew what foods he liked, I knew how he liked to spend his time, I knew (more or less) how tidy he was, I knew the kinds of things he would want to do and the kinds of things he’d need to be coerced into doing. By the time we got married, I knew even more, and that knowledge has been invaluable. They say the first year of marriage is the hardest, and I think that’s the case because there’s just such a steep learning curve if you haven’t been living together beforehand. But when you marry your best friend, you know what you’re getting for the most part.

5. You always have a buddy.

We fully acknowledge the fact that we are disgustingly sweet a LOT of the time, and the romantic part of being in a good relationship is GREAT. But sometimes, you just don’t feel lovey-dovey. Sometimes you feel wretched and gross and gassy, and you don’t want to be touched. Sometimes you’ve had a hard day, and you don’t want to deal with it. You just want to watch TV and veg out. Sometimes you’re tired and don’t feel sexy at all. And in those moments, the good thing about being married to your best friend is that you’ve always got a buddy. You’ve always got your friendship – your simple enjoyment of each other’s company – to fall back on. You CAN just veg out together and watch TV. You CAN just lie next to each other in bed and look at Facebook. You don’t feel the need to constantly impress each other, and you don’t have to worry when the googly-eyed phase of your relationship stops being a 24/7 thing. Our googly eyes come and go, but our friendship fills in the gaps in between.

6. You can talk about everything.

I mean everything. Everything from the frequency and consistency of your bowel movements to theories on life and purpose. And when things are tough and you need to talk to someone, you’ve always got your best friend there with you, wanting to hear what you have to say. And when things are absolutely abysmal and you would rather not talk about it because you think it will hurt too much, you’ve got your best friend there too, encouraging you to keep talking or just letting you cry it out.

If you didn’t marry your best friend, I don’t think it’s too late to be married to your best friend. We got there slowly, and with a lot of movies. I think you can too. Find some common ground, have fun together, make jokes, laugh, flirt, watch silly TV shows, talk about your poop, ask about each other’s day, talk about your hopes and dreams and theories on life and purpose, and maybe do a little smoochin’.

*This post was co-written by Will and Beth. We are also available for parties…but bear in mind, we are very awkward at them.*

The Very Worst Mary Kay Lady

Background #1

Some of you may be familiar with Jamie the Very Worst Missionary. If not, the short story is she and her husband were missionaries in Costa Rica (they’re now in California), and she’s awesome. She is only about 3% what you’d expect a Christian missionary to be, and that 3% is just that she’s a Christian. The tagline on her blog says, “inappropriate remarks, embarrassing antics, and generally lame observations from a Christian missionary,” and her latest post is a picture of her cat in a neglige. Not what you’d typically expect from a missionary.

Background #2

Some of you may know that right out of college, I was a Mary Kay consultant. If not, the short story is that I was a Mary Kay consultant. Also, if you look at pictures of me from that time, my skin looked AWESOME.

I never considered myself to be a very good Mary Kay lady, partly because my mom was my only real customer, partly because I felt duped into spending a whole bunch of money on a whole bunch of products that I never sold, and partly because I just didn’t feel comfortable with myself in the role. I had to wear a suit and pumps and pantyhose, and I had to chat people up – complete strangers – and give them eye shadow samples. It just wasn’t me at all.

I don’t blame anyone for any of this. The friend who got me to sign up wasn’t manipulative or pushy at all. She was a very sweet friend who simply believed in the product and the business opportunity, and she wanted to offer me that opportunity. I still appreciate her for that.

I was never successful as a Mary Kay lady, though, and when I moved to New York for grad school, I sold all of my product back to the company and got out of the business.

Background #3

I consider my time in New York to be the time when I really started discovering myself and becoming who I wanted to be, who I truly am. Back when I had an eHarmony account, one of the profile questions asked me to tell about a person who had influenced me the most (besides my parents). I said that rather than a person, I would have to say the whole of New York City had influenced me the most because it’s a safe place to experiment with who you are and make decisions about who you are becoming. If you want to wear a Spiderman costume every day, NOBODY CARES. The tourists will look at you in wonder, and the locals will look at you with amusement if they notice you at all, but no one will judge your fashion choice. New York was where I started slashing up my t-shirts and wearing hats. It was where I started cuffing my jeans. It was where I started experimenting with more unusual/daring hairstyles. It was where I got my nose pierced. These were all pretty tame experiments as fashion/lifestyle experiments go, but for a girl from Wilkesboro, NC, they felt risky.

I am eternally grateful for my time in NYC because it helped me to discover who I am, and to be comfortable with myself. If I could go back and do it again, I would, and I would push myself even further out of my comfort zone because I loved who I became there (in spite of my sour subway face).


I say all of that to lead up to this. Back in May, a friend who was also engaged won a free Mary Kay mini-facial and was allowed to bring friends. She invited me, and I went. It was the first time I’d used Mary Kay in about ten years, and I loved it all over again. The product, that is. The sales pitch, the business opportunity, the scripted feeling of it all, I could do without, but the product, I absolutely love.

And since I’m cheap, and as a consultant, you get 50% off, I signed up again to sell.

Well, not really to sell. Just to get the discount.

But I keep feeling like there’s something more to this thing. Like now that I know myself better and am more comfortable in my own skin, and now that I know my limits and am REALLY good at saying “No,” now I might be the Mary Kay lady that people who normally hate Mary Kay ladies like. Now I might be able to set my discomfort and ego and the pressure of “should” aside and let people make their own decisions about a product without it affecting my own personal approval rating. And now, I might be able to have some fun with it.

Beth, the Very Worst Mary Kay Lady

Here’s what I propose and promise. If you’ve ever been curious about Mary Kay, or if you think it’s grandma makeup that you would never in a million years use, or if you had a traumatic experience in a Target fitting room with a pushy MK lady trying to give you her business card, an eye shadow sample and a Tootsie Roll, or if you just love pretty things and feeling good about yourself, hit me up.

And I promise I will:

  1. NEVER use the word “pamper” (beyond this sentence).
  2. NEVER call you all cheerleader-excited and tell you about a great opportunity I have for you (unless that opportunity involves squirrels on water skis, concert tickets, auditions for So You Think You Can Dance, booze, a scavenger hunt, murder mystery dinner theater, or meeting a famous person).
  3. NEVER push you to purchase anything. If you like it, and you want it, you can buy it. Just like at Target. If you don’t want it, don’t buy it. Simple as that.
  4. ALWAYS answer all your questions about starting/running a MK business honestly. Completely honestly.
  5. NEVER coerce you into giving me your friends’ names and phone numbers and then harass them to host a party.
  6. ALWAYS work with you to have a party if you want to.
  7. ALWAYS wear something I’m comfortable in to your party, which probably means jeans. Shoes optional.
  8. NEVER be upset if nobody comes to your party, or if you host one and nobody buys anything.
  9. NEVER speak to you from a script.
  10. NEVER attempt manipulate you in any way.
  11. ALWAYS work with you to make you look however you want. If you want something classic, done. If you want something punk, I would LOVE to make that happen.
  12. ALWAYS be completely myself.
  13. ALWAYS encourage you to be completely yourself.
  14. ALWAYS respect you and think you are beautiful no matter what.
  15. NEVER put my business or money ahead of authentic connections with people.

These promises may make me the very worst Mary Kay lady, but they may also make me the most content.

A Few Short Updates

I have to leave for work (again) in about 15 minutes, so I don’t have time for a lengthy post about anything, but that’s cool because I don’t have anything lengthy to say about anything, so here are just a few short updates and tidbits:

  • I LOVE that it’s already Wednesday. This week is going by much more quickly than last week.
  • Whitney and I are looking for a new place to live. We want a cheaper place, preferably closer to work for me. If you know of anything in the Cameron Village/Wade Ave./downtown/campus area that costs less than $900 for a 2BR or less than $1200 for a 3BR and won’t smell like college boys, do let us know.
  • I signed up for Netflix. Why oh why did I not do this years ago?? It’s amazing.
  • I signed up for eHarmony. Just seeing if you were paying attention. Yes? You are? Good because I seriously did. Nothing exciting to report so far, but apparently I am VERY matchable.
  • I’m having an AWESOME hair day today.
  • My personal fundraising for my Italy trip is done!!!! I have ALL my money!! My team as a whole, however, is at about 72% funded, so if you still want to contribute, we would love that. I kinda want them to go with me.
  • I watched a fabulous documentary yesterday that I’ll write more about later, but if you want to go ahead and watch it, it’s called The Rape of Europa. If you have Netflix, you can stream it online. It’s also a book that I might be interested in reading with a book club. Any takers on that? AND I am 100% sure that I want to go on a European art tour. That is of course in addition to my European spy tour and my Sound of Music tour.
  • Oh! And on July 22, Koka Booth is showing a sing-along Sound of Music, complete with subtitles for all the songs and a costume contest! I’d like to go as Liesl in the gazebo, or perhaps Liesl coming out of the gazebo after being kissed by Rolf. I’ll just hold my arms straight out with an elated look on my face and periodically fling them backward while squealing. But I’d also like to find a dress. Any ideas?
  • I watched Legends of the Fall the other day for the first time since it was released in theaters in 1994. I do not know how I was allowed to see it at the tender age of 14. I don’t even think I was allowed to watch Dirty Dancing until later than that. But good golly it is one of the most depressing things I’ve ever seen.

Teaching Keeps Me Normally Weird

I have always said that in order to be a good ESL teacher (or probably any language teacher, for that matter), you have to be at least a little bit insane. You have to be able to roll with whatever comes at you, ready to answer no matter what questions come up, ready to explain things by way of demonstration, ready to liven things up should they get too boring. In general, you have to be willing to make a complete idiot of yourself. I think that’s why I like teaching ESL so much. It allows me to utilize the skills I might use on stage, but I never have to audition. Win-win.

But what I’ve just discovered is that teaching also keeps me just barely on the sane side. When I’m not teaching, you see, I get myself into trouble because I have no schedule. And when I have no schedule, I stay up later and sleep later. And when I stay up too late, I sign up for online dating services, and that is just no good at all (I deleted my account the next morning, thank goodness). And when I don’t have things to do during the day, I spend way too much time wandering around Target. And that’s when I accidentally try on nursing bras and consider buying them. And apparently that’s not good either.

I don’t mean to pick them up. I’m just looking at styles and sizes. I don’t notice the little snappy hook things on the front until I get back into the dressing room, and then I think, “Well, as long as I’m here…” And y’all, I’m not kidding. They are SO comfortable. I tried on a regular bra yesterday, and I hated it. It was all rigid and itchy, and it corralled my bazooms in a most unflattering manner. Then I tried on a soft, comfy, cute bra that also just happened to snap open in the front. What of it?

I didn’t buy it, but I do need to go to Target again today, and I’m not making any promises. If I buy it, I won’t tell you about it, and you’ll never know I’m wearing it. That is, unless you notice how unprecedentedly comfortable I am. Then you’ll know.

Why I Won’t Date You (Besides the Fact that You’re Not Real)

Look, y’all. When I allowed anonymous questions on the formspring page, this was really not what I had in mind.

beth..i’ve had the biggest crush on you for awhile! i don’t go on here a lot. but please message me on www.dateanswer.com under the username “wishfulthinker”. please don’t get all weird =)

Ok. I am 100% sure this is not legit, so I feel completely non-a-holey saying no, Mr. Terrible Punctuation, I will not go out with you. And the only thing weird here is that www.dateanswer.com is not a real website, so…now I kind of feel like you’re making fun of me. Like you’re declaring fake feelings for me as a joke (heh heh heh senior prank, senior prank, heh heh senior prank).

I’m not going to cry myself to sleep or anything, though. I mean it’s not like you have a chance with me anyway (NON-a-holey because this is fake, remember?).

Win a Date With a Serial Killer

Y’all know I’ll do pretty much anything if it’s free and doesn’t violate any laws or personal morals. I will especially join a dating site if it’s free just because it’s so dang entertaining. But this Zoosk thing – I just can’t bring myself to do it for at least two reasons.

First, there’s the name. What kind of a name is Zoosk for a dating site? What does that even mean? And what does it have to do with dating, relationships, love, romance, friendship, people, or the internet? Plus, it’s hard to say, especially when you pair it with “dot com.” Bad plan all around, guys. Really.

But the biggest reason I don’t want to have anything to do with it is the awful, horrible, terrible, no good, very bad radio commercial I heard for it on my way to work. Y’all, seriously. It was worse than a local car dealership commercial. Bad script, bad acting, and they kept saying “Zoosk,” and it was impossible to understand every time. Awful, terrible, abysmally bad.

The commercial was a conversation between two girls, one of whom was browsing Zoosk. The other one came in and asked what she was doing. Then they started talking about all the cute guys on the site. One of them wanted to cook her dinner that weekend. Another, get this, wanted to “take her to the island in his private plane.” Right there, with that line, whoever was writing this thing should have been fired. That doesn’t make any sense. What island? And WHY, I ask you, is a man with a private plane utilizing the services of a free dating site?

Well, at this point in the commercial, we go into a dream sequence, except it’s radio, so you can only guess it’s a dream sequence based on the little harp ditty leading into it. And in the dream, the girl is in the plane with the guy, and he’s this totally immature jerk/show-off who’s flying all crazy and scaring her to death. And then the harp plays again to lead us back into reality, where apparently the two girls have been imagining the same death flight, and they agree that she should go with the guy who wants to cook dinner.

Now let’s just be practical for a moment. If I were on a dating site, and I had to choose between Guy Who Wants to Cook Me Dinner and Guy Who Wants to Take Me to “The Island” in His Private Plane, I would not be concerned with fly-boy’s piloting skills. I would be concerned that he is a liar (private plane, free dating site) who wants to kidnap me (unnamed island) and murder me in a place with no cellular reception. THAT’s why I would choose Dinner Guy if I had to pick one.

But now let’s be honest. NO guy on any dating site anywhere ever wants to cook you dinner for the first meeting. And no girl in her right mind would agree to it. “Yeah, Brad, going to your apartment alone so you can slip me a roofie sounds awesome! I can’t wait to meet you!”

No thanks, Zoosk (oh my gosh it’s even hard to type), I don’t care how many millions of singles have already joined worldwide. I will not be browsing them. Because based on your radio commercial, they are all either idiots or shady, lying possibly murderers. Even if they are hot.

Jeware. Welcome.

Today’s formspring question isn’t so much a question as it is a request, and a rather vague one at that, but here goes:

More on Jews, Please. Thank Jew.

Friends, I’m not really sure how to respond to this, but I suppose I have several options.

  1. I could start an ongoing Jew segment, giving you the history, culture and traditions of the Jewish people. Honestly, though, I think that would be a little weird and not at all in keeping with the serious themes of online dating, disturbing dreams, food, and haircare products you’ve come to expect here. Sure, there’s the occasional bizarre writing activity, but I think I’ll save all my educational writing for Your Dictionary. I am actually supposed to write an article this month on the origins of Judaism, so keep an eye out for that.
  2. I could replace “Jew” with “you” in a sneaky reversal of the song-enhancing practice I learned from Collice and Grady, and tell you more about myself. But who wants to hear that? Oh wait. Apparently y’all do. You keep coming back here to read this stuff and asking me questions to answer (some of which are going to get REAL personal this week). So I guess in a way, I answer this request every time I post something new. Jew’re welcome.
  3. I could give you some awesome song lyrics with “Jews” in place of all the “yous,” but you have to promise not to think me racist or antisemitic in any way. I’m not talking about actual people. It’s just a word that sounds like another word. And makes every song hilarious (and sometimes horribly offensive). My apologies in advance to every Jewish reader I have. If I could do the same thing to followers of other religions, believe me, I would. I actually do it sometimes with “Mormon,” putting it in place of “moment.” That’s pretty funny too. “Where was the Mormon we needed the most?” “I’m hanging by a Mormon here with Jews.” – A DOUBLE!!

So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you some lyrics just like Bill and Ted gave the princesses before they got taken away by those royal ugly dudes. Let’s see…

  • “Jews don’t own me. Don’t say I can’t go with other boys, and don’t tell me what to do, and don’t tell me what to say, and please, when I go out with Jews, don’t put me on display. I don’t tell Jews what to say, and I don’t tell Jews what to do. Just let me be myself. That’s all I ask of Jews.”
  • “Jews, my darling Jews, mmmm…bittersweet memories – that is all I’m taking with me. So goodbye. Please don’t cry. We both know I’m not what Jews, Jews need. And I will always love Jews. I will always love Jews.”
  • “Jews must not know ’bout me, Jews must not know ’bout me. I can get another Jew in a minute. Matter fact, he’ll be here in a minute, baby. Jews must not know ’bout me, Jews must not know ’bout me. I can have another Jew by tomorrow, so don’t Jews ever for a second get to thinkin’ Jews irreplaceable.”
  • “Jews got a piece of me, and honestly, my life would suck without Jews.”
  • “If she would’ve been faithful, if she could have been true, then I would’ve been cheated. I would never know real love. I would’ve missed out on Jews.”
  • “Jews can’t escape my private eyes. They’re watching Jews.”
  • “Wherever Jews go, whatever Jews do, I will be right here waiting for Jews.”
  • “Tell me how am I supposed to live without Jews now that I’ve been lovin’ Jews so long? How am I supposed to live without Jews? And how am I supposed to carry on when all that I’ve been living for is gone?”
  • “I’m not gonna write Jews a love song ’cause Jews asked for it, ’cause Jews need one. You see, I’m not gonna write Jews a love song ’cause Jews tell me it’s make or breakin’ this.”
  • “For all those times Jews stood by me, for all the truths that Jews made me see, for all the joy Jews brought to my life, for all the wrongs that Jews made right, for every dream Jews made come true, for all the love I found in Jews, I’ll be forever thankful, baby….Jews were my strength when I was weak, Jews were my voice when I couldn’t speak, Jews were my eyes when I couldn’t see, Jews saw the best there was in me, lifted me up when I couldn’t reach, Jews gave me faith ’cause Jews believed. I’m everything I am because Jews loved me. Jews gave me wings and made me fly, Jews touched my hand, I could touch the sky. I lost my faith, Jews gave it back to me. Jews said no star was out of reach. Jews stood by me, and I stood tall. I had their love, I had it all. I’m grateful for each day Jews gave me. Maybe I don’t know that much, but I know this much is true: I was blessed because I was loved by Jews. Oh, Jews were always there for me, the tender wind that carried me, light in the dark, shining their love into my life. Jews’ve been my inspiration. Through the lies, Jews were the truth. MY WORLD IS A BETTER PLACE BECAAAHAAAUSE OF JEWWWWEWWWWWS!”

Are Jew satisfied?

BlackBerrylessness: Day 1

I did it.

I went to the Verizon store yesterday after church and told them I wanted to downgrade. They turned off my PunkBerry and gave me a very normal, very unsmart Samsung “Intensity.” I’m not exactly sure what’s so intense about it. So far, here’s what I don’t like:

  • It doesn’t automatically capitalize the first letter in a new sentence.
  • It doesn’t automatically capitalize I.
  • It doesn’t automatically capitalize I AND add an apostrophe when I type im.
  • It doesn’t automatically add an apostrophe to any contractions.
  • I can’t just start typing a contact’s name from the keypad and have it pop up. I have to either go into my contact list or slide it open to use the QWERTY keyboard.

But on the other hand, here’s what I DO like:

  • It doesn’t vibrate to confirm that I just sent an email. Honestly, it stressed me out that the PunkBerry did that. Every time I’d send an email, I would just brace for it. It made me all tense. I’m still getting used to it, though, so every time I send an email, my stomach muscles still automatically tighten, but I’ll loosen up soon enough. As will my abs.
  • I am not greeted every morning by my “friends,” Snapfish, Elance and Borders Rewards. I am not ever greeted by junk mail.
  • It doesn’t get me all excited that someone wants to talk to me just to let me down when I find it was only eHarmony offering me a “great deal.” I am only notified when real people I really know actually wish to speak with me.
  • It has calculator that does temperature, length, weight, area, volume and currency conversions as well as tip calculation. This will be very helpful the next time I’m in Europe and don’t know what the temperature really is or how much oil I’m really supposed to add to the cake mix.
  • It has this real sultry ringtone called “Slowly” that I jam out to sometimes.
  • It costs $30 less every month to use (Europe2012!!).

So I think I’m ok today. I freaked out for about half an hour right after I left the Verizon store, but after talking to Josh on it for a while and then spending the rest of the afternoon texting, I started to get used to it, and I think I’m going to be ok. Will keep you updated, though.

The Biggest Difference Between Freelancing and…Not

I think it has been well established that I like to write. And on that note, a sidenote: I’m about to hit 1,000 blog posts, and I’m trying to think of something exciting to do for it. Any suggestions? End of sidenote.

So I’ve been writing freelance for the past couple of years for various websites and having a lot of fun with it. I’d like to do it more. I’d like to write as my main job (and teach a few days a week), but here’s the thing. As a freelancer, you have to actually finish work in order to get paid. If you sit at your computer for eight hours a day and don’t complete anything, that’s zero dollars for you. If you work as a normal employee (on salary, hourly wage or contract) of a company, you get paid just to show up, and they assume that you’re working the whole time. I mean, obviously if you never do any work, you’ll get fired, but I’m just sayin’ – I have long conversations with people online while they’re at work. During this time, they are getting paid while I am not because they’re at work (“working”), but I’m not getting anything done. A job job is, therefore, in just about every way provided you like your job, preferable. But I have yet to find a company that will pay me to write about the kinds of things I write about full time.

If you know of such a company – one that wants to pay someone to write for 35-40 hours a week on topics such as hair gel, crazy people, internet dating, personal victories over technological ineptitude, vegan food, weird dreams, musical theater and travel – let me know. But I can’t even imagine what that company would be, so I guess Onward Hoe! is it. Come on fancy ads! Baby needs a new pair of shoes! (Not really, but it sounded better than “Baby needs an oil change, some hair gel and toothpaste.”)

Not About the Boat Show

I know many of you are just squirming in your office chairs waiting for me to post pictures and VIDEO!!!! from this weekend’s Powerboat Show and Sale. I can’t post them yet, though, for two reasons:

  1. I’m waiting for SOMEBODY to scan and email me The Picture because the one I have is not good. It wasn’t that great a photo to begin with (technically speaking – the subject matter is fantastic), and I took a picture of The Picture with the camera on my PunkBerry, and we all know what happens when you make a copy of a copy (She touched my pepe, Steve). So I need the original in digital form to share with the people. Pretty please??
  2. I can’t find the cord that hooks my camera up to my computer. It’s here somewhere, and when I find it, you’ll not only get to see more photos and video from the event, but you’ll also get to see pictures of Ugly Sweater New Year’s 2010, but until then, I got nothin’.

So for now, I’m going to tell you that until about five minutes ago, apparently I still had a myspace account. Why? I don’t know. I think it had something to do with planning my high school reunion and needing to find people, but I’m pretty sure all those people are on facebook now, so if I haven’t given up on facebook eight years from now, the next reunion should be easy to plan. I am not confident, however, that facebook will still exist in eight years. Or if it does, no one will be using it because something better will have come along, and facebook will be the thing that only old people, rednecks and internet prostitutes use. But I guess in eight years, if I stay in the mountains and never find a day job, I could become all of those things.

At least I deleted my myspace account. That’s a step in the right direction, I think.