Musings of an irreverent blonde girl

I watched the Nancy and Tonya documentary last night and was completely sucked in.  I even followed it up by watching some other documentary called 30 for 30 or something like that on Netflix about the same situation only completely from Tonya's point of view. There was a point during the documentary where I was watching Tonya perform her gold medal performance at worlds; the one where she landed the first women's triple axel in competition, and I thought suddenly, "Tonya Harding couldn't do that now."  Now, Tonya Harding lives in some town somewhere and is a landscape architect.  They had a whole segment where they showed her chainsawing down trees and she was like, "I'm completely happy with my life.  I like working with my hands!"  She was overweight and pasty and had just awful clothes.  They showed her singing karaoke at a bar and she sounded absolutely horrible, which also made me seriously question Tonya Harding's personal judgement in th...

I know I'm not supposed to complain about the USPS, because they are having a hard time and they are attempting to better themselves.  Also, my beloved step-father-in-law was a postmaster.  But, seriously...USPS, get it together.  I ordered poinsettia stamps like 3 WEEKS ago for myself and for my company holiday cards and they still have not arrived.  On your website, you specifically state that it will take 2 days usually, and to leave 2 extra days during the holidays.  But it's been 3 WEEKS.  You've made me look really bad in front of my boss, who I convinced to wait for special poinsettia stamps instead of using the work stamp machine.  And, you made it so that my holiday cards went out way late to my own friends and family, which is embarrassing.  I had to print out stamps at the post office which clearly are not poinsettia stamps.  They are inferior reindeer stamps with barcodes on them. And so now, dear reader, you know why your holid...

I remember the first time I was ever called out on my leg hair. I was sitting on a bench, in line to put my buddy tag up on the board so I could go in the water for free swim.  I must have been around 14.  A kid sitting next to me, maybe 11 or 12 looked at me and said, "Gross!  You got hairy legs!"  It was the very first time someone called me on it, and it was the first time I felt ashamed.  Shortly thereafter, my unit went on a field trip, floating down a river on tubes.  I had a crush on Ben Seymore at the time, who was  CIT, and maneuvered myself such that I was in a group of people floating together that included him.  It was kind of cold out, and, sitting in the tube with my legs out of the water, the lovely, downy blonde hair stood on end due to goosebumps.  All I could think about was how Ben Seymore must think I was so gross. When the subject of leg shaving was first broached in my household, my mom told me, in her typical "girls ...

There are two types of people in this world - those of us who have been to sleepaway camp, and those of you who haven't.  People who go to sleepaway camp get it and people who don't are completely baffled and often annoyed when the subject is brought up in mixed company.  I remember a car ride with my brother where we listened to an hour long NPR story about summer camp.  He and I sat in the front seat, enthralled, while his wife and my friend sat in the back seat, slightly irked at being forced to listen. I am not going to spend my time attempting to make you people understand why Camp is so wonderful.  If you never went, you will never, ever understand.  Ever.  If you try to describe to an outsider why it was fun to sleep in a cabin for a month and live out of a foot locker and play sports, they will think it sounds quaint and fun.  But they will not understand that the experience of summer camp is much grander than simply fun and games.  To...

Hi Guys, So, Annette wrote me a message that says that she desires a new blog post.  I know.  It's been a while. It makes me feel so special to know that Annette desires to hear what's going on in my head, and, since it's a nice day and since I'm super sore from my bike ride yesterday, I'm going to sit on my back porch and write something. This blog post is about being Hot. However, before I go off on that controversial subject, I'd like to make the following stream-of-consciousness observations. 1) I just tested the tire pressure on my bike tires and it turns out that I rode 16 miles yesterday on flat tires.  No wonder it was torture.  It makes me realize what it is to be a newbie at a sport.  Like, when I go skiing, I have all of the right gear.  I know what to pack.  I know how to put it  on.  I know how to take care of my equipment.  When it comes to biking, I am an IDIOT.  Clearly.  It took me 15 minutes yesterday ...

It has come to my attention that it is difficult to make comments on my blog. I checked the settings and realized that I had it on some stupid setting that made it hard to comment. I have changed the setting, so I'd love for you to comment when you have thoughts. I KNOW ya'll are reading the blog because I can see how many of you there are. Thank you very much. KayOS

Hello everyone. There has been something on my  mind for quite some time, and I think it's about time to hash it out with ya'll. Babies I've had several conversations recently with people sans babies who are questioning whether they really want to get themselves into the situation of having babies.  I count myself as one of these people. The problem is that the longer you allow yourself to be sans-baby, the more chances you have to watch how the lives of people with babies change.  As an outsider, you witness the reality of a situation wherein your friends' lives are basically usurped by the baby.  Your own situation, with its privacy, sleeping in, personal time and extra spending money starts to look awfully appealing, and you aren't sure you want to let it go. Maybe this sounds selfish, but I don't see it that way.  I think it's just about what kind of life you want to have. From my perspective right now, here's how I see it. Having a baby, p...