warnings for my future husband: part 2

i know, i know. warnings part two ... really?  maybe instead of "warnings for my future husband" the post should be entitled "tips for scaring away any potential suitors."

but nonetheless, i've thought of a few more warnings that i want to add to the previous warnings list. and yes it's completely necessary because as i discussed with my dear friend g-dubs this past sunday over lunch, one day i'll make my future husband sign these things just so we're clear that they aren't surprises.  as he explained to me, half of marriages end in divorce while the other half end in death (something i thought was quite hysterical ... not the death part, but the entire expression).  however, with my meek attempts at transparency, hopefully my (somewhere in the distant future) marriage will end once we're old and shriveled all up like raisins.

here are three additional warnings:

1.  i don't always make my bed in the morning.  HOWEVER, i absolutely without a doubt must have my bed made prior to getting in it at night.  this often results in me making the bed around midnight only to throw the covers back a few minutes later, but still.  the bed must be made, but not necessarily at the crack of dawn.

2.  apparently i have a lot of nervous energy.  this may result in me tearing up napkins or the pieces of paper that hold silverware together at restaurants.  i don't consciously think of it as nervous energy.  i just know my six-year-old sized hands need to be occupied (but obviously not with touching food since we all know that doesn't happen).  i promise to not leave these little pieces of paper trash all over the table in hopes to not embarrass you in front of the waiters.

3.  i know that my beloved YA novels are works of fiction, but if i bring up katniss, dumbledore, or princess mia as if we just hung out at the mall, just go with it (the same goes for attending midnight movie premieres for these book adaptations -- i'll go see a blood and guts snoozefest with you if you go with me). the quickest way for the backside of my hand to meet your cute little cheek is to remind me that these are "just books" or that the characters "aren't real" ... they're real to me so just step back.

these three little additions to my list might appear silly, but i promise you this, darling husband of mine: if you cut me some slack in these areas, you'll never hear me complain about that toilet seat that i'm sure you'll leave up.  you learn to embrace the awkwardness that consumes my life and i'll embrace the fact that i should always check the seat pre-bathroom usage (or get used to swimming in the toilet bowl).

deal?  good.

you're killing me, smalls!

today i woke up and was delighted to learn that the absolute best baseball movie EVER was on tv today.  that's right, folks.  the sandlot was on for my (and hopefully your) viewing pleasure.  if you missed it, well let's take this little walk down memory lane.

now that we're all caught up, let's play a little connect the dots game.  because you see, the sandlot was more than just a movie to me.  in fact, it's the reason i started loving baseball.  did it inspire me to strap on some cleats and start sweating out in the middle of the diamond?  heavens no.  don't be crazy.  but did it instill a love of watching this classic, timeless game?  absolutely.

and you know what else?  when the 6 year old version of myself first saw this movie, i fell for it.  i fell hard.  and not just for the movie.  i fell flat on my little face for benny.  and i honestly don't believe it was simply for his athletic prowess or his dark and mysterious good looks.  (yes, even as a little tot i was very well informed about what was hot).  

you know what made my barely-in-elementary-school self melt?  it was his kindness.  when smalls would rather run a ball (which he couldn't catch in the first place) back to the pitcher instead of throwing it, and when  all the other guys were shouting that smalls was an L-7 weenie, benny stood strong.  his heart was kind.  and when you move around every 3-4 years as a kid, you cling to kind people for all they're worth knowing that they'll always have your back.

so you know what?  the sandlot may have tipped off the younger version of myself that baseball players were drool worthy, but it showed me something more important about myself.  that i like kind people.  and i think that's the best kind of thing a 6 year old can learn.  

and of course, it doesn't hurt when those kind people are hot.  

[side note: did i know i liked kind people at the age of 6?  probably not.  but hindsight's 20/20.  did benny's hottness help me love him initially?  probably.  but his kindness kept me rooting for him even when hotty phillips came on screen.]

eye doctors should not be allowed to be attractive

i know it's wrong to make blanket statements about physical appearance, but i have some strong feelings about eye doctors.  i was recently complaining (shocking, i know) about having to go to the eye doctor because my childhood eye doctors (that's right, every single one i went to regardless of the state) always had bad breath.

i assumed it was something they learned in eye doctor school.  i imagined a lesson would go something like this: "is it less blurry with one...or two?  three...or four? [now breathe your stinky breath on them so they are paying attention] five...or six?"  i have been asked more than once if i've taken advanced shushing classes in library school, so i only feel a slight twinge of guilt for poking fun.  i know they do all kinds of hard things with their numbers and nobs and eye patch thingamajigs, but life is more enjoyable when you're poking fun. so poke i will.

anyways, after a recent scare with a red eye (NOT a pink eye, just a red itchy eye) and the fact that my contacts were about a billion years old, i finally scheduled an appointment to get my eye health checked.  you know, i'm getting old and i'm sure cataracts are in my future so you can never be too cautious.  a wonderful friend of mine always stresses the importance of eye health and eye protection and she's obviously made an impression upon my eyes.

so i arrived a few minutes early to fill out the obligatory paperwork and was quickly called back. (i love it when it's my turn immediately. it's the same satisfaction i get when i get the green arrow at a stoplight.)  i went back to sit in the little room with all the gadgets that i'm always tempted to play with, and in sauntered (that's right ... sauntered) a beautiful, non-stinky-breath man.

i was immediately aware of my glasses, my lack of mascara, and the fact that i had not actually taken my hair out of the braid i had slept in the night before.  of all the days to be lazy.  thank god i had been chewing on half a piece of gum.

he was rather comical and i think new to the job based on his desire to explain every detail to me (ex: i will now put your info in the computer. my thought: that's okay dude, just do it and i'll catch on to what you're doing. i know i'm looking rough but my brain works at least a little).  despite enjoying his beauty (which was painfully obvious even when i took off my glasses), i couldn't help but think it'd be better if he was less attractive because i'd be able to concentrate on actually answering the questions he was asking me instead of just giggling.  i think i told him that i usually wear contacts and that my glasses were scratched, but i can't be sure.  i might have just said "i love eye exams giggle giggle giggle."

anyways, i guess he was the eye doctor prepping man because after he puffed some glaucoma test into my eye and saw that while my vision may be poor, my peripheral vision kicked butt (yeah i rocked that clicker test), he left and said the doctor would be in shortly.  lame dude, why can't you be the doctor?

i extended an overly eager "goodbye!" and sat waiting for the stinky breath to come my way.  interestingly enough, this doctor didn't have stinky breath either (it must be something they require for hiring).  and fortunately it wasn't a cute man.  don't worry, you read that correctly.  i said fortunately.

karen brewer and her glasses. aka me in 5th grade.
image from: http://wiki.stoneybrookite.org

/index.php?title=Karen_Brewer. 

typically i'm the first person to jump at the opportunity to stand in the overly long checkout line to have the cute man bag my purchases, (unless i'm buying tampons because then i sometimes feel weird...unless i'm grumpy and want everyone to feel uncomfortable in which case i'll do it and make small talk).  but being face to face with a regulation hottie and no makeup or contacts?  no thank you.

eye doctors should just not be allowed to be attractive.  he was fun to drool over for that short prepping time, but i would have lied and fumbled my way through the exam and ended up with binoculars for my contacts (which if we're being honest isn't that far off my prescription).

at least i got new contacts. no more karen brewer four-eyes for this girl!