On Friday night my friend Lara was having a get together for her birthday. I spent the day whining to anyone who would listen because I am OLD and going out at 9 PM on a Friday night is HARD! And then my friend Melissa was like “suck it up, you fool! You need to get out of your Grandma funk! PUT ON YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES!”

So I did. I kept myself busy when I got home from work on Friday evening. I made sure that I didn’t take a nap because if I had taken a nap, I would have been down for the count. I made coffee and added some Bailey’s to it. And I love Lara and she helped me celebrate my birthday, so the least I could do was suck it up and be a big girl and go out and have a good time.

And boy, howdy, am I glad I did! Because I am apparently a cougar! And I took a nice, YOUNG, 24-year old Irish lad home to my condo! He was the first one I’ve brought back to my new place. AND I HAVE LIVED HERE ALMOST A YEAR NOW!

24. That is almost nine years younger than me! NINE! I nabbed myself a child! A fetus! A cute fetus, though, no?

I should back up a little because it was a pretty interesting night. So Irishman was 24, originally from Ireland and going to law school here, had a very sexy accent, a twinkle in his eye and a baby face. I was immediately attracted because he could have looked like Mickey Rourke and I would have still loved him. I am a SUCKER for an accent.

Anyway, we talked for a chunk of the night. He was so adorable. Like a little brother. He told us Midwestern women intimidate him because we’re so honest and real. I pinched his cheeks. I honestly thought there was nothing more there than chit chat and him putting up with the old lady chatting him up at a bar. Where there were people his own age! Clearly I was not drunk enough to be overconfident.

I think he was pretty drunk. Which, interesting to note, he talked slower, which was better since it is hard to understand an Irish accent sometimes. At one point, his buddy was talking to Lara and he says “so when are we going back to your place?” And then I laughed and laughed and laughed! Mr. Innocent, “oh-Midwestern-women-frighten-me”, was fixin’ to get into my pants. So I did what any immature 32 year old would do, I told Lara and this other dude how Mr. Innocent isn’t really so innocent! And we laughed….

But the Irishman got MAD! He didn’t like that I was ruining his game! What if people start talking? He’ll never hook up with anyone again with his innocent act! So I apologized because he was really upset and had that sad puppy dog look in his twinkling eyes. Sucker. Right here. (points to self.)

And then? He decided he was heading home because he was a little wobbly. So we all said our goodbyes and that was that. One of Lara’s friends was like “did he get your number?” And I’m like “nope. He just flirted with me all night and then left! Silly kids!” Like I mentioned, he was flirty and touchy-touchy, but I honestly didn’t think he was interested.

About 15 minutes later, Irishman came back into the bar. And we were all “he’s baaaack!” He comes over to me and is all “do you know how long I’ve been outside waiting for you?” And I tell him “well, if you’re wanting someone to go with you, you kind of have to SAY something.” Kids. *eye roll*

So we left. He didn’t want to go to his place. I didn’t really want him at my place, since it was not clean. Also, Aunt Flo was in town, so it wasn’t like we were going to be doing much of anything anyway. I told him this much because why should he come all the way up north to my place when he’s not going to be getting any?

He apparently thought he could change my mind. Oh kids, they are so adorable.

We end up making out in the cab. And I’m not drunk enough at this point to be OK with this. Because I’m the Cab Driver Whisperer. And for some reason, this weirds me out. But whatever, I go with the flow. We get to my place. I drink a huge glass of water and ask him if he wants anything. He wants another beer. And I’m reminded, YET AGAIN, that there is a large age difference between us. (Also, I have a pub crawl I have to get up for the next day, so I need to actually be able to get up.)

We sit on the couch and chat for awhile. Until he gets antsy and wants to “go to bed.” So I remind him that all we’re going to be doing is sleeping. Not “sleeping”. He still thinks he’s going to convince me otherwise.

Yada, yada, yada, after some making out and him getting pissed that I won’t “sleep” with him, he tells me he’s going. Because, and I swear I can’t make this up, he has really nice sheets at home. They are Egyptian cotton. And he can’t sleep on my apparently crappy sheets.*

I just laugh. And I call him a cab. He tries unsuccessfully one more time to woo me, to no avail, and then huffs off, literally like stomps out of my place in a huff, and says he’ll just wait outside for the cab no matter how long it takes.

And then I go to bed laughing and think “THIS is why I have a blog. Because I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

*Did you all ever see that movie with Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning, where Brittany is the nanny and she dates this rock star who makes up a song about her about “sheets of Egyptian cotton”? I’ve had that song in my head all weekend. (Uptown Girls! You can hear the song here!)

Normally my birthday is my favorite day of the year. As you might have guessed, because I am a blogger who shares my personal stories on the internet because I am a famewhore, I kind of like attention. So nothing is better than a whole day ALL ABOUT ME!

This year, not so much. One, I’m starting to feel older and had a few “what am I doing with my life? I should have accomplished more by now” panic moments in the last few weeks. On top of it, being unemployed, I haven’t much felt like partying and celebrating. I’ve felt like drinking, but have not felt like showering.  So it wasn’t really my desire to go out and celebrate. Which is why I didn’t send out the evite until a few days before and why most people had plans and couldn’t make it.

But I went. And I had a great time. It was a small party, but we had a good time last Friday in advance celebration of my birthday.

My mom and my friends braved the HORRIBLE rain and drank some libations with me and put up with my drunken slurring and occasional spitting.

After the first bar, my friend Shelly and I headed to a bar in my neighborhood and we caught up and got into a discussion about her situation with a guy she had met recently who had not called back. He happens to be a Chicago cop, so when a police car rolled by the bar, we decided to beckon them to come in. No, really. I was waving at them to come in. They just thought we were waving and probably drunk. So they waved back and they were feeling really good because well, I’m stacked.

So what would a normal person do after that? They would just laugh at the situation. Not me. I was drunk. I blew them a kiss.

(Re-enacted for the purposes of hilarity.)

Sunday was my actual birthday and I had plans to go to a townie bar on the South Side with some of my friends from my old job to watch the Bears game. We drank A LOT of these buckets.

We watched the Bears lose, stayed way too long and too many “locals” bought me shots. It is a good thing I do not have a job to go to. Because I just got silly drunk.

And then I drank so many bomb shots (Cherry Bombs and Jager Bombs), too many Coors Lights and then decided it was a good idea to give my phone number to a guy they call White Rob. Why do they call him that, you ask? Because White Rob is white and they don’t want to confuse him with Black Rob, who is black. All who probably spend too much time at the same bar.

I’m pretty sure my friend Ruby and I are going to take a break from this place for awhile. We overindulged and are too close to becoming regulars. And that is a goal to save for my 32nd birthday.

See the rest of the drunken debauchery photo evidence here.

Clearly that didn’t happen last week. In fact, I think I regressed because I only blogged once and didn’t even sign on to Google Reader. The outcome? Irritated people who want to make sure I didn’t get swallowed by a sink hole and/or had less stairs to climb to my third-floor-now-first-floor apartment. And also? Over 600 posts to read on Google Reader. Which I made a feeble attempt to start looking at. But then my 13 hours of reality TV in my DVR were calling my name. And my bed. Because I needed a nap. And keep them coming.

I also realized I might have a slight addiction to blogs. And should maybe get some help. Because after a week without reading blogs, I get all twitchy. And twitchy + hung over = a hot mess.

This past week also turned me into an 80-year old woman. The following are signs that you’ve become an old lady, besides the fist shaking and prune juice, of course:

• After going dancing on Tuesday and Thursday nights, I realized that at 30, and almost 6-feet tall, I am unable to continue to “get low, get low” on the dance floor. Because once I get down there, I either fall, or I can’t get up.
• Also, “getting low” leads to waking up the next day with quite a pain in my lower back. I’m about three minutes from getting a walker.
• In addition to “getting low” and the inherent ass slapping, I blame the shopping cart and paint the curb dance moves for my condition.
• I said “my condition.”
• At 30, I’m talking about how I can’t do things like I used to.
• I actually yelled at some meddling kids to turn down that infernal racket.
• They were unpacking their groceries.
• I did the Wii fitness test and it told me I was 56.
• I got my newest issue of US Weekly talking about the new crop of stars, including Miley Cyrus. And I asked myself out loud when I got old because when did US Weekly start putting babies on the cover?
• Besides Britney’s babies and their soda-stained teeth.
• All I can talk about is the pain in my back, the queasiness in my stomach and the stupid bump on my lip that I need to get cut out.
• I actually debated this afternoon if 5 PM was too early to go to bed.
• I had the Early Bird Special at the diner down the street.
• I made sure to get the mushroom barley soup because 80-year olds need plenty of fiber.
• I seriously can’t stand up straight because of the pain in my back.
• I’m repeating myself with the same ailments.
• I can’t remember if I brushed my teeth today.
• I got hot when I saw Morley Safer on 60 Minutes.
• I watched 60 minutes.

In other news, my apartment is fine. The cats are fine. The one actually found hidden paper to eat as opposed to the stuff out in the OPEN. And they left their token pile of puke for me to clean up. Just to show me who’s boss.

But no damage, I found parking and I learned a good lesson. Water main breaking = lots of water. And in winter with additional moisture from snow = lots and lots of mud. Like a good three inches outside on the streets and the sidewalks. Thankfully, it looks like they are just about done and they are set to clean the streets on Monday.

So thank you, ALL of you, for your concern and listening to my venting. It warms my bitter soul.

And finally, since I am heading to bed soon because it is well past my bedtime of 5 PM, I want to give a BIG WELCOME to Marianne’s new addition, Nathan Jacob! Congratulations to her and the Targo on their bouncing baby boy! I can’t wait to meet him in person! Since I’ve already offered my babysitting services (because the complete stranger route goes over well every time) (well it worked for Heather B. and Amalah). And I also promise to bring brownies and guacamole.

So now that I’m down off my birthday high. (Which sucks, by the way. Does this mean no more free drinks?) I figured I should share the stories from the ACTUAL BIRTHDAY WEEKEND.

Except, well, I really don’t have a lot. A lot of booze was consumed. Mostly by me. And Rich. I got to see a lot of people I haven’t seen in awhile. It was freakin’ hot as hell. The Devils won, and I didn’t go to the game. (Please don’t take away my Sun Devil card, Sparky.) And basically, it was a great, great birthday. The best actual birthday I’ve ever had. Followed closely by my fake birthday.

And I feel like I should do bullets or something. Since it seems so apropos for a summary of sorts.

• Lori and Mike were excellent hosts as always. And they shall receive a gift in the mail for being such good hosts. This is a note to all of you, if you let me stay at your house, you may receive a gift. It depends on how nice I’m feeling. And if you make me coffee in the morning.
• They have a puppy, Lola. I have a new best friend.
• Totally off-topic, but I love my new laptop. I’m sitting in front of the TV, actually facing the TV, and writing from the couch. When I get that wireless router, this will be moved to my bed. Because I can.
• The lady on the plane was totally reading my 30 blog post?over my shoulder as I was typing. I think she thought I was weird. And wouldn’t you for writing letters to yourself? Or someone else? Either way you cut it, it is a weird thing to read over someone’s shoulder.
• That will teach you, whore, for reading over my shoulder.
• Some dude was doing the same thing on my way back. As I was waiting for the plane to take me back to Chicago. Either that or he was watching the football game. But it wasn’t really that interesting (the game, not my writing.) And doesn’t everyone want to look over my shoulder when I’m writing something that is clearly highly entertaining.
• He should have just been glad I wasn’t looking at vibrators.
• So you want to know what I did on my actual birthday? Well, I was up until midnight Arizona time, so Mike & Lori wished me a happy birthday. They went to bed. I published my birthday post. And then I slept. And slept. And slept. Because I could. And it was my birthday.
• After having coffee made for me and a nice bowl of cereal, I checked emails. And all the nice comments on my blog. Including one from Lori. Who was sitting right outside my door. (You guys are so awesome! My black heart is starting to actually beat these days.)
• We had lunch at Dilly’s Deli. Which is a MUST for everyone who visits Arizona. Oh so tasty. Trust me.
• And then I met Rich out at Maloney’s for drinks. At 4 in the afternoon. Again, because I could. Plus, it was after 5 in Chicago.
• And then we went to Four Peaks Brewery. Because if you’re 30 and in Tempe, this is like one place it is okay for you to hang out at. And you won’t feel old. Because college students think Bud Light is good beer.
• And we stayed there. Until a little after 11. And I was donezo before midnight on my birthday. Because am old now. Must conserve energy. For the drinking for the next 60 years.
• Saturday I visited with Cindy and her new baby Casey. Who is so cute. And looks just like his big brother Cole.
• I love babies. That aren’t mine.
• And then she introduced me to my new lover, Nintendo Wii. And I was smitten. From the first time I held that little contraption in my hand.
• That was until I almost got my ass beat by a four-year old in tennis.
• A win that I did indeed celebrate. Because four, schmore. I wiped the court with you, Cole!
• But I bet his arm wasn’t sore the next morning.
• Saturday night I went to Lori’s sister’s bachelorette party. She’s getting married on Saturday. And that is all I will say about Liz. And marriage. And Korea.
• It was good times. Drinks! Dancing! Pink Taco for dinner!
• That will never get old. They have actual Pink Tacos on the menu. The shells are pink. And when you’re in a big group and the waiter comes out and asks “Pink Taco? Anyone have a Pink Taco?” to a group of ALL women, the mature thing is NOT to 1) giggle like a 10-year old or B) keep repeating it. Quite loudly.
• Sunday was spent recovering. With 4 BIG beers. And football. At a place called Old Chicago. It was like being at home watching the Bears game. About 90% of the TVs were on the Bears game and the place erupted when the Bears scored.
• Although I was the only one singing the fight song.
• “We’ll never forget the way you thrilled the nation, with your T formation.”
• And I must have had a good time, because I went to weigh-in tonight (for my big fight) and I gained five pounds. Totally moved me up a weight class. Now George Foreman is totally going to kick my ass.

Anyway, enjoy the photos from the weekend. And the fact that I must be 30 since it was so uneventful. I didn’t even fall or bruise myself in any way.

Being a grown up totally blows.

30303030

Dear 20 Year Old Kristin,

Take more advantage of that fake ID of yours. 30-year old Kristin is very disappointed in you. What, are you trying to graduate and get a good job? Pshaw. You have the rest of you life to work. All that work going to the DMV and the best you could do was meet some weird guy from Milwaukee and make out with him at The Cubby Bear after a Cubs/Brewers game?

Don’t worry. Things will get better. You will drink much, much more.

Also? Enjoy this time with no real responsibilities. This won’t ever happen again.

Love, 

30, Your Drunk Older Self

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Dear 21 Year Old Kristin,

This will be the only time in your life that you will have three different employers knocking down your door to have you as their employee. Enjoy how awesome it is to have so many prestigious universities and professional sports teams fawning over you.

And I want to tell you that Kim is awesome. And you shouldn’t feel like you’re losing your brother. Trust me when I tell you that you will get even closer to him in a few years and your life will be so much better by having a sister-in-law like Kim.

Love,

30

P.S. Tattoo? GREAT idea!

30303030

Dear 22 Year Old Kristin,

It gets better. Really. This is a tough time. Moving to a new freaking state. Working at company where it you are the youngest by far and it seems to be really cliquey. On top of it, you’re making next to nothing and you’re bored silly.

But you tough it out! You hear me? Because these years in California will be some of the best of your life and you wouldn’t trade a second of these years for anything.

Love,

30

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Dear 23 Year Old Kristin,

That girl that you’re really threatened by who just started in the PR department? The one who is just like you in every damn way? So much so that people confuse the two of you?

Don’t be. Be confident in the job that you do and that she isn’t trying to tread on your territory. Stop fucking peeing on your desk to mark your damn territory so she doesn’t come around. You are both really talented and awesome at what you do in your own ways. Embrace it.

And when you do finally learn to embrace it, you will have a friend for life that you would do anything for and who would do anything for you.

Love,

30

30303030

Dear 24 Year Old Kristin,

The biggest thing you need to remember is that perception is reality. I know it feels like you are not being yourself, selling out and acting like a corporate drone, but I’m telling you, it is all part of being a grown up and working as a professional. We are not going to like everyone we work with or work for. But sometimes, asshats are hired as Vice Presidents. The sooner you learn that you have to suck it up and put on a good company face, the easier your life will be.

And appreciate the fact that when people stick their necks out for you, it is a big deal. And just doing a good job can’t get you through every situation.

It isn’t easy. You’re still learning as you reach 30.

Down With Asshats,

30

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Dear 25 Year Old Kristin,

I know it seems like you are under a pile of financial shit, but you will get out of it. And you’ll forgive her for putting you in this mess. Everyone makes mistakes. And even though you can’t admit it, you always knew that she would never do anything to purposely hurt you. Because she loves you with the heat of 17,000 suns.

Love,

30

30303030

Dear 26 Year Old Kristin,

You are beautiful inside and out. And you need to realize this. No one can make you feel good or bad. You control that. Just because you have lost all this weight and look great, does not mean you should go out and sleep with anyone who pays attention to you. You are beautiful, at any weight. Don’t let anyone tell you any different or make you feel any different.

Love,

30

30303030

Dear 27 Year Old Kristin,

Oh honey, this year is a bad one. I know it seems like it will never get better, but it will. I just want to go back and give you a big hug and tell you that it WILL GET BETTER. You will pull through this year like you have pulled through every other one.

It is okay to be depressed. Do you hear me? And it is okay to see a therapist. And it is OKAY to be on anti-depressants. Fuck society and their stigmas. Together, the therapy and medicine will make you much, much better. You will sleep a full night again. You will be so much happier and positive and this was so for the best.

And the job thing? It will take care of itself. And you’ll get to move back to Chicago like you want. And all on their dime.

And it will be tough at first. So tough you’ll want to move back to California. But stay with it. And in turn you will become so close to Mike, Kim and Noah and Skyler. Although, you don’t know who she is yet. But trust me. You will love that little girl so much.

Love,

30

P.S. Isn’t coffee great?

30303030

Dear 28 Year Old Kristin,

I know he seems like he’s the one. He’s your first love. And you will constantly think about him and want him back in your life. This is a BIG mistake. It will cause more pain to that wound. You need to let it heal. For good.

He’s not right for you. You deserve someone who has the time for you and will treat you like the wonderful woman that you are. And I am sure that he is out there somewhere. And if not? It’s okay because you have the best friends and family money could buy.

Listen to me,

30

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Dear 29 Year Old Kristin,

The biggest thing to remember this year is that everything happens for a reason. And you’ll learn the importance of sticking with things – your writing, your current job and your drinking.

Things are not always what they seem. And you’ll head into 30 probably the happiest and most content you have been in your whole life.

Enjoy every single minute of it.

And you’ll also work at a job that is slowly turning you into an alcoholic with all these sales conferences. And we are okay with that.

Love,

30

So yeah, 30th fake birthday party. Lots of drinks. No really hilarious stories.

Actually it was basically, booze, booze, booze, pizza, booze, wine, booze, booze, boat cruise, pictures, booze, sunny days, booze, Michigan lost, booze, booze, to a I-AA team, booze, 32 ounce special, booze, booze, booze, laughing, booze, booze, the other ASU, booze, booze, calculator, booze, booze, eight beers, booze, booze, fancy party dress, booze, booze, dancing, booze, booze, Cubs game, booze, booze, booze, Alphabet Game, booze, booze, laughing, booze, there’s no city named Queso?, booze, booze, Murphy’s, booze, booze, Sluggers, booze, booze, more dancing, booze, bagels, booze, cupcakes, booze, booze, napping because am old now, booze, booze, sexy toes, booze, Superbad is an AWESOME movie, booze, booze, tater tots, booze.

The End.

Surprisingly in an un-Kristabella like fashion, there weren’t too many crazy stories. There were many adult beverages had. There was lots of laughing. A dance floor full of sexy beeatches, including one lesbian, and a good time had by all.

But thankfully no one stepped on my foot without my remembering. I was not burned with any cigarettes. And I sent no inappropriate drunk texts.

My God! I’m turning into a fucking grown up! When the hell did that happen?

It was actually one of the best weekends of my life. And by far one of, if not the, best birthdays. And I have had some doozies.

Friday was actually pretty chill. I picked Julie up in the mess that is known as O’Hare Airport on a Friday night of a holiday weekend. Random of all random, Julie actually sat next to a guy on the plane who was best friends with the owner of the bar where I had mah partay. We were destined to have a good time. Fate (and Northwest Airlines) said so.

We just chilled at home on Friday night, resting our old bones for the weekend of drinking that was about to begin. Getting our drinking shoes all gussied up and ready to go. And if you believe that, you probably also believe that gullible isn’t in the dictionary.

We did stay at home. And we ordered pizza. And drank two bottles of wine.

Saturday I got us tickets for the Chicago River/Lake Michigan architecture boat cruise. If you’ve never taken this, I HIGHLY recommend it. I have gone on it twice and learned something every time. Chicago is just a great effing city!

Good thing the awesome skyline distracts from my fat arse and unwashed hair.

And the reason I love Julie and why she’s my BFF is because in an email exchange before she got here, she says “hey! College football starts this weekend! Let’s go sit in that bar in Millennium Park and drink beers and watch football.” Could there be a more perfect afternoon in September? No! Football? Good. Beer? Gooooooood.

AND! They had $9 32-ounce Bud Lights on special. Of which we had three. Before 5 PM. Which made us so drunk we had to get out the calculator on the cell phone to figure out how many beers we actually consumed. Because after 96 ounces of beer, simple math goes out the damn window.

EIGHT BEERS! In like TWO HOURS! And MICHIGAN LOST! To the OTHER ASU! A I-AA school! Could it be a more perfect afternoon?????

(By the way, that’s about how we were talking too. LOTS OF CAPS!!! LOTS OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!! Lots of YELLING AT ANYONE IN A MICHIGAN SHIRT!!!)

So yeah, I was drunk before I got to my party. And it was my party, I’ll get drunk on 96 OUNCES if I want to. See?

I had an awesome time. Looked hot in my dress. (Not really. Could my face BE any fatter? Maybe I need to have surgery because I think I have the mumps or something. Maybe a full facial goiter. Jesus woman! Lay off the booze!)

And then apparently decided to flash the camera my bra at some point. Well it was a New Orleans type bar. And they did have beads. When in Rome.

We got kicked out of the upstairs around 11 and made it downstairs to realize they had a DJ. And that was all we needed to take over the make-shift dance floor. Which meant I decided to act 22 and drop it like it’s hot. And my old-lady legs are still recovering.

WineBook Club betches unite!

Apparently we’re practicing our best bend and snap! move.

Sthee? Wine turns my tongue purple. And wear some sunblock next time, jackass.

Sunday was the Cubs game and I had SO much fun. My brother and sister-in-law came out, sans kids, and we had a blast. I’ve never gone out or partied with them together. We’ve had a few drinks at their house, but never when they had no responsibilities. At least for the time being. You know, until they got back to Grandma’s and had to be adults again.

And boy did they party it up! It was so much fun! Kim ordered a Mai Tai (we’re Midwesterners. We don’t have many options besides light or regular for booze at baseball games.) And it was STRONG. She let it sit most of the game until the ice melted. And to get her to finish it, she and I played the Alphabet Game. You know, like the one from the Cosby Show? Where you have to name towns that start with each letter of the alphabet?

Yeah, sounds easier than you think. I’ve actually never played it while drinking. Your damn mind goes blank and all you can think of are state names or countries. Or in our case, you damn near convince yourself that there is a town called Queso and one called Xylophone City.

Or maybe we both just wanted to chug-a-lug. Drink ‘er down!

My brother. Who found the Alphabet Game highly entertaining. And also has made me never forget there is a town in Illinois named Quincy.

Monday was very low key. Julie headed back to the Land of 10,000 Lakes. And I hung out with Amber, who is a member of the National Champion Gaelic Football team. Congrats to the Seattle Gaels! And since we both tied one on on Sunday, it made for a very low-key Monday. Because we are both old now. And after walking to lunch and back, we were in desperate need of a nap.

And then we got wild and crazy! And went to see a movie! We saw Superbad. Which, I’m telling all of you, is like the funniest thing I have seen in a LONG time. Fucking hilarious! Go see it! Cause I said so!

And it really was the perfect ending to a perfect weekend. And I was so glad that she stayed the extra day to hang out.

And really, I should give up booze. You know, until the open bar on Saturday. And my real birthday in 10 days. Look out Arizona! Here comes the K Train!

All aboard?

I went into the details of not being BFF with some of the people and it being very cliquey. And I told her that it has been hard but that I had reached a point where it was OK. I have tons of friends and family and I don’t have to extend that to the people I work with. And it is OK.

And we got onto the subject of being people pleasers and in turn taking everything so personal. Because you tend to take every little thing said as a slight against you, whether it was or not. And it is a really hard cycle to break. I, for one, have been doing it my entire life, not even knowing, because I was always looking for the attention from my dad. And you learn all your behaviors at a young age. Or so my therapist told me.

And I’ve always been like this at jobs particularly. I always have to do things myself because I don’t trust others to do it right. Because if when they don’t do it right, then I have failed. And that is not pleasing to anyone.

I have always taken things so personal at work. If someone doesn’t like something I’ve done or even something I didn’t do but I am somehow tied to, I immediately get defensive. And then usually cry at my desk and get really frustrated. I have a hard time realizing that I cannot be perfect 100% of the time and sometimes things are subjective so people may not like them. And it has NOTHING TO DO WITH ME.

The hardest part with this new job has been doing exactly what I’m asked and some of the times it not being right. Because there was some unsaid part of the equation. And so on numerous occasions busting my ass and doing my best has lead to the wrong thing. And it has literally been out of my control. Because you did not hire a mind reader.

It has gotten better because I’m becoming more assertive (and in turn a lot less defensive) and they are finally starting to trust me to do the damn job that they hired me to do. And also because I’ve decided to not give a fuck. Seriously.

If I do something and they want to change it, fine. That is not my deal. That is your deal. I can only do what I am humanly capable of. And I will keep doing it until you are satisfied. Because I can’t change who you are. And I have FINALLY learned to stop trying. And stopped taking everything so damned personal.

I have been battling this my entire career, and my entire life, really. And I am by no means “cured” of PeoplePleaseritis. I still do it without knowing. I tell people what they want to hear. I sometimes don’t give my totally honest opinion in certain situations. One, because sometimes it isn’t worth the battle and two, because I’m still insecure and I want people to like me and I want tons of friends in the worst way.

And I know people will be like “it’s because you’re turning 30″ like some damn magic switch turns when you hit that milestone. No, it’s not because of that. It is because I’m getting older. And in turn am more comfortable in my own skin. And in turn choose to do things that make MY life easier rather than doing things to make it easier on everyone else. And in turn, use the phrase “in turn” too many damn times in one post.

And it took this job, a job that I needed to keep, to hit it home. Because I needed to pay my bills and I also needed to keep my sanity, in turn. (ha) And I needed to figure out a way to make it work. And believe me when you’re faced with looking for a job yet again, for the fourth time in two years, or working to fix something, you try really, really hard to fix it.

And it makes me not hate going into work every day. Because I have limited interaction with people, which suits me just fine. And the interaction we do have doesn’t make me want to pull my new brunette hair out at the roots. Because I feel no need to make you like me. Which surprisingly? Makes me like them a lot more.

And it only took me almost 30 damn years to figure out. And I did it before the Magic Switch flipped!

P.S. And even with all this lovely insight, I still have no idea why my cat decided to pee in the cat bed today. And am seriously hoping it’s the only place she decided to pee.