really it's not that big a deal...

recently these words ring in my ear as a reminder that this statement is typically a lie. the code for "it's not that big a deal" is this: "it's actually a huge deal, but i don't know what to say or how to handle this...ahhhh."
tricky. all proper southern ladies fall into this minor deal trap. our friends need help...but it's not that big a deal. we have an injury that is throbbing...but it's not that big a deal. we have $100 in bills to pay and ($25) in our bank account...but it's not that big a deal. we're getting married...but it's not that big a deal. WELL, GUESS WHAT, IT IS A BIG DEAL. why can't we admit when something is important, scary, stressful, or in general "a big deal."
if you have dedicated every weekend for months to planning the perfect reception, don't pretend it all fell together after a magical dream in which flower arrangements and playlists appreared like a vision. if you have cut off your pinky, don't pretend it's a paper cut. if you are broke, don't pretend you forgot to deposit your paycheck. for goodness sake, call a spade a spade and deal with it.
take pride (but be careful that you are not totally bragadocious) in your hard work. if someone says "wow, this must have taken an eternity" respond with "thank you, i worked really hard." if you can't pay your bills, don't go out for drinks with friends so that no one will notice. (p.s. a declined debit card will tell on you). if you are hurting, for goodness sake accept the ice pack.
now i know this all sounds like too much to bear. girls who have it together never ask for help. girls who are strong never hurt. girls who look wealthy never back out on dinner. girls never let anyone down. period. well guess what...people can see right through you. do you honestly think the queen of england runs a country all on her own with no help and when asked how she managed to lead through a depression she replies with "oh it's not that big a deal."
so get over yourself. no one thinks you're wonderwoman. no one is coufused when you cover a gaping wound with a barbie band-aid. no one thought that your wedding reception fell out of the heavens in perfect arrangement. for real no one. so ask for help when you need it. admit defeat when you are clearly beaten. graciously accept compliments when you recieve them. and when you suddenly become a more honest, real, and lovely person to be around ...remember this post and thank me for getting in your face. i know you will want to...cause it is a big deal.

working 9 to 5

ok, so super lame title. i know. but what else would have possibly fit for a girl who literally works 9 to 5 in dolly's hometown.
i drive a long way to work and that is a time i really enjoy. mostly because it is quiet, i think of stuff to blog, and i catch up on celebrity gossip on the radio. in addition to all that serious stuff, i have decided a few things on my 45 minute one way commute.
1. working is for the birds.
2. i could be a better citizen if i had an endless cash flow.
3. i like stuff i can't afford.
now, since i am clearly a fan of not working, does that mean i don't like my job? nope. i actually love my job with my whole heart. i can't imagine doing anything else, and i know nothing else would fit me. but, i would be overjoyed if i could do the exact job i do now as a volunteer. i wish i could do work and let the church keep the money (of course i would need no bills and a bottomless pocketbook). i would be a force to be reckoned with if this were the case. BUT, it's not and love or no love...working is for the birds.
now how can money make me a better person? glad you asked. i like to help people out. i always want to give the hobo on the road some dinner money. i like to surprise the person behind me at starbucks with a free latte. i wish i could take every kid who needs new shoes shopping for all the things they lack. but the problem, i am doing good to feed and clothe myself sometimes. why can't i find that elusive money tree? why can't i fall in love and get married to a gatrillionaire who is a-ok with me staying at home and pursuing my passions and of course providing financial support to see my dreams through? why wasn't i born rich instead of so good looking? ugh...the plight of the pretty.
and maybe one of the most notorious hardships of this 9 to 5 gal is my champagne taste and beer budget. i like nice things. i like to buy stuff that will last. i like to redecorate every season. i like Tiffany's and Kate Spade, a lot. i like to be able to spend money. i just have some sort of imbalance that makes me only drawn to stuff i have to save up my sofa change to get. maybe i'm not the only person who suffers from budget breaks and buyers remorse. but i'm the only person i know who is affected by my parameters specifically...therefore, i feel sorry for me. again, this could be cured with a money tree or sugar daddy. i'm not (that) picky.
in the meantime, i'll keep buying $1 mcdonald's sweet tea instead of mcalisters yummier version. i'll keep shopping the clearance racks at target. i'll keep donating the tiny amounts of change i have to every sports team and bell ringer outside of walmart. i'll keep driving my fairly base model xterra. i'll even keep my "special moments only" policy for Tiffany and Kate.
but, when i'm a gatrillionaire, watch out. oprah and the queen will have noting on me. and on forbes magazine...i'll choose to smile next to dolly p. what up.