Menses

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If you’re anything like my father or brother just hearing a woman state “I have cramps” makes you squirm in disgust and you should probably not read this post.

I just finished my cycle and I couldn’t help but realize what a ridiculous insane psycho it turns me into. As far as girls go, I am definitely on the crazier side, but when the crimson tidal wave rolls through I take it to a whole new level.

I started my period at the mature age of 11. I spent a few years in terror of tampons, a few more years using my period as an excuse to get out P.E. and the rest of the time in the fetal position praying for menopause or hoping someone would sell me Quaaludes.

Instead of turning into Jordon Belfort, I learned to cope with my feminine issues the “holistic” way. Please feel free to try these at home. 

1. Make strange noises and breathe like a woman in a Lamaze class- I’ve never given birth so it would be unfair to compare menstrual cramps to labor pain, but it does feel similar to an alien/ninja type life form wreaking havoc on my uterus. I am so dramatic when my cramps hit that I feel the need to share my struggle with everyone in ear shot. If I’m in public I will grunt and groan like a fat woman trying to get comfortable through every little pinch of pain. If I’m in my car/bed/anywhere I think is enclosed you’ll probably hear me scream something along the lines JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL every hour or so. Due to the sharp, stabbing pain that shoots down my lower back and thighs I attempt short rapid breaths to get me through the agony while doing weird lunges to somehow ease the pain that’s radiating down my legs.

2. Binge eat- Personally, I downed 4 hot dogs, a milkshake, In-N-Out fries (animal style), nachos, a brownie sundae, a box of Cheez-Its, a blueberry bagel, and 2 glasses of $3 wine. That was Sunday.

3. Hate everyone- I will literally sit in my room stewing in anger thinking about the potential hurtful things I can say and do to anyone who walks through the door. Please don’t ask me for directions, assistance, some company, and don’t even THINK about passively aggressively insinuating that I didn’t park correctly. I try to go into hibernation and shut myself in my room for the entirety of my period so I don’t accidentally murder someone.

4.  Titanic is all that matters-I’ll probably watch this 90’s classic anywhere from 6 to 30 times in a week, sometimes back to back. It’s never disappoints.

5. Cry about everything- EVERYTHING. If I’m not tearing up over “My Heart Will Go On”, you’ll be probably see my eyes water if I’m out of cream cheese or my shorts are too uncomfortable. One time I got my eyebrows waxed during my period and I started to cry after the first brow. My waxer immediately stopped and looked at me, concerned, asking if it was too painful. I told her I was “just going through a lot right now” in between sobs.

6. Ask complete strangers for money- Thanks a lot, economy, because somehow a variety pack of Tampax pearls is now almost 9 dollars. I didn’t want to break a $20 on my last tampon run and I was 5 cents short for exact change. I started to cry and begged random mothers and teenage boys for a nickel. The cashier looked so concerned that she gave me a whole dime.

7. Bring Band-aids- I actually looked this up, and it has something to do with your hormones apparently but I am beyond uncoordinated when I’m on my period. My hips are always bruised up from walking into tables, I drop everything two seconds after I pick it up, and I trip over nothing. In regular life this is funny, but since I’m a hostess at a nice steakhouse I’ve had to spend a fair amount of time convincing my bosses that I’m not drunk at work. Again.

The female body is a mysterious and magical thing…or so I’ve heard in my health and women’s studies classes. I can’t wait for the day when my body decides I’m no longer fit to reproduce and I can purchase my last box of over-priced Tampax pearls. Jesus take the wheel.

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Life Is Like A Strip Club

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Remember when you were a horny teenage boy and all you could think about was getting into a strip club to see some big fake hooters? Me either.

Stick with me here because I swear I have a point.

Since the early 90’s Tom Hanks got us to believe that ‘life is like a box of chocolates’- so precious. I don’t want to discredit the disabled magic that is Forrest Gump, but I’ve reworked the phrase a bit.

I think life- in particular, work life- is much more like a strip club. We spend so much time putting mediocre events on a pedestal, only to be sourly disappointed by a lady covered in glitter who looks like your old librarian.

In case you haven’t noticed by now, I’m a bit of a cynic. I’m sure you’d rather tell your kids about chocolate than whores, but let’s be real- they’re both bad for you.

Think back to senior year- how many times did you say it was going to be the best year ever? …was it? I don’t know about you, but I spent the “best year ever” ditching 6th period and smoking doobies in my 96 Nissan, praying for it to be over.

Every fucking year at least one of my friends tries to put together some big New Years Eve bash and every year I say no. As much as I’d love to over pay for a dress I’ll wear once and ride around town in a bus that smells like last night’s prom vomit, I always opt for an early night at home in the tub. And don’t even get me started on New Years resolutions. Making a list of goals you can’t accomplish is basically the same thing as going to a titty bar solo. Don’t do that to yourself.

What about the long awaited trip to Disneyland you’ve been dreaming of? That romantic vacation to the Bahamas? Please do not lets those Sandals resort commercials fool you. You will be surrounded by obese people, you will spend most of the day waiting in line for things, and the chances of your kid spending some quality one on one time with Mickey Mouse are slim to none. That stripper is not taking you into a private room to tell you how much she likes you. You were warned.

I find that this phrase comes into play most at work. I know very few people who have a job that they like, let alone their dream job. I have been lucky enough to follow a few of my fleeting passions, and I know I am not alone when I say I’ve been thoroughly let down a time or two. So often we are looking for a mentor, some guidance, or even just a warm welcoming environment to lead us into the new world of dream employment. Instead you end up at desk with someone else’s tissues left in the drawers, a boss that hasn’t finished community college, and are stuck next to some mouth breather who scrolls through pictures of anime shit instead of working. Am I getting too personal here?

I think to some extent you know I’m right- things aren’t always what they seem.

So, dear boy, with a pocket stuffed full of dollar bills, proceed with caution, because the fantasy you’ve built up in your head may not be all you’ve dreamed of. Behind those glorious tinted windows lies a dingy dark room with $5 day old steaks and sad looking girls with dad issues and love handles.

Isn’t that just the way life goes?

Thanks, Dad

 

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Since this Sunday is Easter, my initial plan was to write something about how The Rock Church negatively affects my Trader Joe’s shopping trips…and beyond. Though I am not a religious person, I am a family person. And in the spirit of the holiday weekend, I decided to write about a major member of my family: dear old dad.

I’ve compiled a list of all the humorous tips my father has shared with me in my 23 years as his only daughter.

1. “Balance your checkbook”- my dad doesn’t really know how to use a computer. He doesn’t seem to grasp that my entire bank statement and account activity are all present online, and that they have been since I opened my account in 2006. I literally have no idea what balancing your checkbook means, but I always give him a positive response.

2. “Just look away”- Peter Madruga believes that any problem, be it an annoying sibling or an extremely high student loan, can be solved by looking the other direction.  If anything in your life is causing you irritation or discomfort – just don’t look at it. Per example:

Me: Dad, Ryder (my brother) is picking his nose and wiping the boogers on my arm.

Dad: Just look away.

Me: Dad…that guy has the most massive moobs I have ever seen. He should not be allowed in public.

Dad: Don’t look.

Me: Dad! I think the neighbor just murdered his wife!

Dad: Kaley, just look away.

3. “Have You Checked The Oil In Your Car?”- Just say yes. Just nod your head.

4. “Suck It In”- Running errands with my father used to be a favorite past time of mine. One fun thing about my dad is that his regular speaking voice is super loud. Instead of simply pulling his young child out of the way of shopping carts, staff, or other dangerous obstacles, my dad would just yell “SUCK IT IN!” It took me about 10 years to figure out he was just telling me to move.

5. “I’m Not Yelling”- My dad ‘speaks’ so loudly sometimes that the veins in his head and neck pop out. You will literally experience a ringing in your ears after listening to him explain why it is unacceptable that you left your cereal bowl next to the sink. God forbid you ask him to tone it down because all you (and the neighbors) will hear for the next hour is how he is not yelling.

6. “No More Secs”- This one barely counts because my brother and I used to manipulate our father into saying it, but it’s still classic. Ryder and I spent a lot of time avoiding chores as young kids. Every time dad would catch us playing PS2, watching TV, or eating Poptarts when we were supposed to be cleaning, he’d start ‘not yelling’ at us. We would always answer the same way: “just one more sec”. Of course we would never get up and actually do our chores, so poor old Pete would have to come back multiple times to get us up and out. After the third “just one more sec” my dad would finally scream: “NO MORE SECS!!!” causing us to shriek with laughter. Of course he never got why were laughing.

7. “Just Go Like This”- My childhood was filled with a lot of falling and flying objects pelting my face (I’m uncoordinated). To this day, no matter what kind of injury I’ve encountered, my dad always just tells me to put my hand in front of my face. I think that’s why he always wears visors.

8. “Queen Is An Acquired Taste”- Pete is a huge Queen fan, and he likes to share this passion with his social circles. This sentence is usually followed by, ‘their music just isn’t for everyone’. I’m almost one thousand percent certain my dad doesn’t know what acquired means.

9. “We Have Eggs”- Like any typical father born in the 60’s, my dad isn’t much of a cook. When my mom went back to work after my brother and I were born, my dad was stuck with us in the evenings. His menu selections were a rotating special of ‘buttery noodles with parmesan cheese’ and scrambled eggs. After years of those hits, you can’t pay my brother or I to eat an egg these days. Whenever I stop by my  father’s house I typically end up complaining about the lack of food in the fridge…and cupboards. His response: What do you mean?! We have eggs!

10: “Patti Is Such A Skank”- My dad secretly watches a solid amount of Millionaire Matchmaker and he likes to shout out his random thoughts on the Bravo show’s prime subject every 15 minutes or so. ‘Patti is such a skank’ is the most typical.

If you ever find yourself looking for tips to get you through you the struggles of adolescence, I highly recommend these 10. I’m sure Peter would be happy to share more fun facts with today’s youth- you can find him playing drums for the East County based band “Ramshackle” at Second Wind, or at the YMCA with a Brett Michaels-esque bandana wrapped around his head.

Cheers!

 

Your Boyfriend Is Bothering Me

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I went to the mall yesterday with my best friend for a little girl time. Naturally, our first stop was the mecca: Victoria’s Secret. Like most women, I have been a fan of this store since I found out what boobs were, and I can spend countless hours wandering around convincing myself that $50 is a totally normal amount to spend on a bra.

There is only one thing that can negatively affect my girly experience at this lingerie superstore: your boyfriend. This has been a reoccurring event in nearly all my shopping trips and I just can’t wrap my head around it. Why is your dweeby little boyfriend hovering around my potential purchase?

So many girls come into this hot pink store with their boyfriend glued to their hip. Why? WHY? They always look miserable, uncomfortable, and confused. And they’re always with the chicks that are buying those ugly sweatpants. I could see how you could potentially lure your significant other into a girly store with the indication of a lingerie purchase but then you pick out some bright yellow sweats? That’s just fucked up.

Victoria’s Secret is a crowded cluster fuck of a store, especially because every girl that comes in there thinks they wear a size small (they don’t). So if you’re like me, who ACTUALLY wears a size small (sorry bitches), it is a battle to get into those white little drawers to find 5 lacy pieces of fabric for $26.50. This battle turns into a straight up struggle if some sack-less male life form is in my way. GIRLS: send your boyfriend to the food court. Send him to a sports store. Send him anywhere. Just please get him the hell away from my thongs.

I used to be one of those girls whose life revolved around my boyfriend (and no one loves leopard print booty shorts more than this girl), and even I didn’t drag my sweet little boy toy through those doors. First of all, he has no business in there, with or without me. Do you think he knows my bra size? The difference between a hipkini and a cheekster? Do you think he cares?

Men are simple creatures: they want to see us prance in around lingerie for about 2-3 minutes and then they wants us to be naked. They do not get a kick out of the panty buying process, and they certainly don’t care if you can find matching tribal prints for a full set.

As women, we get very few sacred places: the nail salon, the gynecologist, our beds watching a Sex and the City marathon, and stores where bras are prominently sold. Ladies- I beg of you, keep your husbands/boyfriends/whatever away from these sacred places. As a single girl,  all I really ask for is just a little bit of time away from the male species- I shouldn’t be forced to see your husbands ugly feet or awkward face.

Bitch Tactics Volume I

I’ve been a bitch pretty much my whole life.

I learned to read a lot faster than the other kids, and I definitely let it be known by correcting the spelling and grammar of every child (and adult) that I came in contact with. Most home videos I’ve seen usually include some variety of me slamming multiple doors and refusing to show anyone my newest tap dancing routine. I dumped my kindergarten boyfriend Tony on the last day of class because his older brother had given him a black eye and I didn’t want to take any pictures with him. This behavior continued throughout junior high, high school, and safe to say, a good amount of college.

Over time I have found that being a bitch, a real bitch, is a talent. Anyone can be mean. It’s so much more than that. It’s similar to what Tyra Banks refers to as modeling H to T (that stands for head to toe, for you non Oxygen channel marathon watchers). Bitchiness, much like modeling, involves your entire body, including your face, as well as a wide range of expressions, tones, and emotions.

To make up for 23+ years of constant bitchiness and sass, I thought that I should share some of my “skills” if you will, with the community. In this lesson, we will uncover what I like to call ‘The Blink and Walk Away’.

When people share information with me that is catty, boring, or stupid, instead of simply telling them that they are catty, boring, or stupid I blink at them multiple times in rapid succession and then walk away while shaking my head. I know it sounds meager but it’s highly effective. By distributing a look of utter shock mixed with embarrassment, you are making this lame person feel not only stupid, but inferior to you. Blinking and walking away leaves the shit-talker to stand alone and wonder how dumb their question or comment actually was, and more importantly if they should ever speak to you again (which they should not).

A great example of this can be found here:

I use this particular maneuver when someone is speaking badly about someone I like. The shit-talker wants you to engage- DON’T. That’s for amateurs. Another fun thing about walking away without speaking, makes the other person concerned that you are going to tattle on them! Which you’re not, but it’s still fun to make them squirm. This brings me to another bitch tip that I should probably share now: don’t talk shit if you’re afraid of the person finding out! What’s the point? You can say as much mean stuff as you want, but you should probably be confident that you would actually say it to the person’s face.

I once told a particularly snotty girl who had made fun of my job working at a bar that she could only have an attitude like that if she was better looking. It’s mean, but it’s true. I didn’t say it to my circle of friends, or a stranger, I said it to her. I’m sure she had some sort of response but I don’t remember because I started blinking at her and then walked away.