Stumbling Towards Perfect

I was thinking I was pretty much the most awesome girl on the planet because I was all hey, honey, guess what? We're going to go see Vince Lombardi tomorrow night! And Big V was all who? And I was all duh, Vince. Lombardi: coach of the famous GREEN BAY PACKERS, yo! And he was all you do realize he died before we were even born, right?  And that's when I explained that we were actually going to go to see a guy pretend to be Coach Lombardi on stage at Young Auditorium in Whitewater  (which, by now all my faithful readers realize is my most favorite place in the world, second to Starbucks) in a one man show called: Vince - The Life and Times of Vince Lombardi , starring John Pinero. The seats were AWESOME and I was getting giddier by the second. Big V loves - and I mean LOVES! all things Green Bay Packers. However, this obsession is nothing to be concerned of since we do live in Wisconsin and the majority of the people here suffer from the same obsession, including, but no

Sometimes, something happens, and then I want to talk about it, but there's no one to talk to about it, so I just spend days thinking about it, but feel like that's not enough, so then I decide I have to write about it. And that's where you come in. Because today, I'm gonna talk about Felix . Felix Baumgartner. Top Gun flashbacks, right? You're welcome. See, this daredevil? Waaayyy sexier than Steve-O. Just sayin'. Now, Felix has been around for a LONG time. He's spent the past 10 years jumping illegally off of all sorts of buildings around the world... but until he jumped out of space no one really knew him. Or how hot he is. See, the man jumped out of space . For the past five years he's been practicing and planning and keeping this secret that he was going to jump out of space and come hurtling to the earth at ridiculous speeds. The first thing that bugs me is how few people in my circle of acquaintances watched th

Years from now, my children will sit across from their therapists and sob about the fact they never experienced a childhood birthday party in their honor because their mother was too full of anxiety and ridiculous fears to ever have one for them. (I.e., "No, we cannot have a birthday party because the dog might rip someone's face off." "But we don't HAVE a dog!" "Well, one might get loose in the neighborhood and attack someone coming to the party." -OR- "No, we cannot have a birthday party because someone might jump off a swing and impale their foot with a nail." "But we don't HAVE a swingset!" "Well, it could happen if they just jumped high enough and everyone knows how impossible it is to control the jumping of children!") My fears are absolutely justifiable since birthday parties have always been a quite traumatizing occasion for the McCarthy Children. Or perhaps just for me. Case in Point: At my 10th B

The perky dietician looked down at her scribbled notes, diligently scrawled on the pad of paper clipped to her neon green plastic clipboard. "Well,  now. You've given me a good example of what you normally eat. But, uh, well, I don't see any fruits or vegetables?" She sounded confused. "Oh. I don't eat them," I answered plainly. "You don't eat fruits or vegetables?" Now she looked confused. "No." I answered matter of factly. She uncrossed her leg. Then crossed it again. "Well, why not?" "I don't like them." I became keenly aware that I was coming off like an obstitante child. Although I didn't have the whine. "You don't like any fruits? What about bananas?" "No, they taste like sickness." Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry?" "I don't know, like, maybe once I got sick after eating a bunch of bananas and now I associate bananas with being sick. Li