I might be making this up but I don't think I am(at least not right now)

In casting of this break-up Miss Aniston will be played by Heather and Mr. Pitt will be played by Matt and Miss Jolie will be played by Jamie.  The set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith will be replaced with a theatre in Wisconsin. Everyone please put on their Team Heather shirts now.

mew

Why is everyone's youth marked by a drowning kitten story? Why is everyone drowning kittens? Kittens are adorable, do they think because they are so adorable that they are invincible. People keep telling me these stories. Why is it only ever one kitten? If these 'people' with an unexpected litter of adorables can't keep them why is there only one that gets watered down? And if a kitten needs to be drowned(which they never do) why aren't the parents doing it? Why teens and preteens? Is this some sick right of passage Midwest parents think is important? Why have a met so many people who have a kitten drowning story? And why do they tell it with honest remorse? If they felt remorse they should have gone in the bucket after the cat! Why is this a cookie cutter youth experience? Are parents buying twisted weird 'how to be a good parent kits?" Some advice. Get it spayed, idiots.

Just trying to buy a bottled water

The woman in front of my has states tattooed on her calves. I can't stop staring at them. I keep pretending I am interested in reading about spicy chicken and swiss hot sandwiches but I keep staring at the huge ILLINOIS tattoo on her left calf. It has to be about the side of a deck of cards(thank you food serving guide reference). Shades of grey create in the Chicago skyline filling the ILLINOIS silhouette. I try to look away but only stare at her right calf. There is MINNESOTA. The Minneapolis skyline can't compete with the Windy city so it wasn't nearly as full in this tattoo so the artist had filled in around the edges with snowflakes. Why are these tattoos on the backs of her legs? Written above the ILLINOIS tattoo and below the MINNESOTA were  curly, curving letters. The ILLINOIS tattoo said, "Born" and the MINNESOTA one said, "Raised." I get it, it is to provide an icebreaker for people who are standing behind you at Super America. I was supposed to say, "Oh, you were born in ILLINOIS huh? When did you move to MINNESOTA for your raising to begin?" I wonder if she has an other state tattoos. Like where she had her first kiss. First airplane ride? Where she went on a road-trip once. When she dies, is part of her burial preparation going to be giving her a "Died" state tattoo? If she dies in one of the states already listed then they can just add the word died. But if it happens in a new state, then a whole new state would need to be tattooed and let's hope that state has an impressive skyline, but if is was VERMONT I bet the artist could fill the state in with leaves.  Should I be getting state tattoos? NORTH DAKOTA, IOWA, MISSOURI, INDIANA, OHIO, KENTUCKY, FLORIDA, MINNESOTA. I am a glamorous assortment of the Midwest. Or places I've been to, I could have a DELAWARE tattoo saying "Drove through" or GEORGIA tattoos that proclaims in swirly writing "Lay over". I could have the whole globe put on my butt and I could just add push pins.

Reunion

Cover girl pressed powder compact in ivory=one way ticket back to high school. Who needs a high school Reunion when I have make-up? This weekend was my ten-year high school Reunion. I had originally planned to go but with having just been to my hometown for a wedding and see all my friends there and then having stuff to do here and though the cost of $25 to gawk at who got fat is a super deal, I didn't go. And none of my friends could go due to honeymoons and new jobs, way cooler excuses than my unwillingness to drive ten hours in two days to eat BBQ and repeatedly answering the "And what are you doing now" question and dodging herds of nine-year-olds with plates of coleslaw.  But CoverGirl, you are the Doc Brown of cosmetic chance.. Just one sniff. I wasn't expecting it when I purchased the brown-tortie compact during my amazing stint as a maid of honor three weeks ago. I saw it and bought it thinking: cheap, portable and familiar. I had always carried a CoverGirl pressed powder compact until my sophomore year of college, then I have no idea why I stopped. In high school, make-up was my rebellion. Natural, undetectable, enhancing without glamour make-up.  I was great at it. The foundation, concealer, powder and eye shadow, sometimes mascara but I was always striving for the perfect natural look. I am amazed now when I think about how much time I spent trying to look just like myself, but the payoff was I looked like a better version of my self. The pressed powder compact was my emergency, since I had lots of acne in my high school days I needed something to help me have confidence where ever I went and that is why the compact was in my backpack, it covered zits, soaked up oil and disguised a blushing, flush, embarrassed face after being assigned to work in an English group with my crush from elementary school who two weeks ago I discovered was married. I remember wearing concoctions of clothing involving a variety of striped shirts. Staring reverently at the cosmetic section of Wal-Mart, scanning the Sunday paper for make-up coupons. I remember sometime just following a group of students in the hall rather than attempting to fight way out of the clog of students attempting to squeeze through a hallway. Hiding in bathrooms, but pretending to be using the mirror, stall and sink and paper towel dispenser when I was too awkward to do anything else.  CoverGirl: just like the reunion without paying for gas.

crush

In the interest of re-visiting old crushes that are currently unavailable, let's talk about: Tiger Woods. In 1996 Sports Illustrated named Tiger Woods 'Sportsman of The Year.' The magazine featured Tiger on the cover and pages and pages of Tiger's tales of rising to the top of golf. I remember the cover image of Tiger was a Photo-shop-esque pastel wispy drawing. It was amazing. I smuggled that issue of Sports Illustrated to my basement bedroom the same way my brother "recycled" the swimsuit issue produced by the same magazine. I had pulled out the bottom drawer of my desk and hide the magazine in the space between the carpet and the bottom of the desk. Super secret and super quick access. I devoured that magazine. The cover started ripping away from the staples. I knew everything about Tiger. His real name, Eldrick. His multi-racial heritage. He was five years older than me. Me at 15 was trying to figure out how that five year gap would work in our relationship. I repeatedly counted the ages on my fingers. He was 20 I was 15, when I was 20 he would be 25, 'is that too old?' I would wonder to myself. I practiced our wedding vows. I planned that at the point where the priest would say, "Do you, Heather, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" I planned to pause unexpectedly, look at Tiger with concerned eyes and then say, "What? You married an actress." And then say yes. Dramatic. Absolutely. Something a 15 year-old would dream up. Obviously.   Yesterday I learned that his Swedish wife is one year older than I am. Damn, I was so close.

Diaper Genie

There is a reason someone invented Diaper Genie.  And the reason is stink-filled baby poop. The person I live in my apartment with has recently begun a two-afternoon-a-week baby sitting gig in our apartment. On day 2, the baby needed changing and placing the offending diaper in a paper take out bag in the trash does not recreate a diaper genie. Ouch. Not that I blame him too much for the smell, I also think that the parents are to blame(the parents are always to blame!) That is they expect one to change the butt rag of their child in their own home that they should also bring a diaper genie to properly dispose of the bowel cloth. Is making people babysit in their own home just a ploy to get baby poop in to more homes? Are they trying to convert the non-reproduced by infecting them with dung? Do they assume that the non-reproducers will 'get used' to the smell and then have children of there own so they don't feel so chained down by their own choices? Or so they can drop even more children off at the baby-sitters without anyone knowing?  What is the meaning of all of this?

Why is there a oracle at Target?

I filled my red plastic basket with a 750 count pack of Q-tips, smoothie drink, something else and an unmentionable and headed towards the checkout. I meandered since I was filling time to avoid going back to my hurricaned (metaphor) apartment. I didn't want to use an express checkout since those cashiers are always more friendly and with my unmentionable in my basket I don't like the tiny conveyor belt that spotlights all your purchases. I wanted a regular clogged busy checkout. Or a woman cashier. I found an old man checking out customers and chose his line. Casually I emptied my basket and pretended I knew what I was doing. He checked out my purchases as normal and asked me how I was doing. I said, "Good" I asked him how he was doing. He said, "Ok." then he kept checking out my things and said, "But tomorrow comes whether I am feeling good or not, the word doesn't stop because I am not having a good time, right?" I smiles and agreed. Target: Everything you need and the insight you forgot you needed.

Three, two, Pier One

I forgot how much I love Pier One! I haven't been to the store in years and then went for a work scouting trip and fell in love all over again! And they were having their 50% off sale and I love everything in there. I need to live in a Pier One, my dream is to be covered in weirdly tooled bar stools and over-embellished accent pillows. I had to stop by yesterday on my way back home after the wedding to buy the soaps that I resisted buying on the work event. I bought 7 soups for $6! Awesome! One is chocolate and pepper! It makes me so happy to use, Especaily since someone used my shampoo bar as regular soap and I got annoyed. But the chocolate cayenne makes me happy.

Exercise. Just because my heart is broken, doesn't mean it has to stop working.