Adios, Benedict

To the chagrin of the Pope Benedict XVI Fan Club, Roman Catholic leadership will need to select a new Pope. The process will preferably be completed before Easter, because the de facto religious leader on Easter Sunday in the absence of a Pope is the Easter Bunny--which hasn't happened in six centuries for a reason. I suspect bidding adieu to Benedict XVI isn't going to be ALL bad...

But really. It must take a lot of courage to admit you cannot adequately perform the duties of your job--especially when God is your supervisor. You do you, Benedict.

Destiny's Child

In light of the recent outcry over Beyoncé lip-syncing the Star Spangled Banner during the Obama Inauguration, I just wanted to remind you ingrates about what the queen has done (and can do) for you.

They say music is the most profound form of human expression. Can anybody out there name one life event/situation that cannot be most accurately described with a little less talk and a lot more Destiny's Child? Beyoncé and her crew have been there for us through it all.

I compiled a list of life's victories and struggles and subsequently placed the appropriate D. Child song written to help us get through and/or celebrate these times:

Courtship (of the 'Hard to Get Variety') : Bootylicious

First paycheck from big girl/boy job : Independent Women (Part I)

Break Ups : Survivor

Dealing with that friend that sneakily doesn't put in enough money at group dinners : Bills Bills Bills

Fridays (the expectation) : Jumpin', Jumpin'

Frenemies : Nasty Girl

Loss : Emotion

Society at War : Soldier

From middle school through present day I have been a devout follower of the spoken word and lyrical teachings of Destiny's Child and ipso facto Beyoncé. I know honesty is the best policy when speaking on religion and faith, so I will admit I've mostly fallen out of touch with Kelly and Michelle (was I ever in touch with Michelle? was anyone ever in touch with Michelle??). 

Regardless, neither of those 2 (or the 4th Child who shall remain nameless) spoke to my soul in quite the same way as Beyoncé has always been able to. When reacting to tribulations and triumphs alike I always asked myself WWBD--"What Would Beyoncé Do?" By way of consequence I have mostly managed to handle life's happenings with style, grace and just a sprinkle of booty-poppin'.

I'm not suggesting you go as far as to break ground on a new Beyoncé shrine in your closet--but all I'm saying is each night I kneel beside my bed and ask Beyoncé to watch over me and guide me during every stage of my decision-making processes; and I never make the wrong choices. 

Be grateful for what she's done for you; and more importantly what she will CONTINUE to do for you despite your gross lack of respect. Beyoncé loves us all even when we are too selfish/mortal to appreciate it.

Londres

Back in June I lamented that I hadn't left the country in almost two years. Sorpresa! I got the chance to go to London! My itinerary even met the criteria I had set out for myself--the UK is not landlocked, on the verge of default and there is no visa requirement. Other than the fact that I left home with no coat and no laptop, I was ready!

Although the primary purpose of my travel was to attend a project management training course for work--I extended my stay so that I could see the sights, drink the cidre (see what I did there?) and visit/cuddle with friends. 

Highlights:
I attended prayer services twice in the Cathedrals, so you can say I re-connected with God. I'm revisiting the idea of putting in an application for Sainthood.

I watched Katy Perry's Part of Me on the airplane and cried because I was so inspired. I'm a bonafide Katy Kat.

I discovered a new city, met new people AND a became intimately familiar with a new Starbucks menu (Praline Mocha Latte--you are my spirit animal). 

Tower of London. I'm basically a certified expert on monarchies and royal menageries. I carried myself as if there was a talent scout looking for the next addition to the royal family, and I think I made a good impression.

Running along the Thames River. Nothing makes me feel more alive than running in a new place.

The training itself--VERY passable. Work seminars have the potential to be excruciatingly boring, but I was pleasantly surprised. One of the men leading the course is a former project manager at Lego, so we immediately had common ground to stand on. Legos were a cornerstone of my formative years.

Lowlights:
During a team-building exercise in which I was blind-folded, I shit-talked every other team and then caused my own team to lose by falling in a bush. Not my best moment.

I got woman-handled by airport security at Heathrow TWICE. Girl put her hands all up in the waistband of my leggings. I almost asked for money from her because alla dis don't come cheap, ya know? If I wasn't already projected to be the very last person to make it on the plane, I would have.

Missing the election--as if voting absentee isn't anticlimactic enough. My plan was to head to a bar that promised twinkies, hot dogs, and other American fare. Line was out the door (obviously). To add insult to injury--I'm now seeing that twinkie's days are numbered. So it is very likely that I will NEVER have the chance to eat twinkies on election night again in my life. I'm going to dedicate an entire chapter in my memoir to this injustice.

Additionally, the next day, people at my training wasted no time trying to tell me why America sucks. Sorry I'm not sorry that I love America.

Mediumlights:
I learned EVERYTHING about heresy, torture, and the history of the British justice system via a visit to Clinks Prison Museum. I can't decide if this was a good or a bad experience. I was literally the only person in this purposefully dank and dreary museum.

I didn't find Adele, and I looked everywhere.

I tried lamb. I now know for sure that I'm not into it.

Overall-light:
I had a great time, learned a lot, and laughed a ton. An extra special thanks to Maria Preetha y Lucita for having me as the third flat-mate :). Abrazos!

Lent

It's that time of year again! By now, Catholics everywhere should have chosen what they are giving up this year for Lent. I had a very difficult time choosing what I was going to give up this year.

My previous methodology in choosing my sacrifice was to draw inspiration from posters hanging up around school. There was no need to look within myself to see what I should do. Why waste the time? I had an immensely busy social life as a child and simply couldn't be bothered to devote the time to such follies. The following list illustrates examples of messages I saw around me, and how I translated those messages into Lent sacrifices of yesteryears:

Elementary School
"Having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card!!"
...watch Arthur everyday after school.


Middle School
"The way to have a friend is to be a friend."
...stop being a bitch.


High School
"Shoot for the stars, because even if you miss, you'll fall on the mountain top!"
...apply to college, get accepted, go.


College
"Need career advice? Visit the Career Center in Schine!"
....get a job.

Unimaginative, blase, lazy--all fair criticisms of my previous Lent choices. One is supposed to choose something difficult because you are supposed to feel as though you've sacrificed something. Nobody's asking for you to mirror the sacrifice that was made for you, but do something. Now that I'm no longer in school, it became clear to me that it was really time to face my demons. What are my vices? Am I really strong enough to give them up? Suddenly....it dawned on me.

"This is the year I'm going to give up pop-tarts."

I am Odysseus attempting to forge a path home after the Trojan War, and poptarts are the irresistable Sirens. I cannot deny their rainbow frosted, strawberry preserve-filled song, despite the fact that they will one day kill me. Then I hit a hurdle.

As some of you may know, I'm somewhat of a scientist--and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that giving up poptarts was simply out of the question. That would be defying my genetic make-up. It's all very clear. Please observe the following Punnett Square plucked directly from my pedigree:

Ability to Resist Poptarts in the Post-Childhood Stage of Culinary Palate Development

As you can see, both of my parents have the dominant poptart resistance gene, and all 3 of my sisters seem to also possess the dominant. My diabetic sister Valerie is clearly the top Left corner, completely resistant to poptarts due to insufficient insulin production.  Conversely, my genetic makeup is undoubtedly that of the completely recessive bottom right corner. My position as a recessive homozygous individual is simply non-negotiable. So really, giving up poptarts for Lent was, scientifically speaking, out of the question.

Once I had established that in my mind, it was time to get serious. If I couldn't think of something difficult to give up, then there was really no point in giving anything up at all. It wasn't until someone I care very much about proposed this novel idea to me:

"Maybe you should stop saying "fuck this" and "fuck that" so often..."

I had to admit, the f-bomb, unlike poptarts, is not a natural part of me. My propensity to use the f-word in all types of situations, multiple times a day, is just a bad habit and a product of my environment (New Jersey). As much as I love my home state, I don't live there anymore, and the people outside of that wonderful bubble are often offended and appalled by my filthy mouth.

And so it was decided. I am going to try and limit my use of the F-bomb as best as I can. I haven't been doing very well so far, but I am trying. You better believe that once Easter Sunday comes around, however, I will be saying the f-word with potentially alarming regularity. The first day of the post-season is sure to be exceptionally profane.

"What the fuck Grandma? Did you even TRY to hide the Easter Eggs this year? I can fucking SEE THEM sticking out of the bush. Fuck you."

O:) Happy Lent.