Pink Slips

After a stress-induced migraine hit me Friday morning and left me broken like a bull in a china shop, I came to the realization that I am wasting my energy and time on individuals and projects that are not worth the expense. I can no longer put the pedal to the medal and drive through life ignoring the stop signs. I must, instead, put my brakes to good use.

I'm handing out pink slips to people who don't make me smile. If you exhaust me, bore me, aggravate me or otherwise offer no real joy to my life, then over the next few days be prepared to pack up your emotional baggage and vacate the premises.

Please be advised, if you do receive a pink slip, it is completely and 100% personal.

You Have a Great Neckline

I often envy women with significant others. Not so much for the emotional companionship or constant sex (which really is a lie, I probably get it more than the average committed couple) but more so for the compliments. Yea I know, self-centered isn't it?

I love compliments in all varieties. My wardrobe, shoes, hair, style, bags, manner of walking, speech, anything really. I get an average of 5 compliments a day, all very much appreciated and taken with a smile. But since they are somewhat hard to come by, in terms of when I'll get one (so unpredictable!) I have found a new avenue to up the ante. This online dating site stuff turns out to be a pretty girl's heaven!

Match.com is somewhat lame in this department but OkCupid...that's a whole different story! The emails I get are fantastic. My days are filled with admiration from men I don't even know who view the same old pictures I have posted everywhere. I'm telling ya, if you simply want someone to tell you how pretty you are you should hit up this site. Today's highest ranked compliment, "You have a great neckline."

My response, "For what? Biting?" Touche.

Pot of Gold

There is something inherently beautiful about rainbows. Symbolically they represent not only happiness, but hope.

In the past two three weeks I have had some major upsets. From health, relationships and career my attention has been drawn to the negative. I've been struggling with stress and can't seem to find my place in this big, daunting world. My rainbow, it turns out, are my girlfriends.

On my way to Napa this weekend I realized that each color in the above rainbow symbolizes a special woman in my life. Someone who inspires, guides and loves me to keep searching for that pot of gold. A woman who, through thick and thin, will stand next to me when I can't stand for myself. Today I send a special thank you to each one of you (you know who you are) and only hope I can be a vibrant color in your rainbow as well.

Love.com

There is a very confronting and horribly addicting world out there called Online Dating. From OkCupid, Chemistry, Plenty of Fish, Match and eHarmony (all dotcoms), the single individual is left with a myriad of options to find a date. The weird thing is, it's online.

I always find the online thing awkward. Not that I need online dating, to be honest I get asked out on average 5-7 times per week, more so in the summer due to the wardrobe options...but I digress. OD is awkward because you base your entire first date on what you read about that person and what random photos they have selected to display to the world. I mean really, have we as humans lost our way in terms of having meaningful and colorful interactions with each other, so much so that we now resort to sorting and judging prospects sans chemistry first?

There's something about meeting someone in person, glancing at them from across the room and getting flushed with attraction. The moment a man (who has the balls) comes up and introduces himself and shakes your hand, you feel pretty, special and excited. OD, on the other hand, is like herding cattle through a shoot. I'm quick to dismiss possible Husbands based on the following criteria:

Too short (especially in pics with your friends)

Too tall (I don't want to hug you and be in your belly button)

Too fat

Round face

Pudgy nose (pig nose I call it)

Horrible haircut

No body shot (you must be fat)

Bad smile (get braces)

Blurry photo

Bad grammar/punctuation

Under the age of 25...

...Over the age of 40

Has online dating made us (women and men) too picky? Are we basing our potential happiness all on first impressions through photos instead of interacting? Does OD actually increase the chances of finding love? If so, why are there so many people still single and online? As I sign up for some of these sites today, I'll be tracking my progress through this blog. How many people view me versus asking me out versus actual dates.

Let the dating begin.

Team Boy: 1. Team Stephanie: 0.

When the door of happiness closes, another opens; but, often times, we look so long at the closed door that we don't even see the new one which has been opened for us. ~Unknown

I am acutely aware of the fact that I am wanted. I am also acutely aware of the fact that I have recently been rejected. Now, to be honest, fault really lies on both him and I for my current state of unhappiness. Yet I still blame myself as most women do. Am I not pretty enough? Smart enough? Funny enough?

At this point you may feel like slapping me or shaking some sense into me. I understand, I have felt the same way with some of my friends when they voice the same concerns. Yet there is something inherently and downright sad and pathetic about our species, women. We just can't get it that we are GOOD ENOUGH as is. We are so wrapped up in attempting to change for a man that we loose sight of the ultimate goal, being loved for who we are. Simply who we are, nothing more and nothing less.

Now back to being wanted. As I previously mentioned I have been rejected. It's not fair to generalize the demise of our "relationship" (or lack thereof) but I will say that it boiled down to me wanting commitment, him NOT wanting commitment. Team Boy takes the goal. When one party doesn't want it, there's no point in trying to coerce them into something. The relationship will be doomed from the start.

So I get rejected and (God love her) the Universe responds. I check my phone and I am getting some seriously random texts or calls from guys that I have either not heard from or seen in months, if not years. Men I once dated, men I've never dated, and men I spent only a few short hours with (let's try to keep this PG shall we?). I've got dates lined up this week with men that I am worried I won't even recognize because it's been so long since I've seen them! Maybe the Universe is trying to tell me something? Or perhaps, show me something? Let's hope Team Stephanie prevails.

There's something about musicals that get me going, in a good way.

Singing has always been something I've wanted to pursue. I was in musicals as a child and it was one of the most beneficial, amazing and happy times of my life. Being on stage, acting and singing was what I lived for. Being in character is nothing new to me, so being on stage was truly my time to shine.

Then I quit. Out of nowhere. I just ended my time on stage. I got into horseback riding soon after, spending years competing and earning ribbons. Then I quit that. And so the trend continued throughout my adolescent years and into adulthood. I love something, I work hard at it, I spend countless hours mastering it and then I quit. But that's another post for another time, back to singing.

I notice when I'm sad I lean towards anything that involves spontaneous outbursts of musical talent. From Glee to Mamma Mia!, I'm drawn to music. It brings joy to my life and I can't help but grin ear to ear as the music starts, the actors gather and the voices fill the air. It's my go-to Happy Place, only after a spend a few hours surrounded by books. My most recent obsession? Sam Tsui. I want to make out with his face. Enjoy.

Heart. Ache.

Last night I said goodbye to my best friend. As I write this, tears are streaming down my face. (Oh and let's note I'm in Jury Duty today, everyone is staring at me.) In a ray of hope I woke this morning hoping it was all a dream, only to brutally realize the morning after such a loss may be worse than I ever imagined. I woke up empty, feeling as if there was a hole in my heart-and in my life. He took a piece of me with him last night and I do not know what to do. The black hole I find myself in doesn't seem to have any way out, as yet I can see, and I'm scrambling for breath.

I share this with you because 1) I rarely share the things that hurt me and 2) I believe it's vital we make aware the pain involved in loosing someone you so dearly love.

Now let me explain, my best friend is still living and breathing in this big grand world. Simply put, our energies had become too entwined. Though the reasons, justifications and actions as to how it all went down are less important right now due to my inconsolable grief, I will say that this may be one of the hardest moments in my life thus far. And there I go crying again.

A good friend of mine, also a therapist, passed along the Kubler-Ross 5 Stages of Grief to me this morning. I'm all too familiar with the model and after grudgingly accepting the information I began to think that it may be a smart idea to look it over. After all, I just lost someone right? I'm in a black hole and can't see my way out, that sounds pretty familiar.

5 Stages of Grief

1. Denial- This can't be happening to me. I'm ok.

2. Anger- Why me?? This sucks. This isn't fair. Are you a complete idiot for letting me go?

3. Bargaining- If we just do x,y,z maybe we can go back to what it was....

4. Depression- I'm so sad. I can't get out of bed, I no longer enjoy the things I once did.

5. Acceptance- And I'm back biatches!

Now the real question is, does anybody have a tissue??

Peter, I Heart You.

I was recently stopped on the street by an 88 yr old man who fell in love with me. It's great when men tell me how pretty I am. Really, it makes my day. So funny because I actually don't find myself attractive, so when I'm told I am I immediately fall in love with you. I gotta work on that.

Back to Peter, the 88 yr old man. Dressed in an Armani suit, a dark wool coat and carrying a Hermes umbrella, I knew immediately he was old-school San Francisco. I love that. He opens the conversation with, "You were supposed to model today, but you missed your appointment didn't you?" God I love senior citizens. So of course I'm hooked and let him continue the conversation. Among the many things he continues to tell me, I will share a few of his bits of advice.

1. Don't get fat. According to Peter, "I'm so tired of seeing these elephants and seals. You are beautiful. Don't get fat, it's not worth it. Men don't like you when you are fat." Awesome, I just renewed my gym membership.

2. "A woman has 11 holes. Men have 10. Watch what you put in all your holes." Interestingly enough he made a few gestures to accompany this comment which were quite entertaining. I will not be handing out all access passes. You gotta be VIP to get this shiznaz.

3. Lastly, and most importantly, "The more you do for a man, the less he does for you." Excellent advice Peter. He continues to tell me about his 89 yr old wife, Stella, and how she makes him work for it. If you hand a man everything, he doesn't want it. If you make him work for it, it triggers his primal hunter within. Let the Game begin.

Can I Call You Daddy?

There's something incredibly handsome and regal about an older man with salt & pepper hair.

It's not just ANY older man that gets me going. It takes a certain array of characteristics that make me take a second look. Aside from the hair, these S&P's need to have the demeanor of a high-level corporate executive, drive a luxury car and wear Armani. Oh and they need to smell amazing. I'm talking George Clooney amazing. You know what I mean here ladies...a man of this caliber walks by and you just KNOW they smell amazing.

The sexy, suave, older thing doesn't have anything to do with a Freudian father/daughter dynamic, it really has to do with the fact that S&P's are just plain hot. I'm referring to Sean Connery/Richard Gere/Anderson Cooper hotness. I don't even care how old they are (ok really maybe 55 would be my max), I would just like to date one. Saggy old balls aside, can I call you Daddy?

Jogging, with a Soft J

My increasingly bad and cranky mood is beginning to effect more than the few close friends I have. It's becoming contagious with most of the individuals I encounter. This has got to stop.

My solution? I'm getting my a** to the gym. I figure hopping on the treadmill, though I hate it, will be a great fix. Here are just a few benefits to exercise:

1. A truckload of endorphins are dropped in your brain, kicking that bad mood to the curb

2. The Eye Candy is undeniably sweet

3. You don't feel as guilty when you mow down the giant burger later that evening, or beer, whichever comes first

4. Supposedly it increases your sex drive. Not that I need that per say, but the higher the sex drive the better in my opinion

5. And lastly, it helps curb the fat-train that will undoubtably appear as I age. Being ugly is contagious, just as a bad mood is. There should be a vaccine. Oh wait there is, it's called exercise. Bouya!

Daily Grind

No, I don't mean the hustle and bustle of your workday. I mean coffee. Yes, that delectable, delicious and oh so gratifying beverage that makes the world go round.

I'm on my second double Americano of the day. The savory and rich aroma coupled with the smooth texture on the tongue leaves me tingling all over. I live and die for my daily coffee fix. There's something about the experience of not only getting coffee but carrying coffee that leaves me satisfied. I can finally relate to smokers. It's all about having something in your hand. The ritual of standing in line, ordering, adding the cream and sugar, and carrying it that leaves me feeling sublimely content-even if for a short period of time. Within two hours I'll be wanting more. And more. And more.

I have to cut myself off. Detox. But not before I have one last sip...

Wicked

I've spent the last few years of my life playing the Wicked Witch of the West. Ok well really it's been more like 10 years or more. Ok fine, it's been my damn career since I can remember. That's beside the point.

What really matters here is, just how Wicked have I been? And in me being so Wicked, what has it cost me?

Though I look more like the Good Witch than the Bad, I'd have to say I've played out the part fairly well. I can scare the hell out of you. Seriously. Only takes one look. I can tear you down with the rest of them. In fact, I probably started every rumor you've ever heard about yourself. I am highly capable of bringing copious amounts of tears to your eyes. I am even better at making you feel ashamed for expressing emotion than I am at getting you to express emotion. I would scratch. Bite. Claw. And cackle. I've been known to kick little boys in the balls, make grown men cry and strip women of the little self-esteem they have left.

But no more. I'm tired of being mean. Turns out, somewhat like Elphie, I have a heart. One that beats with passion, intensity and purpose. Not saying I'm walking (or better yet flying) away from that role completely, just that the intensity I once had to make you feel worthless has left the building. So though I will still wear the black hat and my cackle can be heard throughout the streets of North Beach, I will no longer send my flying monkeys after you. I'll just bop you on the head with my broom instead.