Here Comes Goodbye

I've been in Nebraska all of my life. That's why it's a little weird for me to be packing up my things and moving three states away, but never-the-less, that's what I'm trying to get done today. I leave out for Dallas in the morning.

I'm not sad about leaving though. Ever since I can remember I've wanted to get out of Nebraska and see other places. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love Nebraska and, although I'm from po-dunk USA (a.k.a. Chambers), I have some of the best memories from this state. I loved being able to ride my bike and rollerblade down main street of Chambers. I loved knowing every single person in my class, but not just knowing them, knowing details about them. Their birthdays, their parents, their favorite foods. I loved learning how to work hard, how to spend all afternoon helping my dad put irrigation spigots on a pivot. I loved moving to Lincoln to experience all of what college had to offer. I loved meeting absolutely wonderful people and life-long friends. I love that I need to turn on my heat in the mornings, but then switch on the AC in the afternoons.

But I'm excited for a new journey. I'm scared, down right petrified really. I know this is only a one-year deal, but I don't know if I'll ever be "home" again. I just hope my internship leads to a job I'm passionate about.

I know I'll see my family and friends several times a year, but I know I need to make new friends in Dallas. Perhaps that's the part I'm scared of most. I hate that I've invested so much time and love into my friends in Nebraska and now I have to move to someplace new and different and start all over again.

So, Nebraska friends, thank you for the memories. I've loved each and every moment spent with you. I will always have a special place in my heart for you and I hope you keep me in yours, too.

Goodbye and goodluck!

Wax On/Wax Offouchh

Men, you probably don't want to read this. But ladies, you can probably relate if you've had a crazy HAIR of an idea. (I really hate puns, but I really can't help myself in this post.)

I'm no stranger to having things waxed/waxing myself. Ever since my friend, Mary, held me down in the seventh grade and forced my caterpillar eyebrows into miraculously coutured beauties, I've been waxing once every two weeks. But my eyebrows aren't the only things I've had waxed. Yes, oh yes, I decided to grin and BARE it. Reading Cosmo regularly is a terrible idea. Some bitch of an editor convinced me to book an appointment with some sadist at Center Stage Salon to make my "Britney" nice and smooth. The editor said that women feel so liberated with their girl feeling soft and silky. Um...liberated? Yeah, so that's why women's libbers didn't believe in shaving anything? But so it was and I went in and got myself waxed. I remember it hurting like hell, but I was also on a bunch of oxycontin from my wisdom teeth yankage, so why I decided to partake in my latest adventure, I have no idea.....

Since Jacy started hair school, she has become fascinated in waxing. Seriously fascinated. She wants to wax my eyebrows all the time. Then, after waxing my brows, she looks at the wax strips and all but counts how many stray hairs she pulled off. Sadistic? I think so. To feed her obsession, she recently bought her own wax pot to wax her brows/lip/chin/arms/armpits/everything. Well, two weeks ago, she thought she might try to wax something else. After only delicately applying one strip to her va-jay-jay by herself, she had to tenderly, millimeter-by-millimeter, pull off the wax. Because of the pain of just ONE strip, she stopped the process and currently bares only one square inch of bare skin down there. (So I've heard...I don't really care to know myself).

So, naturally hearing about her failure of a procedure, I decided to also use her wax pot to make myself silky smooth. All I was thinking about is how I've been waxed down there before, so I'm a pro. But I should have been thinking that after I was in f'n killer pain the first time when a PROFESSIONAL waxed me, I'd think twice about doing this to myself. I didn't.

Instead, I jumped right in and applied strip upon sticky strip to my lady parts. What goes on must come off, right? Welp, I put myself in one hell of a predicament. After pulling just one tiny strip off in a swift, band-aid motion, I fell to my knees in pain. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, it hurt soooo bad. I looked down and realized I had THREE more to go. Three big-ass strips to go. That's when I started sweating profusely. Then I remember Jacy's words ringing in my head, "My friend, X, said that when she did this the first time she had to have her friend help her because it hurt so bad. But then the hairs are loose the second time around, so then you can easily do it yourself." Knowing that I had no option of a friend helping me because the only friend around that wasn't busy was my own MOTHER, I pulled my skin tight, bit hard down on my tongue, and yanked the f*ckers off.

Worst. Pain. Ever. I was even bleeding. Now I'm bruised (literally). But I'll be honest, although the hurt was probably equivocal to how I think childbirth would feel, I think I would do it again. I really do feel nice down there. But to say I feel liberated? Yeah, that editor should be fired...

Video Fun From This Weekend

Jacy and I poking a little fun at The Bachelorette

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1Dhg8eTsh4

My nephew, AJ, is so smart!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2FseuVLzos

I Like Boys

Within the first 20 minutes of me being home, my older sister, Gina, questioned my sexuality. Since I'm 22 years old and don't have a steady boyfriend, evidently that makes me a lesbian. So, I decided to shout at her, "Yes, Gina, I am a big, fat, RAGING LESBIAN! This is my Coming Out party. Welcome!"

I'm one of the straightest people I know. Straighter than straight really. I haven't even experimentally kissed a girl, even after Katy Perry came out with that song. Don't get me wrong, I am a free love kind of person, too. Gay people are awesome. I love Ellen. I just really like boys a lot more than I like girls, so I guess I'm straight.

It's not like I had a weird obsession with Bette Midler when I was younger or I ran home from school every day to catch the Rosie O'Donnell show when I was little. Nope. Okay, so maybe back in the day Gina could have questioned my sexuality because I looked like a Jeff instead of a Jess, but today I think I look more girl like. I mean this oversized Dan Conner-esque flannel shirt I'm wearing right now is super flattering and girly. And heck, some days I even wear makeup!

But in all seriousness, I really have no plans to "come out" or anything like that. I love boys. So if you have a single friend, hook a girl up!

The Big D

I've traveled quite a lot in my short life, but never had I really gone to the Southern states. I've been to Oklahoma a few times, but I've only been to Texas via the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport. So, when I road-tripped down there last week, I was in for a major shock. Did you know it's fucking hot down there? I've heard it's hot, but I was in for a rude awakening. My first day in Oklahoma City, I ended up somehow walking eight blocks out of my way on my way to the ballpark and I was drenched in sweat. I looked like I had just gotten out of the shower. (What a great first impression I'm sure I made on my fellow volunteers. "Uh, what the hell is wrong with that girl-man? She's sweating like she's a 70-year-old male running a marathon." But despite the sweat I seeped in OKC, Dallas was a much different story. I would just have to THINK about going outside and I would start sweating. AND IT'S LATE MAY! It's the kind of heat that Nebraska feels on July 30! Even though the heat was scorching, I ended up feeling right at home in Dallas.

I was driving back from my friends' house late on Monday night and happened to turn on the radio. I'm an English geek and usually I listen to book on tape everywhere I go, but I had just wrapped up some Nora Roberts book so I flipped to talk radio. A guy (undoubtedly a Husker fan) called in and was comparing the Nebraska-Texas rivalry to the Lakers-Celtics rivalry. Husker fans are EVERYWHERE. So I immediately felt confident in my decision to move to Dallas, even if I have to put up with thousands of UT fans. Ugh.

On that same drive home, I decided to turn off my GPS because I was also confident in ability to navigate around Dallas. Poor f'n decision. I was screwed from the start of my travels because I turn right instead of left out of my friends' apartment. I ended up traveling seven miles to the East of where I was supposed to be. However, I found a nice Jack in the Box open to fill my taco craving. I also found a fortune telling place open at 2 a.m. Nebraska doesn't even have fortune telling places. This place looked legit. Too bad I didn't know where I was because now I have no idea how to get back.

The final part of my trip to Dallas that made me feel right at home was the SHOPPING. Holy shitake risotto! There were outlet malls EVERYWHERE. I could cry.

I move down in late June, so if anyone wants to partake in some fortune telling or shopping with me, LET ME KNOW!