Conor Oberst & the Mystic Valley Band : It's yours and it's especially mine

This Saturday, Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band will be playing at the Utah Arts Festival. It's going to be amazing. I don't want to make too big of a deal about it because I really don't want anyone else to show up. My four tickets and I are all that matters. I am so excited.

I drove to Omaha last year to see Bright Eyes play at The Waiting Room. It was awesome. (The show--not the driving, the speeding ticket, the deterioration of a friendship, or the incurred debt.) I would do it again. Google the drive from Utah to Nebraska. Obviously, I love Conor for more than just fathering my child.

I also got front row seats to see Bright Eyes at Kingsbury Hall that coincided with a work-related event in Vegas. I went to Vegas, worked, paid $700 to fly to Salt Lake on Saturday night at 6pm, watched the show, and flew back by 7am Sunday morning... only to catch my return flight back to Salt Lake the very same day. Again... TOTALLY worth it.

I hope this Saturday is another life-changing moment for me. I have a totally hot date (no lie), and I'm pretty sure we're going to be members of the Mystic Valley Band by the end of the show... satin jackets and all.

Download a song from CO&TMVB's new release, Outer South:

My Guilty Pleasure: Dr. Phil

I love Dr. Phil. I do. I think he's adorable, logical, charming, and witty. Granted, he's gone a little Jerry Springer-ish but that just signifies that the world is running out of legitimate problems. I would just love to have lunch with him, or maybe be on an Amazing Race team with him. Tonight, I was trying to find my hidden bottle of wine when my grandma yelled at me and told me I needed to come watch Dr. Phil because it was MADE for me; he had the answer to my problem on tonight! (Uh, yeah, he usually does.) I thought it was going to be about paying bills. We all know I don't pay my bills... not for lack of money, I just "hate paying bills" as Gram puts it. Ah, she knows me well.

Anyway, the title of tonight's show is "What's Wrong with Men?" The obvious problem with the men on the show was the women on the show. I mean, some people just shouldn't be together. I wish Dr. Phil would have invited me on the show. Not because I know what's wrong with men, but I know what's wrong with me--the men I pick. (See? I am soooo Dr. Phil ready!) There was like a group of bitter cougars and then a group of self-proclaimed jerks. Then there was a group of sloppy, dirty, lazy, married people that never have sex and have like 27 kids under the age of 12. Well, duh. What's wrong with men? What's wrong with people?

I bet the married couples were like, "you're crazy, stay single." And the single couples were like, "oh shit! I like my single life!" And The Fonz was like, "Heyyyy." I guess the moral of the story is: Move to Vegas and find a good pimp.

A couple of years ago, I was dating a basketball player. Don't get me wrong--I knew it was a bad idea. But I definitely liked watching him play basketball and I liked using his tickets and okay, I even liked taunting his "groupies." (Sorry, I am the first to admit that I was an immature asshole.) But the "relationship" was a complete disaster. I mean, more disastrous than usual. But I wasn't really emotionally into it, I laughed about the absurdity of it all. He was SUPER tall and SUPER hot and a complete demon. And I was 10 years older than him. I just liked crawling all over him, having him pick me up with one arm, and laughing at his (sometimes) funny jokes. And then other times, underneath his 6'6", 220 lbs, gansta facade, he revealed that he had a heart. He did. It was tiny, black and shriveled up but... we both got exactly what we wanted out of the relationship. Anyway, I digress. My point being: my sisters, so help me, bought me the Dr. Phil book, Love Smart : Find the One You Want--Fix the One You Got. Ha ha! I know, I know! I will read it one day. I sure will! It's just not that I'm really in a hurry to settle down. I want to fall in love and sometimes I trick myself into thinking that I am. But I just want someone to be quiet with. I don't want to get married. I just want to love someone and have them look at me like, hey, I love you too. Let's make out.

I don't admit it to many people, but I really, really, really am a hopeless romantic. I remember being in Jr. High under the bright Pony League baseball lights and literally having stars in my eyes... being completely, innocently in love with a boy. And all he had to do was kick off his muddy cleats, watch a movie with me and hold my 13 year-old hand to make me dizzy with happiness. Is it so wrong that I want to look across a room and feel those same pure feelings? So maybe now he's tattooed and shy but still has a smile reserved just for me. That's all. Simplicity. No analyzing. No trying to guess what's going on. No hang ups on the after life. No deep discussions about where we've been. Just holding hands and heading into the future. Is that too much to ask? I am terrified of getting too old to be capable of young love. I want to look at pictures when I'm 50 and see two young, beautiful people madly in love. I don't want a picture of me lovingly emptying "his" catheter on our second date or coffee stained smiles when we hit Walmart to get our blood pressures taken on Tuesdays.

Last weekend, my mother was in town. She was asking my daughter and me for advice on an outfit for her date. My daughter (without hesitation) said, "What? Nana can get a date and YOU can't?!" Insulting to both my mother and me, yes, but funny.

I mean, I guess I could go looking for love... but isn't true love supposed to find you? And I still need to figure out what "true love" even means. I know what it sounds like (music), I know what it feels like (first kisses), I just don't know what to do with it (spaz history). I bet Dr. Phil could give me these answers. I'm gonna go find him.

Twitter: More Annoying Than Herpes

...And apparently just as contagious.

I've never tried Twitter and I don't have herpes. But I plan to avoid both forever.

I am growing increasingly annoyed with the twitterers. Mostly because twits (i.e.Type A personalities) think they are super important. If you look "twit" up in the dictionary, it's pretty self explanatory (and kinda ironic):

twit (twĭt)
tr.v. twit·ted, twit·ting, twits
To taunt, ridicule, or tease, especially for embarrassing mistakes or faults. See Synonyms at ridicule.
n.
1. The act or an instance of twitting.
2. A reproach, gibe, or taunt.
3. Slang A foolishly annoying person.

This one is my favorite and, in my opinion, the most accurate:

twit  [twit]
–noun Informal.
an insignificant or bothersome person.

Duh. If I want to know what my friends are doing every second, I'll call them. I'll even consider email. I am so over the psychology and egos behind the social networking world. If you're important enough to have a following, I recommend you find a way to make it work for your bank account, not your self esteem. Yay you!

I recently deleted my Facebook account. It's a small step to rid myself of the online epidemic replacing real life. I am confident that the people in my life that I want to stay in touch with will get a hold of me. If someone is getting married, having a baby, breaking up with their boyfriend, or taking a shit... let's assume they'll call me if I rrrreally need to know about it.

I bet Pau Gasol has herpes (and bad breath). And Dwight Howard has the most awesome muscles. Ever. And I put my electric blanket back on my bed because I'm cold. I bought a book today. I'm going to read it right now. I love myself. It's June. I miss somebody. I am hungry. Cameltoes are tough. I think they make tires out of them. Blah blah blah twit twit twat.

Throw Your Arms Around Me

I will come for you at nighttime
I will raise you from your sleep
I will kiss you in four places
As I go running along your street
I will squeeze the life out of you
You will make me laugh and make me cry
And we will never forget it

You will make me call your name
And I'll shout it to the blue summer sky
And we may never meet again
So shed your skin and let's get started
And you will throw your arms around me
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me

I dreamed of you at nighttime
And I watched you in your sleep
I met you in high places
I touched your head and touched your feet
So if you disappear out of view
You know I will never say goodbye
And though I try to forget it

You will make me call your name
And I'll shout it to the blue summer sky...
And we may never meet again...
So shed your skin and let's get started
And you will throw your arms around me
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me

You will throw your arms around me...
Yeah, you will throw your arms around me....

Hunters & Collectors
Throw Your Arms Around Me
(Covered by Pearl Jam circa 1998)

Even the moon has phases.

I have been extraordinarily blessed with amazing friends in my life. And I am very careful to keep those friendships in a lock box in my heart. The older we get it seems harder to make a sincere connection with someone. I typically make closer bonds with men. Not sure why. Don't get me wrong, I have amazing girl friends, but I seem to connect with guys much more quickly.

One of those friends used to call me his "heart throb companion." He wrote me stories that made me laugh and cry. He is one of the best writers I know. For three years we had an ongoing fantasy world where Eddie Vedder was his maid and my ex-boyfriend. The details that went into his daily reports were unbelievably funny and entertaining. I think we both started to believe that Eddie really was locked in his woodshed. Anyway, my friend lives far away and I haven't talked to him in years. We've emailed but that's it. I am going to call him after I finish this post.

Today I found my journal and there was a letter from him. Written in 2006, it was an update on his life as we had been out of touch for awhile. He had gotten married, moved to a forest, and was a ghost writer. But something in his letter brought tears to my eyes and it went like this:

"... And oddly...I have not written a famous book yet...or an (un)famous one. Though you may be pleased to know that I did write a poem for you. I remember looking out my apartment window in Vancouver when you and Gina were smoking a fatty on the balcony. I wrote it that weekend.

Naturally I just hunted around for it...and lo and behold...I found it. And you'll have to forgive the poems perception...it was an "if" poem. Or "best case scenario" poem. Anyway it goes like this:

Until the night grew green cold
with tangled winter
and you breathing
with your hand in mine

... You have a gentleness about you. And this is where I may be totally off base...I did get the impression that you wanted a soft place to land. Meaning...you wanted to find someone who totally understood what you were all about. Essentially...what makes Carly...Carly? And to do it unconditionally. With grace.

... Someone who wouldn't criticize you...or be mean etc...someone who would rub your feet at the end of the day...someone who would love all the querks, that again..were unique to you. Someone that would hold your hand when you went on walks...someone who was proud of you and wanted to show you off. And I really wanted to "get" or understand you. That is why I use to love calling you...because I got to listen."

Reading this made me smile. And then tears came. Because I don't think I fully appreciated it at the time, and I think that he might be the only person who ever really "got" me. We never had a romantic relationship. Never tried. We were friends. But I sure love him. And I wish I could see him. I have a feeling I will. Soon.

The last time I opened my heart to the possibility of a relationship it turned into exactly what I feared: a phase. I was a part of a cycle or phase that he was going through. I always knew that would be the case but I wanted to believe differently. I wanted to believe that, at the risk of being judged, he would make a permanent place for me in his life. But even the moon has phases. And I have to accept his. And I have to start a new one for myself. And I am totally ready for the next phase in my life.

Now that I have found you...I am not really all that keen to have you slip away.

Tony Robbins ruined my life.

He is a giant man with a giant, gurgle-y voice. And I think he is made out of wax. He also (indirectly) caused me to have a meltdown at Albertsons that resulted in me being escorted out by security.

The reason I will never be successful in corporate america is because:

a. I will never ask anyone to do something I am not willing to do.
b. I will never use people as a means for my own success or career advancement.
c. I have a vagina.
d. I won't kiss ass.

Do I sound bitter? Because I totally am. Coming off a four day event that almost killed me made me realize how ridiculous some people are. I am so over it, I need a new word for over.

The upside is that I have amazing co-workers and I was able to witness some hilarity that included someone being kicked in the shin and told to fu*k off, an extraordinary use of the world "dildo", and a double foot rub by two boys that made me blush.

The up UP side is that it's over and now I can focus on Chloe, myself, my boyfriend, and summer.

The End of the World : 2012

Today at work during a meeting my boss said that the world was ending in 2012. This prediction is according to the Mayan calendar and some other important people. After this proclamation, one of the VPs took a REALLY big sigh and then said, "Yea I know ... Gosh, I sure hope it does."

And I could tell by looking at him that he was 100% totally serious.


I'm glad we're all on the same page at that joint.


UPDATE 5/28 : Today, that same VP resigned. Bless his heart.