Also. I completed my very first week at my very new job. You know that feeling when you get dumped by a guy, and you’re very sad and very down on yourself because WHY? And then you find a new guy who values you, respects you, appreciates you, has time for you, is excited to have you, and basically isn’t an asshole? IT’S LIKE THAT. Just like that. In one week I feel more welcomed, more valued, more useful and more at ease than I felt in the year and a half prior. So this is what it’s like to have found the right fit, huh? This is that magical feeling everyone talks about. I’m excited for what’s to come, and have so far very much enjoyed what I’ve been doing. Plus they keep Dunkin’ Donuts coffee on hand, and you guys, that stuff is amazing.

There are SO many fun things to discuss about this weekend, like the 31-mile trail race I ran with my bestest good friends on Saturday for my birthday, and the tattoo I got drilled into my ribs this afternoon, but I just don’t have the patience to let it all flow from my fingertips just yet. So I shall provide you with photos for now, and that will have to do.

And to everyone who helped make the beginning of this new decade the greatest beginning to date: L-O-V-E.

JUST LIKE THAT.

“We were all just delighted to meet you today,” he said. “We’d like to give you the job.”

I nearly wet myself. I start Monday. All of a sudden what felt like an eternity of worthlessness and job hunting was dwindled down to just two more days. This is officially my final weekend of unemployment. I can now join the rest of the civilized world in saying, “Ah, shit. I’ve gotta go to work on Monday.”

IT’S SO MUCH FUN TO SAY THAT, YOU GUYS.

It feels like the first day of school all over again. I want to pack up my backpack with my new folders and notebooks, my gym shoes, and my paint shirt for art class. I want to wear a new outfit and arrange photos in my locker in the most appealing way. It’s funny because I remember this feeling nearly two years ago as I prepared for a new job. Does that make me nervous, considering the outcome of that adventure? Sure. But I’m ready for this. I’m excited to join a group of people who were so incredibly welcoming and kind yesterday. I felt comfortable and wanted. I will kick ass in the most ass-kicking kind of way.

So as I transition from unemployed cat lady to PR & Social  Media Account Executive (with cats), I thank you all for the well-wishes and encouragement and support the last three, very long months. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find portraits of Harley and Chicken to have framed for my new desk.

I DO NOT COMPREHEND THIS LANGUAGE YOU SPEAK.

I’ve adjusted into this awful life of lethargy and monotony. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to do anything else.

I had interview No. 2 this afternoon for the aforementioned Job I Really Want. I thought it went fantastic. It felt fantastic. (Was it fantastic?) About as fantastic as sitting in a room with 10 people, all of whom are deciding your fate, can be. But they’re a fun group. It felt comfortable and casual and we talked about Dexter, you guys. DEXTER. And Glee! And cats. And running. And also, you know, the job, but also all those other things that are so up my alley. I shook hands, I got a tour, I’ve been told I should hear the outcome this week.

THIS WEEK.

All two days that are left of it!

Last night I slept with my St. Anthony prayer card under my pillow. YES I DID. I like to say I slept with a Saint last night. Boy, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for a job, is there? I also had teeny little unicorn in my pocket again during the interview.  I’ve officially done all I can do, and it is out of my nervous little, thumb-twiddling hands.

So now I wait. And wonder what, exactly, I’ll do if offered a job and am granted access to the working world once again. I guess I’ll put on real pants, that’s for sure. I can say for certain that I won’t miss this. The monotony and the lethargy and the empty bank account. But if I can be honest for a second (NEVER), I will totally miss my cats. Think I can bring them along?

SHIT.

I did a quick assessment in my head of everything I’ve done wrong. Drank two beers tonight. I don’t have a job. Can they arrest you for unemployment? I’m not drunk, am I? Did I kill anyone today? Am I speeding? What day is it? 

Cop man strolled up to my window.

“You know your headlight’s out?” he asks, as I slap my forehead.

“I do now,” I said. But he wasn’t done.

“And your license plate is expired.”

SHIT.

Thankfully he didn’t arrest me for being a low-life with no job, and he did let me go with a warning for the dead headlight, but he did not let me get away so easily for the expired plates. Eighty-right dollar fine, BAM. And I went on my merry way.

[FIVE MINUTES LATER, ON THE BELTLINE]

A car comes alongside me with a missing headlight. I laugh. Sucker, I think. Immediately behind that guy is a sheriff. I laugh again because OMG HE IS TOTALLY GOING TO PULL THAT GUY OVER FOR HIS MISSING HEADLIGHT. Justice! Both cars are just ahead of me in the left lane.  Just then, the sheriff slows. Slows waaaay down. Wait a minute, he’s switching lanes. HE’S GETTING BEHIND ME. WHY IS THE SHERIFF BEHIND ME? GO GET THAT OTHER GUY! HIS HEADLIGHT IS OUT!

[red and blue lights]

FUCK!

Hardly five minutes after being pulled over at midnight on a Saturday night, I’m being pulled over again. I JUST DOUBLED THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I’VE BEEN PULLED OVER IN MY ENTIRE LIFE IN FIVE MINUTES. I knock my head against the head rest of my seat.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME THIS IS NOT HAPPENING WHAT THE HELL OH MY GOD THERE IS NO JESUS.”

This is seriously not happening. Is this happening? Did this happen? Am I alive? Is this the part where they arrest the low-life? Is this karma? Who will take care of my cats? Can I say goodbye to my mom?

Sheriff comes strolling up. I roll down my window, previous traffic violation time-stamped FIVE MINUTES AGO in hand, along with my drivers license.

“Hi there — ” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Hi, my headlight’s out, I know. And my plates are expired. I know this all because I was just pulled over five minutes ago for the exact same thing,” I tell him with a defeated sigh. Luckily he laughs. Oh, thank you, sweet Lord. With that he taps the hood of my car with his flashlight and sends me on my way.

I am pleased to say I made it the remaining six miles home without incident. Also without a headlight. DID YOU KNOW MY HEADLIGHT WAS OUT? BECAUSE I WASN’T CERTAIN. UNTIL NOW. THANK YOU, POLICE. TWICE. I’m also pleased to say that as of today, my license plates are no longer expired AND my headlight is fixed.

I am now the most law-abiding driver you know. But I’m still a low-life. Don’t worry.

It’s my personality. As much as I love the people in my life, I’m also a bit of a homebody. I love alone time. I love quiet. I love keeping to myself from time to time. Too much of too many people and I’m, like, clawing at the walls wanting to escape. I liken it to going home for a weekend to spend time with family. I can’t WAIT to get there. I love my family. It’s typically always a great time. But by Sunday night all I want to do is throw myself through the storm door window and run back to my home where it is safe and quiet and I don’t have to talk to anyone anymore. It makes me grumpy. All I want at that moment is me. As much as I fear, “Wow, what if I’m alone my whole life?” I realize, “Wow, I’m really good at alone.”

But many of the ways I’ve behaved in friendships has disappointed even myself. Some of the things I’ve thought, and in some cases, said, have made me realize I’m certainly not being a good friend all the time. I think of how I’d feel if it were reversed, and I’d be hurt. A lot. We girls can be so fickle and so catty. And when I find out the situation has been reversed, there I am, hurt. I shouldn’t be surprised. I am anyway.

I want to be a better friend. I need to be a better friend. I want to be the friend I want for myself. I want to only put effort into a friendship if effort is deserved. Friendships should be open, honest. There should be communication. In so many ways they’re just like romantic relationships. There is no space in my life, or my mind, for the petty. For the exhaustion of friendships that aren’t true. Especially not now. I have enough to worry about. Some friendships, like relationships, just aren’t meant to be. There doesn’t need to be an argument. There doesn’t need to be a falling out. There doesn’t need to be ill feelings. All that’s left is the slow letting go of a person who’s no longer providing a positive in your life.

It’s sad. But it’s life.

But just maybe it makes room for personal growth and something happier.

My pet name from her is “Koo Koo.” It stems waaaay back to two years ago when we found ourselves at the most bizarre concert of all time. The band? Koo Koo Kanga Roo. They were awesome. Read the hyper-linked blog post. You’ll understand.

Koo Koo and LmNop. LmNop and Koo Koo. Two peas in a pod. Koo Koo Kanga Roo is the magical, absurd glue that will forever hold us together. On that fateful night I signed up for the band’s email list, so time and time again I get an email update from the silly boys and smile, thinking of Ellen.

But yesterday it happened. The stars aligned and the most mind-blowing coincidence in all of the universe struck my inbox:

“LMNOP music video comes out later today!”

KOO KOO KANGA ROO HAVE A NEW SONG AND MUSIC VIDEO CALLED ‘LMNOP.’

And then they tweeted it. IT WAS REAL.

The first thing I did after cleaning the brain goo from my couch from whence my mind exploded was message Ellen. Something along the lines of “OMG DID YOU SEE THIS HOLY CRAP UNICORNS?1!?”

It was true. Our band, the band that formed our pea pod, solidified everything awesome that could ever happen in the world.

IT’S A SIGN FROM THE JESUS. DREAMS DO COME TRUE. And now you know. You’re welcome.

For those of you waiting with bated breath, the interview went great this morning, despite waking up to a sporadic blizzard and showing up in my boots. I actually felt at ease. We laughed and in between learning about each other, chatted about my running and novel-writing. Thankfully no one asked about my greatest weaknesses, so I didn’t have to fess up to the nervous sweats or my affinity for cats. I left feeling good, confident and happy that the snow stopped pounding from the sky so I wouldn’t die on the drive home.

What they didn’t know is I had my tiny unicorn in my sweater pocket the whole time. The teeny, tiny unicorn that mom gave me in the middle of my 50-miler. Because if you think magical feats can be accomplished without the help of unicorns, YOU ARE MISTAKEN.

And a couple weeks ago, a friend passed along a prayer card for St. Anthony that her mom insisted I take. It was zipped safely in a small Ziploc baggie, and I’ve kept it in my wallet since. I’ve never met her mom, but she said several women from her church prayed to St. Anthony when they lost their jobs and it worked. Maybe it’s not obvious here on this blog, but well, those who know me know I’m not much for church and Jesus and all things holy. I believe in them, and trust in them, just don’t regularly (read: ever) partake in them. But the fact that a mom I never met thought enough of me to pass along her own good luck charm made my heart swell 14 times it regular size (and thank God for miracles because I didn’t die from a then-enlarged heart).

So like a good, little follower of Holy Things, when I got home, I took the prayer card out and — out loud — recited the prayer. Twice. In case St. Anthony didn’t hear me the first time. I imagine those saints hear a lot of prayers. Perhaps their hearing isn’t the best these days. YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO SURE.

So yes, I prayed. Me. I’ve perhaps done it on a few other occasions when the situation called for it, but it felt very much like how talking to my invisible friends felt as a kid. Yes, I had invisible friends. Shut up, you did, too. I felt good about it, and I’ll be darned if I’m not incredibly attached to this little Ziploc baggie and what it holds inside.

At this point I’ve done what I can. All of my luck and superstitions have been utilized, and it’s in someone else’s hands. Hopefully St. Anthony’s because I’m putting a lot of stock in that man right now.

Thanks for the well-wishes! I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, recite this for me, like, all the time:

“O Holy St. Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and Charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Encouraged  by this thought, I implore you to obtain for me (THIS JOB). O gentle and loving St. Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Sweet Infant Jesus, who loved to be folded into your arms; and the gratitude of my heart will ever be yours. Amen.”

(For the record, I copied that word for word, and the writer in me cringes at the excessive commas. I’m sorry, Jesus. Amen).

It’s getting hard.

I’ve prepared my writing samples and resume and cover letter. They’re all shiny and ready to go. I’ve stalked the company as far as they can be stalked. I’ve recited my biggest weakness to myself, because don’t they always ask that? (I’ll leave out the part about nauseous pit-sweating). Other than that, I’ve been moping about the apartment, listening to the maintenance man battle my toilet. It’s broken. For the last three days I’ve had to flush at least twice for successful plumbing. And I have been battling a cold that’s kept me from running, and instead has kept me moping on the couch. I AM SO GOOD AT THIS.

Any time I’m sick I lose all ability to function as a level-headed adult. I’d rather have my mom here cooking me egg sandwiches and soup while I read Tiger Beat, or something. I’m easily saddened. I’m easily annoyed. I’m easily able to make poor decisions. So, basically, it’s me, magnified. I am all of those things anyway without even trying. But add in a cold, and poof! FREE REIGN TO BE A SAD, CRANKY GIRL LOADED WITH FIGURATIVE AMMO. I miss things and people I shouldn’t let myself miss. I want to eat ice cream for breakfast and watch the entire Dawson’s Creek anthology. So I probably will.

But what this all really comes down to is I have a job interview in the morning. So if you could please send every ounce of luck and magic and unicorns and ponies and everything ever my way, thank you. I’m getting real close to owning my own unicorn farm over here, and I could use a few more.

I’m back from Florida in one piece. Survived my solo flights, the sunshine and 39.3 miles of the Goofy Challenge. I even brought back a tan along with my sweet ass race medals.

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Seriously. LOOK AT THOSE THINGS. They are amazing. Every bit as amazing as one would imagine race medals would be from the most magical place on earth. Now, the REAL question is, are they worth the $350 race registration? Um. Well. That’s debatable. For me, the $350 race registration was worth the entire experience I had in Florida, but as for the races themselves — they’re only fun if you make them fun. Otherwise they’re crowded and kind of boring (aside from the mile or so you spend in the actual parks). But don’t worry, my race pal, Krista, and I got our money’s worth. More on that later.

I spent my first full day in Orlando relaxing by the pool. IN THE SUNSHINE AND WARMTH. It was fantastic. I saw exactly two chameleons that day, which, let’s be honest, made the entire trip worth it. CHAMELEONS! ADORABLE! I can’t say enough about my friends Mike and Cat, who gave me free range of their apartment while they were gone for the weekend, including the glorious pool and Mike’s Nissan XTerra. I sunbathed, enjoyed the sunset on the balcony, painted my nails, caught up on some television. It was just like being at home, only I was in FLORIDA. So, I won, naturally.

I spent the weekend at the Pop Century Resort with my favorite name twin, Krista (obviously). Our room was in the 70s- and 80s-themed area of the resort, which means we were surrounded by awesome for three days. Like, Roger Rabbit and Pac-Man awesome. We called ourselves Team Krista for all of the obvious reasons, and I’m so glad I got to share the entire experience with her. We each made the trip to Florida solo after we both had the proverbial rug pulled from under us in life. But damn, if we didn’t enjoy ourselves anyway.

Saturday and Sunday were race days. The 2:30 a.m. wake-up call each race required was just as awful as you might imagine. We had to be on a shuttle to Epcot by 3:30 a.m.. The races both started at 5:30 a.m. By 2:33 a.m. each morning I cursed myself for getting myself into such a situation. But alas, there I was. The race starts were a spectacle of music and fireworks and crowds and Disney characters and both Krista and I wondering what the hell we were doing.

The Donald Duck Half Marathon was outrageous. Twenty-seven thousand runners over the span of 13.1 miles. It was ridiculously crowded. We muddled through it as best we could and put on our happy faces. I was spent by the end. So much dodging and stopping and starting and sunshine. I’d be lying if I said the entire experience didn’t leave me dreading the marathon the next day. Thankfully, a delicious brunch perked us right up, and we spent the remainder of the day relaxing by the pool and secretly wishing the marathon wasn’t on deck.

On Sunday, the Walt Disney World Marathon happened, and will go down as the actual goofiest marathon ever run. Once we endured the start line spectacle once again, and dragged ourselves through the first half, we decided it was time to throw everything to the wind and enjoy ourselves. From that point on we stopped at nearly every photo-opp spot to snap pictures with the Disney characters. We danced along to the music blasting throughout the course. We laughed with other runners. Whined about the beating sun. Counted down the never-ending miles.

AND THEN WE RODE A ROLLERCOASTER.

Oh yes. Yes, we did.

Somewhere in and around mile 18 we were weaving our way through Disney’s Animal Kingdom. By that time the parks were open to the public. As we passed the Expedition Everest rollercoaster ride, another runner came running up behind us, excited, asking if we rode the rollercoaster.

“Uh. No?” we replied, as we continued running. Could we even do that?

“YOU HAVE TO GO. JUST GET IN LINE. IT’S ONLY A 5-MINUTE WAIT,” she said, laughing.

I looked at Krista. She looked at me. And we bolted. Right off the marathon course. We giggled like children who were sneaking out of the house passed curfew, and ran into line, tucking our race bibs under our shirts. We had no idea if we were allowed to do it. Still don’t, actually. Before long, we were on the rollercoaster, still laughing hysterically at ourselves. There we were, mile 18 of a marathon, and we just snuck onto a rollercoaster.

IT WAS AMAZING.

That set the tone for the rest of the race. Sure, by the final miles, the heat and the wear and tear on our legs were starting to take their toll, BUT WE RODE A ROLLERCOASTER SO IT DIDN’T MATTER. Everything up to that point was null and void, as far as we were concerned. It kept giant grins on our faces the rest of the race.

Finishing the race felt like heaving a huge weight off my shoulders. No more running, no more heat, no more crowds, and the coveted medals were mine. ALL MINE. Man, it felt fantastic to be done. Team Krista had done good.

The rest of my trip was spent with Mike and Cat. We made our way to New Smyrna Beach on Monday and laid on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, soaking up the sun and the absolute awesome that is Florida and beaches and vacation. Holy shit, it felt good to lay there listening to the waves. FROM THE OCEAN. I was at the ocean. A place I hadn’t been in years.

Last June, when I started planning this vacation, it was supposed to be something entirely different. A trip with a boyfriend and some mutual friends. I was excited then. After a breakup, a job loss, additional drama and a general disinterest in even going, I almost bailed on the entire trip. I am so ridiculously happy I changed my mind. I may not be where I want to be in life, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to take every opportunity I can to enjoy every minute of what I do have. I had a blast. It relaxed my mind and filled me with memories.

Goofy Challenge: accepted and accomplished.

Team Krista, for the win!