but with that in mind, it poses the question: do children determine your success in life? i brought this up to my mom in a conversation recently. If she had never had me, what would her success in life be? at 48, my success is her success. if anyone ever asked her what she did with her life, she’d just point to me.

if you’re in your 40’s and without child, do people look at you a certain way? asked what you’ve done with your life? did you save something? change something? invent something? if not, why were you so busy that your forgot to reproduce. and if the above is the case, someone needs to find me a species of cacti to save or SOMETHING, cause me and my three eggs, we don’t really want to reproduce.

all this children talk? it’s not that i’m knocked up or anything CLOSE, it’s that while i’m always inspired by Michelle’sblog, it’ll always remind me that she’s got a wonderful boyfriend with whom compliments every quirky fantasticness that’s her…..and i….spend a lot of quality time with my DVR. love is hard to find. true companionship is rare- even amongst friends. in the new gray’s anatomy, the old man with the pain level “8″ tells Christina that his wife had died, and he described her “she was my favorite person” how RARE is that? you FAVORITE person? most of can’t even define a favorite COLOR! (green AND black)

the reality is, i might be flying solo for a while. (enter allie mcbeal/sex in the city/crazy single 30’s woman joke here) so i’m planning for my own future, as a single person. (i mean, we plan for our financial future, for why not plan for our personal ones) do i WANT children? i’m not fond of the baby’s daddy idea (i don’t like to share), so do i want to adopt? and if i don’t have children, will i regret it? and will people see me when i’m 48, ask me what i’ve done with my life to only get a shoulder shrug as an answer.

first off, let me say that girls love stripper poles. maybe it’s the gymnastic element to it ( i mean, which one of us didn’t try and recreate carrie strug’s heroic 1996 olympic vault in our living rooms?) so when there’s three on a bus, there’s bound to be some heroics. AND since we had gone to a strip club, i was somehow inspired and convinced that i could hang upside and spin from one. PLus, all the girls on the bus were like 24 and UNDER, so you know- mama had to show them a thing or two.

i showed them alright…..until i woke up the next morning unable to lift my arms past the 45 degree angle and unable to laugh without abdominal pain. apparently, stripper pole activities are only for people in fit physical conditions- and not for 27 year olds with muscles that have atrophied into fat.

let that be a warning to the rest of you. (cause my arms hurt from holding them off to type so i gatta lay down now…)

i think my face says it all…

we mustered up our last ounce of energy to take this photo…

1. my urge to kill myself when having to choose which sale to shop in- neimans, barney or net-a-porte. they’re all having a sale, they’re all showcasing christian louboutins like they’re going out of style. and we all know about my sickening addiction to those red soles. i mean, i don’t NEED them. i just want them. ALL of them. and the manolos. and the diors, okay, and the chloe’s too. yeah, and throw in the jimmy choos while you’re at it.

2. leona lewis’ song bleeding love. it’s catchy. but there’s something about it. one night at work, one of the guys who plays for the ducks hopped onto the DJ set and played it because his fiance wanted to hear it. in the middle of a friday night hip-hop set comes blaring “you cut me open and i keep on bleeding” sung by a soulful woman’s voice. ALL the females in the bar are singing along, word for word and ALL the men just look SO confused (scared too). i mean, it’s a game killer. there you are, macking on some skanky chick and all of a sudden, she’s wailing “i keep on bleeding” i mean, what’s a man to do?

3. sex in the city, the movie. i just came from the MIDNIGHT premier. that’re right. i can’t help it. any movie where the wardrobe IS the headliner, i can’t help but be drawn to. it, as promised, did not disappoint. there were the dior sandals. westwood gowns. and chanel bags. one, more shiner than the other. and the very temptation to just be homeless and spend rent on couture.

4. the fear of woman. i’ve coined a new term due to my observation of men whom i work with. those with girlfriends are very respectful of women, those without? not so much. so, i’ve decided that those who ARE respectful have had “the fear of women put in them.” like the fear of God, but much scarier.

i’ve recently moved into a place by myself and i’ve gotten a severe over-dose of me-time. but i’ve learning it’s about discipline. because when there’s no one to be upset at you about not doing the dishes, the only thing that’s motivating you is YOU (okay and sanitation reasons, but you’re the only one that will know you’re a pig!) there are pros: singing to “bleeding love” at the top of your lungs, watching sportscenter 3 times in a row, NOT putting up the ugly poster your roommate thinks is cool. there are cons: no one to talk to about your day, no one to steal food from, no one to share funny TV shows with. but, it was time. and while i may never FEEL growned up, i can sure SEEM like it “in MY apartment”

ALSO, I’m suppose to be running a 10K obstacle course mud run on June 14th. the training not going so hot. or more like, at all. let’s regurgitate a conversation between my co-worker and myself:

me: yeah, i’m suppose to run a 10K in the mud on the 14th.

co-worker: wait, the mud run? the one at camp pendleton?

me: yeah, that one.

co-worker: i tried to sign up but it was full!

me: yeah, i need to start training.

co-worker: you haven’t started training? isn’t it like an obstacle course too!? IN THE MUD.

me: yeah, let’s stop talking about it. because it we talk about it, then it actually has to happen. if we stop talking about it, it doesn’t exist right?

co-worker: your team is going to KILL you.

oh gawd. i’m going to die.

in closing: things i’ve learned today that are of importance- in the movie, samatha jones says “i’m going to say what i’m not suppose to say. i love you, but i love myself more.” i think it’s a brilliant line. you and yourself. loves can come and loves can go. what you think is everlasting-happily-every-after with someone else can be one skank away from your divorce lawyers fighting over custody of your dog, so what is it that makes women throw their whole identities out the window for partnership? can you be a fulfilling partner if your own identity is so easily swayed? and maybe it’s something about orange county, or maybe just newport beach (maybe the hormone levels are just higher?) but there are couples EVERYWHERE. and they’re like ridiculously attractive abercrombie couples. which makes you think- is there substance in a relationship of just beautiful (yes, they’re dumb) people? i mean, i know sound like the single girl talking, but i like myself. being pompous is part of my character. so i guess, now it’s just a matter of finding someone i could possible love just AS MUCH as myself?