I often wonder what makes people feel they have the right to stick their nose in business that is not their own.

It’s gotten to a point now where I really can’t handle hearing about a bunch of stuff that doesn’t pertain to me. Blogging, naturally, gives us an insight on people’s lives and I’m all right with that.

I am the one reading them, after all.

But what I can’t get down with is this incessant need to needle the most mundane information out of folks about shit that doesn’t matter.

As I was having brunch with my mom and some family friends yesterday, a vast majority of the discussion kept veering towards another family friend’s impending marriage.

I’ve known Marlon for about 18 years, so I am QUITE happy for him. I also think it’s adorable that he’s made this relationship work despite the fact that she’s studying in Texas.

This is sort’ve where it gets hairy. The parental unit and her friend started yammering about the most nitty gritty details about his fiance’s life. What she’s studying, where she’s from, what she’s doing, how sweet she is, etc etc etc.

While I understand that mom’s are perpetually nosy – it’s written in their job description, I’m sure – I just can’t get with it.

I’ve offended my mother on more occasion than one when exclaiming, loudly, that I “JUST DON’T CARE!”

Because truthfully? I don’t.

If Marlon is happy? I’m happy. If Marlon feels she’s the one, then so do I. Past that? I don’t particularly give two craps about what she’s doing or her life story.

Maybe I’m callous. Maybe I’m a jerk.

Maybe I just can’t deal with an overload of information that won’t affect me one way or the other?

I think, somewhere along the line, I stopped giving a rats ass because I tend to care too much. I would cement myself in situations that I had no business bothering with. I’d try to affect change in other people when I only needed to focus on myself.

Truthfully, I was a nosy ass bitch.

But I learned my lesson… and it was damn hard, might I add. I got burned along the way and stabbed in the back and hurt in more ways than I can describe.

So, now? I just don’t want to go there anymore.

Apparently, I’ve gotten so extreme with it that I’ve veered in the exact opposite direction I once was heading in.

Maybe I need to learn a happy medium? Then again, I figure worrying about myself, my family & friends is enough. I really don’t need to bother with much information past that.

Last night I saw Jimmy Eat World at American University. I could try to explain how good of a time I had, but there’s really no use. I don’t think there are enough words in the English dictionary.

I danced. I jumped. I sang along. I got sweaty.

Oh, and I met Rick. He stood out there with us, in the soaking rain, for a fairly long time. I got to shoot the breeze with this man… right after he rocked my socks off.

They played all the stuff I really wanted to hear, something I wasn’t expecting at all. And the following song seriously hits home right now. I’ve been playing it en masse for a week.

I’m pretty good at letting things get to me… at not getting over shit. But frankly? I don’t need to drag y’all through the mud with me.

So. No more talk on that certain subject. Fuckit, it’s over and done with.

I’ve been tagged by two folks, Slaus (who I think has since deleted the post) and…. someone I can’t friggin’ remember to save my life! I am SO SORRY! My brain has been all over the place due to a HUGE project at work and yes, sometimes I’m just lame.

On to 6 quirks…

1. I don’t like sauces on top of my food. It doesn’t matter if it’s gravy or salad dressing, it needs to be in a side dish so I can dip my food into it. If a sauce is overpowering the food I become disheartened. I do.
2. I love shows like Rob & Big, Intervention, Gene Simmons Family Jewels, The Amazing Race, Top Chef and Hell’s Kitchen. I pretty much loathe all other reality TV. A few exceptions apply, but they’re rare. I also love That’s So Raven and Avatar, the Last Airbender (damn them for not airing the next show, it’s been months).
3. Something ugly or bad that happened in the past will bug me out for AGES. Sometimes it’ll still get under my skin years later. I’m slick like that.
4. I love to randomly speak in German. It freaks people out. I do NOT look German.
5. I drive my car, I do not let it drive me. This means a few things: I’m a pedal-to-the-metal type of chick. I have more road miles under my belt than the average Joe and I drive a MANUAL. I don’t care how bad DC traffic gets – I must have control of my car. Automatics are for wimps.
6. I can be kind of flighty. I’ll stop in the middle of a conversation and break out in song, or mention something completely off topic, or just drift off. It’s a bad habit. I’m working on it.

I’d tag folks, but I’m not sure who’s done it. If you’re down for the count – please feel free.

On an unrelated note, I’m making plans to move to Providence, RI. I need a new area. An area that I have no previous ties to. A place with four seasons and a night life and is on the East Coast.

It’s time to make a move.

The plan is as follows:
1) Kill debt.
2) Kill debt.
3) Get a job.
4) Find a place.

For the first time in my life, this thought of leaving actually feels right and I think it’ll actually come to fruition. So far, Maxie’s on board too. How killer would THAT be?

Exactly.

I’ve had 50 million people ask me why I picked Providence… but in all reality, does it matter?

No. It doesn’t.

I picked it ’cause I can.

Ha!

I have a bone to pick.

I seriously hate when people can’t grow enough balls to just say what needs to be said. I get it. Words have a way of taking flight, bending and landing in a completely different manner than they were intended.

I GET IT.

But fuck if it doesn’t annoy the piss out of me.

All this pussy footing around and pretending that the big elephant isn’t in the room makes no damn sense to me.

If you’re acting like a damn idiot, I will tell you.

If you’re McAwesome, I will tell you.

If you’re in need of advice, I will give the best advice I can.

If you need me to drive 600 miles because you are car-less and there is an emergency, I will do it.

When it comes to getting things off my chest, I don’t hold punches.

I just don’t.

Maybe it’s the black in me. Maybe it’s the German. Maybe it’s just the fact that I’ve always been on the outside looking in and what the fuck does it matter anyway?

We only have one life to live. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. Neither is the rest of the damn afternoon.

I am trying – so hard – to take the high road but I am fighting the urge to leave a really nasty fucking message.

I’m a really nice person. I at least try to be. But when I’m pushed I blow.

And it’s not pretty.

/rant.

What a lovely little emotion, this thing we call jealousy. Much like most things, we can perceive it to be either good or bad.

It’s a little like ambition. On the one side, it can tweak us just in the right manner to improve upon ourselves. On the other, it can drive us (and everyone in vicinity) absolutely bananas.

There was an incredibly long portion of time where I would allow myself to wallow in jealous rage. I was young. I was dumb. I was immature.

Okay, so sometimes I’m still immature but that’s a whole other story.

Anyway.

While I was still fully enveloped in all things related to the Backstreet Boys (yes, I was that chick), I would hear all these stories about friends getting to drink with them, hang out, play pool, get back stage, and all sorts of shit that a zealous fan would, well, be jealous of.

Eventually, it was my turn to have these kinds of stories. I met them a plethora of times. I got to drink with a few of them. I was given backstage access and even interviewed one for a radio station. After being a fan for so long, I came to know quite a few people and I guess I just got lucky. It certainly helped that the head of security remembered me after ALL of those years and turned out to be pretty damn cool. The Backstreet Camp is really good to their fans.

It was when this began to happen that I figured, all right, that whole jealous thing? Not cute. If there was anything I wanted to learn it was that all good things come to those who wait. I also realized that without being able to predict the future, I could never assume one way or the other.

It was just a stupid thing to do, getting all angsty and bent out of shape because someone else had something I didn’t.

What was so wrong with just being happy for people?

So, I changed my attitude and with that came a whole new world of calm and good natured feelings.

In other words, the hippie in me started to emerge full force.

But here’s the thing.

I’m only human. While I’m proud to say I don’t give two shits if someone has a shiney new Bentley or a sparkly diamond tennis bracelet (I technically hate diamonds anyway) , I still have moments when I want to spork people’s eyes out.

And by people, I really just mean bitches who have the attention of someone I’m interested in.

I know. I know. It’s LAME. But dammit, it ticks me off.