The Year of YES!

During my wonderful Christmas vacation, I spent some time with my friends. And as always, they all have a lot to say, but something Amanda said I took to heart.

Amanda and I have (had?) a lot in common: we are both young, beautiful, vivacious women who really don't take a lot of shit. Especially from men. And we both have a difficult time finding men because of our general attitude towards life. However, Amanda found a man. A cute man. An awesome man. (I love Curtis, if you couldn't tell.)

Anyway, Amanda had mentioned to me before that I needed to read The Year of Yes, by Maria Dahvana Headley. I wasn't ready to listen to the suggestion at the time , but this time was different. I went to the library (which is literally NEXT DOOR -- how cool is THAT?) and borrowed the book. It wasn't checked out, which I thought was a sign from fate. And it was a memoir -- my emphasis in grad school. It wasn't a self-help book. It was a memoir! How exciting.

Although I am reading another book, and I rarely read more than one book at a time unless forced by the university to do so, I read the first few pages of the book and was immediately enthralled. The premise of the memoir is our beloved author decides to date everyone who asks her out, because she is tired of complaining that she is single. Sound familiar?

Yes, but I do say yes to everyone who asks me. That is part of MY problem. I can't get anyone normal to ask me out. Only freaks can read the invisible sign on my forehead that reads: ASK ME OUT. I AM SINGLE.

Once I read the first few pages, I decided that 2008 is going to be MY Year of Yes. I am going to go out with everyone who asks me, but I am not going to focus my energies on the Internet dating sites, which obviously are not working. But I am going to focus on being positive and outgoing. And do the things I want to do. If I so happen to want to watch TV on a Friday night, then I will, and I will not feel guilty about it, nor will I feel like a loser because I am alone on a Friday. I won't be alone every Friday. I have friends who like to spend time with me, sometimes on Fridays. I am going to say YES to Micaela. And although that sounds totally selfish, I figure, what better time to spend on me than now, when I am single? When I do find that man (which sometimes I doubt I ever will) life will be so different that I won't have time to spend on just me. So, why not spend some me time with myself, say YES to Micaela, and maybe, just possibly, that perfect man will come along and not be too put off by my awesome personality that somehow intimidates men, or just plain pisses them off.

So, a New Year's toast: To Micaela and her Year of Yes!!

A Little Christmas Craft

Every time I go home, I try to make some time to see all my friends from high school and college. Some of us even did both together. This Christmas, Amanda graciously allowed us to come to her house if we all brought an appetizer and some wine.

She even set up a little craft project for us to try.

While perusing my blog, Amanda took a gander at my friend Holli's blog. Holli had made the cutest felt nativity set and Amanda decided to give it a try. But it gave her an idea for a project: we could make our own felt Christmas tree ornaments!

This is what I came up with Miss Amanda's direction:

My beautiful Christmas tree.

OK, OK, it's pretty imperfect. But it's MY imperfections, and I love it.

The Bestest Pre-Christmas Present

Heather asked me one day what I wanted for Christmas. I told her that I wanted the movie Superbad, mainly because that shit was FUNNY. And I wanted to relive the hilarity that is the movie.

Then I saw in an ad in the paper what I really wanted: an iPod alarm clock.

I doth covet the iPod alarm clock.

But I told Heather that I would rather have the movie instead. However, she surprised me with BOTH!!!

I was so exited to wake up to whatever music I wanted, I had to take pictures of it so I can share it with my dear readers.

The first morning I listened to one of my new favorite bands, Idaho, and the next morning I listened to one of the best albums of 2007, Into the Wild (Music from the Major Motion Picture). Eddie Vedder rocks my world. Tomorrow morning, another of my best of 2007, We Were Dead before the Ship Even Sank, by Modest Mouse. No more crazy morning DJs for me!!

A view of my nightstand from my bed.

OK. That's It. I'm Done. Finsihed. Finito. Fin.

I have sworn off men and dating. I've had it. I'm tired. I need to take a nappers from men. I know I have said it before, but this time I mean it. I am going to take care of myself, have fun with my friends, and try not to think about how lonely I will be when I am 60. Because seriously, this is getting ridiculous.

Maybe I'm trying too hard. I don't know. All I DO know is that I:

1) Am rad.

2) Am proud to be awesome.

3) Have NO baggage. (i.e. children from previous relationships; have an incessant need to talk and discuss my exes on a first date, etc.)

4) Have a job.

5) Bathe regularly.

6) Am funny.

7) Am totally worthy.

After two years and four months of hitting the dating scene hard, I've given up. There is no one in Reno for me. And if there ever was, he is either deceased (God rest his soul) or gay. Or married. Because he is certainly not out there.

And frankly, I am totally sick of looking. It is a sad day in hell when I would rather be sitting at home, playing Neverwinter Nights and listening to my iTunes. It is way more enjoyable than sitting somewhere with a complete stranger, thinking to myself, "I have absolutely nothing in common with this person. Why am I doing this to myself?"

I know what all of you are thinking: "Yeah, sure. I've heard this one before. Whatever."

But this time, I mean it.

OK, This is Kinda Strange

So, I have this cool thing on my blog here that tracks who looks at my page (Big Brother is always watching!). I find the following QUITE disturbing.

When people search on Google for "Micaela" and "porn", my blog shows up because of my earlier post about the neighbor guy watching porn. Now, I didn't KNOW there was a porn star with the name of Micaela, spelled the same way and everything! And I certainly didn't think if you searched for some sort of porn, my BLOG would come up, because seriously, this blog is TAME compared to the things this porn star is known for.

I won't mention what she is known for, but just know that it is a specialized type of porn.

But I think it hilarious that when people are searching the Internet for porn, they come across my site. To me, that is high humor. HA HA The joke's on you, buddy!

The Joshua Tree

In honor of U2 re-releasing one of the greatest albums of all time (although when they re-release Achtung Baby, I will seriously have a melt-down and an all-out party!!!!!!!), I am going to write about some of my favorite memories of the album and how it affected my life.

1) During Christmas break of my senior year of high school, I was forced to have all of my impacted molars removed surgically. I was miserable because the pain meds only made me sick. I literally slept for 24 hours straight, while listening to The Joshua Tree on repeat that entire time. From then on, I think of the album as my sleepy music.

2) My sister INSISTS that she learned to love U2 through osmosis. My bedroom was directly below her bedroom, and I was constantly listening to either The Joshua Tree or Achtung Baby throughout high school. Every night, she would fall asleep listening to the soft beats and drum lines of U2. Now, she shares my love. Osmosis ROCKS! Also, I had to drive her to school every day in my cool little car, and since it was MY car, and I was driving, she had to listen to what I wanted. Inevitably, The Joshua Tree. Sometimes I threw Violator by Depeche Mode in there just to mix it up a bit.

3) In college, my girlfriends and I drove from Pocatello, ID all the way to San Diego, CA. It was a long trip, but in those days it was all about the trip and not the destination. (I like to think that life is like that now, too. I try to, anyway.) When we arrived in San Diego, I insisted we drive a few hours back out of our way to The Joshua Tree National Monument. I knew that Bono and the gang did not have their photo shoot with Anton Corbijin in the actual park, and it was actually somewhere in Death Valley, but I really wanted to go out there. We drove in, took some pictures, I bought a patch for my world-travelling backpack, and we left. It was a very short trip. I also insisted we listen to The Joshua Tree the entire time. My friends were quite annoyed with me, but put up with my obsession because they love me.

4) For the very longest time, my most prized possession was The Joshua Tree on vinyl. (Now it is Bono's water bottle, but it still runs a close second.) Unfortunately, when I moved and put my things in storage for three months, a rat got to one of the corners. But I still love it and now I put it in a special frame because the thought of another rodent or animal getting to my most prized possession absolutely freaks me out. One of the reasons it was most prized possession is because my friend, Chris, and I used to talk about The Joshua Tree all the time: her parents owned the album on vinyl and she used to listen to it all the time with them. My parents were not exactly that hip, so I never had that cool experience, but we still talk about it with nostalgia in our hearts.

5) And I totally forgot, until Chris reminded me, that we used to have our own personal U2 air-band. I was Bono, of course. What good times we had.

So, in honor of my favorite band re-releasing my second most favorite U2 album of all time, I dedicate this blog to them: the band that stuck with me through thick and thin. The band that never ticked me off. The band that never disappointed me, even when they disappointed the critics. The band that always puts out the hits.

Thank you.

Sweet Potatoes ROCK!

Aidan had his first solid food on the 4th: sweet potatoes. Apparently, he is like Matilda with the Yo Baby: Gimmie my sweet potatoes, bitch! This picture was taken after Steph said, "No more." What she is feeding him is his SECOND helping of sweet potatoes. I TOLD her he was part Malaxechebarria. He HAS to be hungry. All the time. Seriously. I am not joking.

Then when he got what he wanted from Mommy, he said, "Oh, thank God. I thought I would never be able to eat whatever that is again!"
Then he said, "I CANNOT get enough of this little slice of heaven!"

"Yeah! Sweet potatoes!"

Wait until he tastes bacon, aka manna from heaven. Or Kalimotxos! Or lamb. Or Tortilla de Patatak. Oh, this kid is in for some good stuff!

Just Tell Me

Don't tell me that you will call me tomorrow if you don't mean it.

And be a man. Tell me if you aren't interested anymore. You can do it the chicken-shit way I always do it: via email. But at least tell me. Don't tell me that you will call me then conveniently forget to call me when all you want me to do is get the point that you aren't interested anymore.

In other words, just tell me the truth.

My Bio

So, as I contemplate how it never rains, but pours, I am taking a gander at my profile on the online dating service. I think I might need to revise it. This is how it appears to everyone:

"I am an intelligent, articulate, beautiful young woman with a very stable head on my shoulders. Sometimes this intimidates men, although I don't actually want to intimidate people. I enjoy new experiences, but I also know what I like in what I do and who I date. My best quality is my ability to have fun--anytime, anywhere. My date will share a love for the same things: going to the movies, eating out, going to see live music (from small local bands to big concert venues), reading (I love to read, thus my BA in English Lit.), hanging out with friends (alone or together), playing video or board games, traveling.

I'm looking for a match who wants to have fun with me whether we're doing something new and crazy or if we're just sitting around drinking beer. I'm interested in meeting a man who is funny, interesting, and a blast to be around. I'm looking for a person who is accommodating but not a push-over; who is nice but willing to call me on my crap when I need it; and who is looking to commit to a fun and caring relationship.

I am really looking for someone who is funny, intelligent, and interesting, but someone who also has manners, and who wants to make a good impression."

This is how I think it should look:

"My date won't be a f'ing idiot. He will posses manners and good personal hygiene. He will pay for most of everything when we go on a date. He will make me laugh. This is a must. And if you don't make me laugh, I WILL kick you to the curb. Don't feel bad. I don't mean it as a dis to you, you just aren't THE ONE and I am looking for my own personal Neo.

I call things how they are: if I think you are slovenly, I will tell you. Or if I think you need a shower. Or if I think you drive like a jackass. Or if you eat with your mouth open. I do not ask of outrageous things from you, but I do expect you to act like a normal human that wasn't born in the bush of Australia.

I am intelligent. If that bothers you, then don't bother me. I am pretty. And not the skinniest person on the planet. If that bothers you, then don't bother me. And I like to do things, but not crazy things. I will not drive to Las Vegas with your loser band and sleep in the back of a truck just because you think it is 'punk rock.' I'm 30. Nothing I do is punk rock, although I am totally rockin' in the free world. And I like Star Wars and U2. I always have and always will. If you can't deal with the fact that I could probably kick your ass in Star Wars trivia, then don't bother me.

And I am proud to be awesome."

What do you think? Is it too much? Too brazen? Need to be shorter? Longer? More blunt, because seriously, these guys are freaking missing the point. (And no, I am not talking about Matt, who actually is one of the most honest and most forthcoming of all the men I have met online.)

The 11th Annual Christmas Tree Decorating Party

Oh, how I love the Tree Decorating Party. You know, the one where Heather, Crystal and I work our asses off decorating the tree to Christmas light perfection, while everyone else stands around, eating and drinking, while pretending to feel bad about not doing anything.

Except for Tracy and Ian, of course, who put on an excellent spread, if you ask me! Tail of the Monkey gets me every time!

Well, here are a few pictures of how I spent my last Saturday.

1) Decorating the Tree.
2) Eating and Drinking


3) Playing Werewolf


4) Watching Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo
Now, Werewolf is one of best party games known to mankind. It is always fun. And remember, Megan is ALWAYS the werewolf:

First Date

OK, so I went out on my first date with Cool-Guy-I-Met-Online (aka Matt) and I think it went pretty well! Way better than some other first dates I remember. No horrify facial features to politely not look at. No debilitating breath to contend with. No embarrassing, awkward silences to deal with. And I didn't put my foot in my mouth once! Nor did I drop anything onto my un-napkined lap or spill ranch dressing on my shirt. All in all, I was very proud of myself.

He actually carried on conversation with me. Miracles of all miracles. And he finds me attractive. That's always a plus.

He is a lot like me. He is funny and laid-back. And kinda random in some of the things he says, but that's OK. And he totally kicked my ass in Guitar Hero III. Even though I am now a PRO at "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" by Pat Benetar.

Just When I Get My Head Straight

So, as I am driving home from scrapbooking tonight, I think about men, and how pretty much every year at this time I am alone, and that it is going to be OK this year too.

I realized that all I want is not be alone. So, in order to do that, why don't I enjoy the people I DO have around me, and all my friends all over the country?

Then I get home, check my email, and ... meet a cool guy online.

I swear.

My Nubbers

How cute is that smile??

Looks just like Steph.

Looks just like Nate.

Every time I see a picture of my sweet-smelling nubbin', Aidan, I think, "He looks so much like Steph when she was a baby!!" Then sometimes I get a picture and I say to myself, "OK, there he looks like Nate." But most of the time, he looks like my little nephew.

He's so cute, I just want to eat 'im up!!!

Thanksgiving Thanks

A tradition that never caught on in my household was to say what you are thankful for right before we dove into the dinner. I think that it never caught on for two reasons:

1) My dad was always embarrassed.

2) My mom was worried the food would get cold.

So, I've decided to show a list of all the things I am thankful for.

• Me, Myself, and I: I'm reliable and fun. I can always count on me being there.
  
• My job. It's nice to have money.
• My family. Especially my sweet, precious nephew.
  
• My FRIENDS. I can't live without them. Seriously.
• All my invites for Thanksgiving dinner. It's hard being away from your family on the holidays, but friends made up for it this year.
• Books.
  
• My Dish DVR. Which will make my Thanksgiving holiday a little less lonely.
• Food. I mean good food. Not that crap we ate in Disneyland.

Ok, that was a pretty cheesey list, and I meant for it to be much more thoughtful and poetic, but I guess I am just not in that mood today. I guess I am just thankful for all the basic things in life.

Oh, And I am Brazil

I could be Brazilian. Except for the waxes. OUCH!

You're Brazil!

You're athletic, charming, and probably a good dancer.
Unfortunately, you don't really mind chopping down the rain forest, and you probably
consider homeless people expendable in certain circumstances. Of course, your
personality is so diverse that it's hard to track down exactly what you're like. You
definitely like Pele, the World Cup, and shouting "gooooal" at the
top of your lungs.


Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

I Was Just Thinking About This Last Night

Tracy and I went to see Love in the Time of Cholera last night, and there was a parrot in the movie. And I thought, "Parrots are so beautiful. I wonder what it would be like to be a parrot?"

Then I took Crystal's quiz.

And I totally want a cracker. And a pirate to sit on.

You're a Parrot!

You're a born follower and will model your behavior on that of
anyone you admire. You usually carry this into speech as well, mimicking whatever
the people around you say. You mimic whatever the people around you say. This
doesn't leave you with much of an identity of your own, and you may wind up vulgar
or polite depending entirely on your environment. You'd be great at taking
dictation, or maybe being a court reporter. You want a cracker!


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Offical Disneyland Steps for Removing Vomit

Disneyland workers do not know how to clean up vomit. You would think that if they created a ride such as Space Mountain (one of my personal favorites!), that they would have a vomit removal artist. Someone who would come in with a flourish and remove the offensive vomit so the rest of the ride goers, who aren't so squeamish, can actually get on the ride.

However, this is not the case.

On our fourth and final day in Disneyland- The Day of Loose Ends - we wanted to go on Space Mountain. Again. For Amy and I, for the fifth time. We get almost to the front of the line--maybe a two minute wait--and the line stops. The ride controllers are running empty carts through the ride. A genuine pet peeve of mine. It makes me so frustrated to see empty carts going when I could be on them! Ride broken, be damned!

Anyhoo, after a couple of minutes, I noticed why we were stopped: someone had gotten off the ride and vomited everywhere. Amy and I had a good time wondering who it could have been: was a little kid? An older person?

Then the maintenance guy came out to clean it. Yes, maintenance.

The Disneyland Official Steps in Cleaning Up Vomit:

1) Throw paper towels at the offensive material. Hope it disappears. Even though you are NOT David Copperfield.

2) Take your trusty broom and sweep the paper towels. Try to make a bigger mess than already existed.

3) Throw more paper towels at the offensive material, making sure to make faces while you do this.

4) Repeat step 2.

5) Spray disinfectant on the area, which by now is twice the size of the original offensive area.

6) Stand there, waiting for the disinfectant to dry. This may take some time, but be sure to look really bored and disgusted.

7) Repeat step 1.

8) Repeat step 2.

9) When you are done, do NOT, I repeat do NOT, bow or notice the applause you receive for doing a job that no one else wants to do.

I did not applause. He didn't do a very good job.

Disneyland Day 2

When I went to Disneyland last year with the family, everyone raved about the Buzz Lightyear ride. Even Dad had fun on the ride, and his official Disney name was Grumpy. Needless to say, this year, I had to give it a shot. Literally.

Amy and I did early entry, so we got right onto the ride. We took both the blasters and went to town killing "Z"'s and sending the Evil Zorg back to where he belonged. And when we got off the ride, we could email ourselves a picture of us mid-battle:

Disneyland, Here I Come!

For those of you who do not know this, I love Disneyland. There are many reasons as to why I love Disneyland, but few understand the reasons.

You see, I am not the typical person who loves going to Disneyland.

1) I do not like random kids all up in my shit.

2) I do not like paying a million dollars for a freakin' ice cream cone.

3) I do not like random strangers all up in my shit.

4) I do not like big crowds.

5) I do not normally strike people as "happy".

6) Did I mention I do not like people all up in my shit?

HOWEVER:

1) I love seeing random kids see Mickey for the first time and go apeshit.

2) I love seeing Mary Poppins for the first time, and literally getting misty eyed with nostalgia.

3) I love Star Wars and Indiana Jones, although the Star Wars ride leaves MUCH to be desired, I still love it. (My favorite memory was last year when I went with my cousins, and Mikel, the middle one, said when it was over, "That's it? Well. We'll have to go again." Then he got up, bought himself a Yoda doll, and got back in line. I had never been so proud in my life.)

4) I love being in the happiest place on Earth.

5) I love vacation. Anywhere.

6) I love sunny California. Especially when the weather here sucks monkey ass.

So, I go off now to leave you for the week while I am in SoCal enjoying the warm-ish weather. When I get back, I will make you suffer through all of my pictures. I am planning on getting a picture with me and all the princesses.

You see? I DO like Disneyland!

My Car

After saving $210 for a new car, my current car breaks down. Again. No, it's not a piece of crap. It just hates me. And parts from The Pep Boys. Because The Pep Boys don't use love to fix the cars, they use hate and refurbished alternators that inevitably break down again, one week after the warranty expires.

Ohhh, how I hate expired warranties. Doesn't anything come with a lifetime warranty anymore?

Dating Issues

My friend Emily emailed me yesterday and asked me if I ever have the problem of dismissing men before the first date is even over.

Yes, yes I do have that problem. If they do not IMMEDIATELY fit into my prescribed notion of what I want in a man, I dismiss him quicker than I can say, "I love you, Bono!" But I also think I should listen more to my instincts because of what happened with Randy: At first my instincts were like, "Ehhh, whatever." But then he kept pursuing me, and what girl doesn't like to be pursued, really? So I fell into the debacle I like to call The Mistake of Ought Seven, not to be confused with The What-Was-I-Thinking of Oughts Three to Five.

But I do have this problem. (And thank God it sounds like I am not the only one.) I often wonder, aloud sometimes, if I am being too picky. Do I have too much of a hard, set-in-concrete list of what I want in a partner? Am I looking for something that doesn't exist? Am I setting myself up to be alone forever because I never give anyone a chance?

And am I totally bitchy for not giving all men who are interested in me a chance, too? Is that hypocritical? But then I think, How can it be hypocritical to want the very best? I give myself the very best that I can, and all I ask for in another person is the same thing. And if he can't even look me in the eye as he is talking to me, then that is not the very best.

Apple Pie, Apple Milkshakes, Apple Turnovers, Apple Doghnuts, Apple...HEAVEN!

Every year, Tracy and I try to make a trip to Apple Hill outside of Placerville, CA. This year was no different. And since I can't wait any longer for Tracy to post cute pictures of her baby, I will.

Tracy, Tonna, Matilda and I all headed out for the two to three hour drive, depending on the traffic. We weren't in a big hurry, but we should have been: they close early!! NOOOOO!

I love Apple Hill for all of the appely goodness. There is everything Apple that you can possibly imagine. Oh, and there's other stuff, too. But APPLE MILKSHAKES are the BOMB DIGGITY!
Matilda agreed wholeheartedly and wouldn't let go of my straw.

She got to ride a pony; I wanted to, too, but decided against it because once around a dirt track actually makes me feel sorry for the ponies. Also, ponies smell kinda bad.

Apple Turnovers was closed (Damn their black souls!) but Apple DOUGHNUTS were there, and boy, do apple doughnuts make me a happy little girl! (There is a picture of me sniffing my doughnut bag, but I don't have a copy of it yet.....)

Matilda and I had fun taking our pictures in front of the cutouts:







I was trying to hold her up while sticking my head in the other hole. It didn't quite work out the way I planned.

Overall, we had a wonderful time in Apple Hill, and next year when we go, we will be sure to leave extra early so we can really get our fill of apples!!

Blogging

Although this is National Blogging Month, and dedicated bloggers will blog every day, I will not. I am just not that exciting, and frankly when I get home, I just don't feel like blogging. Especially about how someone ticked me off, or how someone was dumb, or how someone in general sucks.

But I do like the words blog, blogging, blogger, and blogged. I absolutely love how the words sound and how they look.

Wow, That's a REALLY Big TV

Every year, a few friends and I travel to a cabin somewhere (usually Truckee) and spend a weekend scrapbooking. This year was no different. As I was designated the Queen (or as I like to call it, the Slave), I got to plan and organize the weekend. I chose a beautiful cabin that Tracy had found a few years ago. We love it.
This year was exceptionally interesting. When we arrived, the cabin nest to us (probably this person first home, and not a rental like most of the houses in the area are) was having cable installed. I, of course, commented on the attractiveness of the cable man. (He really was cute!)

As it got later and later, a few of us were still up scrappin'. You couldn't get us to stop! And I happen to look up and I could see through the next door neighbor's windows and right to his TV. It was HUGE! Gigantic. Abnormally big. And he was watching Star Wars: Episode 3. I comment on this, and every once in a while I would look up to see which part of the movie it was. At one point I looked up and said:

"Man, that TV is HUGE! I just can't believe how big .... Oh, my God! He's watching PORN!"

At that point, Tracy immediately turned around, and all she saw were two people kissing. She said, "That's not pron. They're just kissing."

And then the camera panned back, and ...let's just say, they weren't JUST kissing.

We laughed and laughed. We commented on how the man needed to invest not in cable but in some blinds or window treatments. We tried to take pictures of him watching porn.

Needless to say, it was really funny to see. But the best part was this: he kept flipping the channels! First he would watch porn, and then he would watch baseball. Then the local news. Then more porn. Then some more baseball.

"Hmmm, I'm bored of the news. I think I'll watch some porn for a few minutes!"

Company Vehicles Rock

It may not be the most convenient vehicle on the planet, but it is cute, and I don't have to pay for oil changes, registration, or insurance!!

Just Call Me Ameri-Basque!

Recently, my daddy informed me that I might have an opportunity to become a dual citizen of both America (obviously) and Spain.

"Bitchin'!" was my response.

When I was born in the great year of 1977, my dad was not yet a US citizen; therefore, I have the same rights as he did when I was born.

I get to go to the Spanish consulate in San Francisco, fill out some paperwork (I am sure that it will be much more complicated than "just some paperwork"...) and ta-da! I will have dual citizenship. I think (HOPE, HOPE, HOPE!) I get to have an EU passport, because then I won't have to admit to actually belonging to a country where this is a reality:



And instead, I can say, THIS is my reality:

Creep Alert!

This is an update to the earlier post below.

I checked my email this evening, and there is a "wink" for me. Now, I have to admit, I was a little excited because it has been a LONG while since anyone, male or female, has shown any interest in me or my profile online. So, I excitedly went to cupid.com to check my messages.

And there was a "wink" from the creep who totally dissed me in February.

Do people not remember each other? Do these men just "wink" at every woman within a certain age group? Does this guy have two brain cells to rub together, or does he just want to punish himself?

This time, I didn't reply. I didn't want the tongue lashing I got last time to be repeated. There are other things I want guys to do with their tongues. Berating me with them is NOT one of them.

And P.S. His profile is STILL negative. Surprise, surprise.


A man has been "winking" at me from different singles websites that I have a profile on. ("Winking," for those of you who don't know, is the act of letting someone know that you are interested in them without actually having to email them anything meaningful.) This man's profile states: "Well I am starting to realize it's kinda pointless to even type anything in here as people don't really read profiles, [sic]they just go by the picture. Honestly I am not on here to find my soulmate or a life partner. I am just on here to try and meet new people and make some new friends. I spent the last 7 years on myself in terms of trying to get a career going and trying to make something of myself."

Now, this man has "winked" at me before. I have ignored him because he is so negative, and believe me, I have no need for more negativity in my life. I have enough of my own! So I ignored him the first time around. Then he "winked" again, and this time I thought I would be nice and give him some friendly advice.

I wrote: "I've got to admit that I have seen your profile a couple of times, and I have thought about emailing you, but your profile is so darn depressing.

I just wanted to write to you and let you know that when your profile is that depressing and negative, it doesn't bode well for your chances. This is advice that I thought you needed in order to get a few more positive results from your profile. When a girl reads that you already think of her as completely self-absorbed and shallow, they don't want to meet you, even if they are self-absorbed and shallow.

And I am looking for a boyfriend, not just friends. I am really sorry, but I do hope you take my thoughts into consideration and revise your profile into something a little more upbeat about yourself and the women you are trying to meet. I think you will have better luck in the long run."

Now that I look back on it, maybe it wasn't the nicest thing I could have said.....

Anyway, he writes back to me and tells me that I have my head up my ass, I am a loser, still single, and I can basically go to hell. Well, imagine my surprise. Mr. Negative really IS negative.

Which brings me to my thought of the day. Why do people insist upon putting their negativity onto other people? I was happy to just dole out my friendly advice, albeit unsolicited. But he had to take his negativity one step further and call me a loser, a SINGLE loser nonetheless. He resorts to name calling and "I'm better that you"ing. Why can't people just take what the world gives them and try to learn from it.

OK, I know what you are all thinking. "Oh, Micaela, like you ever do that."

No, but I try!

Realizations During Yet Another Misadventure

So, yesterday I had the pleasure of facing one of my deepest fears: seeing Jason and his new (well, not so new, really) girlfriend. Two years ago, we broke up, and a short two years it has been, but one filled with a long, long trip to recovery to the old and original Micaela.

I did really, really well in the face of fear.

I was pleasant, and introduced myself, and said, "Hi!" to Jason without barfing, vomiting, or gritting my teeth. Needless to say, I am QUITE pleased with myself.

But the sweetest and best realization came when 1) I hardly recognized him, and 2) when I felt absolutely nothing when I did recognize him.

And I felt nothing about the new girlfriend, either. Who, I am sure, is very pleasant and nice to be around, and her only major fault being the horrible bad taste that she has in men. But, I still don't want to be buddy-buddy with her.

Overall, it was a true lesson in "That which does not kill you, only makes you stronger."

I don't want to get stronger anytime soon, though.

Memoir: A Prologue

Prologue: Wow! That’s a Long Last Name!

It happens every day. Everywhere I go, I get asked the same questions. “What kind of name is that?” “How long did it take for you to learn how to spell your name?” “Is that your maiden name?”

I’m at Safeway, buying some groceries. I have one of those cards that are supposed to save me money, but are just an evil scam to make me buy more of their stuff, just because if you buy that one extra can of soup, they’ll give you a discount. After every transaction, the cashier looks at my receipt before they hand it to me and says, “Thank you, Ms. Whatever Your Name Is.” And every time, the cashier stumbles and spurts out, “Thank you… Miss … Maaa…laa …” And every time I smile and stop him or her from slaughtering my name. “Malaxechebarria,” I say as politely as I can. “Oh. What nationality is that?” With a smile, I reply, “It’s Basque.” “Oh. Ok, thanks. Do you need help out with those?”

I got an interesting question the other day: "I know I am not supposed to ask this, but what nationality is that?" I gave her a startled look, and replied, "It's Basque. Why are you not supposed to ask?" Everyone else does, I think to myself. "Oh, well, with racial profiling and such, we aren't supposed to ask people about their names or their nationality."

I didn't know whether to be offended or to laugh. Everyone since the day I was born people have commented on or made fun of my name in some way or another. And now, after a horrific event that changed our lives forever, now we have to polite and think about if we offend people by asking what their nationality is.

I never was offended by someone asking what nationality my name is. I am more offended that people take a glance at my name and make a large assumption about me as a person because of it. Sometimes those assumptions are good ones: Basques are hard working, polite, loyal to a fault. But there are other bad ones; sheep mainly come to mind.

I guess that is how it is with every nationality. Good stereotypes and bad ones, but they are still stereotypes nonetheless.

I LOVE Being Tia Ky

I finally got to meet my teeny tiny nephew, and boy is he amazingly cute! I think it is because he has Malaxechebarria genes running through him, but I am already attached to the little guy. He spit up on me, pooped on me, and clawed me, but I didn't care.

That must be how moms feel, too.

And no, no I do not want to be a mommy. But I am the coolest Tia ever!!!

Just check out how adorable he is.


I gave him his first lesson in Star Wars and Indiana Jones. And U2. The important things in life.

Good Food in NoLa at NOLA

Every time I go to New Orleans, I want to go to an Emeril restaurant, and this time, I got my wish!

Grandma and Grandpa gave me a shiny, crisp Benjamin to spend on a nice meal for everyone. They said, dine in, take out, nice, fast-food, you decide! So, I used it to my advantage and decided that we should all go out to NOLA, Emeril's most family friendly and laid back restaurant in the French Quarter, so we could take little Aidan with us.

We made the reservations and dressed Aidan up in a cute little man outfit, and headed out. I, of course, got some pictures, but I was more distracted by the wonderful food!



Let's see, I had the duck, Steph had fillet mignon, pronounced as it should be, and Nate had the rib eye. He really, really wanted french fries and Steph and I had to literally beg him not to be annoying and obnoxious and ask for a substitute. He didn't like what the CHEF had paired with the rib eye. I told Nate that the CHEF, the one who EMERIL hired, knew more about food than Nate had ate meals in his life, but he still asked for the french fries. Much to my dismay.

But Aidan was the hit of the restaurant.

My Dear Old Dad

Why this wasn't the first story that anyone told me, I have no idea.

The day that Stephanie was induced, my mom, Steph and Nate all went to the hospital. Dad didn't go because he is deathly afraid of everything, but especially hospitals. So, Dad, being the sweet Daddy he is, decided he will mow the lawn for the new parents. But the Louisiana heat got to him rather quickly, and he decided to call it quits. As he headed inside, he realized he had locked himself out! He had no keys, no phone, and a sick desperation came over him.

He ninja kicked his way inside the house.

He called Steph's cell. Nate's cell. Then Mom's cell. Steph is in heavy labor, and well, rather pissed off. She demands one of the phones from Mom, tells Dad shortly that he must stop bothering her while she is giving birth, and Dad replies, "You need a new door."

Steph then spent the next fifteen minutes convincing herself that she WILL eventually laugh about it.

May I never run out of funny Dad stories.

My Anger is Back

I hope Randy falls off the stage tomorrow, breaks an arm/leg/pelvis and lets Big In Japan play longer because they are a way better band.

Say hello to my old friend, Anger. We are the best of friends. (Reeally I just don't know how to get rid of her......)

God Help Me, Are Any of Us Safe?

In my dating adventures that I call my life, I have come across the problem of fidelity.

Women are just as bad as men when it comes to fidelity, but in my cases, I have only come across men who have cheated on me, because I only date men. That being said, my conversation henceforth will consist of me arguing that men are tramps. I am well aware of the other side of the argument, but for the purposes of this blog, bear with me.

When Randy and I broke up, he said it was the "realization that he could cheat on me" that woke him up to the fact that we shouldn't be together. Fidelity again rears its no-so-ugly head. Why do them men I date seem to think that realizing they can cheat on me is what makes our relationship go sour?

Everyone CAN cheat on everyone else. It is the fact that once you find someone you truly love, you don't WANT to cheat on that person. You don't WANT to hurt them, mentally or physically. You don't WANT them to feel betrayed, angry, or disillusioned. You want that other person to be happy and to have a feeling of trust in you and in the world.

However, the men I have dated apparently do not feel that way about me.

The things is that no one is safe. I thought the usual. I'm not pretty enough; I'm not smart enough; I'm not funny enough. But then I remembered that a lot of women are cheated on. Some women I know. Some women we all know. (Jennifer Aniston? Hello? She's freaking HOT.) But that is my point. It isn't enough to be hot. Or smart. Or funny. Men are going to cheat because of some weird and strange thing in their brains that the grass is always greener. Men are always looking for someone better. And the fact that we live in a "ME ME ME ME" society does not help our situation any, either, ladies.

So, I am readjusting my list have "Must Haves".

Number one: "Appreciate me for who I am, and don't be looking anywhere else for what I can give you, because I can give you the world. That is, if you are man enough to take it."

I Call Bullshit

First, Bennifer breaks up. Boring.

Then, Brad breaks up with Jennifer for Angelina. Bleck.

Now, Bono is seen holding hands with Penelope Cruz? What?What?WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

I have always stipulated that Bono is a man who honors, trusts, and adores his wife. Now, he is out, creating gossip for everyone to talk about.

In looking at this picture, I see Penelope -- a strong, independent European woman-- SORT OF holding hands with my boyfriend, aka Paul Hewson, aka Bono. But it really does seem to me that this picture is taken WAY out of context and they are simply friends.

Penelope has been helping Bono with his ONE campaign as well as (RED). This woman is just out, using her popularity and celebrity to help Bono in his fight for equality and integrity in the world.

Can't two people who are friends be seen holding hands just be friends? Do we assume that every time someone holds someone else's hands it is because they have a sexual relationship together? I remember a lot of times in high school, college and now that I have held hands with my friends, and in no way was this supposed to indicate a sexual relationships with that other person. It only meant that I love that person and feel comfortable and confident enough to show that love to everyone else.

Of course, no one will agree with me and insist that Bono and his wife are getting a divorce, but I strongly, vehemently disagree.

Realization # 52

I realized today, as Tracy and I were having yet another unlucky day of yard sales, that I miss what I thought Randy and I had together.

I thought we had trust and caring and fun. I thought he wanted me to be happy with him, and I thought he wanted to share his life with me. Obviously, these things aren't true, but that is what he led me to believe.

And so this is what I miss. I miss what I thought to be truth, and I think that the disappointment that I am feeling now is the disappearance of what I thought to be true. I think that this disappearance of truth is what disappoints us all: finding out there is no Santa, realizing that your parents are fallible, realizing that the person you love and trust isn't worthy of that love and trust.

Back to the Grind

I'm dating. Again. My theme for the past two days has been, "I WON'T give up!" Now, I realize that I am probably trying too hard, but I have got to get rid of this pity party that goes on in my head every day.

I am doing better. I don't cry every day. In fact, I haven't cried in one week. Take that, ...what was his name? Oh well. Obviously, I'm better off if I am not even crying over him, and I'm just pissed.

Anyhoo, I will obviously keep everyone posted on my dating excursions, because they are always so . . . shall we say, interesting?

He Just Keeps Getting Cuter and Cuter!

Here are my two tough guys, wise guys. Aren't they adorable?

Seriously, though, I think I am the proudest Tia in the world. Right now, all I can do is think about how I get to hold him in about 4 weeks. Four very long weeks.

I just hope his mom and I can keep him from growing up into a jerk like the men I have been meeting lately. Bitter? No. Just hopeful I can change the world one step at a time. And if I am not going to have my own children, I'll start with my sister's.

But seriously, he is adorable. And better and better every day.

Why, oh Why, Can I Not Shake This Feeling?

I seriously cannot shake this feeling that I have done something to deserve all of the heartache men have given me over the years. Did I torment a young boy when I was young and unknowing about karma? Did I ridicule someone into thinking less of themselves? Did I accidentally kill someone and I didn't know it?

Because somewhere, out there in karma-land, there is someone who has it in for me. Bad. But just in the men department. Not in the friend department, because I have always been blessed with amazing, beautiful, and loving friends. Not in the work department, because I have always been blessed with having a job when I need one, and usually a job I enjoy. Not in the family department, because I have truly an amazing family, who is (usually) fun to be around. (I kid, I kid.)

But in the men department, I have had nothing but bad, horrible ju-ju. Gay men seem to want to date me in order to convince others that they aren't gay. Drug addicts and dealers seem to want to date me because I seem stable and normal. Jerks seem to want to date me, because I "seem bitchy enough." Liars seem to want to date me because...well, I don't know why because I don't lie, unless it is to save your feelings. So, what is it? Am I throwing out bad men mo-jo? Because I have been going through the usual girl run-down: I'm not pretty enough (7? Please, I am waaaaaay hotter than a 7), I'm not smart enough (tell that to the graduate school entrance board. Smart enough to get in there, eh?), I'm not funny enough (well, that's just not true), I'm not ... what? Oh, wait. I think I might know. I'm not a big enough loser. Oh, I'm missing the loser gene! Thank God.

I just wish men could get it into their thick skulls that if they want a smart and independent woman, then they need to accept the traits that come with those things: independent thought, un-sheeplike behavior, and strength. Oh, you don't want a strong woman? Then you better rethink a minute.

Introducing Aiden James McLaughlin

Ahhh, my beautiful nephew / godson:

Introducing Baby McLaughlin!

Here is a picture of my cute nephew, as yet un-named, and my even cuter Daddy.












How cute are the Athletic booties; I mean, really?

Is it sad that the only happy thing in my life right now is the fact that I am a Tia AND a Godmother??? No, it isn't sad. It's is the happiest day of my life! (Until the other nieces and nephews are born from my dear sister's womb.)

Asshole Alert Number 237

Randy actually said to me that he wanted to "find someone better."

Better. What a complete asshole. (And yes, yes I hope he reads this and realizes what a complete asshole he has been and at least tries to feel bad about for a second. I mean, what a completely MEAN thing to say to someone else.)

Although I totally understand that relationships don't work out, I really don't understand why he had to be so mean about it. Why he had to tell me that he wanted to cheat on me. Why he had to say that he "feels bad for breaking my heart." We knew each other for four months. Does he really think that my heart is so fragile and weak that after four months it is actually in breakable mode? Please. Jason broke my heart. Two and a half years is a long time for a heart to think it is safe. Four months is not, especially when one of those months is a complete and utter waste of time when Randy has been going around acting like a dickface.

I warn you women of the Americas: there are two Randys. One is super nice, fun, thrilling and hot. The other is sullen, mean-spirited, selfish, and cold. Stay away from both.

What I am upset about is the fact that I am great and wonderful and no one seems to realize this. Why are my friends and I the only ones to realize that I am funny, beautiful, fun and exciting? Why are all these men that I meet determined to use me and then toss me away like I mean nothing?

Why did Randy tell me he loved me and wanted to move in together and that "it would fine if I kept my name when we got married" if he didn't mean it? How in the hell can you possibly change your mind in the span of 5 days?

So, by now I guess you have realized that Randy and I broke up. I had told him last week that I wanted to break up with him, but I am too nice of a person. I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt and "one more chance." I wish I would have acted on my gut instincts because then I wouldn't be sitting here, allowing the mean things he said to me hurt me. On Friday, he told me that he doesn't want me to leave him, that he wants to try to make things work. Not to leave him alone, just to leave him be (whatever the hell THAT means, because he couldn't tell me). Then on Saturday, he goes out drinking with friends and realizes that he is attractive to other women! What a shock! He can sleep with someone else. So, then he realizes that if he feels that way, he obviously doesn't love me. Obviously.

But don't try to talk someone into not breaking up with you if you DON'T MEAN IT.

Seriously, why are my dating blogs all about how men do things that don't match what they want? If you want a girlfriend, then get one. If you want a fuck buddy, then get one. You just better pick me for the previous one and not the latter, because I don't roll that way.

The Five Stages of Grief

So, as some of you may know, Randy and I are no longer. He was a jerk to me and a liar, and I have learned THAT lesson long ago, and I learned it the hard way. And so I go through the motions through my five stages:

1) Denial: Oh, seriously, he can't be doing this to ME. I mean, I kick ass. More ass than he could ever imagine kicking. Seriously. Do not doubt this. Because I do not doubt this in the least. So this can't be happening right now. He cannot possibly be acting like an idiot jackass to me right now. I told him that if he ever acted like an asshole to me, I would break up with him, so this must be a joke of some sick kind.

2) Anger: It's me, Micaela. I have a fuse the size of a flea and a temper the size of Montana. Need I say more? OK, I will say more: He is a selfish prick and he needs to pull his head out of his stupid ass.

3) Bargaining: OK, if he calls maybe I will listen to him... Only if he calls right now. OK, now. OK, if he calls me tomorrow....

4) Depression: Why hasn't he called me? I will be alone forever. I will forever be single and destined to date from a freaking website. Why did he have to tell me that he loved me and that he wanted to show me the world and that he would do anything to keep me near him and happy? He didn't mean it. Wah, wah, wah. (As I am writing this, I am not feeling this stage. But I will. Soon.)

5) Acceptance: Dickhead hasn't called me. Then I guess I need to move on. Or kick his ass. (I guess I haven't moved through stage #2 yet.)

I think I have been working through Stage 5 for a while now, and although I think I will LIVE in stage 2 for a while, I have pretty much accepted the fact that Randy is a liar who doesn't know what he wants. Because if I'm not good enough for him, then no one is. And I feel a strange kind of zen calm in knowing that.

THE Most Expensive Trip to Vallejo. Ever.

Randy and I wanted to go on a road trip, so we decided to each take a day off from work and head over to Vallejo to go to Six Flags. For weeks, we planned this trip and we were pretty excited.

We left Reno around 6:00. On the way out of town, we stopped off at Boomtown so Randy could show off where he works and introduce me to his co-workers. (Mainly to prove that I existed, and to give his co-workers crap about having to work.)

Then we stopped at Gold Ranch to get gas ($30.00) breakfast ($7.71, Running total: $37.71) and some coffee ($1.50, Running total: $39.21) for the road. And we were off!! We plugged in the iPod, and headed up the summit.

As we neared Truckee, Randy exclaimed, "Oh my God, Ky, is that your car?" I spun around and looked out the back window, and there was smoke and steam spewing from what seemed like every crevice of my car. Shit.

We got the car off the very next exit, which happened to be the same exact exit that Randy took me down when we first met when he gave me my first "tour" of Truckee. Hirschdale Road. The car immediately died. And of course I had visions of when I blew my first car's engine. But we got out of the car, and there was antifreeze all over the road. I did what any insurance agent would do: I called my agent. (I can't be my own agent. I was too upset.) Cheryl gave me a few phone numbers to call and Randy told me he was going for a walk.

He came back a few minutes later with a jug of antifreeze ($10.73, Running total: $49.94). As he walked back to the car, he said, "Screw this. We are going to fill this puppy up, nurse it back to Reno, get in Blanca (his truck) and go to Vallejo!" I jumped up and down in joy and knew that this is the man that I wanted to be stranded on the side of the road with. He carefully poured the precious, costly antifreeze into the radiator. I paused and listened. "Do you hear that?" It sounded like rushing water. I looked down and there was antifreeze everywhere.













Damaging the environment.


Shit. OK, so we weren't going to nurse anything down the hill to Reno. I called a tow company in Reno. "It'll be $209 to tow you back to Reno." I called a tow company in Truckee. "It'll be $150 to tow you into Truckee." I'll take Reno, thank you very much! Tow: $209. Running total: $258.94.

We waited. And waited. And waited some more. It started to snow. On June 6th!!! I started to lose my patience. But the tow truck came and it was one of those cool flat bed ones, so I felt a little better. I like to have my car ride in style.

So, we got back to Reno, bypassing the federal truck check by Boomtown, thank goodness! We took the car to my mechanic, Randy's dad picked us up, dropped us off at Cheryl's so we could borrow their Camry. We got in the car, and were on the road by 10:30. We lost about 3 hours of time, and we were anxious to get going.

"We aren't stopping for anything but pee breaks, so get any food now!" That's my attitude. I have to pee enough as it is with my tiny gerbil bladder, so we can't afford to stop. Luckily we had bought food for the trip: $14.74. Running total: $273.68.

We eventually got to Vallejo and Six Flags without another hitch. We saw four more tow trucks along the way. We were in the park and on our first coaster by 2:00. We were four hours behind schedule, and we were ready to get some coasters in! The tickets for Six Flags: $54.98. Running total: $328.66.

Randy doesn't look so good after riding KONG!

We have a really good time, and I relaxed a bit more after I found out that the problem with the car is the water pump and timing belt (damn timing belts!), which will cost me about $450 to repair. Running total: $778.66.

My main goal was to see the elephants, considering they are my favorite animal, and I always wanted a pet elephant for my backyard. I got to watch Liz, one of the resident elephants get a shower. Which made me thirsty, and I had to have an iced tea, which at Six Flags prices, put me back $4.28. Running total: $782.94.

We also got to see giraffes, penguins, DOLPHINS!, stingrays, a porcupine, butterflies, a white tiger, a lion, a cheetah, and sea lions. It was actually pretty cool.









We wanted to go on a couple of rides that were of course, closed!!


Eventually, we had seen everything we wanted to see, and went back to Medusa, our favorite ride, and rode it a few more times: try 6 more. We had a blast, and eventually, they kicked us out.

We then drove to Sacramento, Randy's old stomping grounds, and ate at Crepeville, which has KILLER crepes! Dinner total: $24.17. Running total: $807.11.

I drove back to Reno slowly but surely and we got back by 11:00. The next morning I put gas in Cheryl's car for her: $50.03.

Grand total: $857.14. THE most expensive trip to Vallejo Ever.