Archive | May, 2012

Figuring Out Who People Are By How They Treat Waiters

23 May

I saw the above picture as I was browsing my Pinterest home page. I read it, and continued on without giving it a second thought. Then, I backtracked when I realized how true it really is.

As a general rule, I try to be as nice to people who I meet day to day as possible, and this includes the waiters and waitresses who work at the restaurants I eat at. I’m actually especially nice to them, not only because they can ruin my food if they don’t like me, but I have a habit of being a picky eater – no mayo, extra this, none of this, substitute this for this, etc. Even if they aren’t great at what they are doing, or if I’m not getting as much attention at my table as I’d like, I’m still nice to them. 

I haven’t had a whole lot of experience with people who aren’t nice to the waitstaff, but with the little experience I’ve had, it makes me wonder what is going on in their head. I can understand that the waiter is being slow, or they messed your order up, but that doesn’t mean you need to make their life suck. Right? Going back to the picture: no matter how nice a person is to me, if they treat waitstaff rudely they might not be worth it. I think it can say a lot about who a person is, and it makes me uncomfortable that I’m associated with such a rude person.

How do you treat your waiter/waitress? If a first date was treating you fabulously, but was overly rude to the waiter, would you be less likely to go on a second date with them? Any experiences with really rude people/friends?

Genevieve: A Story

22 May

She was a great mom. Or at least she would’ve been.

It was Spring, and the Earth wanted everyone to know. The flowers were blossoming, and the trees were just coming out of their winter slumber. Life was everywhere, and Genevieve was no exception. Her womb was ripe with life, right alongside the gophers that plagued her garden and the birds who had just built their nest in the newly green tree outside her kitchen window.  She had a good life for herself, and it was true that she would be raising her twins alone, but she would give them a good life also.

There wasn’t a day that went by throughout her pregnancy that Genevieve didn’t rejoice in the feeling of her babies within her. It was only a few more weeks before she could bring them home with her, and begin her newest life chapter. She was lucky enough to be able to take leave from work once the babies were born, but the strain on her body grew every day. Some days she would get home and be unable to even keep herself awake long enough to make sure the house was clean, or to double-check the doors to make sure they were locked. That was the life of a single mother. She probably could’ve gotten help, but she was a strong woman. One day was especially taxing. Genevieve got home late, and sat on her bed to take the shoes off of her tired, swollen feet. She laid back and began to rub them. It was easier this way. She hoped to comfort them; she was sorry they must carry her burden. And then she was asleep.

She awoke to strange, unfamiliar sounds around her. It was rustling, and maybe the sounds of other people, but she couldn’t help but be baffled by why they were in her house, and terrified at what they might want with her. Genevieve groggily opened her eyes, hoping that she wouldn’t see anyone staring back at her. Nothing. That was hopeful, but then she realized that she wasn’t in her bed. She wasn’t in her house. There were bars, and nothing else. Outside these bars was nothing but a plain, gray wall adorned with nothing but a single sign. She tried to read it, but couldn’t. It looked as if someone had made up a language.  Her room was the same dull gray as outside the room, with even less decoration. Her bed was moderately comfortable, and probably the most comforting thing so far. Her thoughts drew away from her vision, and she began to focus on what she was hearing.

It sounded like the creak of a bed. It sounded like someone, or something pacing. Genevieve decided to call out to whomever may be around, in hopes that they could explain the situation. She called out, but nothing escaped her lips. She called out again, but nothing. Perhaps they had taken her voice while she was sleeping, or perhaps the terror that filled her mind did not want her to speak. She tried to let out one more sound, and again was unable to utter a single syllable. Genevieve could feel tears of desperation welling up inside her. The terror of it all was almost unbearable, but then she felt a familiar kick. It was either little Andrew or Elizabeth trying to get her attention. Maybe they were trying to tell Mommy to calm down, that it will be alright, or at least that’s what Genevieve believed. She took a few, deep breaths, and allowed herself to think.

It wasn’t long before they visited her. They were the ones that took her; she didn’t trust them. They brought her food, and decent food at that. Sometimes it was chicken and a salad, and other times it was beef and potatoes. She started counting the days with the number of meals she got, and just hoped that it was three each day. They seemed close enough together that they had to be. Days went by, and each day was exactly like the one before. They brought her food, and she devoured it. They brought her a puzzle, and she completed it. She began to trust them. She hadn’t wanted to at first, but surely they would’ve hurt her by now if they’d wanted to. Maybe trusting them was the key to going home. With Genevieve’s growing trust came growing concern for what would happen when she went into labor. This room wasn’t fit for having babies, or raising babies. Time was not on her side.

Then, a day came that was different than all the rest. They came into her room, and that was something that had not happened before. Not only did they enter through the bars, but they grabbed her by her arms and began ushering her out. They had taken her once, and now they were taking her again. Genevieve didn’t like it and she resisted, but she could only do so much before she put Andrew and Elizabeth in danger. She finally stopped struggling. She let them take her.

As they moved past the other rooms, she could see that what she had been hearing this whole time was other people. Their rooms looked identical to hers, but she felt something different about them all. It was a calm that she hadn’t felt, and still didn’t feel. Maybe that was her mistake. Maybe she didn’t trust them enough, and now they were taking her to a place no one comes back from. Thoughts raced through her head as they took her down the long, gray hallway. Two more of them opened a door, and they were in a room that was different than all the rest.

This room was red, and it had things in it. There were a lot of things, and it struck her to be something of a doctors office. Her realization only made her anxious. Genevieve looked around and took in her surroundings. Nothing looked especially dangerous, but her babies weren’t ready for this world. Genevieve wasn’t sick, either. They never lost their grip on her arms. Suddenly, the two who held open the door grabbed her ankles, and she was being lifted from the ground, swung almost. They were strong. They laid her on a table in the center of the room; Genevieve began to struggle. She twisted and she thrashed around, but to no avail. They quickly overpowered her, and strapped her to the table. Almost immediately, they left and locked all the doors. She didn’t understand, until she began to smell something.

It was a chemical smell, and it was filling the room. Her mind raced, but then almost as if someone had flipped a switch, she began to feel calm, and sleepy.

Genevieve woke up back in the room. The thoughts that filled her head were fuzzy, and dreamlike. It must’ve been a terrible, terrible nightmare. She reached down and placed her hand on her giant tummy, in hopes that Andrew or Elizabeth would give a soft kick, but they weren’t there. Genevieve panicked and sat up. She looked down and there wasn’t a big pregnant belly there any longer. Her womb felt hollow. She frantically jumped off the bed and ravaged her clothing to see if her stomach would offer answers. She got the answer she didn’t want; it was a new, red cut sewn neatly back together. They had taken them. She was dizzy, and as she sat back down, she realized the only thing she knew for certain was that her babies were not here, nor were they in the room they had taken her to. They had murdered her babies.

Days passed as they had before, but Genevieve now felt empty. She stopped eating, and she stopped doing their puzzles. She couldn’t fathom how they expected her to just continue on as if nothing had happened. Her depression soon turned to anger. It was their fault she was here, and it was their fault she felt this way. It was their fault her babies never got to feel her embrace. She began to lash out every time one of them passed. She would jump at them and stick her arms through the bars to swing at them. She wanted them to feel her pain.

More time went by, when one day, one of them came into her room again. It was only one of them. Genevieve was ushered out, more gently than before, and was taken to a new room. It was her only shot to make them feel what she felt, but she knew that they must trust her. She was more than pleasant the entire walk to the new room, and was quite calm as she was guided into it. This one was bigger, with a bigger bed, but the same gray walls. She sat down, and the one that guided her motioned for her to wait. She complied. The one came back, and was carrying a new set of clothing. As the door opened, Genevieve seized her opportunity. She lunged at the one, using all of her rage to give her the strength she needed. She struck, and she bit, and she tore. She used all of her energy, and then fell, crumpled on the floor. The one closed the bars, and left.

Genevieve knew that this was it. She knew the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t care. The only thing she had in this world was her two, lovely little babies living inside of her, and now they were gone. She would never get them back. That’s why she didn’t struggle when they took her down the long hallway. That’s why she didn’t struggle when they strapped her to the table the second time. She accepted it; she knew peace would be soon. They left as they had before, and locked all the doors. This time, the room began to fill with another smell. This time, it was pleasantly sweet. It reminded her of her childhood. Genevieve breathed the scent deeply, and began to feel foggy. It wasn’t the same calmness she had felt before. She felt tired, but strained to stay awake. She strained to think clearly, but she could not. She closed her eyes. I was a great mom.


Authors Note: Adding Exes on Facebook

20 May

After much thought, I’ve found that the biggest reason why I don’t want to add my ex on Facebook is because my friend didn’t accept. If she didn’t accept, and she had nothing against him, then why on earth would I?

When Should I Accept My Exes Friend Request?

20 May

Things didn’t exactly end the best with my last ex. It was more awkward than anything…you know how text breakups are. You never get to actually talk about what happened or vent or anything. You are even lucky surprised if you see him/her after that. Well…thats exactly what happened, and ever since its been really weird if I see him (even though I usually don’t – being hundreds of miles away has that effect).

And then he tried to add me as a friend on Facebook.

Normally, I make my decision in less than 30 seconds; I accept or deny, and thats the end of it. This case is a little special, though…let me start at the beginning.

First, while we were still dating, he made me delete his Facebook account because he couldn’t deal with me having any male friends (other than him). Then, he got upset when I did delete it. Fast forward a few months. Cue breaking up.

Next thing he tried to do after we broke up was add my best friend (who hehated when we were dating). She promptly denied and helped set the stage for me to deny him on Facebook as well. About this time, he started trying to spread rumors about me and purposely piss me off. Didn’t work…so lets move on.

Fast forward x amount of time, and he tries to add me on Facebook again. It left me flabbergasted. I no longer deny unwanted friend requests; I ignore unwanted friend requests. His request has been rotting in my notifications for a very, very long time. I just happened to look in there today to see if I’d changed my mind about anyone, and it made me think. Should I accept it? I haven’t talked to him for all of 1 sentence in the last 3 years.

What would you do? Do you have rules for being friends with exes on Facebook? 

Pregnancy, Older or Younger?

20 May

First, let me tell you that I am never having children, so all of this information is irrelevant to me.

Now that thats out of the way…

People are getting pregnant at older ages. Historically, you could be married and pregnant by the ripe old age of 14 (not that the pregnant thing has really changed), but now it looks like the age for first time mothers is about 25. That’s 4 years older than 40 years ago. Its not too big of an issue if you have a child at age 25 – you are in the prime reproductive years – but because this is an average, it means the entire scale of women’s first pregnancies has shifted to higher ages. An example of this is that between the ages of 15 and 44, births have declined (births total have declined, so this is expected), but for women over 45, births have increased.

My reasoning behind this is that its taking people on average longer to finish school and settle down to a place which is conducive to having children. I also think that women don’t have to make as many attempts to have children who survive to adulthood, as they did centuries ago, so women don’t have to have children as early to maximize the number of years they can reproduce. There is also the increase in life expectancy; you have the option to have children later.

All of this brings me to my main point: having children at an older age can pose some serious problems, but it also has its benefits.


  • You have more resources. Children are expensive, so its important to have plenty of money to pay for all of their needs like healthcare, food, clothing, and enrichment. Having a stable living situation is also important.
  • You’re more mature. Mentality is a big deal with anything – it can make or break you. As you get older, you’ve learned how to deal with stress better. You’re also more likely to be comfortable staying at home every night with your small child (instead of having that inner desire to party it up).
  • Personal lives are stable. As you get older, you are more likely to have a single, steady partner to help raise your child with. You are also more likely to understand that your child takes precedence over your love life (if you happen to not have a single steady partner).


  • Less energy. As you grow older, you naturally have less energy than you do when you are younger – say your early 20’s. Babies and toddlers require a lot of keeping up with, and you might find yourself falling short.  You might also find yourself out of touch with whatever age your child might be as he/she grows older.
  • Higher health risks for you. Risk of things like gestational diabetes, high blood pressure, miscarriage, and multiple babies all go up and the risk can even be twice as high as someone in their 20’s.
  • Higher health risks for your baby. With increase prevalence of mom’s health risks, cause an increase risk in problems for baby. For example, if mom gets diabetes while she is pregnant, baby is a lot more likely to get it too, or have a high birth weight. Chromosomal disorders, like Down’s Syndrome (and others), dramatically increase with age also. There may be other long-term consequences as well. If you are an older mother and are having trouble with fertility, its likely that your child with have problems with fertility also.

What age do you want to/did you get pregnant (for the first time) at? Which has more weight, the pros or the cons? 

18 May

Not to mention most sweaters made me look like an octogenarian…..*pause and rifle through cell phone*… an old person!!

–Olan Rogers, Dorky Sweaters

Why Does Everyone Have Tattoos?

18 May

I’m a tattoo lover. Of quality tattoos, that is.  It really depends on the person, what the tattoo is of, and where its at. For example, this tattoo I like (not super hairy, colorful, clean edges, located on the shoulder):

And I like this one too (very simple, and I assume meaningful, inside of the bicep – and I’m just in love with Olan Rogers):

I can even get on board with this (completely covering forearms – I’m in love with Steve Gonsalves, too):

But then you have tattoos like this, that I just think are unattractive (I’ve only actually seen one leg tattoo I liked):

Or this one, and I love animals (I rather dislike single object, smaller, bicep tattoos):

And then there is the good old unattractive text tattoo (which is only good in discrete places, in something other than gothic lettering):

I noticed a coworkers tattoo today for the first time. Then I thought about all the other people I know – another coworker has a really awesome tattoo on his upper arm – and it seems as though I’m one of very few people who actually doesn’t have a tattoo. I’ve already said I like them, and I wouldn’t mind getting one, but I’ve yet to find anything in my life that has struck me to be something I want permanently on my body. I guess I just like to change what I look like every day. I loved my lip ring, but there were definitely days when I just wanted to take it out. Maybe I’m just destined to be the girl who never got a tattoo, and when I think about that…it kind of makes me feel left out.

Do you have any tattoos, and how many? What do you think are the most attractive and least attractive places to get a tattoo? What is your general opinion of tattoos (like them, hate them, think they are unattractive on the opposite sex, etc)? Show me pictures?