Sometimes it Just Takes Animals Hugging to Get You Through the Day

Me: I’m so excited because the calendar I ordered comes today from Amazon.

My sister: Oh yeah? What is it?

Me: It’s called “Unlikely Friendships,” and it’s of random animals hugging each other.

My sister: You are such a loser.

“Treat Your Career Like a Bad Boyfriend” by Amy Poehler

[Note: Amy Poehler is not guest posting for my blog. (Yet.) This is an excerpt from her incredible book that every woman should read called Yes Please.]


Here’s the thing. Your career won’t take care of you. It won’t call you back or introduce you to its parents. Your career will openly flirt with other people while you are around. It will forget your birthday and wreck your car. Your career will blow you off if you call it too much. It’s never going to leave its wife. Your career is fucking other people and everyone knows it but you.

Your career will never marry you.

Now, before I extend this metaphor, let me make the distinction between career and creativity. Creativity is connected to your passion, that light inside you that drives you. That joy that comes you do something you love. That small voice that tells you, “I like this. Do this again. You are good at it. Keep going.” That is the juicy stuff that lubricates our lives and helps us feel less alone in the world. Your creativity is not a bad boyfriend. It is a really warm older Hispanic lady who has a beautiful laugh and love to hug. If you are even a little but nice to her she will make you feel great and maybe cook you delicious food.

Career is different. Career is the stringing together of opportunities and jobs. Mix in public opinion and past regrets. Add a dash of future panic and a whole lot of financial uncertainty. Career is something that fools you into thinking you are in control and then takes pleasure in reminding you that you aren’t. Career is the thing that will not fill you up and never make you truly whole. Depending on your career is like eating cake for breakfast and wondering why you start crying an hour later.

My Friends SO Get Me

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Upon returning from Michigan and my appendectomy adventure, my friends presented me with this. They explained it just “showed up on their doorstep.” Note and all.

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And after further investigation, it appears that these stuffed organs can appear on many people’s doorsteps for the mere price of $20. And $4.86 for organ travel expenses. Which is pretty cheap considering.

I think it goes without saying that I will be purchasing my gall bladder so that she and my appendix can have tea. They’d have so much to talk about. Think about it.

If you would also like to make this dream come true for you, click here. You’re welcome.

It’s On Wednesdays: On Good Drugs

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It figures that my first post is from a hospital bed. Anyone who knows me knows that my whole life has been plagued by odd diseases and ailments–ones in which, thankfully, my life is still functional, but are just annoying enough to get in the way of say, working a normal nine to five. Just ask any of my former students. I missed a lot of work. Nine months out of the year. Thank you Swine Flu, Mono, Pinky Finger Surgery, Billie Topanga, Concussion #1, MRSA, and my parents’ divorce. (The latter caused more of a drinking issue. Well not so much caused as gently nudged it in the right direction.)

I’m in the hospital after my recent (as in a few hours ago) appendectomy. Apparently, my appendix was being a real asshole and the other organs evicted it in a pretty unpleasant manner. I dunno, I always thought my appendix was misunderstood. Not lazy by choice, but waiting for someone to give her direction. Not all of us can be leaders, kidneys. Also not fair that you’re twins and can totally get pancreas, uterus, and gall bladder on your side. She’s certainly going to go with the group decision knowing she could suffer the same fate as Ashley…I’m assuming that was my appendix’s name…man, I’m a terrible landlord. I don’t even know the names of my tenants.

What was so odd about this surgery was that I was never really nervous. That could totally be due to the fact they put me on Dilaudid within an hour of entering the ER, and well, life is just like a Katy Perry video on Dilaudid. I’m pretty sure this was my first experience with this pain medicine, but I hope it’s not my last. (Yes, that’s right, gall bladder, I will forcibly remove you for another round of this sweet, sweet heaven.) I asked one of my friends if she’s ever been on it. She said for her first child she was. And I was like, For your first child? For, like how long–the whole first year? That’s so smart because you can totally freak out with a kid! Then she explained it was during the labor part, and I pointed out she got kinda jipped. She agreed and said it’s been on her Christmas list ever since. Brilliant. Nothing says happy birthday to Sweet Baby Jesus like some warm-you-all-over narcotics, amiright?

At least I have a nice view. Or so I’m told. I can’t actually see it from my bed, but my mom was sweet enough to take a picture from the window so I can look at it from my phone and pretend I’m looking out the window. Totally the same. It doesn’t matter. I’m on Dilaudid.

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And if you’re good at context clues, you’ve just figured out that I’m not in Chicago. I’m in northern Michigan. Because that’s what people come up here for. Appendix removal. You might not know this, but northern Michigan is in the top 13% for removal of organs. If you believed that, you need to get it together. I’m high on Dilaudid. (Try to not be jealous. And yes, I’ll see if I can place an order for Christmas 2015.)