What It Means...

The other night, I had a dream that my teeth fell out.

Yes. You heard that right. MY. TEETH. FELL. OUT.

One thing you should probably know about me is that I have extremely vivid dreams. Like, the kind where I'll get halfway through my day and truly have to stop and think about whether something actually happened or not. Even though they're very vivid and I almost always remember them, they're not usually BIZARRE. And this one, my friends, was BIZARRE.

So, I did a quick search on www.dreammoods.com, because, obviously, I need a full-time job. Between my research there and some careful reflection, I've decided that this dream must mean one of the following 5 things:

1.  I have anxiety about my appearance and how people perceive me.

Apparently, your teeth are like a mating symbol. Or something. Smiling. Kissing. Necking (did that site really just use the word “necking”? Whatever. I totally don't trust them anymore)

2.  I have an over-exaggerated fear of powerlessness.

Totally possible. I am a control freak. However, the rationale behind this is that teeth are used for gnawing, and I'm not sure I exactly follow their theory. So, maybe not this one.

3.  I'm going through menopause.

Menopausal women frequently dream about their teeth falling out. Who knew? Considering that I'm hot all the time, this is--so far--the most plausible of the options (which, considering that I'm 28, is kind of a sad state of affairs for www.dreammoods.com).

4.  I was exceptionally touched by the James storyline in That Championship Season.

The show's playing tonight at 8:00, tomorrow at 2:00 and next Thursday, Friday and Saturday at Birmingham Festival Theatre.  If you go see it, you'll get to see a couple of my favorite boys pretending like they could possibly have been basketball players, which is kind of funny in and of itself.  It's a really good show, and you should probably go see it, even though I'm almost positive that the teeth falling out was not a primary plot point. But what do I know? Oh yeah, I know musicals. That's what I know.

(Do you like how I totally just worked in a show plug during my blog about teeth falling out? I'm pretty much the best marketer I know...as well as the strangest person.)

5.  I am paying for laughing at a comment made to me in 2003ish.

One night at BSC, my dear and quite hilarious friend Katy looked at me and said “You sound like a black man with no teeth”. I would like to be able to tell you the backstory of why this was said, but I truly don't know.

All I know is that if this dream comes true, I'm 1/3 of the way there.

Every year when I get a new batch of kids...

...I spend some time reflecting on what must go through a parent's mind when naming their child.

I see a lot of kids each week.  I'm really grateful that the family name trend seems to be coming back, cause we've been needing a break from the crazy.  However, there are still a few (see also: A TON) of stragglers who insist on giving their children bizarre, bizarre names with even loopier spellings.

I feel like any parent who thinks they've come up with the "cutest" name for their unborn kid needs to ask themselves the following simple question:

Which one of the following scenarios sounds more likely with this name inserted?


"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the podium our new CEO <insert name here>, who will be working hard to protect the fiscal future of our company!"

or

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, to Pole #7, the hot and sexy <insert name here>, who will be working hard for those dollars!"



An honest answer to that simple question could save so many children from awful, awful names.

Today, I uttered the words...

..."I'm having some birth control drama at Walmart".

I sort of feel like that's only a breath away from "I'm having some baby daddy drama at the Dairy Queen".

It's a slippery slope, my friends. A slippery slope.





P.S.--YES I recognize that this is my second post in a row referring to Walmart.

DON'T JUDGE.

How valuable must something be...

...for you to go after it if it drops in the toilet...AT WALMART.

Today at Walmart, I overheard a girl talking about how her bellybutton ring fell out and landed in the toilet.  It was kind of a weird story, and I was about to stop eavesdropping when the story took a turn for the horrible. Girl with the bellybutton ring admitted loudly and proudly that she went in after it.  Let me repeat that: she went in after it. SHE STUCK HER HAND IN A WALMART TOILET.  She justified her abhorrent actions by saying that she hadn't used it yet, and "body jewelry is, like, super expensive".

So, I started reflecting on the more meaningful questions in life, such how "How valuable must something be for you to go after it if it drops in the Walmart toilet?".

Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.  There are no wrong answers.  I will probably, however, never touch you again if your answer is valued at less than $200.

Me personally?  If I dropped my UTERUS in a Walmart toilet, I'm not going after it.  But that's just me.

I sure ain't Martha Stewart...

...but I'm baking two cakes this weekend.  The cooking/baking gene runs rampant in my family.  Like, several people run businesses that involve baking.

I, unfortunately, did not get the gene that makes you good at cooking-type activities.  I also did not get the gene that makes you enjoy cooking-type activities.  I really don't like to cook, which, let's be honest, probably stems from the fact that as a general rule I don't like to do things I'm not good at.

This will be my first solo attempt at a Coca-Cola cake, as well as my first-ever attempt at a completely new cake (can't ruin the surprise by telling you what it is).

The bright side to my solo attempt is that at least I won't have my grandmother yelling about how I'll "never get a husband if you don't like to cook" and how she "can't possibly help you if you insist on using your left hand".

I'll document with pictures.  Wish me luck.

When Things Fall Into Place

We’re all friends here.  Let’s not put on airs.  Big the Musical has been a long time coming.  You’ve all heard all about it.  I know, you’re sick of it, it’s fine.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve listened to that CD.  You would probably fall over if you had any idea how many hours of AT&T airtime have been used talking through the show with David.  Seriously.  It’s upsetting.

Guys, it got REAL tonight.  I’m sitting there in the LJCC looking at one of the most truly talented casts I’ve ever seen.  I’ve rattled off the list of names over and over. It's become almost automatic. I list people in the same order almost every time. I have my canned explanation of who the people are that you might not know. I still shriek a little bit when I say a couple of the names, but it's still automatic. 

I walked into the LJCC tonight, and THERE THEY WERE.

People I have grown up watching on stage.  People that I have watched grow up.  Some people that I’ve never worked with.  Some of my best friends in the whole world, because let’s be honest, if I am good at only one thing in life it is surrounding myself with people who are a whole lot more talented than I am.  

Everyone greeted each other "old home week"-style, and I just sat there realizing this is really it. We're really all going on this adventure together. When I was in the ensemble of Big, the Musical 10 (10! AHH!) years ago, I would have *never* guessed that tonight would happen, and that I would be so lucky. 

Thanks for trusting me, guys. We’re totally gonna pull this off.  I’M READY.

Why I Love the Royal Family...

I ran across this picture of Kate...excuse me...CATHERINE Middleton today.

Want to know my first thought when I saw this?  "Oh I love that dress.  I totally want it.  Although I suspect I would need her entire body for it to look right.  And that hat.  It's so...understated."

I used the word "understated" to describe that hat.  UNDERSTATED.

But, by English standards, that hat is totally understated.

If I showed up at a party wearing that hat, people would be like, "Nice headpiece, dingbat" and then they'd spend the rest of the evening discussing (in not-so-hushed tones) who just won the betting pool on when I would officially flip my lid.

Oh, to be British.  And, you know, married to the future King of England.

Apparently it's a good thing I have a blog since I can't afford therapy...

I'm just going to give a little warning...this one may get a little deep.  I know, I know how can a post about the Leeds Outlet Center get deep?  Whatever, stick with me.  It's all gonna be just fine.

On Tuesday night, I took a little trip out to the new(ish) outlet center in Leeds.  Shops of Grand River or some nonsense like that.  I LOVE outlet centers.  I think I love them so much because of the thrill of the hunt.  To me, an outlet center is more thrilling than, say, a thrift store.  Why?  Because not everything at an outlet is a good price (I know the same thing can be said of a thrift store, but it's more prevalent at outlet centers).  There is lots of stuff at outlet centers that is tragically overpriced.  But if you'll just stick with it, you can find some great deals. My words of caution before going is to know how much things are supposed to cost.

Anyway, the whole place is kind of fancy.  Waterfalls, stone walkways, etc.  Tons of stores, and lots of "useful" ones.  I hate it when I go to outlet centers and there are, like, 5 sunglasses stores.  Really?  Who buys $100 sunglasses at an outlet?  Whatever.  This one had good stores.  Standouts include a good Rue 21, Rack Room (or something comparable...decent prices), Vanity Fair Outlet and a fabulous Book Warehouse.  Usually, I hate bookstores at outlets.  They're almost always "reject" books, for lack of a better term.  I spent probably 45 minutes looking through this store.  You're not going to find the top 10 in there, but I had actually heard of a lot of the books.  Most books were priced in the $2.99-$5.99 range.

Now, one of my "goals" of this trip was to buy some new bras.  Please don't leave just because you're uncomfortable with that...stick with me...it's not going to be all about bras.  Went into the Hanes store...don't waste your time.  Thought I was out of luck when at the very end of my journey, I spotted it: the Vanity Fair outlet.  For those of you who remember, there was one in Boaz (which used to be the discount shopping mecca of the world).  So I happily trot in and start looking.

I start sifting through the racks and racks full of bras, and I'm noticing that I'm having trouble finding anything in my size.  Like, having trouble finding anything close to my size.  I mean, I'd find one every now and then, but nothing of note.  These were not "bargain bin" type setups where you now it's all the reject things.  Everything was hanging very nicely on racks, ordered by size.  The biggest size (if you were lucky enough to find it) would pretty much be a 36C or so.

And then, I found my size.  Oh, I found them all right.  The full figured bra section.  Freaking full figured bras.  Seriously.

Disclaimer:  I understand that I am not teeny tiny.  I understand that I need to lose some weight.  I understand that I have big boobs for my size.  I understand  that I have the biggest ribcage in the world which makes me have to wear a bigger band size even when I'm not fat.  I've got it.

However, buying a bra from this line...

...is not OK.  That's right, my friends.  That says DELTA BURKE.  Now, I'm not slamming Delta Burke.  I ADORE Delta Burke.  I think she's BEAUTIFUL.  However, I've never really thought we were, shall we say, "built" alike.

Obviously, my first reaction was to crumble a little bit.  I, like most dancers I'm pretty sure, have some body image issues and I recognize it.  Holly and I have been working on it lately.  I have a tendency to grab a size large when I'm out shopping.  I'll try on Holly's clothes (which are all smalls or mediums) and they fit.  I think I automatically pick up the larges because a) I know they'll "fit" and I won't have to go get a bigger size, which is somehow more depressing to me than just getting the bigger size to begin with, and b) let's be honest, that's how I see myself.

I got over myself pretty quickly and went ahead with my shopping.  I pep talked myself (in the middle of the VF outlet in Leeds...it was a sad sad sight) and decided that a "38C" or "36D" is the same size whether or not they are in the "full figure" section.  I went ahead with my purchases (I mean, 3 bras for under $20...I can't afford to get hung up on body issues when they are that cheap) and was on my merry way.

I was walking back to my car when I started thinking about why I crumble when I hear "full-figure" or "X-Large" and stuff like that.  Every bit of my body image issues relate to how other people have projected it on me.  When I was in college, I was tiny.  Like, TINY.  However, even when I'm tiny, I've got big boobs.  I've got a wide ribcage.  I've got huge thigh muscles.  So, it always looks like I could lose some weight.  I can still vividly tell you about being pulled into one of the dance professors offices and hearing:
    
      "You have such pretty feet and legs...if only you could lose some weight..."
      "You have such beautiful musicality...if only..."
      "You have such good turn-out...if only..."

Which all translated in my mind to:
       "You'd be such a successful person... if only..."
       "You'd be so good at what you do... if only..."
       "You'd be so pretty... if only..."

So, I made a stop on the way out of the outlet center.  I went back to my little Book Warehouse and bought a book I'd been tempted to buy on the first trip.  See, I'm around middle school and high school girls all the time, both at school/work and with MYCA.  I have a unique relationship with them, in that, well, we talk about things.  Things that I say, both about them and myself, will stick.  And I've seen firsthand how much what other people say changes your own perception of yourself.  Even though they're not my daughters (as the cover of the book suggests), I think it's still important for me (and all of you others out there who work with teenagers) to think about.

So, I'm the proud new owner of this:

you'd be so pretty if... teaching our daughters to love their bodies--even when we don't love our own

I'll let you know how it goes, and I'll be glad to pass it on to all you teacher-types...

...And I promise, the next blog will be a little lighter :).

On College and Loans and Debt and Such...

I frequent a couple of discussion boards.  Judge if you must.  Now, I must make sure the record shows that I *never* actually participate in discussions on these boards.  I’m honestly not sure if that makes the amount of time I spend on these boards more or less pathetic, but it is what it is and I’m totally confident in my online time wasting skills.

Anyway, on one of these discussion boards, I found this (paraphrased for the purposes of this blog) little gem of a thread starter:

My son is thinking of marrying this girl who has $85K in student loans.  Should he marry the poor, stupid idiot who has more debt than him?

OK, I might have paraphrased a lot.  But whatever.  The point is some poor innocent little girl somewhere has her potential future mother-in-law a) talking to her son about personal financial details, b) posting these personal financial details on a freaking Disney message board and c) using phrases like “thinking of marrying” when he’s probably already proposed and Mama just can’t handle it.  I feel certain this future mother-in-law also freaked out the first time her son got sick and told her that his girlfriend had already bought Tylenol, Gatorade and chicken soup and her Mama services were not needed.  

That’s totally not the point of this post.  I just get a little sidetracked with mother-in-law related posts. SORRY.

The thread took a turn for the ugly and everyone started weighing in on whether you should have that much student loan debt.  As always happens on this particular message board, you have several holier-than-thou Mamas who jump in to talk about how their kid is doing two years at community college before going to a four year school because it’s cheaper.  Now, I don’t know anything about their personal financial situations (and obviously I don’t need to know because I’m not them...or their future mother-in-law).  However, this discussion comes up frequently and I never get the impression from these families that the problem is affording a four-year college.  The issue is that they don’t think it’s “worth it” since you can go to the classes at a cheap community college and then transfer them in.  

Why would you pay more for a four-year college when you can get the same thing at a two-year?

And that’s where I have issues.  Because, when it comes down to it...it’s not “the same”.  

I MUST HAVE A DISCLAIMER HERE:  I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING against community colleges.  I went to one last year.  I think that there are probably a lot more kids who should start at a community college.  It’s a chance to “ease” into college for those who aren’t quite ready, whether emotionally or academically.  I THINK THEY’RE GREAT.  

I personally would have been miserable had I gone to a community college for the first two years of school.  I know that will not be true for everyone but, let’s be honest, this is my blog so it’s really about me. I had one academic professor at Jeff State who truly made me think (shout-out to Dr. Black).  I can’t name a professor at BSC who didn’t make me think.  I had a teacher at Jeff State (I can’t call this man a professor because I’m 99% sure he took a YouTube course on teaching) who told me over and over that my thoughts were wrong and invalid.  The thing is, this was for a course on analyzing movies.  The question was “What do you think Hollywood wanted us to get out of this movie?”.  I’m sorry, if you ask me what I think about something you can’t tell me I’m wrong unless a) I’m so in left field that it’s obvious I never even watched it or b) I can’t defend or justify my statement.  In his mind, I was wrong because I didn’t think the same thing he did.

I went to a four-year school straight out of high school.  I went to an expensive four-year school.  I have loans.  I don’t care how long I’m working on those loans. I don’t care what side jobs I have to take to pay them off.  I wouldn’t trade my time at BSC for the world.  It was the right choice for me.  I needed to live in the dorm.  I needed to join a sorority.  I needed to be immersed in an environment where the professors care, and your opinions are valid (even if they’re not “right”).  It was right for ME.  And that’s the important thing.  You’ve got to be at a school where you fit.  I may have a ton of student loans (although no where near 85K), but I’m a completely different person than I would have been otherwise.

And BTW, they told the future mother-in-law that she sucked and she should get her crazy-train nose out of her son’s business.  All is right in the world.