What Kind of Friend Are You?

I’d like to think that I’m the kind of person a friend could call if they needed to move a body. I consider loyalty to be a very important quality in a person. So if someone called me I’d like to think I would pause Mad Men and drive over there immediately. No judgment.

Now before you go freaking out calling the police, I don’t mean the kind of body you would have to move out to the desert, requiring a shovel and a deep hole. No, that’s a whole different conversation and level of friendship. I’d probably have to know you for more than ten years to do something like that. But no, that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about a body that’s passed out on your couch for some reason or another. A mom. A dad. A brother. A sister. A son. A daughter. A grandma. Your dude. Your lady. Whatever they may be to you. If they’re passed out because of too many Lemon Drop Martinis, El Patron shots, or something stronger I’d like to think that my friends could call on me for help. No judgment. No drama. No gasps of horror. No lectures.

The ”please don’t tell anybody about this–” preamble would not even be necessary with me.

I read something recently about the depths of friendship and the whole moving the body situation, they got all into it with details, scenarios, and different types of friendships. And it got me thinking about the type of friend I am.

I’m not the fake Facebook friend, I’m the body-mover. I realized that I’m one of those people.

I’d probably show up with a great piece of chocolate and tell you there’s no need to move the body, just leave it there. There’s no social worker coming over. So let them sleep it off. But if you still wanted me too, I’d help you move it. I work out. I’ve got muscles. We could do it. Then we could feast on chocolate and I’d probably try to throw in some Goodfellas type of jokes just to lighten the mood. And there would be no chisme, no drama, no judgment. Just safety in knowing that The Guat’s got your back. Really I’m the last person to be judging anybody, my life isn’t all happily ever after, it’s like a Spanish soap opera, but with more clothing and less good-looking people.

But while I was contemplating what an awesome non-judgmental body mover I would be, I realized that I only had a few of these type of friends on my speed dial. I had movie-going friends, writing pals, eating lunch time friends, give me a ride to the airport friends, and go to a game with friends. Not too many move-a-body friends, or relatives for that matter.

I felt a little bad about that, but then I realized you only need a few of those friends. Bodies aren’t that heavy if you’ve got a plan. You really only need one friend like that. A strong one, or maybe one that studied physics in college, stuff that would make body moving easy. I mean it would be awesome to have like twenty body moving friends, but realistically I didn’t see that in my future. But I could be wrong. In times of crisis people come through for you. They surprise you. So you never know.

 

 

This One Is For The Ladies

“I love him and want to thank him for putting up with me.”

I recently heard this and for some reason it burned me out. In truth I’ve been hearing and seeing that phrase quite often.

What’s up with that?

It usually happens at anniversary parties or at birthday parties, or for some reason when I’m at the market waiting for Coupon Lady to finish up her transaction and I’m browsing the magazines. I see it and I wince.

For some reason chicks feel the need to utter the words, and I guess if you’re a real ball buster, money spending pain in the ass crazy PMS mood-swinging diva who can’t even boil an egg, well then maybe it’s true. But for this hard-working Guat the thought never occurred to me. It may be the fact that I think if I were a guy, I would totally be in love with me and be grateful for this Guatacular person that has come into my life who constantly makes me laugh.

I don’t consider myself a person that someone has to “put up with.” It probably dates back to the days when my high school coaches and teachers told me I was great. And I believed him. A couple of them even told me I was special and seeing how they were college educated and wise beyond their years I had no reason not to believe them. I heard guys say that all the time, but they were just smooth talkers trying to get me to go out with them. Can’t really trust what a hormone driven teenager has to say. You like it, but can you really trust it?

Maybe.

It may also be due to that fact that I read too much Anthony Robbins change your life kind of quotes so that I can jump-start my Shark-Week kind of day. It may be due to the fact that Steve Harvey says that kind of stuff about women all the time. Wherever it came from, I got it. That’s what I think.

I may not flaunt it with my Chapstick Girl kind of lifestyle, but it’s in there. Even if Budweiser Chick herself were standing next to me I’d still think I was pretty awesome. Running triathlons, Warrior Dashes and 1,400 stair climbs tends to boosts my confidence. The fact that my four-year old son tells me I’m good mom helps out too.

Now don’t get me wrong, being awesome hasn’t gone to my head. The family I grew up in makes sure nothing gets to my head. You stay so low to the ground you know you’re a Salt of Earth kind of person. But nevertheless I’ve got what my Latino people call caracter fuerte, which loosely translates to being a strong woman — I’ve got balls. But I’m not a crazy person, I know when to unleash The Hulk and when to stay dormant. I’m like one of those wild animals on National Geographic, majestic and beautiful, but ready to chase you down if you piss me off. I live by the law of the jungle. I know what I am and I know what I’m worth. Sometimes it makes me sad that chicks don’t.

And what is it that I am?

I know I am not a person someone has to “put up with”. I’m the kind that should be appreciated. And I’d like to think that there are other ladies out there that feel the same way. Not all the ladies because in truth I know there are some chicks out there making it hard on everybody. You know the kind that are married and their poor dude is no longer Emilio, Hector, or Esteban. They are Poor Emilio, Poor Hector, Poor Esteban. So I get it. I know that there are “put up with” kind of people. But I can assure you not everyone is like that … there are still awesome chicks out there. So if you are out there, I’m holding my glass up to you ladies because the Guat feels you.  I know you’re awesome too.

The Defnition of Music

Image via LeFunny.net

 

 

I was so thrilled with the concept of a weekly playlist that I was going to post another one this week. But I ran into this quote in the middle of my mixed tape creation and I had to put it up there.

I had no idea who Frank was, but he seems to understand a chick’s mind.

 

 

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Forward

Forward

I wish I had one of these for life.

Many people don’t believe in a fast-forward  button … something about hard times giving you character and helping you appreciate the good times.

I don’t need any more character.

I don’t need any more lessons.

I got it.

Fast forward baby …  fast forward through the drama and heartache to reach the peaceful,  the good,  the blissful, and the zen.

I believe in the fast-forward button.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Kiss

 

The Godfather II

 

Don’t ever piss off Michael Corleone, or you’ll get “The Kiss of Death”.

 

 

Good Times, Good Food, Good Friends, and Underwear

Normally I would hyperventilate in a place like this. I mean it is so far off The Guat grid that I feel like a lost and confused tourist in environments like these.

I mean in all honesty, I shouldn’t have been in that store in the first place. I mean I wasn’t properly dressed. There I was in jeans, a t-shirt and a backpack, while everyone else was all Cover-Girled up with their dresses, slacks, and fancy handbags. The fact that I was sick probably didn’t help matters. I mean crappy looking people on NyQuil just don’t go walking into Victoria Secret, but I did. I had to. There was a bridal shower at stake and a good friend on my mind. I had to buy the appropriate gift. So I cowboy-ed up and entered the Pink section.

Now normally I don’t think much about the underwear I’m wearing, but among all the pink lace, fancy satin, leopard prints, and G-strings I couldn’t help but think of my comfy Hanes Hipster Cotton six pack undies from Target. I felt like my underwear and I didn’t really belong, but it was all good. There was a cotton section, and luckily there was more than just pink stuff and I was able to find a nice blue satin number for my friend.

But there was another underwear assignment handed out. There would be games at this bridal shower, and I was to buy a pair of underwear, in the bride’s size, that would best represent my personality. I looked around … this was not the store for me. So I ventured off in search of the undies that said “The Guat”.

It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for, I saw them hanging there at the other store … and I knew. I knew, this was the winner. As I purchased my pair I couldn’t help but wonder what the other girls were buying. I mean I knew all their personalities. I was just very curious as to how the game would pan out, and who would be the winner, because when it comes to bridal shower games … we all get very competitive. I know it’s all supposed to be for fun, but it happens at every shower. We get crazed to win. When they say “pencils down,” you better believe that someone’s aunt or mom is going to be regulating you if you took an extra second jotting names down. And if there is a battle between two ladies in a risqué game, you know it’s going to be cause for some awesome comic relief. And let me tell you there was plenty of comedy. We had a tie, a tie. And in our circle of trust there was only one way to settle this matter. A battle. A dance battle. I hadn’t laughed that hard in such a long time. I might have pee in my pants a little.

But I don’t think the competitive drive in us has anything to do with the prizes. But more with the victory — the fact that you’ve won. That woo-hoo! moment. You reach your arms up in the air and say yes! Yes! I won! A-ha! It’s that moment that drives us.

So needless to say I was definitely looking forward to this celebration. Was it because of the crazy amount of delicious food? Definitely. Was it the awesome time that awaited me because of great friends? No doubt. Was it the games? Probably. Did I win? Did I get a woo-hoo moment? Yes. Yes I did. And it wasn’t on the “How Well Do You Know The Bride” 20 questions game. I completely failed on that one. In fact, after that game I felt like a terrible friend. Most of us did. I felt like I didn’t really know her at all. I mean where the hell have I been for like fifteen years, and how come I didn’t know she would have ordered oatmeal as her go-to meal at a brunch? I don’t know, I was probably too busy stuffing my face with bacon to notice. But I rebounded and made up for it with a win in the underwear game. Good times, good food, good friends and underwear. Definitely a great way to spend the afternoon.

The underwear game … challenging but I ended up the victor. Did you guess which one was mine?

Sanbox List Adventure V: Checking Out the Stars and The Sun, And Carrying More Quarters

I don’t know why kids always want to check them out. They’re never really clean, probably slathered in germs. They’re always out of focus and for some reason they’re really heavy, probably made out of some 1960s submarine or Master Driver parts. I don’t know, but it’s heavy. And for some reason kids always become explorers whenever they see them. They have to see through it. Just have to.

Telescopes.

I’m usually all out of quarters. I never have one. Ever. Or I say that it’s broken. It’s always broken. This is usually followed by disappointment, a sigh, and a shaking of the head.

But today he got his chance. We ventured out to the observatory to check out the moon, stars, planets, galaxies, that weird, cool pendulum thing that still puzzles me even after the very detailed explanation by the tour dude. And telescopes. Many of them. He got a chance to look through as many of them as he wanted, as did his one-year old sister. None of them were broken. And while they were enjoying the wonders of outer space, I found myself enjoying the whole process. I realized … I shouldn’t always be in a rush, I should always carry Purell, and most importantly I should carry more quarters.

 

He was excited that we didn’t have to park a mile away. The parking lot is extremely small and for the first time in history I got front-door parking to something. He ran towards the entrance.

 

Checking out some elements that are found in outer space explosions and other star stuff.

 

My daughter was mesmerized by the pendulum thing.

 

Once we got to the stars … everyone was in a wow-state of mind.

 

My daughter thought Saturn was pretty cool.

 

My son thought Mars was cooler. It was so cool that he took his hat off. There was a microscope and scientific data involved.

 

And this … this was the best part for both of them … exploring through the scopes.

 

And although the best part of the day for my kids were the telescopes and exhibits, my favorite part of the day was watching the sunset with my kids. Our first one together.

 

Keep Up The Good Work …

 

Author Unknown

As my crazy 365-day-post-a-day anniversary approaches I wanted to let some of you bloggers and followers out there know that you’ve been the people who have made me laugh, and crack up. You motivated and inspired. You have been the good to my bad and ugly. You, and chocolate, have been a great support system.  You have been a good focus and I thank you.

Keep up the good work.

Flipping The Switch

“Live every week, like it’s Shark Week.” — Tracy Jordan 30 Rock.

 

30 Rock

 

I had never heard this before, but as I was browsing the Internet, I found this quote. And it blew me away. I gave it a double-take. You know like when a really good-looking dude or chick passes by you and you just have to look twice. It’s not even intentional or in a perverted pedophile way, you just do it because they are just so beautiful. You’re in awe of their beauty. So you do the double-take.

Well that was me … I was like wow. What a good mantra. I’m gonna have to steal it and add it to my list.

Discovery Channel‘s Shark Week

And it was even more awesome that I saw it today.

Yeah. Today.

It flipped my switch. Shark Week.

Every year you start off with great intentions, you’re on a roll, you’re ready to jump off cliffs, climb mountains, conquer the world, or go out on urban adventures. And then someone comes and just sucks the air out of your balloon. They just come with their sour comments and aura of negativity and suck it right out. And there you are … feeling crappy. I mean you love these people, you do. But sometimes, you just don’t like them. It happens.

And in most cases it’s family. And yes if you’re married or in love, it’s your dude or chick. And if you’re married with children? Dude this definitely happens at least twice a month. However, sometimes it’s work that sucks it out of you. It happens. And you go to your chocolate drawer and bust out the KitKats or Hawaiian chocolates and try to escape the moment. Sometimes it works, other times … you just need a bigger supply in the drawer.

Yeah I had one of those crappy days. Twice … back-to-back. And I was feeling the funk. Not all day, every minute of the day, just the minutes I spent with the balloon-popper.

So as I was trying to “escape” I logged onto the computer and found this quote. It was a nice surprise — an unexpected push in the right direction.

I thought … yeah. I need to snap out of this funk. One day of crappiness was bad enough, but two? Dude. I can only afford one crappy day during the week. Swim in it, absorb it, soak in it for 24 hours, but that’s it. If it’s not a death related issue, I need to squash it.

I need to live like it’s Shark Week … the highlight of the year for the Discovery Channel, where they devote an entire week to the shark, featuring everything and anything with sharks including interesting scientific facts and awesome footage of survival stories. It’s the neat stuff. It’s their best week of the year. I need to have that. I need to have a highlight-of-the-year week, or at least aim for that. I need a get psyched-for-the-week moment. I need it to be Shark Week in the Guat household, or at least on my part of  the couch.

I wasted a day, no two already. I need to snap out of it. I need to be awakened with a jolt of excitement and anticipation for a new 24 hour period, for a new week. A Shark Week. I can’t be held back by the memory of a deflated balloon. I need a new memory in the morning. A positive trigger. So as I went searching for a reminder, and I found it in my son’s toy chest. It was an old mechanical shark toy we had bought at the aquarium last year. I had thought about throwing it away a while back, because they don’t play with it as much as they used to, but I’m so glad I kept it.

I put it on the nightstand, next to the alarm clock and books. I’m hoping it’ll activate my “Live like Shark Week,” mantra. I’m hoping it’ll help flip my switch in the morning.

 

A Little Encouragement …

 

On day three of the New Year some people may have already fallen off the plans, goals, resolutions, and self-improvement wagon.

No worries. It’s all good. You still got time.

 

 

Giddy up!