Sharky Speaks

to insanity…and beyond!

Archive for category tmi

Tonight? Close your eyes.

Jul 27

Posted by Sharky in dance, deep, musing, tmi | 2 Comments

Thanks to LiLu, I was introduced to a band I’d never hear of otherwise.  Until they blow up bigtime, that is.  It’s Redline Addiciton.  They’re in the DC area and let’s face it – I don’t make it that way too often (but will for the first time in 6 months, for the big Night Out this coming Saturday).

After some friendly banter via Twitter, I got harassed into buying their album.  But I’m glad I did.

Dancing, while still my very first and only true passion, is a rarity for me these days.  There are no college teams when you’re 25.  Um – the studios in Carolina?  Are not ready for me.  And I don’t like toning down style to fit what the mommies think their lil angels should be doing.  Or being nice to their lil angels.  But that’s neither here nor there.  Point is, I don’t get to dance that often.  And rarely does inspiration strike these days – how can it with the Gagas and Beibers of the world blasting on our radios?  That’s not to say I don’t enjoy a good rockout to Alejandro, but it doesn’t exactly move me.

Now – as a contemporary dancer (who likes a splash of hip-hop as well), I was inspired by Redline Addiction’s “Difficult to Dream,” for many reasons.

For so many months, years, and thanks largely in part to The Job Which Shall Not Be Named, I didn’t sleep.  Like…ever.  The wheels stayed turning all.night.long.  That was also a symptom of my depression (which, as loyal readers know, I’ve battled for well over a decade).  I practically needed horse tranquilizers to pass the f out.  I’m happy to say I’ve been off meds for several months now, but I still remember what it’s like.  I mean, c’mon.  It’s nearly midnight and I’m writing a post about not sleeping.  It’s starting again.

One thing I love about the night is it’s the only time I get to myself.  Everything’s quiet and I get to be alone with my thoughts.  I can watch whatever on TV or just write or read in peace.  Don’t get me wrong – I love the chaos of my life (Aries, remember?).  But the chaos makes me more grateful for the peace.

That’s why I love the lyrics to this song, and why they make me want to dance.  For so long I knew what it was like to be the girl in the song.  I still do, really.  You’ll need to purchase it on iTunes to hear it, but I hope they don’t mind if I post the chorus.

Hey tonight
Close your eyes
Fall asleep now
Cause if you’re wide awake my dear
If you’re wide awake my dear
It’s difficult to dream

That doesn’t even begin to cover the way I connect to the lyrics (wish I could post them all, but just buy the song!).  So now – a collaboration.  A contemporary dance by yours truly to the music of Redline Addiction.  The guys are stoked, I’m stoked.  Everyone’s stoked.

And it’s gonna rock, boom, blam.

Dog shit and throw up and vomit on the walls…

Jul 23

Posted by Sharky in charlotte, mac, musing, tmi | 2 Comments

That tag line is sung to the tune of The Sound of Music’s “My Favorite Things.”  You’re welcome!

Seriously.  Not joking anymore.  The dogs, they haz issues.  I like to come home from work at lunchtime to take the lil boys on a short walk and let em do they bidness. 

But.  Unfortunately.  However.  I come home to Mac (who is secluded in our bedroom and is known to make pillow forts on our bed during the day) who has shat in the corner.   Charlie is still a puppy and is thus crated in the master bath.  He has had explosive shit, rolled in it, and has shaken it off – which sprays out the vents to all over the bathroom. 

Cue me.  It takes me approx 12 minutes to drive home so I have about a half hour to spare.  It’s going to take me so much longer than that to even bring myself to realize I need to clean this [quite literal] shit up. 

Brink of tears. 

I begrudgingly get the cleaner, throw Charlie’s crate blankets in the wash, scrub up Mac’s carpet poop.  Whilst I’m doing so, SOMEONE has vomited TWICE in the living room.  I say this like I think one of them is gonna fess up via blog. 

I cry.

I clean up vomit. I now reek of dog shit and vomit and sweat and need to go back to work.  I lock up the dogs.

I have to work late to make up the extra half hour I took at lunch to clean up dog mess.  I come home….there is more vomit.  The Ster cleans it up, God bless ‘im. 

Mac shits in a corner.  Fuck my life.

The shitterz, they iz worth it?  Mmmk.

Look what the Windy City blew into town!

Jun 13

Posted by Sharky in charlotte, deep, musing, tmi | No Comments

Now for something truly exciting… I can talk about J’s visit from Chicago – it was great!   We got to catch up on gossip over wine, went to brunch at Zada Jane’s, then hit the gym and pool, had mimosas, went to get our nails done and go shopping, and then we all (me, J, Shanester) met some friends at Soul for some sushi and good conversation.  i.e. on the good conversation….desert island – you have everything you need as far as food, water, etc. plus a DVD player but you can only bring ONE movie – what would it be?  J’s answer? Everything is Illuminated.  Mine? Forrest Gump.  Shane’s?  Shawshank Redemption.  The waiter’s?  The Shining.  Nice.

What about yall?  What ONE movie would you bring?  Do tell.

The thing about Jeanette is – I’ve known her since we were three years old.  Yes, we are very different, in many different ways.  But that doesn’t change our fierce loyalty to one another.  It’s great.  She’s there, in the back of my mind and I know I can pick up the phone and call.  And vice versa.  Whether she’s crying as a bridesmaid in my wedding or bitching about lost loves, she’s pure and simply a true and best friend.  And for that, I am so grateful.  Cheesefest, I know.

Now that’s one picture I’ll never be metaphorically burning! :o)

Make new friends but keep the old.

May 29

Posted by Sharky in musing, tmi | No Comments

I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship lately.   I feel in many of my friendships I’m the one putting in all the effort; is that really fair? 

I’m sick of calling, sick  of emailing, sick of constantly trying to stimulate the friendship, get together, whatever.  To be honest, it makes me feel like kinda a loser.  And a loser I am not. 

I know people are busy.  But EVERYBODY’S busy.  I’m busy.  I have a life too. 

So yknow what I decided?  It’s not worth the effort.  For days, months, sometimes years I’ve felt it’s been worth the effort…but apparently that sentiment isn’t being recpriocated.  I think I”m mostly hurt because I’ve constantly gone out of my way to be a great friend to the person/people.  But I’m not worth the effort to them.  So, I’m done.  No more effort for them.

Quarter-life crisis.

May 6

Posted by Sharky in charlotte, deep, money, the reads, tmi | No Comments

Seriously. It’s time to get up off my ass and get serious. I’ve been bouncing around these meaningless jobs for far too long and I’m just sick of it.
What would I do if money weren’t a factor? If staying in Charlotte weren’t a factor (snort)? If I could do anything?

The answer used to be dance. Sadly, I’m 25 and the talent has piqued. While I can certainly still teach, Broadway is no longer a viable option. I know, and I was thisclose!

It’s simple. Write. It’s what I’ve always done, even as a kid. I have probably…between 20 and 30 journals. That’s over one per year! I would go to some fabulous grad school program and spend all my time writing.

I was reading (in Costco Magazine, no less) Emily Giffin’s recent interview, in which she stated that she practiced law even though she was unhappy because she didn’t think writing was a realistic option.  Well, hmm.  Turned out…it was.  So I’m done wasting my time when I know what I want to do.  Articles are being written and are on their way to magazine submission and (I don’t care how long it takes) publication. 

I don’t care how many hours I have to babysit, teach dance, whatever it takes.  Apparently the working world does NOT inspire me since I did NOT write a single lick of legitimate fiction while working at that last dump.   And I’m sooooo f’ing sick of blogging, oy.  It’s gotta go.

I’m on a mission, people.   So if you don’t hear from me in awhile…it’s not cause I’m dead.

And Dad?  Remember that time you told me that I’d never write a bestselling novel?  You will EAT THOSE WORDS, my friend.

The Hills are alive…

Apr 27

Posted by Sharky in deep, musing, tmi | No Comments

So there’s been a marathon of The Hills on MTV for the past few days. The husband’s outta town, so I’m fueling up before the final season. Ok, I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t watching it while Shane was here. Let’s just say he spent a lot of time upstairs playing guitar. What?! It’s Da Heels!

I do have a question though — where do these girls learn how to do their hair and makeup? Or for that matter, where do any girls learn how to do it? I feel like it’s an innate ability, you either have the talent or you don’t. My sister does. I don’t.
I don’t even know what to do with my hair half the time, so I just cut it short after it grows too long and I freak out. The trich doesn’t help. AND I am getting a lot of gray hair lately…thanks, old lame company. So I’m finally gonna dye it. But just my natural color. It’s been looking faded and dull recently anyway.
I digress. Seriously. I know the people on this show have MTV makeup artists around whenever they want, but it SHOWS them doing their hair and makeup. So I know they know how to do it. Jeez. Maybe it’s just practice.

I was never much interested in doing my hair, makeup, nails as a kid so maybe that’s why I can’t do jack now. I painted my nails the other day and they look awesome —from far away. Up close they are a wreck. Also, the only thing I knew about makeup application was from dance performances, and let’s just say the baby prostitute look isn’t a good one for me.

Also, another digression. I know I haven’t posted lately. And that’s because I just haven’t been feeling it. I’ve been writing a LOT, but it’s nothing I want to put out in public. Yet. That’s not in novel form. Familiar with the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle? One aspect, the observer effect, is basically a theory that applies to this blog as well as reality TV. That which is being observed inherently changes its behavior. I’m writing for an audience I know exists, whereas in my journal/book/whatever you wanna call it, I’m just writingwritingwriting.
Truth be told, I don’t know if I’ve ever had this much ammunition or emotion to write as much as I have been lately. Now that I’m finally feeling not numb…well, I can feel. And it feels awesome and terrible and amazing all at the same time, and I’m filled with so much life that I’m going to explode! So I write.

Say.

Mar 20

Posted by Sharky in charlotte, deep, musing, tmi, video | No Comments

Eh, I figured – why protect anything?  Who cares?  I’m saying what I need to say.  “You know in the end it’s better to say too much than never to say what you need to again.”

TMI Thursday: I hope my kids are cute.

Mar 4

Posted by Sharky in musing, tmi | No Comments

 TMI Thursday

I dunno what the deal is with kids today. I sound like a gramma but it’s true. They flounce around in skimpy outfits (with their guts hanging out because they play Wii instead of playing outside – not that there’s a thing wrong with playing Wii!)

On a PostSecret TMI Thursday, I mentioned wanting to kidnap obese children. It’s true. But even more so than being sad, it’s these friggin teens who drive me insane with their muffin top hanging over their hipsters and wearing teeny tiny tank tops. You are not Miley Cyrus. More specifically, you are not Miley Cyrus’ size. And her clothes are made for people her size. And she’s roughly the size of my thigh.

Well I’m not completely judging. I won’t act like I didn’t dress like that. Especially in college – the Austin summers at a toasty one-oh-four on average. Soffe shorts, tank top, hair still wet from the shower and in a ponytail. It was really the only way to stay alive walking the mile or two to wherever summer classes were being held.

But the difference is, I was really skinny. Seriously. Pole. I didn’t wear a bra till my senior year of college, except for sports bras during dance practice. That had to change once I put on around 20 lbs following graduation, much to the hubs’ disappointment. But yknow why I don’t still dress like that? Because it’s gross. Nobody wants to see my pasty pale cellulite hangin’ out the Soffe shorts. And if they do, they’re seriously disturbed.

Do these kids not have mirrors? I mean, I look in the mirror and go hmmmm SHOULD NOT WEAR. Can they pull their shorts down a little? tops down a little? Wear a larger size? I’d much rather buy a size larger than look like creme filling bursting out of a size 2 twinkie. Metaphorically speaking of course. Though if I DID have an outfit made of twinkies, it would be nothin but pure delicious unkosher goodness.

So anyways, I hope my kids are cute. You can guaran-damn-tee they won’t be sitting on their asses watching TV, playing video games, etc. Sports, dance, get up and move, jeez.

Somebody mentioned that I talk about fat and skinny a lot. Well, I think it’s just the way I was raised. This is fat and this is skinny. If you don’t want to be fat, you have to eat right and exercise. I really don’t think that there’s nearly as much pressure from society to be rail-thin these days. I don’t know anyone who’s dying (literally) to look like Kate Moss. I’d rather look like ScarJo – curvy and h-h-h-hot. Moreso I feel that people are shoving down my throat, “accept your body the way it is!” Well, no. I don’t like it the way it is. I got on the scale today and was happy for the first time in awhile. I was all, “hellooooo, 120s, good to see you again, my fat ass has missed you!” because that’s the weight I’m comfortable at. What about yall? You wanna look like a supermodel? Bleh. They’re all bones – I could break em in half with my pinky.

And while we’re on the subject, can we talk about what Hubs and I like to call “front ass”? WHAT IS IT? How does it get there? I’m so perplexed.
That’s all I guess.

Politically incorrect but original.

Feb 23

Posted by Sharky in musing, tmi | No Comments

While watching our favorite TV comedy-that-doesn’t-mean-to-be-a-comedy, Secret Life of the American Teenager, two of the girls were taking pictures with the baby and sending them to their boyfriends.  One of the chicks was of the African-American ethnicity. 

Hubs:  Well, her baby’s not gonna look like that.  It’s white!
Me:  You wanna have babies, right?
Hubs:  Ummmm….can we have a black baby?
Me:  Depends.  Are you gonna let me sleep with a black guy?
Hubs:  A-nooo.
Me:  Then our only option is to adopt a Haitian.
Hubs:  Can we just kidnap one?  You know how I feel about paperwork.
Me:  No. 
Hubs:  Then forget it.  We’ll just have *sighhhhhhh* a white baby.

No pooping allowed.

Feb 18

Posted by Sharky in pic, tmi, travel | No Comments

TMI Thursday

Hey kids.  So I usually don’t participate in TMI Thursdays, only because I estrange people with little to no effort as it is.  Why make them more uncomfortable?  But I figured hey, I’ll go crazy!  In celebration of my three-day weekend.

I went to visit New York last month and spent one whirlwind night with my close friend Brooke.  We met up at Arlo & Esme on 1st, between 1st and 2nd.  While waiting a friggin month for everyone to show up, I entertained myself by fraternizing with several drug dealers (not a joke) and when they left, just for kicks I tried the NYPD Crimestopper hotline.  Nobody answered.  Shocker.

So I’m standing there for probably only 15 minutes but I had come from Crocodile Lounge, where I pounded two beers and ate my free pizza.  I have to potty.  Like…bad.  Brooke and co. arrive, we head in (super crowded) and I desperately search for a bathroom.  Of course there’s a line of approximately 10 girls – and only 2 stalls in the tiny bathroom.  I’m shaking, my eyes start tearing up.  Ordinarily I’d beg my way to the front, but I’m just a lil ol’ Texan in the big city (right).  I musta still been shaken up from being offered tabs of X and an eight-ball.

Brooke tells her man to go check out the little boys’ room and see if it’s kosher to go in there.  But then finally, finally it’s almost our turn!  The chick in front of me just got her stall and we’re waiting on the other one.  And waiting.  And waiting.  I turn to Brooke. 

Me:  What the hell is she doing in there?  Pooping?!
B: Haha, we should go up to the door and stage-whisper, “we know what you’re dooooing in there!”
Me:  Hahahha.  Oh shit, don’t make me laugh.
B:  Or just slip a note under the door that says Poopers with an X over it.  No pooping allowed!

And that’s how I peed my pants.  Just kidding.  But it WAS awesome.  I have to say, is there anything better than peeing when you really really hafta?  Sheesh.

And this is what happens.  This is actually the last time I was in NY and we hung out – since it takes her a decade to post new pics, this one’s going up.  I THINK we were pretending to drive a pedi-cab.  Or as I like to call them, petty cabs.  Could be we were just dancing.

              

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