You Only Live Once: Which is Enough Time to Embarrass Yourself

I'd like to preface this by stating that I don't condone or call things I don't like as "gay". Because, yes, I realize it's offensive and, also, that it is not the correct term to describe anything other than 1. old-timey happy; or 2. a homosexual male or female. I hesitated to even post this because I don't want to offend anyone. Honestly, my intention is solely to provide an anecdote about how terms change and evolve over time. So, please, keep that in mind.

Now that I have that out in the open: Kevin was on the firetruck with his fellow firefighters. A member of their crew had not shown up that day. When they were driving around town a pickup pulled up next to them and was honking. Sure enough, it was their MIA crew member.

Kevin: ...he pulled up in his truck and everyone was saying "Oh, he's so gay!" because he had scraped letters off of the back of his Toyota so it just read "YO".
Chalayn: Uh huh.
Kevin: And so they're going to paint "LO" after it. *he began to speak a little quieter* Because "yolo" means "gay" in Spanish... right?
Chalayn: Did you just say "YOLO" means "gay" in Spanish?!
Kevin: Doesn't it?
Chalayn: "YOLO" means "you only live once". *laughing* This is almost as good as the time you didn't know what a cougar was.
Kevin: *laughing* Don't you dare blog about this!

[source]

In the end, Kevin admitted that "it was pretty funny" and reluctantly gave me permission to share this with you, Reader. And about the time he didn't know what a cougar was? Well, it went a little like this:

About five years ago (it's been that long?!!) we were meeting our friend's girlfriend for the first time. I asked her how old she was and she said that she was a month older than her boyfriend and, jokingly, she was a cougar. I had just learned what a "cougar" was, so I assumed Kevin wouldn't be familiar with this term yet but I decided to keep silent. He responded after a moment:

Kevin: I'm probably something stupid like a "rat" or a "pig".

[source]

He was right. He's a rat. And a good sport.

I flew to Boston and, boy, were my arms tired.

It's that time of year again. Time for me to tell you, poor Reader, about my recent vacation that probably only my mother and I care to read about.

As you may know, I shared with you some mild demographic stereotypes that I have as a West Coast/small town native about to embark on her first trip to (parts) of the Eastern Seaboard. But first, I snapped a photo at PDX to prove that I know exactly how to blend into my surroundings. Call it "urban camouflage", if you will.

Just a little fashion-forward pattern mixing in the Pacific Northwest.

Last Sunday evening I received a joyous greeting as I stepped off the plane and into the Boston airport. My first preconceived notion was affirmed, in a very satisfying way, as over the intercom an airline employee announced that the next flight was to "Poort-lahnd, Or-uh-gone" and other adorable sounding Bostony things. I liked it.

My BFF4EVER, Brianna, was waiting at the airport to greet me and lead me to the bus depot. She had to take it a little slow for me as I showed that I am a greenhorn of public transportation when an optical turnstile nearly chopped me up like a magician sawing his pretty assistant in half. Who knew that only one person could go through at a time?! Don't fault me, I've never been outside before.

Walked through Chinatown with all of my luggage. Saw a restaurant with the same name as the place my husband and I met. Also, this photo of me is the first example of Brianna's ability to only take blurry photos of me with my camera.

Walking through the streets of Boston I was enamored by the old buildings and skinny streets; however, I didn't expect for everything to look so - NO OFFENSE, Boston - dirty or the sidewalks to be so busted up.  (My rolly bag can attest to the many cracks in the pavement.) Brianna was nice enough to warn me that if I think Boston was dirty, then (no offense, NYC) I'm really going to learn what dirty is. But, at least Bahston didn't smell like rotting fish like I had previously conceived.

To be fair to Boston, I only experienced one very small, dirty area.

A hop, skip, a steaming bowl of bibimbap, and a train ride later we arrived in Providence, the capitol of The Ocean State. We retired to Brianna's apartment where we ate trail mix and frozen raspberries and watched a movie solely on the promise that I would not laugh when Brianna cried during it.

The conversation went like this...
Brianna: Do you want to watch a movie on Netflix?
Chalayn: Yeah... I saw a movie on there that I will only watch if I watch it with you. It's called What to Expect-
*Brianna cut me off suddenly and seriously*
Brianna: I LOVE THAT MOVIE.

Unfortunately my presence sealed Brianna's tear-ducts shut and I had no opportunity to laugh at her during What to Expect When You're Expecting. But, it was not for lack of me not paying attention to her (read: staring) during the mildly tear-jerking parts.

1. Brianna loves that the East Coast trains have signs that call boxes "parcels". And this is the first example of a photo that only a tourist would take.

2. Big ol' capitol building for a tiny state.

3. Don't worry, Brianna, there's no judging in "Free-Range Chicks Group" (another time, Reader). [image source]

Now that I have you on the edge of your seat, Reader, I will be back soon to tell you more than you'll ever want to know about what I did last week.

Buuuuuuuut, if you can't wait to read more (or if you really are THAT bored), then entertain yourself with my previous vacation adventures are here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. They are sure to disappoint.

My Mom Wears Glasses

As years are added to my life, I am realizing more and more how much I appreciate and love my mother. She loved me before she even met me, more than I probably deserve. She worked hard so that I wouldn't go hungry. She gave me invaluable advice whether I knew I needed it or not. She is an example of overcoming difficulty and pain. And she showed me that a mother will do almost anything to protect her children. She's given me so much. I don't think I can ever repay her for all that she's done for me; yet she doesn't ask me to. She did it all without any expectation for something in return.

About 3 1/2 hours before I made my appearance.

But, still, I worry that she doesn't know that I realize now, among other qualities, that she is a great mother. A story teller, a cook, a seamstress (she made all the bridesmaid dresses in my wedding!), a hard worker, a designer, a gardener (she grew the flowers for my weddings!), a godly woman, and a joy. Yet, I know the recognition is not what it's about for her.

Doing a no-drug birth and using cloth diapers before it was cool.

Lord willing, someday I will be a mother. And only then will I understand what it means to put aside so many of my selfish desires; to see my body grow and stretch to accommodate a growing tiny person. I will even have to sacrifice the "alone time" I so cherish, all for someone I will love even before we have met.

I will probably even be forced to get over my aversion to the sight of food on a human's face. But, maybe not, I can only mature so much.

Wearing velour track suits before J. Lo made them cool.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I hope you know how much I love you.

I'm an American, Therefore I am Ignorant

West Coast Native, Chalayn (not to be confused with Hussein Chalayan, the designer who comes up when you Google "Chalayn") will be embarking on her first adventure to the East Coast ASAP. To celebrate, I decided to make a paltry list of my preconceived notions about what it's like on the other side of the country - in hopes that I will report back to you that I was wrong about the places I visited. Which, really, I probably am.

Thanks, Google Maps.

Let me preface this by stating a common phrase that does nothing to soften the blow of a statement but people still use it anyway before saying something that they know is rude. So, NO OFFENSE or anything, East Coasters, but I think the following of you "without knowledge, thought, or reason":

1. People in Boston have accents. I say "car" when they say "ca" (or is it pronounced "cahr"?). I say "park" they say "pahk". I've been watching this high-quality, very interesting video to study up on my Bostonese so I can blend in.

2. Boston smells like rotten fish. My mom flew there one summer when it had been super hot for a super long time (I'm using meteorology terms on you!) which made the people super grumpy and the coastal city super stinky with dead, rotting fish (scientific terms for you, now)

Looks can be deceiving! [source]

3. Rhode Island is too tiny for me to have any unwarranted prejudices. Really. It's small and I know nothing about it other than there's a little school called Brown that my friends Brianna and Emma Watson go to.

4. New Yorkers are busy. Too busy for me, really. They all wear power suits and walk around Times Square all day long. That's probably all they do. But, yes, they are always in a hurry and I will never want to drive in New York because I would start to cry and/or say words God doesn't like me to say.

5. New Yorkers spend too much on rent. I'm pretty sure this is a correct prejudice. The cost of living is higher there. Maybe it's because everyone hearts NY so much and maybe it really is worth it.

[source]

6. New York women have a small group of best friends that they talk about sex with. (See here, here, and here.) They also wear fabulous name-brand (and I'm not talking about from Ross!) outfits that cost more than I spend on rent in three months.

Do you think they could wear those bridesmaid dresses again? [source]

If you, Reader, have any suggestions for sights and tastes while I'm over in Providence, Boston, and NYC, please let me know. I obviously know very little about the East Coast and can use any education you can give me, Well-Traveled Ones.

P.S. I'm going to peddle my sunglasses giveaway one more time. Not many people have entered so your odds of winning are good. WINK.

Five Favorites

I have seen Five Favorites bouncing around on Jessie's blog, and now on Grace's, so I thought I would take the jump, like the lemming I am.

Not sure if I'm supposed to do a collage (like Grace) or what, but here I am.

-ONE-
I hate to copy - no - plagiarize! No... imitate! I hate to imitate (which they say is the highest form of flattery) Grace but it's true: Firmoo is one of my favorites. Not to sound too desperate but, as of yesterday, I'm giving away a pair of their sunglasses. And since I'm giving them away, I don't think you can really call me "desperate" so much as "generous" or even go as far as "saintly". Maybe you can hold off on that last one until you win.

-TWO-
Actually, I don't know for sure if Wicked is my favorite just yet, but by the end of next week I can let you know. Yep! By the grace of God (and the bestest best friend, Brianna) I am going to the East Coast and seeing a Broadway play. Both of those things are pretty ridiculous. And wonderful.

-THREE-
Kevin and I went on a church retreat for married couples this weekend and it was the best. Sunshine, too many snacks, nice people all over the place, mushy stuff, God stuff, and staying at a place that's way nicer than we would have ever planned for by ourselves made it great.

-FOUR-
It's that time of year again: Starbucks Happy Hour. This means my nice boss bought us all frappuccinos for half-price instead of the full-price he normally pays when he treats us with Starbucks nearly weekly. He's so nice he even reads my blog AND pretends to like it. Thanks again, Boss!

-FIVE-
Avocado. It's my favorite food. And I can't think of anything better to write about.


Want to know what is not my favorite? The fact that my RV-Dwelling Neighbor has been a nighttime disturbance all week. In fact, the cops showed up last night.* So, naturally, I turned off all the lights and watched through the window with my hands cupped behind both ears to try to amplify the sound of her incoherent yelling. Basically, she's "upset", was not hurt "tonight", does not want to hurt herself, and likes to yell at the police something about "shotguns" and wave her middle fingers in the air as they back out of her driveway. Nice neighborhood.

The shot of the action I got with my cellphone. I think I will proudly put this one into my photojournalism portfolio.

***UPDATE: Sheriff's office came back at 1:45 a.m. after the yelling and dog barking increased. I was back at my post at the window with my cupped ears. The cops banged on the neighbor's door and broke the glass. They walked her to the car as she screamed "I DON'T DO DRUGS! I DON'T DO DRUGS!! I QUITTTTT!!!!" All was quiet in the neighborhood after that.

Want Some FREE Sunglasses?

The Pacific Northwest has experienced an influx of uncharacteristic May sunshine that has left my eyeballs burning. With this blessing of sun, it's the perfect time for me to gift you, Faithful and/or New Reader, some sunglasses from Firmoo.

But before I get to the good stuff, I admit that I was flattered that a few of my friends, co-workers, and e-stalkers (just kidding, Mallory!) have asked me if I have been keeping up with my everyday blogging in May, like I half-heartedly promised. The obvious answer is: no. But thanks for caring! To be honest, I don't like it when people feel they have to apologize or make excuses for not blogging because 1) everyone is busy; 2) blogging shouldn't be an obligation; 3) I'm not going to assume people notice my absence; and 4) just write something interesting and I'll get over it. So, I won't apologize or make excuses (even though I have a lot) but let me just offer you something better instead.

To make it up to you I am hosting my first (!!!) giveaway! You may remember how highly I spoke of Firmoo. Well, they are feeling generous and want to give away one pair of sunglasses to a lucky Reader and six Readers a $20 e-voucher to use towards a pair of sunglasses (any of these here).*

My obvious favorite is anything tortoiseshell, but I'm always up for a cute white pair or even a fun colored pair (orange, please). Are you blind as a bat, like me? I come bearing good news! You can also get yours with your prescription so you can see while driving into the sunset. Really, you have nothing to lose by entering and everything** to gain.

TO ENTER: enter yourself into the drawing through the Rafflecopter widget below. Your first entry is simple AND mandatory: visit Firmoo and comment on this blog post with a link of which sunglasses you want to win. Then click "+1" to earn that entry and unlock more. You can earn more easy entries after that by following The Brayn of Chalayn different ways and you can earn 3 entries every day by tweeting about the giveaway! Good luck!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
*The grand prize and six $20 e-vouchers will only be given away if at least 50 individuals compete in the giveaway. So tell your friends! If less than 50 individuals complete in this giveaway, only six winners will receive $20 e-vouchers. Only those who have left a blog comment with a link to their favorite sunglasses can win. The randomly drawn winners will be notified via e-mail within 48 hours. So make sure I have your e-mail address.
**As long as "everything" to you means a pair of sunglasses.

Don't want to wait to win? Order now!
Track your order here.

P.S. Want to double your chances of winning? Enter this Firmoo giveaway too!

The Art of Not Public Speaking

Jenni's prompt for the second day of blog all of the days in May is to "educate" you, Reader, about something I "know a lot about" or am "good" at. And I thought yesterday was a tough one!

Writing in May makes me smile and the ends of my hair curl to the right.

The last time I had to prepare a how-to was about five years ago in a college speech class. I hated that class. Mostly because something I'm NOT good at is public speaking. I guess that narrows my topics down in that I'm not going to tell you in this post how to talk well in front of a group of people. Anyway, I skipped that class a lot. Too much, really. Because of that I didn't get a very good grade, I didn't overcome my discomfort with with public speaking, and I still say "umm" or "uhh" a lot when I do give speeches. 

Something I did learn in that class was that my whole life I didn't really know what I looked like. During each of our speeches the instructor had a camcorder set up so that students could view his or her speech later on and critique them in the comfort of a dark, musty basement apartment. Which I did, of course. The first time I watched one of my speeches I was curled up on my bed with a bowl of popcorn dinner, ready to judge away. The first thing I noticed was that something was wrong with the film quality. It was distorted and it made me not look right. I was all stretched out! My face, my hair, my torso, my arms, and presumably my legs (but they were hidden behind my podium) were all elongated. Like I was a well-loved Stretch Armstrong or something. 

Put some longer hair on him and a non-midriff baring shirt and this would be an accurate representation of me on film. [source]

The camcorder was new so I was surprised that it would create such poor quality video. And then... and then... I saw it. The brick wall behind me had perfectly scaled rectangular bricks. The podium was to scale. And the windows in the background were looking perfectly normal. It was just me that wasn't quite right. I was distorted. My face was long, my hair was long, my torso was long, my arms were long, and I'm sure my legs behind the podium were too. That was the day that I found out that I am stretched.

No photography tricks here, folks. (Wedding photo by Jessica Lemmons.)

Back to my how-to, one of our speech class prompts was to give instructions on how to do something. Naturally, I chose a topic not-near and not-dear to my heart: applying camouflage. Yeah... I know. My stepdad, who was an army ranger, is actually the one who suggested it to me (Thanks, Mark!). Apparently there is a specific way to apply camouflage, with a method to the madness of which green goes next to brown. Thanks to my gift-curse at written verbosity I was able to come up with a 7-9 minute speech about it all. I even brought a mannequin head, which my mom once used to model a wig in her beauty shop, to apply the camo makeup to. Who cares if the fake head already had on some brightly colored eye shadow and pink lipstick? The green really brought out her plastic eye color. 

I even did an excellent illustration to show the power of camouflage:

I take my studies seriously. [source for soldier]

And that is how I schooled you, Reader, with an example of how to write a long blog post about nothing and something at the same time.