not even possible!

Day 31 - A vivid memory.

I almost, almost skipped today. Because I fell asleep on the couch last night trying to finish season 3 of Downton Abbey and because I couldn't really think of anything compelling. But it is the last. freaking. day. 18 out of 31 is more than 50% which is a passing grade in my eyes (says someone who barely graduated college).
I've decided to share with you one of my all time favorite life moments. I considered vlogging this but I couldn't imagine saying a certain keyword outloud ever again. So you have to read it instead.
When the twins were in 8th grade (which would make me about 22 years old), I conned my mom into letting me chaperone their 8th grade field trip to Washington DC. Because I love that damn place. I spent a week going nonstop with a bunch of ridiculous 8th graders. Although I was the cool chaperone, because obviously. And also because I let them play hide-and-seek in the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum.
As we neared the end of the trip I was nearing the end of my wits. There were really long stretches of bus time. Too many meals at McDonald's. And not enough diet coke to save my life. I stretched out over my aisle on the bus and told the kids to leave me the hell alone so I could finish reading The DaVinci Code. Which at the time was THE BEST BOOK EVER. 
Somewhere between Gettysburg and Philadelphia on the longest traffic-filled bus drive of our lives, my little sister peeks over my seat and in her not-so-quiet-natural-volume voice asks, rather indignantly, "TIFFANY. What's a queef?"
And then I died. 
I finished reading my paragraph because OMG Robert Langdon was up to something and I didn't want to draw even more attention to this situation. So I slowly turned around and tried really hard not to laugh and be the adult about this. The rows of evil 8th grade boys are giggling their asses off and I knew that they were the entire cause of this situation. 
But I had to be the adult.
"I'm sorry, what did you just ask me?"
She asks the same question. At the same volume level.
"We probably shouldn't yell that. Who told you about that?"
The boys.
"Well maybe they should tell you what it is then!" And then with my bright-red face full of stifled giggles I turned around and started reading again. The next thing I heard was possibly the most hilarious statement I've ever heard in my life. 
In the same booming and indignant voice I hear, "YEA RIGHT THAT'S NOT EVEN POSSIBLE."
There was no more holding in of the laughter. What do you say to that? To your pre-teen sister who is just learning the ins-and-outs of being a female?
"Please stop talking to me so I can finish this chapter."

my favorite everydayinmay so far

Day 30 - React to this term: Letting go.

First reaction? That is not A term...it is a phrase.



"Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering, then let go." - Elizabeth Gilbert
That quote above changed my life. Useless suffering. Feeling sorry for myself and my broken heart. All of the tears. All of the sleepless nights and the drunk nights and the "why me" nights. Useless suffering. It changed nothing and it did not save me.
What saved me was letting go. 
Letting go allowed me to grieve and allowed me to move on. It allowed me to be free of the weight of a broken heart and allowed me to heal. It allowed me to open my heart to love again. 
Letting go changed my life.

you're safe child, you are safe.

You know, a lot of these posts were challenging which I guess is the entire point of this month-long situation...but you wanna bring music into the mix? Shit. This is my nightmare.

Day 29 - 5 songs that speak to you or bring back memories.

SHIT. We all know I'm a chronic concert crier and habitual radio crier. Point being, I cry. And to avoid delving into the memories of each song, I am going to withhold specifics. Just know that music never leaves your heart, even if you want it to. What am I even talking about, you know that.

Bon Iver - Blood Bank

Birdy - Terrible Love (Originally by The National)

Stars - Your Ex-Lover is Dead

Active Child - Hanging On (Ellie Goulding also kills a version of this. Kills beautifully.)

DeVotchKa - How it Ends

And oh dear god, I can't stop. My favorite boys just made me all goose-bumpy. So here. Number 6, just for good luck.

Taking Back Sunday - My Blue Heaven

JUST KIDDING I FOUND ANOTHER ONE. This just became my favorite video on this post. So I hope you made it this far.

Taking Back Sunday - Everything Must Go

twenty-eight.

Only pictures. 

dear readers,

Hi. I don't know how you made it to my blog, but I am glad that you did. I've always wanted to share my stories and luckily, for all of us, one special person gave me the final push I needed to do the damn thing.

My life is far from perfect. There are struggles and there are tears and there are times when I'm not proud of myself. Sometimes I'll tell you about that, but mostly I prefer not too. I prefer to find the humor in things and it gets weird, it does. It gets vulgar and it gets silly and I have no problem raving about how wonderful my boyfriend is. And how insane my cat is. I like cats and I like my boyfriend, so I talk a lot about them. And I like it that way. I hope you do too.

This isn't a big blog and it probably never will be, but I hope that you find something here that makes you laugh or inspires you. I've been inspired by so many blogs and ladies and I am forever grateful that I took up this weird hobby. Readers, friends...may I call you friends? Friends, the fact that you visit us, some of you every single damn day, it warms my cold little heart in such a way I never knew possible. So thank you. Thank you for making my life feel so much more interesting and important than I ever imagined. All seven of you, friends.

Just kidding. I hope I have more than 7 readers. At least I know I do in Russia (no, I'm still not over that and I won't be any time soon so LEAVE ME BE).

always truly,

tiff gee.

Day 27 - A letter to your readers.

tiff gee smash!

Day 24 — Your top 3 worst traits.



I feel like "top 3" insinuates that I have more than 3 and we all know I don't. 
There's one.
Because I have skipped most of the "challenging" posts, this one is my tough one. My instinct is to take the easy way out and be all I CARE TOO MUCH. And although I certainly do, there are far more interesting traits to explore.

1. I overanalyze and usually falsely predict outcomes of situations. This probably has something to do with my chronic habit of making up stories about strangers. But this is how my mind works: I will make a decision to do or not do something (usually pertaining to my friends and family) and then I will imagine all of the shit they are going to talk about me or what they are going to think of me. This often leads to a whole mess of anxiety and then it all spirals out of control. I know at the end of the day I shouldn't care but it is natural to not want people to talk about you or judge you for your decisions. Obviously.
2. I care too much. I AM SO NOT EVEN JOKING. I typically (sometimes unwillingly) take on the role of "Momma Bear" and either defend people or coach them on how to defend themselves. Here is my best and most/least favorite example of this in action  — Once upon a time my little sister's asshole ex-boyfriend attended a dance recital she was performing in. He sat a few rows in front of us and him and his friends kept turning around and I will still swear to this day that they were looking at me. So my ass gets up and walks up to him and gets all ghetto like, "SAY IT TO MY FACE!" And he had no idea what I was talking about and then I pulled a total Lauren Conrad and was all, "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID." I'm pretty sure my sister hated me for a few weeks. Either way, I wasn't just going to sit there and let this moron potentially talk shit about me. And I wanted him to fear us so he would never hurt my sister again even thought it was none of my bid'ness.
3. I have a genetic disorder called "The Smith Girl Temper." This disorder affects all females on my mom's side of the family. TSGT usually begins with flying off the handle about something minuscule, turning complete incredible hulk and letting MEAN insults fly, and then enacting the silentest silent treatment humanly possible which is incredible after the level of volume my voice gets to. Guys, I get mean when I am really angry about something and it is not pretty.

And there you have it. The moral of this post is to not ever piss me off.

I feel like that was far too serious of a post for a Friday...so I am going to leave you with one of the most obnoxious pictures of myself I could find on Facebook as my penance for the above 3 asshole-ish traits.

mental health awareness month, #3

Dear Every Day In May - I did today already. Here. That isn't cheating, it is multipurposing, which I also didn't learn in school. Or maybe I did.

Either way, I don't want us all to forget about Mental Health Awareness Month, so let's talk about how I am crazy a little bit more. This will probably be the last in this series, only because I really like all of the EDIM prompts for next week. It is my sincere hope that these posts helped someone, if only me for the relief I felt writing them.

So you've realized you have a mental health problem...what next?

1. Visit a doctor. Even your primary care physician. They will send you to a psychiatrist if necessary. I started with primary care and I wish that 10 years ago they sent me directly to psych. I have to talk to a psychiatrist now, in order to stay on my prescriptions. Side note: Be honest with your doctors. If your pills aren't working, don't be afraid to tell them. If your pills are causing near-menopausal night sweats, tell them.
2. Talk to someone. I tried therapy and failed miserably. Why? I hate talking about myself, especially to a stranger who seemed less than interested. I took personal offense to her demeanor. Which is not how any of that is supposed to work. Now, Justin makes me talk about it. About what is bothering me or why I get stressed or anxious. He has also gotten really good at identifying triggers for me. So, although I hate every bit of it, it is the healthy thing to do.
3. TAKE YOUR PILLS. Seriously. And if you decide you don't want to take them anymore, consult your doctor.
4. Identify your triggers. I feed off others' negativity like a fat kid feeds on cake. Sometimes reading about mental illness make the anxiety start welling up. And while I like being busy, I can easily cross the line between happily busy and anxiously frenzied. These are things I'm still learning.
5. Find your happy place. Or things that make you calm. Music, baths, and wine are all obviously very comforting things. Focus on your breathing. Exercise. Turn your phone off. On really bad days I like to lay in bed under the covers in the dark. With a fan on. 
6. Be inspired. I will Eat, Pray, Love for the rest of my life and I am not even kidding. That book brought me so much inspiration and peace. It really did. I also subscribe to The Daily Love and follow Tiny Buddha on Facebook. This all sounds so cheesey and kumbaya-ish but it is what helps me stay centered. Find your center, whatever it may be.

These things aren't always easy to do, but you have to. Once you make the decision to take care of yourself, you have to do it right. Mental Health care isn't something you can half ass. You can't just take your pills every now and then when you feel like it. You can't purposely engage in behaviors that you know are bad for you. And you have every right to disengage from things that are bad for you as well. I will always be working on these things. It's a part of me that requires extra care and always will.

you asked for it.

Day 22 - Rant about something. Are you sure you want to tell me to do that? Okay....



The blogging community is fucking stupid.
Well holy shit. I went there. 
When I started this little blog of mine (<-- how many times have you read that exact phrase?) I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew is that I wanted to write and tell stories. And then I learned about FOLLOWERS and SPONSORS and GIVEAWAYS and I was like, holy shit I am clearly doing this wrong! I don't even have a proper bun! So I drank the koolaid. Out of a mason jar, naturally. I tried my hand at giveaways. I wanted followers, damn it! Those numbers on my sidebar meant everything to me. 

Look over there now. Yea, I deleted that shit. And even though I see it when I log into blogger, it doesn't define my blog. The stories I write define my blog and it will continue to be that way. I have officially hopped off the bandwagon.
Here is my favorite example of blogwagoning: When Google announced that they were banishing Google Reader to the depths of internet doom, the entire blogging community simultaneously shit their pants. HOW WILL PEOPLE FOLLOW ME NOW? Through Blogger. No seriously, through Google Friend Connect. No really, it isn't going away yet. 
But not one single person said that. Because one person shouted JOIN BLOGLOVIN from the rooftops of blogville everyone did. Are there better options? Absolutely. But because the blogging community listens to those that have more followers because obviously they know everything, there was only one option and that is where the Bloglovin' monster came from.
Bloggers don't think for themselves. They do what is popular — what will get them the most pageviews or followers. It is as simple as that. They will write a SUPER DARING POST or a SUPER SILLY POST and really put themselves out there. This said "community" celebrates mediocrity and there is far, far too much ass-licking going on. And then I said ass-licking on my blog.
No, there aren't any rules to blogging. But you should aspire to stand out. You should aspire to be different and to make a difference. Be known for something other than what you wore or how many times you went to Starbucks. 

I'm not trying to abandon the few readers that I have, because I do appreciate those of you who read my madness. And comment. And share your stories back with me. That is the part of blogging that I love, and what really keeps me going. That, and all of the Russians that contribute to my stats. Hi, Russians!
I do my best to share parts of my life that I find entertaining. I try my damnedest to be original and I will continue to support the friends I do have in this community. I promise you I will always be genuine. Always.

10 more days even though I cheated...

*I interrupt this previously scheduled blog post to present to you JUSTIN'S SIDE OF THE PHONE CALL. Please excuse me while I go wipe my tears.*

I realize it isn't fair that I am counting down the days in this challenge when I have been cheating my way through it. DEAL WITH IT.

Day 21 - Links to your favorite posts. I limited this to 5 because obviously all of my posts are my favorites because I wrote them. Shit, that is a lie. Because this post definitely wouldn't be on the list. REGARDLESS, read on.
My review of Magic Mike
That time I online dated
The first time I let Justin guest post
The infamous Kohl's tampon failure incident
And The JMEOWW Diaries V.7 aka "I WIPE MY OWN ASS"

blove.

Bloggers have this habit of combining words and I'd call it annoying but I do it too. And nothing I do is annoying, hence the birth of the word BLOVE. Blove represents Blog Love and I have so, so much of it. And because I have such a deep and mildly creepy love for so many of you on a personal level, this is hard you guys! Please feel free to slay me in the comments.
Day 19 - 5 of your favorite blogs and what you love about them.



A girl, A Story, A Blog.

Like I could even think about not including this lady when she is the reason I am participating in this madness at all. Have you met Shay? Go now. Go read her extraordinary posts that will make you laugh, take your breath away, and break your heart — sometimes all at once. She is brave. She is beautiful. And she rocks those headscarves like a mofo. 

Because Shanna Said So

This fiesty little lady is one of the few fashion bloggers I religiously follow. Her style is flawless and at times daring, but on a normal-ass budget. She has inspired me countless times to look through my closet and combine things I normally wouldn't. And I recently found out that even my older sister follows her on instagram. Basically, Shanna is MAJOR.

Dysfunctional Ever After

As a longtime blog-reader, I know that I really like a blog when I think that I would read it if I wasn't part of the blogging community. Samm has that kind of blog. She's not cliquey. She posts on a variety of topics. She's funny and can be serious when she needs to be. And you guys, she pays attention to current events which wins my heart in such a serious way. AND. And if I didn't stalk Samm, I wouldn't have ever found my souldrunk, Shangin.

Little White Whale

It is no secret that I have an online window-shopping problem and Gloria totally feeds that addiction! I don't know how she finds these items, but her gift guides and Friday's Grab Bags are the definition of fabulousness. 

Sillygrrl

This is my go-to site for blogging/design tips and when I develop the patience to design or code for myself, I will definitely be purchasing Sarah's book. She also wrote one of my favorite posts of all time, How to get off the blogging bandwagon. READ IT. ALL OF YOU. Also, as if she needs to be more fabulous, she quit her job and freelances AND joined the circus. What an inspiration!

the phone call.

On this day last year my life went full-blown Nicholas Sparks. Let's break it down, shall we?

I received a phone call from a familiar area code, but the number no longer deserved storage in my phone. It was a number I tried my hardest to forget, time and time again. This number had been in and out of my life for the previous 23-or so months and according to the voicemail I received from this number, it wanted back in.

This phone call from that phone number was the final sign that Justin and I were supposed to be together.

Rather than call that number back, I sat around and cried. I called one of my friends and cried. And she asked me a very simple question: Who would you choose? And I answered without skipping a beat. So call him, she said. OKAY FINE.

I made a drink, took a deep breath and dialed a number that was stored in my phone. And he didn't answer. So I left a message.

I finished that drink and made another one. And then my phone rang.

Are you okay? No.

Are you, you're not pregnant are you? ARE YOU SERIOUS IT IS SO MUCH WORSE THAN THAT.

So I told him, this was it. This was the last time I would say any of this. The last time I would dial his number, the number that I liked to dial. The last time I would cry, and beg and plead for him to make the easiest and most rational decision of his life: to love me. To give us a chance.

You know how I know that I love you so much? I hate your shoes. Your shoes are awful, and I still love you.

He asked for more time and I said, no. Six months is plenty, right? I gave him two days, and only that long because my parents were coming in to town the next day.

I hung up the phone, called my friend back and asked her to bring me Taco Bell. Because during that phone call I had gotten myself drunk and hadn't eaten dinner. So she brought me Taco Bell at eleven p.m. and we watched stupid TV. And then I watched Grey's Anatomy because why wouldn't a completely emotionally disturbed person make their life that much worse? I didn't need sleep.

Two days later as I was laying on the couch recovering from a night of partying with my parents and also brunch drinking with said parents, my phone rang. And I panicked, so I let it go to voicemail. I wasn't ready to hear what I had been hearing for the past six months.

He asked me to come over, that he just needed a friend. Not knowing what that meant but secretly hoping I knew what it meant, I got myself up and ready and went to his apartment. Shaking and sweating, but at least my hair looked good.

I chose you. It's over. What? I don't believe you. 

And I didn't believe him. It took about two weeks before I believed him. It only took one week to go shoe-shopping though.

If you ask Justin the story of how we started dating, he tells this story with pride. He says it was the most endearing phone call of his life. I always get slightly embarrassed due to my utter act of desperation. But I also always feel quite a bit of satisfaction that my lack of shame actually got me what I wanted the most. And I will always be completely overwhelmed with the amount of love that I feel for one person.

a day in the life of tiff_gee

If we're being completely honest here then I will tell you that I am not feeling particularly inspired by these prompts. But because I don't want to be a total quitter, I will play along. Fine? Good.

Day 15 - A day in the life. Include photos blah blah blah YOU WISH.

6:52 - First alarm goes off. Brain tells me that it isn't important. 7:00 - Second alarm goes off. Followed by snoozes from both alarms. Trying to see how long I can ignore them before Justin begins to stir. 7:09 - Check phone for emails, tweets, and snapchats. Stiffle giggles. 7:14 - Contemplating whether I need to actually fix my hair or shave any body parts. These extra 6 minutes could change the game. 7:21 - Run to the shower. 7:30 - Meet morning jmeoww outside of the bathroom door. We go together to get coffee and give her food because at this point she is famished. Famished. 8:02 - Rush to get dressed and try to accessorize. Check if I put on deodorant. Yes I did and now my finger is slimy. 8:04 - Run out the door. Run back in to retrieve cell phone. 8:32 - Park. Run to time clock.  8:33 - 12:30 - ALL THE WORK THINGS. Including a variety of personal email accounts. Compulsively reloading twitter. Reading all your blogs. 12:30 - 1:15 - Lunchtime with friends. A lot of giggles and dirty looks from others. 1:15 - 5:00 - More work-related things even though blogging isn't work related. 5:00 - 5:37 - Sit in traffic and yell obscenities at people. 5:37 - 6:45 - Try not to fall asleep waiting for Justin to pick me up for gym time. Aggressive cuddle time.  6:45 - 7:30 - Gym time including much stiffling of the giggles and staring at strangers. Is anyone still reading this? 7:30 - ? Dinner, TV, reading, sexytime, whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. 

10 on 14.

Ohhhh look at me being a cheater and being all selective with my days to blog in May. I'm here to break rules, folks.

Day 14 - 10 things that make you really happy.

1. Kittens
2. My upcoming hair appointment on Thursday. 
3. SNL
4. Justin
5. The return of warmer weather and open-toed sandals for work
6. Red wine
7. Mexican food
8. Blog friends
9. This song
   
   
   
10. Naps.

Mental Health Awareness Month, #2

Thank you for all of your support last week. The easiest way to support this cause is to spread the word. So like, really easy.

My mental health journey began at age 20. I was a full time biology student (see: hours upon hours of labs plus corresponding lectures) and I was working two part-time jobs. I was tired. I was stressed. I was emotional. All of the things you would expect.

There were also days that were frozen. I couldn't move out of my bed. I would wake up and know that I had to go somewhere or do something, and I just couldn't. You just can't. Insert missed classes and the beginning of numerous sick calls to work.

The bed was one place. My other place? My car. I would drive home from school and not leave my car. I would sit in my driveway and call my BFF and she'd be all, oh are you in the car again? Yup. And then she would talk to me until I was able to leave my car. Because she was my BFF and she did stuff like that. There were the typical signs — I stopped going out with friends, my appetite disappeared — but the one thing that has always stuck with me was that whole car situation. I mean, what in the ever-living-fuck. Couldn't I have gotten stuck somewhere exciting like in a park, or poolside? No, I had to spend many anxiety ridden hours in a goddamned Pontiac Sunfire.

The moment that made me go full Bynes had to do with a boy. How disgustingly cliché is that? And then I nearly stopped eating all together and decided that I should go get some medication. Even though I really liked wearing my little sisters' clothing.

I was the first of my family members to take anti-depressants. And they are incredibly lucky I love them still because the level of support I received was somewhere between 1 and 0. Why are YOU stressed? You don't need THOSE pills. You are fine. Not so much, family. Not so much at all.

Now? Now they understand. And now we probably qualify for some sort of discount because we are single-handedly keeping the anti-depressant companies in business.

So my story doesn't begin with a bang. It was a mild meltdown process and I am forever grateful that I took steps to get help before it had a chance to get worse.

one of many.

Day 10: Your most embarrassing moment(s). Spill.

Spill? SPILL? I wrote about leaky tampon issues and my boyfriend almost catching me changing said tampon. SPILL IS MY MIDDLE NAME.
This is like Christmas morning for me. Okay, here we go.
Once upon a time, when Justin and I were in relationship purgatory, he suggested we go get drinks, as friends! Yay! Let's be friends! Fine. Let's.
I spent the entire day with my younger sister in a tattoo parlor — that we only ended up in because we were bored. We had a really light lunch and of course I had a couple of tall cans while she was getting worked on. This is all just to say I didn't set myself up very well for the evening.
Justin met up with me later and we walked from my apartment to my favorite dive. A friendly walk. Justin ordered a beer. And then this happened.
Me: I'll have a PBR and a shot of Jameson. Justin: Oh, it's that kind of night? Me, in my head: FRIENDS NIGHT!
So we talked, as friends, and talked and drank and did more shots of Jameson than I can remember. And then I stood up to go to the bathroom and it all snapped.
Me: I need to go home. IMMEDIATELY.
And then I bolted out the door and started walking home before he could even say anything.
What happened next was not a far cry from that time I ruined vacation. The difference? We were only friends. We had only known each other for about 2 months. And here I am puking a liter of whiskey right in front of him.
So I did that thing in which I lock myself in the bathroom and yell that I AM FINE repeatedly. I begged him to go home. I was fine! 
I was not fine. I was wrapped up in a damp bathroom towel and crying mascara out of my nose. I was nowhere near fine.
Justin. That Justin. He didn't leave me. He refused to leave me. He let me sleep in the bathroom for a while because once I am in there, I am in there. And then he dragged me to bed and made sure I didn't die for a few hours. And then he went home. My friend.
To say I was embarrassed is an understatement. When I woke up the next day — in the middle of the afternoon — I thought for sure I would never hear from him again.   
SPOILER ALERT: I did.

aggressive cuddle time!

Day 9 - A moment in your day.

No, jmeoww. I didn't want to be in the picture at all.

One of my favorite times of the day is when Justin and I are relaxing, usually watching TV, and this thing decides it is time for cuddles. She can't just curl up next to us, or in between us. It has to be ON my chest all up in my face. Yes, this is a daily occurrence. Luckily it only lasts for 5 minutes or less. How do I know it is over? The biting begins and she darts. So much love in that little brain of hers. It gives me severe giggles every damn time.

eight.

A piece of advice you have for others. Anything at all.

I've definitely touched on this one before, but let's elaborate, yea? 
LIGHTEN UP.
Take silly pictures. Laugh a little too loud. Dance in the grocery store. Sing the wrong words. Mismatch your clothes a little. Wear bright lipstick. Don't wear makeup at all. Wear sunglasses at night. 
Just stop caring too much. Because people aren't going to remember that one picture you are tagged in on facebook where you are making the face where you look like a donkey. They aren't going to remember if your earrings matched your necklace which matched your dress. They won't remember if one curl was out of place. Shit, most of the people you encounter are strangers anyways. So who cares?
They are going to remember that you were a good time. That you were genuine. That you weren't afraid to relax and be yourself. That you were a better person because you did not carry insecurities and burdens with you through life. 
Take a deep breath and relax. This is supposed to be fun, remember?

Start the conversation.

We interrupt this regularly scheduled BLOG EVERY DAY IN MAY because I was recently made aware that May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The fact that I was not aware, and that you probably weren't either, that is the problem.

We don't talk about it. We don't talk about it because we don't want to be judged, and because we fear you won't understand. We don't talk about it because you "don't need those pills" or because you too are having "anxiety." We don't talk about it because it triggers feelings — feelings that we work hard to escape.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 1 in four adults experience mental illness in a given year. That means someone you know, whether you recognize it or not, has or is currently experiencing mental illness.

Some of my experience with depression and anxiety has been chronicled here. Mild compared to other stories I've read and people I know, it is still a part of me. And I owe an abundance of gratitude to those that showed me that #1 We can talk about these things and #2 We can laugh about it afterwards.

Throughout this month, I plan to share my stories. The posts below are ones I've collected over the years that have resonated with me deeply. They are my reminders that I am never alone.

Adventures in Depression

Tightrope Walker

On Depression & Getting Help

Or a Declaration

I'm Taking a Sad Day

The Hard Things

80 new beds, 80 more lives

So, let's talk about it. Share your experiences, or talk to a friend in need. It's time.

and doin' it well.

Day 6 - What do you do?

I love Justin.  I provide guardianship to jmeoww. In return she lords over me. I act as a responsible and rational family member. Most of the time. I give advice to people that sometimes want to hear it, and sometimes don't. I compulsively online-window shop. I plan. I worry. I enable. I dance in the kitchen.  I dance in the car. I drink beer. I make up stories about strangers. I lose my soul in music. I obsess over trivial things. I make lists. I overreact. I bite my nails. I get weird. I crush candy. I judge. I people-watch.

I'm a quote-a-saurus

Day 4, Saturday: Favorite quote (from a person, from a book, etc) and why you love it

I am a chronic quote collector. Big, little, strong, or simple reminders of things tend to resonate deeply with me and I never want to forget these things. For today, I held back and chose just one.

And I refuse to elaborate because the profoundness will be lost.

Now go have a real Saturday.

Um, a double post. hi!

So in order to catch up, and also to avoid abusive text messages from SOMEONE whose name rhymes with CLAY, I am double-posting.

Day 3 – Things that make you uncomfortable.

Whooooa, boy. Hi, have you met me? Double-blog posting makes me uncomfortable, for starters. Let's just make a damn list...

Farting in front of Justin 

Unintentional racism

Men with too short of shorts 

Crowds

Finances

Homeless people

Male Strippers

Nipples

Balls

I'm not just listing body parts, I swear

Nasty rap lyrics (but I will sing them)

Correcting people (Hi, core job function!)

People that are unaware of their body odor

Mouth-breathers

Talking about exes

Telling people to get their shit together

Should this have been alphabetical?

Asking for help

People celebrating/acknowledging me

Babies

Small people in general

Prolonged eye contact

Canned chicken

And I think that is all. I hope that is all. Forgetting things also makes me uncomfortable. 

Too much about me...but for us.

If one of your favorite people in the world challenges you to do something that can only better yourself, you should probably do it. Especially if it gives you the opportunity to learn so much more about your friends, and if it challenges you to push your normal writing boundaries. Learning. Feelings. Writing. That is what blogland should be about. And also cats.

Because of this, I am going to try my best to participate in this...



Will I hit every day? Probably not. I mean I already missed two days and will be making up for it. Will it annoy the hell out of you? Most likely. I don't mind if you don't want to read more about me. Because, frankly, I don't even like writing about me that much. HENCE THE CHALLENGE.
Ahem. Without further hesitation...The May 1st challenge was "your life story in 250 or less." 

The Story Of Tiff Gee, as told by Tiff Gee.

My dad thought I was a boy when I was born. I was such a quiet child that my mom used to tell me to TALK LOUD LIKE THIS. I am my mother’s middle-birth so I consider myself a middle-child even though there are 4 of us. I was a really intelligent kid, “gifted” if you will. Also tall, lanky, and brace-faced. And really shy so people assumed I was a snob. Whatever. The town I grew up in was not necessarily small but lacked great career opportunities, unless you want to work at a dairy. Sorry if you work at a dairy. I moved to San Diego for college and lived alone in a studio on the back of someone’s property. It was weird and once I thought I was getting mugged and ran down the street. The nice man apologized for scaring me. I got a job at SeaWorld, my dream employer, when I was 19. Age 20 was the first time I thought I lost my mind. I asked my doctor for pills so that would never happen again. It still occasionally happens. My early to mid-twenties were wrapped in the relationship that I thought I was supposed to have, and by my late twenties I left said relationship because I wanted to. After two years of failed reconnections with exes, an inappropriate amount of alcohol, a feral cat adoption, and many, many tears things came together. I crashed a company Christmas party and smiled at Justin. And he smiled back.

254. Almost nailed it.

Meowpocalypse Now.

It is time, my friends. Time for YOU to tell us (Queen Jmeoww Consuela Gee & Tiff Gee) about your pet disasters. We are not here to diagnose your troubles. We are simply here to laugh at with you and revel in the fact that we are not alone.

So, please grab our button. Remember, all pets (EVEN BIRDS) are welcome. We would appreciate a follow and would also like you to make some new friends/support group members.


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And what kind of story do we have for you on this momentous day? The story of our Meowpack.
What in the ever-living-hell is a meowpack, you ask? Think of a wolfpack, and swap out the wolves for cats.  There is a clear leader in a pack, and then those that are less and less dominant.
Well guess who falls at the bottom of our meowpack? Me. The female human. The female who rescued a tiny black kitten from a life on the streets. The female who single-mothered her for months and who is still the target of aggressive early morning face cuddles. 
How do I know that I am the lowest member of the totem pole? So glad you asked!

• When just her and I are awake in the morning and she does her business, she doesn't bury it. She metaphorically shits on me. I thought she just regressed back to being an asshole kitten, but shortly after I realized this was happening this video was released. It is science. The science of dominance. Keep that in mind when you are trying to put someone in their place.

• She still tries to kill me. Yes, I am being dramatic. But when she wants to play or just wants attention, if I walk by her she will claw and bite the shit out of my legs. And she doesn't back down. I've been trying to "challenge" her with it lately, but shit she is tough to intimidate. My ankles are consistently covered in scratches. If I don't let her claw at my flesh, she lets out this guttural meow like I am denying her some great pleasure. 

• And the most obvious sign that I am the weakest meowpack member? These things never happen to Justin. Of course not! Why would she make her precious secret eye-blinking Justin smell her morning constitutional while he brushes his teeth? And obviously her beloved's ankles are too perfect for scarring. No, he does not deserve such abuse.

This is the boss of me.

And that is the current state of our Meowpack. My hope is that we will return to the natural order of things, soon. Meaning I am in charge of everyone, obviously.

living the college life.

During the big move of 2012 one of the most painful things for me to sell was my couch. It was perfect for me — a little mid-century and ridiculously comfortable. But, Justin's couches were in better shape (ish) and fit his apartment better so I said goodbye to my old friend. We agreed that we would purchase a couch that we both loved.

And so we did. About three weeks ago we found a dreamy sectional with an island of an ottoman. I even got to choose the fabric for the pillows that came with it because the tacky-ass pillows that come with sofas were going to be my nightmare. In three to five weeks we would have our new dream couch.

This meant that we needed to sell Justin's couch. Which he did. Nearly a week-and-a-half ago. I don't blame him because we were lucky someone wanted to buy it at the price he listed it for. However, this was the definition of TOO SOON, BRO. We spent a few days trying to build a couch out of pillows, and this past weekend we gave in and went full white trash and blew-up our air mattress. Our living room currently looks like a college dorm room. I secretly love it, and so does this creature.

It's like we finally got her a bed that suits her properly.

Although the new couch comes with pillows, I want more. And I want new lamps. And new everything. Because that is how purchasing new furniture works — like buying a new dress, but then needing shoes to match as well as jewelry and a new bag. And you might as well get your nails painted while you're at it!

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The Meowpocalypse begins at midnight. Will you be there?