You know what I get a lot of? “That Mandi, she seems so sweet.” It’s a nice compliment, but as you are all well aware of by now…I’m really not that sweet. Don’t get me wrong, I am a nice person (I’m certainly not an asshole or anything) but, come on – let’s keep it real. I won’t be up for sainthood anytime soon.

I’m convinced that the reason people assume I’m “sweet” is because I’m small. Petite does not a sweetheart make. Just look at Joan Rivers. She’s tiny – and she’s a huge b.

Learn this lesson now, folks. Don’t be deceived by a person’s stature. Especially on days like today, where I’m a feisty-firecracker who seriously considered punching someone in the face.

(I decided against it, because I have better manners than that. And because I didn’t want to be arrested. But, I totally punched them in the face in my mind, and I felt much better.)

At least once a week I hear the song “Waterfalls” by TLC on my radio. That’s strange, right? Like what station must I be listening to?

At any rate, every time I hear it, it takes me back to 1995 when I bought the cd single. My friend Erica had a black Isuzu Rodeo and we (along with our BFF, Jason) would ride around and sing that song over and over again. We loved us some TLC, and looking back now – I wonder if my mom thought “Red Light Special” was a bit inappropriate. I’m sure she did, but she was probably trying to choose her battles.

And, in 1995, battle we did. I think “war” might be a better description, actually. She was trying to make me see that every decision I made back then could potentially affect me down the road. I thought that was, well, the dumbest thing I’d ever heard. But guess what? For the most part, she was right. And luckily for me, I was so terrified of my mother’s wrath that there were many, many poor choices I didn’t make that I could have easily made (if she wasn’t such a stalker/lecturer). Don’t get me wrong, I still snuck out of the house a few times (and did some other things that I’ll refrain from mentioning because I’m not sure what the statute of limitations for things you did in high school is) but I didn’t do anything totally stupid. Because I was scared of my mama.

These days, of course, my mom is my best friend. I talk to her multiple times a day, and I rarely go two weeks without seeing her. So, I can’t help but smile when I hear “Waterfalls” on the radio. A song about mothers warning their children not to be reckless…at least my radio has a sense of humor.

Since leaving home for college some years ago, I’ve had my share of roommates as well as my bouts of living solo. Right now, I’m sans a roomie, with the exception of William Wallace, who’s a pretty decent one, except that I have to make his food for him and he never cleans up after himself. (Reminds me of someone else I know, but, let’s not go there.) Living with roommates is fun – there’s always someone to talk to, and you can usually mooch off of their food if you forgot to go to the grocery store. Living alone, however, is fabulous. Sure, I have moments of not being able to reach something (or in my old house, a closet door falling off – you can’t fix a closet door by yourself, trust me on that) and wishing I had someone to lend a helping hand. But, for the most part, the only real negative I can see to living solo is that I might be turning into a perpetual bachelorette.

I have recently realized that I’ve become even more peculiar about where I like “my things” than I already was. Y’all. This-is-not-good. I was pretty damn peculiar before. And, I have also noticed (more now than ever before) that I like to do what I like to do when I like to do it – otherwise known as I’ve become totally selfish. I am, by nature, a person who follows a routine. Living by myself allows me to follow my morning and nightly routines sans interruptions. All of these realizations have me worried that I’m making myself impossible to live with. I have become that person my mom warned me about. “Never go out with someone who has been a bachelor too long. He’ll be set in his ways.”

Yikes. Am I becoming set in my ways? Am I living in a bachelorette pad? (My house isn’t very masculine, now that I think about it. I bet any guy would walk in and say, “This would have to go, and so would this” as he pointed to my lacey white shower curtain and clawfoot tub. And then I’d promptly smack him.) If I had a magic eight ball to shake up and flip over, I believe the answer to these questions would be: It is decidedly so.

I either need to get a roommate, or just toss in the towel and get a few dozen cats.

Girls discussing Sports
-One of my co-workers asked me if I had heard about the baseball player who got stabbed (accidentally) by a broken bat. I had not, so I listened to the detailed story she gave and then said, “That’s terrible. What team was it?” She said, “A blue team.”

-A friend of mine asked me if I knew what all of the acronyms for college football conferences stood for. When I said, “Nope, that’s not something my dad taught me,” she replied, “Mine either. Apparently the only acronym he thought was important to teach me was STD.”

Girls discussing Boys
-I ended up “entertaining” a 12-year-old girl in my office last week. (Her grandfather was here for a meeting, and I felt bad for the kid so I told her she could hang out in my office.) I, of course, started talking about Justin Bieber – because I thought he was popular with the tween girls. Wrong. When I asked her if she was a Bieber fan, she informed me, “I like older guys. Like Chris Brown, who I used to LOVE. (She paused.) Until he slapped Rihanna.”

One of these days I’m going to be a morning person, someone who loves Mondays, someone who is early to things, who exercises on a regular basis, who doesn’t use bad words, who eats healthier, who doesn’t impulse buy things, who washes their car without a drive-through and a debit card, who says “no” more often, who takes more time off.

One of these days.

For this edition of “I Know Cool People” – I’m kind of stretching the “know” part a bit. Apprentice castmate Anand Vasudev is a friend of my friend Anna Beth, but I’m totally claiming him since we’ve been Facebook friends for years now. Facebook friends count as real friends, right? Right.

At any rate, tune into The Apprentice tonight and cheer for Andy! He’s number 13 below (I hope that isn’t a bad omen):

photo credit: Ok! Magazine

yay for:
amazing weather
a call from my mom saying “meet me for dinner and to get our nails done”
eating lunch at home and outside with my doggie
check marks on “to do” lists
seeing my friend carey anne’s baby bump
a new funky and chunky gold necklace
researching austin, texas as long weekend getaway destination
funny blackberry messages from rebekah
pandora radio playing this song and this one, too
crossword puzzle confessions with meigs
wednesday (who doesn’t love hump day?)
knowing that there’s an oprah episode waiting on me at home (bless you, dvr.)
Ben, who accepts & supports my busy work and volunteer schedules
seeing pumpkins at the grocery store (i literally squealed with delight.)

I grew up watching MTV, you know, back when they actually showed videos. As I got older, I watched the channel’s first Real World (New York), and thus began my obsession with reality television. (Side note: Did anyone else have a thing for Eric Nies back then? I’m pretty sure I had a few “Dear Diary” entries about him, but I digress.)

Since I didn’t have much to do yesterday after I cleaned the house and the dog, I watched an episode (ok, fine – it was two episodes) of the Jersey Shore. Wow. If I lived in New Jersey, I think I’d be tempted to either a) Move or b) Start my own reality show that depicts New Jersey in a better light than Jersey Shore and the Real Housewives of New Jersey does. I mean, people talk about the south being strange? Sure, we might speak slowly, have our share of rednecks and a bad perm here and there, but I’ll take that any day over orange skin, scary fake fingernails, skanky clothing, bad manners and worse dancing.

After I became super familiar with the likes of JWow, The Situation, Snooki and Pauly D, the MTV Video Music Awards came on. With Chelsea Handler hosting, I decided it was ok for my 30-year-old self to watch.

Well. Between Usher looking 40-ish and Justin Bieber looking 12-ish, all I felt was old-ish. The only thing that made me feel a little better was that Chelsea Handler clearly had botox injections in her forehead for the occasion. That, and the fact that no matter how old I am, I’ll never look as old as those kids from the Jersey Shore. SPF, y’all. A little less MTV and STD(s), and a little more S-P-F.

Dear Casting Director for Dancing with the Stars,
We have all, from time to time, used a word loosely here and there – but I think I speak for America when I say that you’ve taken it a bit far.

I’ll give you “I carried a watermelon” Jennifer Grey and “Time, Love and Tenderness” Michael Bolton, but Bristol Palin? Audrina Patridge from The Hills? Mike from Jersey Shore? They do not stars make.

Love,
M

After gabbing about the “dress blog” with Cecilia, she talked me into taking a sewing class with her. She’s the same friend who started our book club, by the way. (I’m beginning to wonder if she’s 20-something going on 80-something, but I’m ok with it.)

I am getting very excited about the possibility of making fun dresses AND not having to pay to have every single pair of pants I purchase hemmed. (Like I told Ben this weekend, I pay for the pants, and then an extra $15-20 to get them hemmed. I pay more for less…there is nothing fair about that. Isn’t being short punishment enough? Short and broke is just the universe poking fun at me.) This means, however, that I’ll have to amend my list of things I don’t do. (Sewing is one of them. Along with camping, wearing leggings as pants, hunting and watching Jay Leno.)

In my head, I’m already the next Michelle Smith. In reality, I’ll probably never sew a straight line.