Whilst visiting Atlanta this weekend, I may or may not have lost my temper with a guy who clearly had no idea how scary I can be when mad (and wearing a one shoulder top – evidently I see them as bulletproof vests). Anyway, the poor guy was visibly shaken by the time I got through giving him a piece of my mind.

What am I, Mel Gibson? Yikes. I have felt terrible about this incident since the morning after the Red Bull and vodka wore off. It’s like I picked a fight with a kitten.

In my defense, however, the kitten started it.

On the way home from work yesterday, I was stopped at a light and couldn’t help but notice the abundance of “stuff” just lying around a yard nearby. I looked a little more closely, and there were two women bringing loads of items into the front yard. Yard sale? On a Thursday evening?

Nope. Breakup. That joker must have really done something terrible because there was a sign, written in magic marker, that read: FREE! Take anything you want! He DOES NOT live here anymore!

I swear I don’t make this stuff up. I called a co-worker of mine to ask if I should go back and get proof (via my blackberry camera) and she suggested I take myself on home. See title. I kept driving.

Exes. Love ’em or hate ’em? That is the question.

Confession: I’m a lover of the exes.

I happen to be friends (or friendly, that’s a better description) with almost all of my ex-boyfriends and that one “other ex” I have. I mean, we don’t hang out and watch movies together or anything, but we’re polite and we keep in touch. It might not be right for everyone, but it’s kind of just who I am. Once I love you – I love you. (Does that make me loyal or clingy? Let’s go with loyal. Like a Labrador Retriever.)

There’s only one ex that I’d avoid like the plague if I saw him somewhere. Why? Because he hates me. He hates me like Bill O’Reilly hates Keith Olbermann, and a lot like that duo, there will never be a kiss-and-makeup moment with us. (But, hey, 1 out of 50 ain’t bad. Ok, I don’t really have 50 ex-boyfriends, but it feels like that sometimes.)

The most common question I get regarding my divorce is, “Why didn’t your marriage work out?” But, the second most asked question is, “Do you still talk to him?”

The first answer is complicated and intrusive, and I’ll never answer it on this blog – or to anyone whom I don’t know extremely well. He did not do everything wrong and I did not do everything right…I’ll leave it at that. The answer to the second question is yes. I am not entirely sure I will still have conversations with him when I’m 32, or 35, or 45 – but for now, we still occasionally catch up on each other’s lives.

So there you have it. I, friends, am a lover of the exes. You can praise it or despise it, but life’s too short to go around wasting time and energy hating people, and so…I don’t.

Last night, I watched that train wreck of an interview ABC did with Jake and Vienna from The Bachelor. Lawd have mercy, y’all – it was ugly.

First things first. The host of the show kept calling it a “shocking breakup” – although I’m pretty sure that even my niece, who hasn’t been born yet – wasn’t shocked by it. The world saw this one coming. What we didn’t see coming was whom we would find ourselves siding with.

So, for those of you who have a life and didn’t watch, the interview went a little like this: Vienna claims he’s emotionally and physically detached from her. Jake accuses her of cheating, and says she constantly interrupted and undermined him. Vienna says he’s a liar. Jake yells at her to stop interrupting him. Vienna does the ugly cry. Jake glares at Vienna like he wishes she would vanish from this Earth. Vienna exits in tears.

Now, as much as I would normally enjoy this, I found myself wanting it to just hurry up and be over. (And, let’s face it – I didn’t have the self-restraint to change the channel, so them ending it or a power outage were my only options.) I was also shocked to discover that I, who dislikes Vienna immensely, actually took her side. (I still think she’ll be Hugh Hefner’s next new girlfriend, but I digress.) The breakup interview that I had been looking forward to beginning turned out to be something that I couldn’t wait to end. Sigh.

Reality television. It’s all fun and games until you end up in the middle of a couples therapy session…and then it’s just uncomfortable.

When I think of the July 4th holiday, I think of…

Flags lining the street lights in small towns, hot dogs and burgers on the grill, trips to the lake or beach, kids playing outside, Lee Greenwood and Bruce Springsteen music, fireworks, sparklers, barbecue, sunshine, lemonade, bathing suits and flip flops, the many men/women who have protected and continue to protect the freedom we have to do most anything we want to do.

*Cue God Bless the USA.

In talking with a friend at lunch today, I began thinking about the word “normal.” We throw that word around a lot. In fact, in many of my conversations this week, it has come up in both the form of a question and in a statement.

Statement: Well that’s just not normal at all.
Question: That’s how I feel, but is that normal?

Those were said by two different people, and each time I responded back with, “Define normal.” Sometimes it’s easy to agree on something that isn’t normal. If your boss asks you to babysit their kid at your desk every day…that’s not exactly normal. But, what if your boss wears the color green every day? That’s different, but it’s not necessarily abnormal. Or is it?

I love a definition, so this word, which keeps recurring in my conversations this week, was typed into my google search box. My search returned this: Normal – In behavior, normal refers to a lack of significant deviation from the average.

So, being “normal” is lacking deviation from the average? Well, yuck. Who wants to be that?

Last Sunday I didn’t do much of anything. I call these few and far between days “no makeup Sundays” because, well, I don’t put any makeup on. (Side note: I always feel really cute on the Monday following a no makeup Sunday.)

Anyway, last Sunday I was flipping through the channels and came across the movie Baby Mama. The following scenes from that movie always make me laugh out loud:

“I don’t know! Maybe you stuck some of it under there.”

“Because working is awesome and being married sucks.”

Dear People of Earth,
I’m going to begin this by telling you all that I’m far from perfect. I have, from time to time, made a mistake or 1000. That said, I’ve got some things I need to get off my chest.

Please refrain from using the word “christian” when it’s convenient for you. It’s one massive statement for you to call yourself Christ-like. If you claim to be Christ-like, you better be able to back that statement up with more than one example. And, “I didn’t call so-and-so a stupid slut” isn’t one of ’em. I’m going to need a resume and cover letter to go along with that Christ-like proclamation. Oh, and references that do not include your grandma.

Moving right along, if you’re a guy and you take a girl on a date, why not go the extra few steps and open the door for her? Opening doors, fellas – it might just open a door for you, if you know what I’m sayin’. This is 2010, and while you don’t always have to pick up the check, you do always have to open the door(s).

Also, if at all possible, please RSVP when you’re asked to. If it says “regrets only” they really mean that. If you don’t ask for an RSVP, here’s a news flash: You are not going to get one.

Finally, and we’ve been over this a million times and I know you’re tired of hearing it, but I feel the sudden need to reiterate it. Putting your personal business all over the Facebook is not acceptable. I don’t care how much you hate your ex, and I don’t want to read about your ingrown hairs or see photos of your bloody broken off fingernail. Take that shiz back to MySpace, ok?
Love,
M

Is it just me, or is everybody and their mama talking about their plans for the 4th of July? It amazes me more each year just how much buzz there is about the 4th. It’s become the new New Year’s Eve, where you feel bad if you don’t have the best possible plans lined up.

So far I’ve heard plans including the lake, beach, picnics and fireworks. Not one person has told me they don’t have any plans. Don’t get me wrong, I love that we Americans take our day of independence to heart and celebrate the holy heck out of it, but it just seems like we all go a bit overboard these days.

Whatever happened to a cookout with your family and sparklers when it got dark?

Props to Georgia’s g-o-v, who recently signed a bill that bans texting and driving. Beginning next Thursday, anyone caught typing while behind the wheel of a car will be fined $150, and will lose one point on their driver’s license.

I’m guilty of sneaking in a text or two at a red light, but not anymore. At $150 – whoever texts me will just have to wait.