Relationship Resume (é?)

From the Desk of Brittany Munrollio

To Whom It May Concern:

Hello! My name is Brittany and I would greatly appreciate it if you could take some time now to read about my experiences and qualifications for being your girlfriend. My close friend, Amanda, has told me about how happy she was in her past relationship with you, and I am confident that I am an ideal candidate for the position which is currently open. I have enclosed a brief, yet comprehensive, resume of my relationship history for your consideration. 

Affectionate, attractive and outgoing are just a few of my many relationship-friendly qualities. If you find yourself feeling down after a demanding day at the office, I will use my well-developed women's intuition to determine if you need a back rub, a stiff drink or a more rigorous physical activity to reduce tension. If you enter a room with me by your side, you are sure to be looked upon as a successful prize winner, an up-and-comer in both your corporate and social worlds. No need to worry about awkward silences, either. With my winning smile, knowledge of current events and high alcohol tolerance I am able to entertain audiences from your disapproving grandmother to an unruly group of children.  

There are numerous other dynamic personality traits I would be happy to apply in the official position of your girlfriend. I am an excellent communicator and am able to resolve conflicts quickly and gracefully. In the past I have dealt with issues such as moodiness, bad guitar playing, video game addictions and owning a Hummer. I am well equipped to handle any road-bumps by applying a unique blend of logic and emotion. I am also aware of various sexual appetites and interests and would consider myself a very open minded person.  

Thank you once again for your consideration. I will be following up with an e-card that is not too romantic, but certainly not something you would receive from a platonic friend. 

Sincerely, 

Brittany Munrollio 

*******************

So a friend and I were talking last week about our relationship resumes  and he challenged me with creating one of my own. This cover letter is obviously 1) a joke, and 2) not entirely accurate. As I was writing it I knew I had to reference a business cover letter template, as opposed to a personals ad. And just like you do with resumes for both your work and your dating life, I left out all the bad parts and exaggerated the good parts. 

This was just a funny writing exercise for me, but it does make one think a bit. What does your relationship resume look like? Anyone you would leave out, like that embarrassing job at McDonald's in high school? What qualities do you like to exaggerate (even if it's just to yourself)? Maybe relationships should be more like employment, with semi-annual evaluations and expense reports. I can hear you whining now "oh that's not romantic". It might not be romantic, but it could save you a lot on emotional overhead. 

Anyway, it's Wednesday and it's Halloween and I'm now focused on dressing up in sequins for Rocky Horror Picture Show tonight. As promised, here is a picture of me from this past weekend as a Lumber Jack aka Ru Paul Bunyan. I think it worked well. On the other hand, I blacked out a lot that night so no one knows for sure. Still searching for that elusive middle-ground with Frittany. Someday...

 

I'm A Mouse...Duh! + Hi 5

"Halloween is the one day of the year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. The hardcore girls just wear lingerie and some form of animal ears." - Mean Girls

Of course I'm writing about this, it's the pre-Halloween party weekend and everyone is gearing up for some slut-tastic costumes. I did a quick Google search for some ideas and the results were vast. Some of my faves  are: Racy Robin Hood, Pandalicious (a panda), Beetlejuice Secret Wishes, Chinese Hot Sauce Adult, Sexy Miss. Tin Man. I mean, it's just so hard to choose...[SARCASM!]

Ok, Sexy Nurse/Cop/Wonder Woman/etc. are all very understandable. But Beetlejuice? There is nothing sexy about Beetlejuice. Or a bottle of Chinese Hot Sauce, really? At what point in your life do you look at a bottle of Chinese Hot Sauce and think "I'd really like to fuck this, if only it had breasts and a vajay." Suddenly you're at a Halloween party and all your dreams have come true!

I understand the desire to want to dress scandalously, there is a certain power in dressing like a stripper, yet being unattainable. And let's be honest, getting attention when you look awesome makes you feel even more awesome. But are we really at a point in our lives where we are willing to dress up as a Sexy Crayon for some attention? I don't think dressing 'sexy' for Halloween is a crime, but for Jack The Pumpkin King's sake, let's get a bit more realistic than a bottle of hot sauce.

But what if you don't want to dress sexy? I felt the social pressure last Halloween when I wanted to dress up like a scary Medusa. I wanted people to look at me thinking "hmm that girl looks hot I wonder how much cleavage she's - oh sweet lord she has no soul!" I wasn't sure how to do this, but I set to work buying snakes for my hair and black-out contacts, looking up images of the real Medusa for inspiration. But as the day got closer, and my friends were talking about their costumes, such as Sexy Red Riding Hood, I started to feel this pressure to be less scary, more sexy. I had visions of going to a Halloween party and my boyfriend looking with lust at  all the other 'Sexy' girls, but being stuck with me, the soul-less Greek myth. So I caved, and ended up with a weird combination look (let's call it scaxy) that probably seemed like I just hadn't tried very hard.

Well no more!!! This year I've decided to not give a hoot, and am dressing as Lumber'Jack' (there will be a uni-brow; I'll post a pic or two). In part to make fun of the sexy costume ridiculousness, and in part because I like faux facial hair. A lot. I know that most people will look at me with confusion, maybe even disgust. And I don't care, because while I know I could rock the Sexy Zombie School Girl like nobody's business, I would rather save a version of that for the bedroom. Instead I will pay homage to one of my favorite cross-dress promoting H-ween movies, and much fun will be had.

Rant over! Happy Friday!

Oh, and Happy (almost) Halloween!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dr-zTldPiVE&feature=BFa&list=PLFD3804B867F27E0D

Love Potion

I've been reading a book called 'The Female Brain' by Dr. Louann Brizendine and I feel the need to share some info here, because it's fascinating and it explains a lot about why I feel the way I feel (well, women in general). So next time I'm upset/sad/moody about matters of the heart and am saying "I don't know what's wrong with meeee!!!" while crying and eating a carton of Ben & Jerrys, you can say "refer to your own blog, you sappy idiot". Well, hopefully you'd be a bit nicer than that.

Anyway, when you are, ah, shall we say 'intimate' with someone, your brain releases large amounts of oxytocin, which makes you feel happy, content, euphoric, etc. and helps you to bond and have strong feelings for the person you're with (this is true for both men and women, though usually women release more oxytocin, making us more emotional - surprise!). That's probably what started the whole 'don't spend the night' thing for one-night stands. It's not the actual act of sex that [chemically] bonds you to someone, but the hormones that are released afterwards, who have their own little party while you cuddle up to your partner.

Think about it...have you ever been with someone who you don't particularly care for, but they're really attractive, great sexual chemistry, etc? As you continue to hook up, you find yourself 'falling for him/her' but you don't know why, it doesn't really make sense. It must be love! Wrong. It is just your body getting used to those happy hormones, becoming somewhat dependent on them.

Thus, when you actually do like someone, and you add in these boosts of brain/body bonding, it's easy to see how quickly feelings can develop. And how much it absolutely sucks when you say goodbye. It's generally more painful for girls, as we are more sensitive to the hormone changes in our bodies. The withdrawal reaction from no more oxytocin can actually cause physical discomfort/pain (explains the two weeks you couldn't eat because of nausea after a bad breakup). This also explains why the newly single folk are so eager for rebound-sex, their bodies are craving that neuro-chemical high.

Of course it's not all about sex. Being physically close to someone, skin to skin touching, maintaining eye contact, hugging for longer than 10 seconds. All of these things promote bonding. Unless you're stuck on a crowded C-train during the first snowfall. Then all of those things are really irritating. Then again, you are surrounded by cranky strangers in that scenario (which probably doesn't turn you on. Probably.)

I used to get upset when people would say 'love is just a chemical reaction' and you can get the same feelings from eating a lot of chocolate. First of all, that better be damn good chocolate. Second of all, no the thought of love as an emotional response to a physical action isn't very romantic. But that doesn't mean it isn't true, to some extent.

When I was engaged, many many moons ago, what I heard often from the older generation was that 'love is a choice'. I didn't really understand that, I thought they were saying a 'you've made your love bed and now you have to sleep in it' kind of thing. That kind of thinking leads to people staying in unfulfilling or unhealthy relationships. When I think of love as a choice now, I realize that you can have "in love" feelings with pretty much anyone, because yes it is basically just a chemical reaction. But when you find someone special, someone who can drive you crazy, someone who can make you a better person, someone you get used to and those "in love" feelings fade...real love is choosing to forge and maintain a bond beyond the ups and downs of hormones, because you want to, because they are worth it to you.

I'm not saying there's a right or a wrong way to go about a love connection. It's just a good idea to know what you're really getting into when you get in to bed. Class dismissed. Haha, just kidding I could never be a teacher, I would end up in jail. But you should think about reading that book, as it's much more informative (though less hilarious) than my regurgitated ramblings.

Oh yeah, it's Friday Hi-5 Time

I'll cut to the chase. I didn't go to zumba class on Wednesday. Or abs class on Thursday. And I'm definitely not going to the gym tonight, as I'm pretty sure they don't serve the red wine I've been craving. Rather than beat myself up about my lack of motivation/dedication/willpower/general interest, I've decided this week has been my resting week. Next week will be different. Next week I will get my shit together and - if necessary - brave the cold winds in pursuit of physical fitness.

Any bets on this actually happening? Why is it so hard to motivate oneself in the winter? At this point I'm going to have to resort to taping up pictures of Victoria's Secret models in my room, which will definitely illicit some questions from my Roomies.

It's not just health I'm having trouble with, but motivation in general. Waking up in the middle of the night confused about what time zone I'm in can't be helping, but how long can I blame jet lag for my disinterest in most activities? I don't even want to write this, I'm just in the habit of doing it at this point. Maybe I'll have an exciting adventure, an awesome epiphany, or an unexpected disturbance this weekend to shake me up. Or maybe I'm just keeping secrets, and don't know what to write about because I'm focused on something else entirely...only time will tell! Unless I'm struck down by a car on the way home today, in which case you'll never find out. Sorry.

But for now, while we're all still here, I bequeath to you my Friday Hi-5:

^ This one is from my recent vacay, had to sneak it in! 

  

On The Plus Side, My Fingers Aren't Fat Anymore

So I am back from the other side of the world. Back at my job, back at my house, back to real life. It's not fantastic. I mean, I missed my roomies and I'm happy to be back to my full selection of clothing (I really need to learn how to pack like a reasonable person). But generally...I'm not pumped. However, I have come to learn that this is normal, according to Wikipedia: "A person may suffer from Post Vacation Blues after returning home or to a normal routine from a long vacation, especially if it was a pleasurable one...Post vacation blues may result in tiredness, loss of appetite, strong feelings of nostalgia, and in some cases, depression. Jet lag may intensify the post vacation blues." Seems simple enough, and it makes me feel better for laying around the house in my sweat pants for the past 3 days, eating Nutella on animal crackers and crying intermittently. 

But it's time to pull up my socks! Or, more appropriately, my stockings. It's officially autumn here in Calgary, which means no more bare legs. I somewhat-happily donned my leather pirate-chic coat with fur collar this morning, and pulled my woolen leopard print mittens out of storage. I hope I can wear my vintage mink coat this winter, as last year it didn't get cold enough. Before you start thinking 'Cruella DeVille' let me just stop you and say...you know, I actually have no supporting argument. I love fur. Sorry. (I'm not really sorry). 

So this is what it has come to, counting on my love of animal skins to pull me out of PVB. Well, there are worse things. Probably. And on the plus side, my hands aren't swollen from the change in air pressure or whatever happened there. Tonight, we zumba!!  

Excitement VS. Expectation + The High 5

Do you remember when you were a little kid, and your birthday was coming up, and you were so pumped because you just KNEW that it was going to be the best damn day of your entire life?!? Then the day came and your friends didn't want to play the party games, you were cranky from not sleeping well the night before, you had a tummy ache from all the cake and instead of getting a Holiday Elegance Barbie you got a shitty green-haired knock off from the dollar store.

Expectation is a tricky thing. On the one hand, I expect to be treated with a certain amount of respect at work. That's good. On the other hand, I expect to be able to eat ice cream every day and never go to the gym, yet still have the body of an 18 year old. That's stupid. Realistic expectations are something I have always struggled with, and I often confuse them with excitement. If I'm planning a trip or looking forward to an event, I'm probably excited about it. But then I start imagining specific scenarios, detailed down to what shoes I'm wearing. And that's when things get complicated.

Talking with a friend this past week, about the fundamental differences between men and women in this regard, he mentioned that he's planned trips before with girlfriend's of his. It could be six months away, and all is well, everyone is excited and happy. But as the date approaches she starts getting weird, questioning everything and worrying about obscure little details. In his mind, nothing has changed. They planned a trip. Now they're going on a trip. It'll be fun. But in her mind...and I can speak from personal experience here...there is a circus of second-guessing going on. What does it mean? What if something goes wrong? What if we have nothing to talk about? What if it's great and I fall in love with him? Am I ready to fall in love? Can I see myself marrying this person some day? Seriously. It's nuts.

This topic arose because I am, in fact, going on a trip. And I did, of course, start down this path of questioning a few weeks ago. For some reason (I'm giving credit to finally learning from past experiences) I stopped myself. I determined what was a rational, legitimate thing to be worried about, and what was not. I talked to the necessary people. I allowed myself to be excited without all the stress of having expectations. Of course I'm nervous, I don't really have any idea of what to expect. But I refuse to set myself up for disappointment before I've even started packing. So, off I go! No blog for the next week and a half or so, I suggest baking a flan in the dull hours you'll have to fill up without my constant ramblings. Also, Happy Thanksgiving!

And here's some pictures I found amusing:

 Bonus Round:

Angry...or Hangry?

So I went out for a couple drinks with some co-workers this week. I told myself I would only stay out for one or two, but four hours later I was at a local pub yelling about racial discrimination. At one point someone I've worked with for over a year said to me "wow, Brittany I have never seen you like this. It's great to hear your opinions and your viewpoints. Why don't you talk about this stuff more?" To which I responded, "they don't want to hear my opinions at work, they want me to be pretty and answer the phone. Get with the program." A heated debate ensued, that I only half remember.

I've come to realize two things about myself over the past few months, as I have cut down on my drinking/Frittany appearances. 1) It doesn't really matter how much I drink, 4 glasses of wine or 7 shots of tequila, I will have black-out patches. 2) I am angry.

But what am I angry about? The thing is, I can't really put my finger on one source of my shouting and ranting and glassy eyed glares. We could safely say that I'm satisfied and pleased with my approach to life at the moment; in a general sense I am very happy. Upon closer inspection there are things that get my blood boiling. Things such as: women's rights, racism, US politics, materialism, people who don't recycle, our growing dependency on technology, our increasing inability to form a real meaningful connection with other humans...etc. On a more personal note, I'm angry about how I've been treated at certain times in my life, things that have happened to me and worse - things that I have allowed to happen to me. Moments when I didn't stand up for myself, moments when I didn't share my opinions or tell the truth. Moments when I wasn't angry.

So I suppose I'm pretty angry about a lot of things. Don't let that scare you though. Sitting here right now, sober as a youth pastor, I'm not overly concerned about anything. I'm just typing away and eating a grapefruit. So the possibility has crossed my mind that maybe I'm just hangry (hungry + angry) when I have these outbursts. (I did some research, it's a real thing.)

However, I know that the short burst of nostrils-flared rage I get right before lunch time when I realize my blue pen isn't on my desk is very different than the deep, smoldering indignation I feel when a stranger out at the bar grabs my ass as I'm walking by. Yet if I turn around and knee the offender in the groin, somehow I am totally insane. I realize that it's not cool to be angry, especially as a woman. People jump to the conclusion that you're PMS-ing, you're sexually frustrated, or maybe just having a bad hair day. I know that all of these things can lead to irrational behavior, but I don't think that having sex with someone will make me feel better about the fact that friends of mine can't get in to certain establishments because of their skin color - though bouncers or owners would swear on their life that it's a dress code issue.

I think that we, as a generation of people living in a liberal community, are simply not angry enough. I absolutely do not agree with the recent Muslim attacks on US Consulates, but think of this - when was the last time you felt so strongly and passionately about something that you actually did something about it? I'm not saying start fires or set off bombs, that is not the solution here. What I'm saying is, we no longer know how to properly feel anger or express it. It seems we are either so angry that we are irrational, or we convince ourselves that 'this is just the way it is and I'll have to accept it, no use getting all riled up about it' and essentially that means we roll over and give up.

I think I'm trying to find a medium with my anger. I don't want to inflict pain or suffering on anyone, I just want people to start thinking. Start feeling! There are plenty of things to be angry about going on today. Maybe more people should be shouting about them instead of pretending they're not happening. Get riled up, have a discussion, who cares if the people around you think you're nuts. But make sure you have a full stomach before tearing into an issue, just to be safe. I'm also working on expressing myself more when I'm not drinking, when surely my arguments will make more sense, or at the least I'll remember what I've said.

Family Matters

Coming from a traditional Ukranian background, my (extended) family and I don't see eye to eye on a few issues. I thought I had permanently stopped any pressure about "settling down" after getting married at 19, divorced at 20. However, as I noticed at a family wedding this past weekend, little comments have started creeping up. Inquiries about my love life, why I haven't brought anyone around to meet the fams in over 4 years (has it only been 4 years???), hints at starting a family. In my opinion, my Baba (maternal grandma) already has 4 great grandchildren and I think my uterus and I should get a free pass. Maybe they are just concerned that I am a lesbian, which is understandable given my penchant for cross dressing and facial hair.

Anyway, my evolving feminist ideals could come crashing up against these traditional [narrow-minded] values and potentially cause everyone some grief, but mostly it would result in people gossiping behind my back. So I bite my tongue. Unless I've been drinking and mistakenly say 'my lover' instead of 'my boyfriend', which did happen and was mostly ignored, aside from some raised eyebrows. How do I explain to my Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents and younger cousins that I don't identify with the boyfriend/girlfriend terms right now, and I find 'lover' an acceptable and progressive alternative. Of course, explaining it that way makes me sound like a hippie. Also that term shines a huge spotlight on the elephant in the room trying to hide under a coffee table - sex. It is a talent of the older generations, to simply not acknowledge things they find disagreeable. Instead they ask about my work, my education plans, my hobbies. And when it's time to go I get a whisper of "I'm praying for you."

I don't hold this against them (well, I try not to). It's true that to a certain extent I feel I can't be myself around most of my family. But really, who can? And even if I don't agree with their methods, the expression of love is still there. Baba is concerned about the state of my soul, Gido (grandpa) is concerned because my parents split up, everyone else is probably concerned that I am anorexic (before they saw me attack the dessert table, that is). And if that interest in my well being comes across as smothering, well, that's what family is for I suppose.

After a full day and a half of family bonding, it was starting to grate on me, and I wished I was still sleeping off my hangover from the wedding reception, like my brother. I made my rounds, hugging everyone who was still visiting after breakfast. My cousin, the bride, who I haven't actually talked to in years, thanked me for coming. Then she said, to my surprise, "by the way, I read your blog. I really enjoy it." I thanked her and again congratulated her. My Baba hugged me goodbye and said "by the way, there's homemade cinnamon buns for you in the fridge. Be safe. I'm praying for you." And although I don't always agree with how they love me, I very much appreciate the fact that my family does love me. And maybe they know me a bit better than I thought.