Before I Self Destruct...

I've recently discovered that my body is literally trying to implode; and while some of you might think that this is an exaggeration, I can truly assure you that it's not. Within a two week span of me staying at friend's and family's houses, it was confirmed twice that I periodically try to suffocate myself in my sleep. The suspect: possible sleep apnea, which is causing me to choke and not breathe during my slumber. So, in essence my body keeps trying to kill itself.

In an effort to stay alive, I reached out to the doctor to make an appointment. Unfortunately, it would be a good three weeks before I was able to be seen. To mind my time until the doctor was able to save my life, I headed to the wonderful world of Wikipedia - land of all useful knowledge. Of course the one and only fact I was able to focus on was that sleep apnea will inevitably cause my untimely death, but I did learn a good amount of information (whether that information was actually factual doesn't really matter). Apparently, the longer I suffer from sleep apnea without treatment, the less oxygen reaches my brain and that lack of brain oxygen will cause an array of fun health issues, including (but not limited to!) heart disease, stroke, clinical depression and obesity.

Not only was it bad enough that I could wake the dead from my obnoxious snoring, I was now suffocating myself in my sleep, preventing oxygen from reaching my brain, making myself fatter, and counting down the days to my first stroke. With my excitement in tow, I finally headed to the doctor to see what could possibly be done. She took a look down my throat and said "Wow, it's crowded back there." Crowded? With what? Subway cars are crowded; my house of too many roommates is crowded; I'm pretty confident my throat shouldn't be crowded. She wrote me a referral to the sleep medicine guru and sent me on my merry way to sleep another night closer to a heart attack.


Luckily, the sleep medicine facility was able to get me in two days later. She started asking me question after question to gauge how likely it was that I had sleep apnea.

• Do you snore? Yes!
• Do you have headaches? Yes!
• Do you have heart burn? Yes!
• Do you have night sweats? Yes! They don't call me Sweatz^TM for nothin'.

I then had to rate my level of sleepiness in different situations on a scale from 0 to 3 - 3 being the most likely I'd fall asleep.

• Sitting and Reading? 3
• Watching TV? 3
• Sitting inactive in a public place (like a meeting at work)? Definitely 3
• Passenger in a car for an hour without a break? 3
• In a car, while stopped in traffic? 3

She told me that I had a very high level of sleepiness, that I am an accident waiting to happen, and that I shouldn't drive until this is under control. Sure - that's a feasible option. Luckily I live and work within a 5 mile radius, so the chance of my flying off the road and killing pedestrians isn't as high anymore. I should probably start driving with a helmet on though, just in case. She scheduled a sleep study for me, so we can figure out just how severe my sleep apnea is. She then went on to tell me that while sleep apnea does clearly suck it is very treatable with a CPAP machine aka The Oxygen Mask of No Sex.


I'm pretty confident that I can just give up the hope of ever having sex again, let alone a boyfriend or future husband. Do they have vaginal amputation surgery? Can I donate it to someone who can have sex? I clearly won't need her anymore. Would that donation be a tax write off? That'd be helpful. Perhaps with all the restful, brain oxygenating sleep and lack of sex, I will become incredibly focused on going back to school, getting a fourth job, or trying to ward off the impending major obesity that the sleep apnea was trying to bring upon me. So I may be vaginally useless, but I'll be smarter, hotter and my brain will once again be filled with sweet, sweet oxygen.

Trapped in the Closet

I love that the tolerance levels for homosexuality have come leaps and bounds within my short life time. I remember not too long ago when I was in high school, a guy would have been ridiculed endlessly for being gay, or even being perceived as gay. While my sister, who is currently a sophomore in high school, tells me that there are a ton of openly gay kids in her school. Granted, my sister and I have always lived in highly populated areas with culture closeby and MTV on 24/7, so I can only speak from my own personal encounters.

With acceptance in the air and objective attitudes blossoming with our pollen filled trees, why do I still come across so many closet cases? Grown men that are so trapped in the closet they can't help but sing R. Kelly songs. It is in my expert opinion that there are far too many gay men hiding amongst the straight men. You see these men prancing on posies, trying to convince us single girls that they love them some ladies, when really they are as straight as a circle. I know for a fact that I have better than exceptional gay-dar and I will be the first girl to say that I love me some gay men. They are a girl's best friend: less bitchy than a woman and you can still talk about how hot Vin Diesel was in Fast Five without a second thought.

So, why would anyone be so ashamed of their sexuality that they have to pretend to be something they arent? There are so many perks involved with being gay. Yes... perks:

1. You will have so many female friends in your life you won't know what to do with yourself. And all of them will most likely feel comfortable changing in front of you.
2. With all of the naked ladies around, you're bound to expand your social circle with straight men who want to be around all of the nakedness. Who doesn't love having large social circles?
3. Nine times out of ten, you'll have fashion sense.
4. You can have sex at the gym!
5. You can have sex at the club!
6. You can have sex and not have to cuddle afterwards!

There are far too many of these closeted men clogging up my Match.com inbox, Facebook wall, Twitter feed and life in general. What's the big deal, fellas!? Love who you want to love!

I may have met a few suspects in my time, but one of them takes the mother of all cakes. I met him at a friend's house party and within seconds of seeing him, the gay light was flashing so bright I could barely see anything. Perhaps it was the just array of mismatched bracelets and shiny shirt that was blinding me. Either way, he was clearly not playing for my team. I paid him no mind, but by the end of the night, he asked me for my phone number. After I gave it to him, I pulled my friend aside and asked just how gay this guy was. According to her, he was a straight arrow, and was even married for many years. Okay - because a married guy couldn't possibly be gay. Thanks.

My main issue with this guy was that he was the most irritating human being I've ever met. There was a brief moment when I thought he might be straight because the bitchier I was to him, the more he tried to hit on me; a paradox amongst men that I will never understand. Shortly after his awkward passes at me, he confessed he was engaged... to a woman. This is where my second issue with him developed: he was clearly a lying douche bag. Nevertheless, he still pursued, claiming that he didn't love this woman and he broke up with her. Whatever you say buddy.

Like a lot of people I know, I have questioned my sexuality at one point or another. I clearly know when I see a hot chick. I have kissed a lady or two in my time, with or without alcohol involved. These are things I am not ashamed of; it's all part of getting to know our selves as we grow. I know damn well and whole heartedly that I love men more than I probably should. So, I think it's fair to say that I'm about 98% straight, give or take a cocktail.

So, when house party guy told me that...

a. he watches gay porn
b. is attracted to trannys and
c. has gotten multiple special kisses from men and trannys

...my reaction wasn't one of shock. I looked at him and said "I knew you were gay". He quickly dismissed my statement, and said "I'm not gay; I'm religious".

Wait... what?! So, God doesn't want you to be gay, so instead you thought it was better to be a liar? And a cheater? And an over all douche bag? I thought God didn't take too kindly to those sorts of things.

He ended up marrying that woman he was engaged to, even though he was consistantly cheating on her with dudes. Talk about ruining the sanctity of marriage. Ladies, open your eyes! We need to stop enabling these men, and kick them out of the closet. Let us stop making excuses for these guys; no, he is not just "really sensitive", his voice is that high for a reason, and it is not cute that he owns more purses than you.

Breakup Etiquette

While I was sitting in my car during my daily nightmarish commute in the wee hours of the morn', I heard something interesting on the radio regarding things you loved as a kid but now hate as an adult.

"Hmm", I thought to myself, this should be interesting. Let's see how adult I am!

Then I heard the list from the hosts and the callers, such as:

• Gushers
• Spaghetti-O's
• Fruit Roll Ups
• Fish Sticks
• Cap'n Crunch
• Cinnamon Toast Crunch
• Apparently all sugary cereals
• Chicken Nuggets
• Kraft Mac & Cheese
• Cheese n' Crackers (you know, the one with that red stick!?)

Wait a minute... aside from fish sticks, which I can't remember ever eating, I still currently love all of the above. I mean, what's wrong with the Blue Box Blues people!? Does this mean I'm less of an adult? Should I retreat back to the fourth grade, embrace nap time, play scatch-it in the streets with neighborhood friends and fight with my mom about brushing my teeth before bed?

I'm getting off topic here. The point I'm trying to make is that I don't think my food choices make me less adult-like. There are things that come across my mind that prove just how mature and awesome I am. Honestly, I have no idea how I got here on most occasions, nor do I care to question how this happened to me.

One thing I know for sure that proves to myself just how much I've metamorphacized (that's a word, trust me) over time is my abiding desire to avoid fakeness, bullshit and drama, particularly when it comes to relationships. I've had my fill of one dramatic breakup after another, and the next guy I endure a breakup with, I am sure it will go something like this:

Me: Hey guy-I'm-dating. This isn't really working out for me. But I still think you're bad ass, and we still have fun together. How about we take a step back, chill out the romance, and just be best buds, mmkaythanks?

Guy-I'm-Dating: You're awesome too. I really enjoyed our time together. It would be my pleasure to remain friends with you. Thank you for being upfront with me. Did I mention I think you're awesome. Let's go get frozen yogurt!

(I swear this happens in real life.)

In the event the breakup looks more like...

I WISH I NEVER MET YOU!!!!!!

...then you're left with figuring out how to divide up all of your movies and mutual friends. Come to think of it, what exactly are you supposed to do with all of the friends you made together during the course of the relationship? Most times you adopt his friends and vice versa. If the relationship ends, then what? You have to lose your boyfriend, your new friends, and your dignity all at the same time? That's a pretty big blow if you ask me.

No one writes about these situations. There's books, magazine articles, online journals, and blogs dedicated to relationships and how to end them maturely. What about the friends left behind? How do you breakup with your ex's friends? They had no say in your breakup, and now they are left to choose sides. It's really not fair to them.

I think the way to go in these scenarios is to suck it up, grow a pair and live happily ever after amongst all your new friends and ex's. Then bunny rabbits, and butterflies will appear and a rainbow will lead the way to your happily ever after.

The end.