When Kelley was young (and when I say young, I mean 11 or 12), every time she looked at one of her new presents from Santa Claus on Christmas morning, she'd say "Thank you, Santa Claus, thank you, Santa Claus, thank you wherever you are."  It doesn't get much better than that folks.  I love Christmas. I really do.  I'm all about a tacky Christmas sweater (that Kim still wears, btw).  I love Christmas music.  I love Bug's Christmas cookies.  I love Christmas food.  I love singing on Christmas Eve.  I mean, I'm like the friggin ghost of Christmas present here! I love it.  And I also have a LOT of Christmas stories. So I will share some of my favorites with you.  So sit back, relax, get a cup of hot chocolate, put on "Bells Will Be Ringing" by The Eagles, and enjoy.  I'll start at the beginning.

December 1989:  Kelley was almost 7 years old.  I was approximately 18 months old, decked out with thick blondish hair (in a bowl naturally), and a Santa Claus romper.  Kelley was wearing a Christmas vest decked out with Christmas lights and black straight leg jeans that she donned EVERY Christmas.  And Dad had the video camera.  Let's make this clear:  Kelley did not appreciate the fact that I was the new one in the house, and therefore everyone was always taking videos of me.  So to gain the camera time that she truly deserved, Kelley decided to perform what was, in her mind, several different versions of Jingle Bells.  There was a jazzy version, a country version, a salsa version, etc.  Yet somehow, each version sounded exactly the same.  And each time Dad would try to sneakily cut the camera to my smiling face banging on an inanimate object, Kelley would promptly remind him that it was her performance.  After her "Variations on Jingle Bells", she then performed a selection from "The Little Drummer Boy".  We all know that one.  And as she sang with such emotion, the words "Parumpumpumpum" came up, and Kelley added a genuine and almost provocative 7 year old body roll.  This is still the best Christmas video we have to date.


December 1993:  Dad and Mom were putting out the presents while we were sleeping on Christmas eve.  All I wanted that year were black boots, Snow White underdrawers, and a doll that looked at you and talked.  And because my parents are wonderful, they got me all three.  Dad put out the boots and the drawers, and then he unpackaged the doll that talked.  It was a really cute doll with blonde pigtails and a pink dress on.  And as he set the doll down in its proper place, its eyes opened and said "TALK TO ME DADDY".  Dad threw it across the room and screamed that it was a "devil doll".  Needless to say, that doll didn't get played with very much.  It spent a lot of time in the closet.

December 1995:  I was cast as "Little Bell" in the First Presbyterian Church's elementary Christmas program.  This was the main part, may I add.  The show was about bells....in a church I guess....I'm not really sure.  The point is, I was the "ugly" bell....but little did they know that I was the bell around the sheep's neck...the sheep that was right next to the BABY JESUS when he was born! BOOYAH!  This role came with four solos....and I'd like to say that I nailed it.  I also nailed the part of the show where I had to constantly ring a bell under my costume....which was a trashbag.

Skip ahead a few years


December 2003:  I was 15 years old.  I had gotten my permit in August and was going to get my license the following February.  So naturally, all I wanted for Christmas was a Red automatic Volkswagen beetle.  I talked about nothing else.  I told my parents probably four times a day every day for around five months.  (All Kelley wanted was a light up tiara and a baton for Christmas.  This will come in handy later in the story).  Christmas eve came and I was tingling with excitement.  I just KNEW I was going to get my bug.  We began opening a few presents that evening like we always do, and one of my presents was a toy Volkswagen beetle painted with red fingernail polish.  I looked at Kelley and said "What is this?"  And my Dad looked at me with a disappointed face and said, "Taylor I'm sorry, but we just couldn't do the whole car thing this year.  We're going to try next year, but for now, this will have to do."  I was crushed.  I mean, I put on a smile and tried to pretend like I was having fun, but let's face it, I was pissed.  I went to sleep that night and dreaded the next morning when I had to wake up and find out there would be no car outside.  But I did it.  I woke up and quietly opened up my presents.  Kelley got her light up tiara and baton.  And then they handed me a few gifts.  One was a piece of paper with the VW logo.  One was a car sticker.  And one was a bouquet of fake flowers.  I was livid.  What a cruel joke.  Why would they just rub it in my face that I wouldn't get my car.  It was awful.  And then my brother in law looked and said "Taylor, there's one more present".....and he threw me a set of keys.  Well, Kelley immediately stood up and started singing "Stars and Stripes forever" with her light up tiara and was twirling her baton.  As I pushed people out of the way and started running to the door, Kelley went out in front of me to lead the parade with her baton, but ended up falling on the sidewalk.  Without any regard to her, I jumped over her and jumped on my beautiful new red automatic Volkswagen beetle.  We both got what we wanted.  It was an AWESOME Christmas.

December 2005:  Dad's birthday is December 17th!  I was a senior in high school, and I wanted to do something "special" for his big day.  It just so happened that the evening of his birthday fell on the night of the City of Clinton Christmas party.  So I knew that he and Mom would be gone all night.  So....I decided to become Clark Griswold and give him the Christmas decorations that our house deserved.  Reinforcements (the Heffas) were called in and Operation Nightbright ensued.  We were all black, smeared war paint on our faces, and got down to business.  It was absurd.  There were lights ALL over the house, the cars, the trees, the lawn.  And not ONLY did we have a blow up Santa Claus, we had a light up manger scene, complete with Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, and the three wisemen (eventhough the three wise men were all spread out over the yard, including up in a tree, because we didn't have enough electrical outlets).  When Mom and Dad came home, we had it perfectly timed out.  It was completely dark when they pulled up, and then as they got out of the car, we turned on the switch....and literally the house buzzed.  I mean....it's probably not what Dad had wanted for his birthday....but oh well!  MERRY CHRISTMAS DAD!

December 2005:  Christmas Eve.  Every year since 6th grade, I had taken part in the youth group's nativity scene.  I had played virtually every part. May times, I played a shepherd which I loved because you got to stand by the fire and basically do nothing.  I was a wise man (Ms. Jean called it a wise"person") a couple of times, which was fun because the costumes has glitter on them, but was tough because we had to walk to Mary with a spotlight directly in our eyes.  One year, I was the Angel of the Lord so I got to stand on top of the scaffolding above all the other angels.  I was pumped, but when I realized how high up I was, I froze.  I know I wasn't as heavenly as I  should have looked, but I was terrified.  But my senior year, I got my big break.  I was going to get to play Mary, the mother of Jesus, in the Christmas Eve nativity scene.  I was ecstatic.  I walked out to our makeshift stable holding my baby doll with one eye missing and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger.  What was REALLY cool about our nativity scene was the we had live animals: two sheep and a donkey.  This donkey is always notorious for making loud noises and bucking at people, and one time the sheep tried to hang itself, but I knew this year wasn't the year.  As I sat in the stable looking out into the crowd angelically, the donkey starting making its noises.  I looked at it, furious that it was stealing my limelight.  After a few seconds, it stopped.  But then, as the choir began singing "The First Noel", a nightmare at the manger occurred.  The donkey started pooping everywhere.  I mean, everywhere.  I felt mortified, but I was trying my best to stay in character.  I looked over, and my Joseph was doubled over laughing.  You could hear the crowd start giggling and murmuring, and there I was, holding the baby Jesus, giving death glances to Joseph, and watching the ass poop all over the manger scene.

This is why I love Christmas.  You can't make stuff like this up.  You simply can't beat Christmas stories.  And that's why I love Christmas.
So friends, God only knows what will happen this Christmas.  So be sure to stay tuned for more Christmas stories in January.  I'm sure there will be plenty.  Until then, have a Merry Christmas and enjoy being with your family (eventhough most families are a little cray cray).

And for now, at least we can be thankful that we're not this guy:

I know.  It's been a while.  My bad.
But I felt like I should wait to write a blog and let some of the things that have happened recently accumulate so they could all go into one blog.

As we all know, I work in retail.  This year, I experienced my first Black Friday as a sales associate.  Let me just say that people are nuts.  The women that came in that day were the hottest of hot messes.  Most of them had been up since 4AM waiting outside of Walmart for a new TV or a new computer for "the grandbaby"....in most cases, my store was the last stop of the day.....and after 12 hours of shopping and way too much triptophan in their systems, these ladies were irritable and looking for sympathy.  And I refused to give it to them.  I mean, dang.  It's not my fault that they were cray cray enough to wake up when even God himself wasn't awake, to buy a new TV.  No thank you, ladies.

Since that day, I've had some strange conversations/occurances with my customers.  Most of the time, I'm in the women's department:  this is for the big mamas.  And God bless them, they're all so nice.....most of the time.  But these women have no filters....or modesty.  The following things have happened to me in the last three weeks:
1.  I bought a BOSS headband....and I actually bought it from the store.  It's really funky and is something that you would typically see me wear.  So....I'm wearing my cool headband at work.  I'm ringing up a lady at the checkout counter, and answering her questions she had for me.  "Yes ma'am, I just graduated from Presbyterian College.  I graduated with a degree in music and theater."  And she looked at me like she had just made a bewildering discovery and replied, "Ohhhhhhh.  That's why  you have that THING on your head."    Thank you, ma'am.  Enjoy your high waisted pants.
2.  I had been helping a very nice lady who was very honest.  If she didn't like a top, she let you know.  If she didn't like the song on the radio, she let you know.  But she WAS funny....so I'll give her that.  So once again, I'm ringing up her clothes and ask "ma'am did you find everything ok?"  The honest lady stares at me for a moment, thinking hard and begins to speak.  She stops herself.  And then looks at me again....and then she says "You know I went to Belk today and found some great rosatia cream.  You should really think about buying some for your face."  Thank you, ma'am.  Enjoy your button up blouse with matching turtleneck.
3.  Our store is split into three big sections:  petite, misses, and women's.  A lady came over to me looking for the women's section.  And with exquisite charm, I said "Well you're here! Welcome!"  The lady looks at me and replies:  "Oh Great!  I'm glad I found it!  Us big girls have to stay over here where we can fit into the bigger sizes, don't we?"  I didn't respond.
4.  A lady came in wanting a new cardigan.  I showed her tons of them.......after she hated every single one, I decided to show her one that I had bought.  It was a gray cardigan with sequins on the front...nothing too extravagant by any means.  She looks at the cardigan....and back at me.....and back at the cardigan....and back at me once again....and replied with a disgusted look on her face, "well........aren't you just.........artsy."
5.  A lady came in looking for a new wardrobe.  She was in her late 70's.  Sweet.  I could do it.  So we set her up in a fitting room and I just brought her items to try on since I'm such a talented wardrobe stylist.....whatever.  So each time I would bring her a new outfit I would knock on her door and hand her items to her.  Well I found a great item and didn't think this time would be any different when I handed her the clothes.  I knocked and she replied "Come on in"..............and there she was........in all her glory........butt naked.  I mean, really?  Does this really have to happen to me?  I stood there, stuttering and trying to leave, but she was just carrying on a conversation like nothing was happening.....like she wasn't standing there BUTT NAKED.  Sadly, I don't know if I'll ever forget that day of my life.

Sometimes I really don't believe my life.  Most of the time, actually. But if it wasn't this way, I would have nothing to blog about....touche.
In other news, this weekend I got to see my best friends (Minus B and Will).....we tried to pretend like we were still in college....and we STILL GOT IT.  And I also went and saw the PC Choir Christmas Show.  I won't lie.....I was a hot mess...but it was good to see my children.  And although this week I will miss going to study break at 11 PM and eating my d#*k off, I must see that it sucks to suck for those of you who have exams.  But don't worry.  Enjoy it.  Because one day you'll be in the real world and having to help naked old women......yeah.....that's my life.

But for now, at least I'm not this kid.

As I get closer to the holidays, I realize that it's time to quit feeling sorry for myself because my life is a lot better than most people's.  I'll admit it.  I'm a brat most of the time.  I don't like to work....I think I'm better suited to just....I don't know....not work.  And I complain a lot.  But you know what....with this holiday season approaching and the fear that I have to work in retail on Black Friday, I've decided I have no choice but to turn my badditude into a gladditude.  First, we'll start with you clicking on the link below and listening to it while you read the rest of the blog.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stbbEB9O_nc&feature=&p=D8B448A896A7D07B&index=0&playnext=1

Next, I'm going to make a list of some of the things I'm thankful for...because that's what we used to do when we had free time in first grade during Thanksgiving.....and I have a lot of free time these days.

1.  Duh...my family.  My sister is the coolest/funniest person I know.  She's got a big ole bun in the oven and she's going to make me the coolest aunt in the world. And she always brings me breakfast. My mother is the best person I've ever known...and she makes a rocking meatloaf.  And my dad is just a badass.  Period.  Not to mention my grandparents who essentially run the town that they live in, my aunt who treats us like we're her own children, my other grandmother who is, by all means, the life of the party (she always keeps mini-bottles in her purse), and my uncle and cousins who never make Christmas boring.
2.  Krispy Kreme.  There's nothing that a fried piece of dough with icing on it can't fix.  If you doubt that statement, I want you to go to the nearest Krispy Kreme with the "HOT NOW" sign lit up when you're at a very low point, and tell me it's not true.  On really bad days, I can usually down 12 with no problems.  And on that same note:  McDonald's 50 piece chicken McNuggett meal.  Now that's something to be thankful for.
3.  Jasper.  This is him.  He's a stud.  And he likes to eat just as much as I do.

4.  Youtube.  I'm not afraid to admit it.  I love YouTube.  Every Broadway show that you could ever imagine is on there.  So when I'm in need of a little musical theater fix, YouTube becomes my bff.  I mean, EVERYTHING is on there.  If you want a funny video of a bird dancing to Willow Smith's "I Whip My Hair Back and Forth", you'll find it. Or if you want a compilation Christmas medley of songs from 1976, it's on there. It never ceases to amaze me.

5.  Movies That I Can Now Quote Because I Watched Them 70 Times In A Row During My Childhood:  Hocus Pocus, Grease, Steele Magnolias, Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, The Santa Clause, Pete's Dragon, White Christmas, Mrs. Doubtfire, Wizard of Oz, Meet Me In St. Louis....the list continues.  I watched a lot of movies as a child. I think it was the only thing that my parents could do to get me to shut up.  I would watch one and then I would proceed to act them out and put my own personal twist on them....(let's keep in mind I was still rocking the bowl cut at this point in my life...which I am also thankful for.)  

6.  2-Crunk, 2-Easy, The Boys Downstairs, Will, Precious, Josh My Dad, AK, The Dragon Family, Dr. James Porter Stokes, Dance Floors, Mexico, and everyone ever involved in Hall Crawl for that matter.  These are the people that made PC such an epic 4 years.  EPIC.  I mean, you have no idea.  I'm also thankful for/sorry about the people whose frozen pizzas we ate every weekend.  Blame Laurie.

7.  Christmas Music In November.  You all can be scrooges all you want....but I'm thankful that Christmas music starts on 98.9 and 102.5 at the beginning of November.  You tell me that Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" doesn't rock your world/change your holiday mood.  I can't count the number of times that I requested that song to dance to while at PC....and it was August....or February....or May.  It's just a great song.  And you know it.  

8.  I'm Thankful That I Don't Live In A Box.  When we were in my theater capstone class, we discussed the top ten things that we needed and wanted to accomplish in the next five years.  As a musician and actor, the top thing I wanted to accomplish was to NOT live in a box.  I mean, I came close to it in October when rent was due....but that's erroneous.  I'm real thankful. And that's all that matters.

9.  I'm Thankful that Taylor Swift and Josh Groban are not on my iPod.

10..  Clinton.  That includes Ami Vaughn, who taught me how to swim, Amy Link--my boo, Rachel and Mary Katherine--two of the exceptions to the fact that I hate kids, SAB, the ole Tapestry, G, Barbs and Timmy, Big LD, little Allen, McDonald's 24 hour drive thru, Munka my 25 pound cat, Whiteford's hashbrowns, and the fact that Murder King is now going to be a Japanese place. Score.

10.  This Guy.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yt14iDbgCAM

So friends, as much as my life is a big bag of suck sometimes, it's not too bad.  I have a lot more than some people.  So...what are you thankful for?

Oh yeah, and I'm thankful that I'm not this kid......oh wait.....

Oh no she didn't.

Everybody knows that people are crazy.  I mean, I know that.  I grew up in Clinton for God's sake;  a town where someone would punch a coach if their son didn't get enough playing time in the high school football game.

I went to a school where it wasn't uncommon to see students getting dropped off at their dorms on a Friday night by a public safety officer.  Nor was it uncommon to see a person standing on the roof of a fraternity house in a Superman cape. I'm quite aware of the crazies that I grew up around.  I get it.

I mean, I watch "Keeping Up With The Kardashians" on a regular basis.  They're cray cray.  The number of times that they have vowed to never speak to one another again because the other messed with their Blackberry Messenger is absurd. But you can't not watch it.  It's entertainment.  Cray cray is FUNNY!

Until yesterday.......

So I'm at work at my retail job, per usual, cursing the world because my feet hurt like no other and sweating like a fool because I'm running around the store.  I was told to help a lady who seemed to be wandering around the store.  No problem.  I approached the approximately 60 year old lady with the bleached blonde hair with the usual "Maam can I help you find anything special?  Pants are 30% off today!"  She turned around to reveal her face.....she was smiling....and then she replied "well actually I'm very angry because someone was supposed to call me about a skirt and NO ONE CALLED ME".  I then realized that the smile on her face was permanent because of the amount of plastic surgery that she had gotten.  After listening to how awful her life was because she wouldn't be able to wear the sequin skirt to a very important event she had to attend, I escorted her to the fitting room to try on a different skirt......eventhough, God forbid, it wasn't the sequin one she wanted so badly. (I mean, there are kids dying in Africa....and she's crying over a skirt....oh no she didn't.)

After I showed her to her personal room and told her how wonderful her high waisted pants looked on her, I left to go ring up two other customers I had.  Now, maybe I was too consumed in how much money these crazy fools were spending and wasn't paying attention to the time, but it didn't seem like I stayed away from my high-waisted pant customer very long.  Well....apparently I was wrong.  I saw high-waisted pant lady at the back of the store speaking with the head manager. I approach her and asked if the skirt worked for her.  

AND THEN ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

High-waist turned to me with FURY in her eyes.  She looked at me as if I had just told her that I was the person who crucified Jesus.  And then she proceeded to give me a scream-filled monologue.


"NO! IT DID NOT WORK. YOU ABANDONED ME LIKE A DOG IN THE FITTING ROOM.  I AM VERY ANGRY WITH YOU.  YOU HAVE DONE A TERRIBLE JOB ASSISTING ME AND I WILL NEVER COME BACK AGAIN."
*Let me also remind you that this was all said with a smile....because she couldn't move her face.

I walked away like a dog who had just peed on the floor and gotten screamed at by its owner.  It would have felt so good to just smack that plastic surgery off of her face.  I couldn't believe it.  I have never been screamed at like that before in my life.  The only times that even come close are the times when my 7th grade basketball coach told me that I wasn't doing a good job because I could never catch the ball and she called me "Butterfingers".....or when my 5th grade teacher told me to go to the principal's office because my hiccups were too loud....but that was just a way to scare me to make my hiccups go away.
And like watching the craziness of the Kardashians, EVERYONE in the store stopped, went silent, and stared.  I mean, I would've watched too had I not been the one being persecuted by high-waist.

This current job has been a true study in human nature. Things I have learned:
1.  More often than not, people are crazy.
2.  Old people love pants that hit directly at the waist, not any lower.
3.  Abandoning someone in a dressing = grounds for crucifixion.
4.  Women don't care if they walk around a store half naked.
5.  Taylor Swift is terrible.....(that's just something I've known all along.  I just thought I'd throw it out there with her new album that's coming out)

But what would life be without the crazies?  Pretty boring.  So for all you cray cray fools, keep doing what you're doing so I can keep blogging about you.  Maybe one day I'll get famous for it.

And until then, at least I'm not these kids.

Halloween is by far my least favorite holiday.  And I blame it all on the "Haunted Basement" hosted by Jamie Adair every year.  Jamie loves Halloween.  Ever since I can remember, she has invited all of her friends over for hotdogs and beverages.  However, when I was younger (circa four years old), Jamie thought it would be a great idea to create a "Haunted Basement".  And Kelley Randall Castaneda will also quote, "I was always the kid that dressed as a witch every year.  I was also the kid that sat in the carport eating a lot of hotdogs while all the other kids went through the haunted house.  I couldn't help it.  It was scary down there."  And I'll back her up on it.  That crap was scary.  I mean, I watched a lady that had played my mother in a show two months before that walk up from the basement with a candelabra in her hand, dressed in all black, with blood smeared all over her face.  This was a far cry from her collared dress and apron that she wore in The Music Man. I mean, I realize she was really trying to be theatery and all, but give a kid a break for God's sake.

By far, the moment that really hit home and triggered my hatred for Halloween occurred during this same year.  I, like Kelley, was dressed as a witch, green face, bowl cut, mole and all.  Now, my father, being the theatery man he is, always participated in the Haunted Basement.  Well, for some reason, I went into the Haunted Basement.  I was only four, so I don't quite remember what possessed me to enter, whether it was my mom taking me through or me going  under my own will.  The point is, it was a mistake.  I enter into the basement.....I see many scary people that strangely resembled many of my neighbors....and as I enter into the next room, I see a man with slicked back black hair, blood around his mouth, white face, and a vampire cape lit by a strobe light and standing over a woman who was dressed in shredded white gown---screaming.  The man was simultaneously screaming and cackling while waving his robe over the screaming woman (again, let me remind you that he was lit by a strobe light which make any experience ten times more intense.....and I was four).  Well, this man/vampire was my father.  Of course, I was so shocked and traumatized by the fact that a vampire was about to eat one of my neighbors, that I didn't even realize it was my father.  That is, until he pulled out his vampire teeth, looked at me while I was screaming, and said "Taylor! It's me!"  It was then that I realized that my father is a vampire.  I've hated Halloween ever since. 

Another reason I hate Halloween is because everybody dresses like sluts.  Don't deny it.  You've done it before.  And I definitely won't deny it.  I've tried.  But the only time I tried was when I was eight years old.  I was really into watching Nick at Nite that year and I watched a whole lot of "I Dream of Genie"....therefore I wanted to dress as the genie.  The costume called for a bare stomach.  I was all about it.  But my mother opted for me to wear a turtleneck under the suit....."because it was a little chilly".  After that, I wasn't about dressing up dirtily for Halloween.  I was never a dirty nurse, or dirty cowgirl, or dirty police officer, or dirty bumblebee, or dirty kitten, or dirty prisoner, or dirty Raggedy Ann doll.  So I never really fit in at Halloween.  My outfit choices have been Betty Rubble, a nun, Bon Qui Qui, a Drunk Bus pilot, and a crab.  It's just not my thing.  

So, this year, I've decided to not let Halloween get the best of me.  Oh no.  I'm in control now.  I will happily spend my Halloween at Talbots, overeating Reese's, and hopefully end my day scaring children who come to trick-or-treat.  I mean dang, I took it for years....so now I'm going to dish it.  

And for now, at least I'm not this kid.

  

First of all, I just want to go ahead and put this out there.
PC Homecoming--1
All of 2-Crunk--0
I'm too old to be doing the matrix dance move that I continuously did at the Sigma Nu house.  My lower back is still recovering.  But I would like to applaud John Mark Elliot for the incredible charisma, creativity, and sheer genius that he brings to the dance floor. I may or may not have ripped his shirt doing a dance move. Once again, we killed it.
Taylor and John Mark--1
Dance Floor--0

Now on to the real point of the blog.  A couple of months ago, I was taking a soothing bubble bath to calm my nerves.  When all of the sudden, Kim busts into the bathroom and says "Taylor, get out of the tub.  Your sister just took a pregnancy test and it's positive.  Oh Jesus."  So we learned that my big sister was pregnant....and needless to say, I almost peed my pants.  I could not have been more pumped.  Is it bad that I immediately thought, "Gosh I'm going to corrupt this kid so badly"?  I personally don't think so.  So, the past two months have been nothing but me addressing Kelley's stomach as "Baby Cecil" and rubbing her stomach in public inappropriately.Needless to say, I've been really pumped to be an aunt.
We found out on Friday morning that the little bambino will be a girl.  And since I've obviously been a mother many times, I started giving Kelley parenting advice, such as playing music for the baby, what to do with the nursery, and of course, the fact that the baby should be named Taylor......she didn't accept that advice.  Whatever.
But ever since we found out that the little one will be a GIRL, I've been thinking about things that I will teach/do to/make her do.  And of course, I will compile this into a list.


1.  I will be the biggest "Stage Aunt" that there ever was.  By "Stage Aunt", I mean that I will force this kid to audition for many many many shows.  I will take 9000 pictures at every dance recital she is in.  I will buy her musical theater t-shirts.  I will force her to be in Annie at least once.  While she spends the night at my house (God willing I have one), we will listen to Broadway shows and perhaps even create a dance routine to it.  And I will force her to sing a new song for me and perhaps even do a monologue every month.  And I'm sorry....but if this kid isn't talented, I just don't know if I'll be able to accept it.

2.  I will teach her what Tommy Addison taught to me when I was a youngster.  It goes like this.
      The Adult Asks:  What does the butt say?
      The Kid Replies:  *proceeds to do a farting noise
    I consider this a really charming trait.  I'm glad that I learned how to do it. And she will too.

3.  I will teach her my amazing dance skills.  When Kelley went to PC, she was known for cutting a rug on the dance floor of the fraternity houses.  I'd like to think that I was known for the same thing during my run.  Once again, if this child can't dance, I don't know if I'll be able to accept it.  I mean, Kelley and I have attended many-a-wedding where we have cleared the dance floor and had circles of people watching us.  At her bachelorette party, we had an entire bar surrounding us, taking pictures, and watching us kill "Soulja Boy". Therefore, this kid has to know how to dance.  I don't care what it takes.  She'll work, she'll sweat, she'll cry....but by God, she will dance well.

4.  I will go with her to get her first tattoo.  Yes.  She's getting a tattoo......and I'd prefer it if it was my portrait.  You know the ones that tattoo-clad Kat Von D always does on LA Ink?  Yeah.  One of those.  I hope she gets one.

5.  I will write a song for her.  Now I told my sister that I've always wanted to write songs for my kids or her kids.  So you'd think that she would have the dignity to give her child a name that MAYBE I can rhyme with.  But no....her ideas for names are Ava Wynne.....Ryder....McLaurin.....and it continues.  Seriously?  What the hell do I rhyme with McLaurin? "Ohhh McLaurin.  You're a chick.....darlin?"  This may be difficult

6.  I will NOT pressure her to go to cheerleading tryouts.  Not that my family did.  No.  They did the complete opposite.  Which would have been to my great benefit, had I listened to them. But I didn't.  Instead, I went to cheerleading tryouts....and I thought I had it in the bag.  I thought I was a star.  And I thought my toe-touches were legit.  Little did I know that I looked like a FOOL.  And my family didn't have the heart to tell me that I looked....really bad.  So I didn't get in....needless to say.  And I cried. And my principal saw me crying, felt sorry for me, and told me that it was good that I didn't get in because it would "ruin my voice".  Wow.  OK....it's decided.  She will not try out for cheerleading.

7.  She will love the Stones, Hanson, Elton John, Cher, the Beatles, Ke$ha, and GaGa.  Basically, she will be me.

8.  I will take her to New York with me and take her to all the shows I want to see and force her to like and appreciate them.  She will be so theatery....it's just ridiculous.  I can't wait.

9.  I will teach her how to trick her parents into going to a Christmas party in order to completely cover their house in Christmas lights....at least 1000 lights.....and including a light up nativity scene and a 5 foot blow up Santa Claus.  It's not like I've done this before.....

10.  I will teach her to learn to laugh at herself.  First, this will require that she gets a bowl cut at some point in her life.  Second, she'll have to fall a lot.  And I don't mean like "emotionally fall"....I mean literally fall down on her face.  Third, she will have to have a really awkward encounter with a person/director who could give her a job/part.  This includes awkwardly hitting people on the shoulder and stuttering....a lot.

I can't wait for her to be here.  And I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait to be an aunt.  Granted I refuse to change poop diapers or deal with a lot of loud and obnoxious crying.  But I think I'll be pretty good at my job as aunt.  Basically, this kid is going to be really freaking cool. And if it's not, I can always just give it back to Kelley when I'm done messing with it.

And until then, at least I'm not this kid.

After I graduated college (a college in which, by the way, I ROCKED the dance floor (that comment's relevance will be shown later in the blog) at), I decided it would be a great idea to take a year off in between grad school to "live".........whether or not that turned out to be a good idea is completely erroneous.
The point is, I decided to move up to CharTown because it's a bigger city, there's a lot of opportunity (again, whether or not that's true is completely erroneous), it's still accessible to the homestead, and they have a great professional children's theater.  So tonight I find out there's an audition for "Scrooge", which by the way, may or may not be the story of my father's life.
So I'm really excited, right?  It's a professional audition.  It could give me a little street cred.  It gives me an opportunity to sing in front of some people that may be connected somehow in the arts.  And maybe there will be a male suitor there........or perhaps a new gay bestie.
Now, you can ask Josh Martin or Anna Katherine Moore and they will be happy to tell you the thing I hate most about theater.  The thing I hate most about the theater:  theatery people.  If you don't what I'm talking about, I'd be happy to explain "theatery people" characteristics in a list:
1.  People who constantly talk about the shows that they have done....example:  "Why, yes, I was in Beauty and the Beast.  I was the 3rd spoon from the left".  Here's a hint, Shakespeare.  I hate you and I hate your previous experiences in theater.
2.  People who obnoxiously stretch/warm up before an audition.  Example:  There was a girl today who, first of all, came into the audition with a black leotard on.....only.  I mean, dang.  At least put on a skirt.  She sat in front of me for an hour doing butterfly stretches, stretching her legs up against the walls, lunging, and basically screaming.  She was trying to "make sure everything was warm in her voice".  If it would have been appropriate to throw my jazz shoe at her face, I totally would have.
3.  People who think it's ok to wear "Wicked" t-shirts, knee socks with stripes, too many arm bracelets/silly bands, and jeans with a lot of holes in them to an audition.  This isn't OZ.  Get your life together and put on a suit, fool.

So, since I haven't been to an audition in a while, I was re-immersed in the hatred that I have for over the top theatery people and the audition process in general.  I literally sit in a corner with my theatery bag, my attempt at an outfit to wear for a dance call, and my cell phone, taking sly and candid pictures of these crazies.  But it always provides for a good laugh....and someone for me to text Kelley about and make fun of.
When I got to the audition tonight, I realized also that this audition was going to mix my dislike for a thing I hate alot, theatery people, with a thing I dislike even more, which is theatery kids.  God knows that I try to have patience for them.  After all, I was probably just like them when I was 11 or so.....but they didn't have as cool of a bowl cut as I did.  I mean, I did buy a Rent shirt the first time I saw it.....and I wore a Wicked shirt to the first improv show I ever saw so they would notice that I liked theater.....and I may or may not have only Broadway songs on my iPod.  ERRONEOUS.  The point is, I tried to have patience, but I couldn't.  These kids were crazy.  They literally bounced all around the room.  One looked at me and said "Oh my God.  I forgot how my song goes....can you sing the first part of A Whole New World for me?" And I did.  One little girl practiced singing "Popluar" from Wicked for 30 minutes in the corner while pacing back and forth.  She was a culprit of wearing those friggin tall socks.  It was literally like High School Musical on crack.
 But then a little glimmer of light shone.  And her name was Ashley.  She was four years old.  She was eating chocolate goldfish....which I didn't even know existed.  And best of all, she had light up shoes.  And they not only lit up on her heel, they also lit up on her toes.  Seriously?  Where was this circa 1994 when we wore light up shoes?!  And these were Chuck Taylors! She was so cool.  I will admit that she didn't, by any means, change my mind about theatery kids because she had on an "Annie" t-shirt, but it was still pretty cool that she had light up shoes.
The audition went really well! And theeeeen the dance callback happened.  And although I did take movement styles with Sally Besuden, Anna Katherine Moore, and Josh Martin, and I admit, I danced my d#*k off, it didn't help too much.  I've never been much of a dancer......outside of the fraternity houses.  Whatever.  At least I smiled alot.....right?
But, another day, another dolla, another audition.  Oh the life of a struggling artist.
And until then, at least I'm not this guy.

First of all, I'd like to point out a big growth process that has occurred within myself. I want to say that Justin Bieber's new song, "You Smile, I Smile" is pretty catchy.  Now, as many of you know, if people were to ask me the top five things I hated in life, I would have to reply:

1.  Taylor Swift

2.  The word "moist"

3.  Josh Groban

4.  Sorority Rush

5.  Justin Bieber

But because I live in a big girl world, I've tried to open up my mind; enlighten myself, if you will.  I consider this slight appreciation of his new song a part of my maturing process in my new grown up life.  I'm learning to accept his music and more importantly, his JTim like dance moves.  The Biebs is pretty trendy.  And I'm not trying to hop on the trendy train or get Bieber fever, but I will, as an adult, admit that I do find the song catchy.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest, on with this week's update.  I've been thinking about what I wanted to write about all week, and sincerely haven't really been inspired yet....until today.  

At my place of employment today, I had a lady come in looking for an outfit.  This lady had me running.....I mean RUNNING around the store.  I'm talking panty hose, jewelery, cardigans, shoes, everything.  I'm thinking that I burned around 800 calories alone on this sale.  Which I won't complain about.  And when I finished ringing her up, she looked at me and said "Well, you just made me happy".  And all I think could think of was "Good God."  This lady was making me look like the Queen of England because I found the right control top panty hose for her.  Sweet.  So as she left, I started thinking about things that made me happy and gave me the warm and fuzzy feeling inside; the exact same feeling that I gave my lady in capri pants with polka dots on them.  

Now I think everyone knows that I love lists.  I really do.  So, I've decided to document the things that make me happy in the blog with a list.

1.  Jersey Shore--I don't care how much crap anybody talks about these people.  They are creative geniuses.  A few of my favorite quotes are as follows:  "GTL baby.  If you don't go to the gym, you're fat.  It you don't tan, you're pale.  And if you don't do laundry, you ain't got no clothes"  Another fave:  "When it asks what race I am on job applications, I say TAN."  And my all time fave:  "Shut your mouth, you dirty little hamster". These people are geniuses.  They have created the perfect characters.  They have perfect comedic timing without even trying.  And they made up acronyms for their lives.  I respect anyone who narrates their lives with GTL and DTF.  SO, Jersey Shore definitely makes me happy.  T-Shirt Tiiiiiiiiiiiiime.

2.  Diet Dr. Pepper--Dude....if you've never had a Diet Dr. Pepper, you're ridiculous.  It has changed my life.  When I'm angry....Diet Dr. P.  When I'm happy.....Diet Dr. P.  When I'm nauseous....Diet Dr. P.  When I'm getting ready to get my dance on....Diet Dr. P.  It's all the pleasure with the guiltlessness of a diet drink.  Do it.  Seriously. It has changed my life.

3.  America's Funniest Home Videos--I can't tell you the number of times that Randy and I have sat in our living room watching AFV and just cried because we were laughing so hard.  For example, after I got off work today, I watched a 3 minute montage of people passing out at a wedding.  It's just so funny.  And watching people walk into closed sliding glass doors really never gets old. I also really appreciate AFV because of the number of times that my family should have been on the show.  One particular time stands out in my head.  Don't worry, I'll set it up for you.

Circa 2004

The whole family thought it would be a great idea to do Tae Bo together.  You remember Tae Bo.  The hot sweaty and ripped black man led it and it dealt with a bunch of kicking and punching things really fast.  SO, we set up the formation, Kelley and mom in the front, Dad and I in the back.  The warm ups began and Kelley was on point, not missing a beat or a move.  But we were all keeping up.  Well, the friggin warm up turned into a full fledged body boot camp within five minutes.  Ten minutes later, I realize what's happening.  Kelley is still focused on the sweaty black man who's alternating between kicking and punching.  She sweating more than he is.  Kim is literally hopping all around the room just air punching.  No method to anything.  Just hopping and punching.  Randy is the color of a fire truck. All of the water that had ever been in his body was now either running down him or soaking into his tshirt.  And he's doing the kicking move by pulling up the legs of his shorts in order to lift his legs up.  Oh yeah, and I was on the couch.

Things like this should be on AFV.  And they are.  It's just a great show.  And it makes me very very happy.

And last but not least: 

4. Taye Diggs--I don't think I need to explain that at all.

So, I make this lady happy with good fitting panty hose, and she makes me realize the top 4 things that make me happy.  Other things include the Dragon family, 2Crunk, funnel cakes, Elton John, my theatery people, the gays, fried pickles, everyone in the senior apartments, Ke$ha, and my dog Mae.  

So my friends, the moral of the story is this.  When the big girl or boy world is sucking, sometimes you just have to think of things that make you happy.  I had to do that today, or else I wouldn't have been able to keep my mind off of the fact that my feet feel like an 18 wheeler is continuously driving over both of them.  

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SALLY BESUDEN!

And everybody should give Brice Taylor a donation to go help orphans in Kenya.  It really is for orphans.  This isn't like The Hangover when he takes $$$ for a "fieldtrip" and uses it in Vegas.......or is it?

And until then, at least I'm not this guy.

 

First of all, click on this youtube link and let it play in the background while you are reading the blog.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S_gLohI4XE

Why listen to this, you ask?  Well, I've come to realize that in CharTown, it's essential to stay positive and always think happy thoughts.  And let's face it, "We Are The Champions" sung by the fabulous queen of Queen, Freddy Mercury, always raises one's spirits.....except for the time that it came on the radio after my last class ever at PC.  Needless to say, I cried the entire car ride back to my apartment.
The point is, I had a great thing happen to me today and my place of employment.  An accomplishment if you will.  And I was watching the last 15 minutes of COPS on the Fox network, I began to think of all of the accomplishments in my life.  Naturally, I had to blog about it.  The list will go in chronological order and will end with my accomplishment of today.  The list is as follows:


3 years old:  My family captured the most perfect Christmas picture ever.  Kelley was grinning from ear to ear, hand on hip, sitting on Santa's lap.  However, the camera was at the widest angle lens possible because I was approximately 3 feet away from both of them....crying.  Thus, I created the most classic and perfect Christmas picture ever taken.  If I ever find it, it will absolutely be posted to the blog.

5 years old:  I won the "Showstopper Award"  for the Laurens County Community Theater's production of Anne of Green Gables.  This award was given by Ami Vaughn and was literally a bathtub stopper that was put on a string.  It was awesome.  And why did I win this award?  Because of my incredible talent of reciting my two lines:  "Diana's druuuuuunk" and "Anne, you have cuffs!".  I also thought I was the coolest person in the play because I got to wear an apron with ruffles (Yeaaaaah Sallie Anna, take that!)

5 1/2 years old:  I had the most successful Power Ranger themed birthday party that ever happened to Clinton.  So what if it was at the former Burger King (also known as Murder King).  I had a yellow Trini ranger birthday cake.  And a yellow Trini ranger t-shirt.  It was good.  And may the actress who formerly played Trini rest in peace.

6 years old:  I broke my arm for the first time.  Now, you may say "How is that an accomplishment, weirdo?" Well I'll tell you why when I get to 9 years old.  Don't worry.

8 years old:  I got my second bowl cut.  Yes, I say second because Kim (my mother) made Kelley and I have bowl cuts around the age of 3 (right around the time when the Christmas picture was taken).  However, this time I made the decision on my own to get the bowl cut.  Now, some people may not consider this
an accomplishment, but I definitely do.  It's always a conversation starter.  It provides good entertainment while watching home videos.  And let's face it, I was a fox.  A fox with a bowl cut and braces with yellow bands.

9 years old:  YMCA Basketball.  Championship game.  The Clinton All Star Team vs. Whitmire.  These girls were HUGE.  I mean, they were mammoths.  Seriously.  And one of them always wore bandaids over her ears.  I never understood it.  One minute left in the game. We were up by 2.  Bandaids had rebounded the ball and was taking it down the court.  I was the closest one to her, so it was my opportunity to guard her.  I turned around and was running backwards.  Suddenly, I trip over the feet, not of Bandaids, but my feet.  As I was falling, I grabbed her arm and tried to take her down with me.  This time, I landed on my arms and broke BOTH arms.  But, the balding ref called a foul on me.  And as I sat on the sideline crying and watching Bandaids shoot her foul shot, I hit the bleachers and screamed louder than any of the protective mothers who tended to scream obscenities from the stands.  Bandaids shoots.  AND SHE MISSES. THANK GOD! SHE MISSES.  One more shot.  Bandaids shoots.  AND SHE MISSES AGAIN.  Thus, we won the championship game...I broke BOTH arms (which was semi cool to have 2 casts).....and we got trophies (eventhough I found out this year that our parents paid for our trophies every year.  Whatever.)

Ages 10-14, nothing really happened.  I was pretty awkward.  I tried wearing pink and carrying a purse.  That didn't work.

Age 15:  I was accepted into the Governor's School summer Academy program for drama.  This was a miracle.  I mean a MIRACLE.  Why?  Because they asked us to do a 30 second monologue and 16 bars of a song.  I did at 3 minute monologue (because it was the only monologue I knew) and tried to sing an entire song from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.  Don't worry.  I was eventually cut off.  But they did accept me.  Maybe they were high.

Age 16:  I got through the "Drug Bug" situation and lived to tell about it.  Don't know that story?  Ask me.  Maybe that can be another blog.

Age 17:  I got through singing "For Good" at my high school graduation without crying.  It's probably because I was trying my damndest to pull Victor together, who was trying to sing while sobbing and getting snot on my shoulder.  It was a hot mess.  Period. And then I looked up to get a little support from the audience and, oh I don't know, my family, and they were as hot of a mess as Victor.  I mean, Jesus.  What do I have to do to get a little emotional stability at a graduation? The accomplishment was that we simply got through it.

Age 18-21:  I lived through PC.

AAAAAAAAND the moment we have all been waiting for.

Age 22:  I have officially been out of training at Talbots for three days.  My feet are throbbing, my hair is frizzy, and the store has been slow all week.  My sales goals had not quite been met because the crowds were not coming in.  UNTIL an angel walked into those red front doors.  She was wearing black Jackie O sunglasses and looked like she had gone through about seven facelifts and years of lying in a tanning bed at the spa next door.  And as she walked in, I jumped on it like white on rice.  45 minutes later, THIS GIRL had a......$1200 SALE!  That's right!!!! I'm sure this may be a violation of privacy, but I don't even care.  I didn't even know what $1200 worth of clothing looked like....until today.  2 cashmere sweaters, 2 pencil skirts, 3 blouses, 2 dresses, and a pair of kitten heels and yours truly is the new Goddess of Talbots.  UHHHH! TAKE THAT NORDSTROM! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT HIRING YA HOMEGIRL!

I'm happy.  And I'm real proud. And for now, at least I don't look like this dude.


Love,
Taylor

Well.  22 years old is a lot different than 21 years old.  I will explain this thought by describing my past weekend.

As many of us all know, the past weekend was the big PC vs. The Clemson Bullies game.  Thus, the 15 best friends that anyone could have, and I, decided to create a reunion weekend out of it.  The weekend began on Friday night with a trip back to Clinton and to my beloved Sigma Nu House for 70's party.


Ways to know you're not 21 anymore #1:
After dancing to my favorite song, Fantasy by Ludacris, and pulling out moves that have been retired since May 2010, I thought my back had detached from my body.  The pain that I felt in not only my back but more like my entire body could only be compared to what I think child birth may eventually feel like.  After a serious drop it like it's hot, my body was completely done.  The countless struts across the dance floor and the number of running man moves that occurred were just too much.

After waking up and finally retrieving some MUCH need BoJo, we made our way to the land of the Bullies.  (I say this because there was a Tiger fan who walked by and said "ALRIGHT HOW BOUT THEM TIGERS! 57-21!"  We responded by saying "WE SCORED 21 POINTS?!?! ALRIGHT!!")  We enjoyed a ballin tailgate courtesy of Jeremy Nates, and then set off to scout out cheap tickets.  I mean, it's Clemson vs. PC.  There will be TONS of people giving away tickets right?  WRONG.  After Smurch, Laurie, and I walked approximately 14 miles around the Clemson campus in search for a ticket, I realized we had to get serious.  Thus, I resorted to something I never thought I would do.  I took out a legal pad, a sharpy, and wrote NEED 3 TICKETS.....I then proceeded to walk around with the sign held above my head and three fingers stuck in the air.  Who was I?  Ughh.  Well, anyways.  We scrounged up 4 tickets from a very sketchy man with dreadlocks and a walky talky.  We traveled another 37 miles to get to Gate 20 and sat in the upper deck....aka......hell.

Ways to know you're not 21 anymore #2:
Normally, as a 21 year old in an excitingly huge stadium like Clemson with 80,000 fans screaming and cheering around me, adrenaline pumping, and football in the air, I would have thrived and stayed until the very end--cheering on our team even if our opponents were playing their 7th string players.  However, after the first quarter, I was dunzo.  I had officially turned into my grandmother.  I was using a football shaped fan.  I was incredibly hot.  I refused to stand up.  And my feet were swollen.  I officially quit.

After the exhausting and hellish game, the 15 best friends that anyone could have and I regained our composure and some of our dignity, and traveled back to Greenville to celebrate one last night together.  We ate pizza and decided to go out on the town like old times!  We've still got it right? WRONG!

Ways to know you're not 21 anymore #3:
It's 2:00 AM.......we've all returned to Sallie Wham and Erin's house.  An average night at Presbyterian College would conclude at around 4:30 AM (after a McDonald's run and sufficiently renegading the boys of 3F's freezer, of course).  However, I look around and everyone is sitting around the room, heads bobbling.  And not in a way that suggests there's a funky beat playing, but rather bobbling because everyone was falling asleep.  We couldn't hack it.  It was too much.

So after sleeping on a kitchen floor (because there was LITERALLY no space left to sleep anywhere in the house), I headed back to life in the real world.   I'm still poor (donations are welcome and appreciated).  My feet still hurt every day after coming home from work.  And I'm still living the life of a starving artist. I'm definitely not 21 anymore.  Not even close to it.  BUT, at least I got to at least TRY to take a trip back in time to those college years this weekend.  And for now, at least I'm living like this lady.

Dude.....it's the hard knock life.

When I was 9 years old, I auditioned for Annie.  I just knew that I was going to get the role of that cute little red head with a red dress that I always thought was a few centimeters too short for a nine year old to be wearing.  But the point is, I knew I had it in the bag.
I wore a red sweatshirt with a big black stripe, my cool jean/cargo pants (did I mention I was still in the phase where I thought I was a boy?), and was still rocking my bowl cut. I auditioned with the heartbreaking opening number, "Maybe", complete with hand motions and a dramatic hand extension at the end of the song.  Duh.  I thought I was a star.  It was a done deal.
Two weeks later, I got a call from the director saying that I had received a part as an orphan. I was to report to rehearsal two days later in order to find out my role and have my first reading.  The day came, and I arrived at the theater 30 minutes ahead of time (because I wanted to stop at Krystal to get mini burgers on the way) along with my fellow castmates Sallie Anna Barton, Kay Addison, and my stage dad. I got out of the suburban, this time in my brown corduroy overalls, and walked up to the call board, fully expecting to look at the words that I had always dreamed of seeing:

TAYLOR RANDALL.................................................................ANNIE

And what I actually saw was:

TAYLOR RANDALL................................................................MOLLY

Needless to say, I was devastated.  Molly was NOT Annie.  Molly did NOT get to wear the red curly wig.  Molly did NOT get to sing "Tomorrow" to a drooling Golden Retriever that refused to stay onstage and sometimes peed on the props. Molly was the shrimpy orphan who cried all the time because she had bad dreams.  Molly was the orphan that Annie sang to......that Annie sang MY AUDITION song to!  How dare they?!?!?  Not to mention that I was a foot taller and probably 40 pounds heavier than Annie.
However, because we lived an hour away from the theater and my father forced me to go into the rehearsal, I accepted the part....reluctantly.  I sat in front of three girls that already knew each other before the show had started.  And let me once again remind you that I had a bowl cut.....and brown corduroy overalls.  I was not the coolest cucumber in the group.  I was intimidated and was wanting to be a cool girl too.
But at that rehearsal, those girls behind me came up and started a sweet little convo (which turned out to be three friends I still hold dear to me today, Lauren Cann, Leah Gagnon, and Emily Grice), and we four became instant friends....that sometimes got on the moms that volunteered to work backstage's nerves.  And although I was initially very angry that I was cast as Molly, I realized that I got to sing "You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile" and I had more time to sit offstage and eat Butterfingers while playing Crazy 8s.  It could not have been more perfect.  It was an experience I'll always remember....and it turned out to be a great one.

The moral of the story is this:  After attending a great labor day BBQ hosted by our new adopted family Jim and Carla Gambrell this weekend, I had to go back to my first full week of work.  The day began as hectic as ever and once again, we had 9000 middle schoolers wanting to rent instruments.  People are not always patient and nice....and people want their instruments....and they want them fast. I was overwhelmed and frustrated. And for a good while, I had a bit of what I like to call a "badditude". But just like Annie, I know this experience will get better and it will turn out to be one that I love. It's just a bowl cut away from singing showtunes and loving what I do.

And for now, at least it's good to know that I'm not this girl.

Love,
Taylor

Sympathy Pains?

My feet ache.  My back hurts.  I've had terrible cravings.  And I've had severe mood swings.
You may think that these are sympathy pains in regards to my 12 weeks preggo sister.  But alas, all of these symptoms can only mean one thing:  I've officially begun my job.
I started work at a local family owed music store that so graciously hired me....maybe they saw the tears in my eyes as I begged for a job so I could pay rent....maybe not.  And because I'm such a lucky girl, I started on, and I quote, "the daggum busiest day of the year."  I think I may have seen every middle schooler in the Charlotte-Mecklenberg county area.  And as I sat and explained to youngsters about how to empty their spit out of an instrument, or listened to mothers confiding to me that their son or daughter "doesn't really know a thing about music and I'm not even sure that they'll play this damn thing...but I guess this is just one of their little tangents", it took me back to my sweet and awkward middle school band days.  Ohhhhhh the time of innocence.  I was growing out of my bowl cut and was moving into the Bon Jovi\brown football helmet days.  You know those days.  The days when wearing the butterfly clips with a hint of sparkle and a LOT of purple were really cool.  The days when you just started to discover make up (in my case, I would steal Kelley's white eyeshadow and lock myself in the bathroom, put on about a pound of makeup, and I would leave the bathroom and tell myself that my parents didn't notice the white icing-like product on my eyelids).  The days when Lance Bass covered my walls (I'm still bitter about that whole situation...by the way).
Oh how times have changed.  I went from a young band superstar into a grown up band superstar.  And my hair is sort of still in football helmet mode........and God knows I still love white eyeshadow.....and still think of Lance Bass often.  But whatever.  I'm a big girl now.  The point is, at least I get to work with little musical fledglings that may aspire to be as successful as I am now.  It's good to know that I'm such an inspiration to them.
But overall, I am glad and proud that I survived my first day.  I have never been so excited to come home and see Alex Trebek and Pat Sajack.  I'd also like to thank the makers of Diet Dr. Pepper for saving my life and making my life bearable.  That's all.

Love,
Taylor

Losing the battles, but Winning the WAR!

Because we went to Presbyterian College, home of the Blue Hose, the Scotsmen who fought bravely on the hills of Scotland for their freedom, it's simply a part of our blood to have to fought many battles and wars.......specifically, battles in the job field.
All in all, I've applied for probably 98,632 jobs per day.  And finally, the calls are starting to come in.  I have been contacted by a few places (one being a music store that sells instruments and gives music lessons...score).  And I have an audition at the beginning of the week to basically get famous...(or just do a show at a children's theater...whatever.)
 The point is, I have been losing a lot of battles.  Some of the following battles are ones that I have lost:

1.  Taylor vs. Driving Directions in Charlotte
2.  Taylor, Patty, and Schay vs. the Cockroaches in The Colony Apartment Buildings
3.  Taylor's Hair vs. the humidity
4.  Taylor vs. Target (that's all you need to know)

However, I'm winning the war.  Why?  Because I have this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugR-Iyp-e1k&feature=related

And although Mel Gibson may be a wee bit cray cray, and by a wee bit, I mean the big guy has lost it, he is helping me along through this new adventure in CharTown.  Jobs will come.  And money will come....maybe. But until then, at least I have Braveheart.

Love,
Taylor



It's been quite the week. Having applied to about 15 jobs a day my resume has been open to the public and without knowing it....some predators. I was contacted by two headhunters this week. One, legit and one.....not so much. I arrived for a meeting Tuesday morning and was sequestered into a small conference room....where I was told basically that a whole world of jobs were in front of me, but it would come at a price. For the small cost of $3,000 this company could help me. I was left feeling more confused than ever and slightly violated by the open nature of monster.com. How many times do I have to explain to people that my rent is due on the first of the month and I'm one desperate step from selling my life on ebay?

My second meeting went better. I was asked immediately for references both personal and professional. I was not expecting this and left the meeting in a different sort of panic. After reviewing the meeting with Taylor and listing my references (which included her, patty, and my boyfriend who I listed as a "close friend") we both realized that there was a very real possibility that this energetic headhunter was already making phone calls.... I quickly called my former boss the conversation went something like this:

Me: Mr. D okay, so you may be contacted as a reference I just wanted to let you know hows everything with you?
Mr. D: Well, Schay I just got off the phone with a nice lady asking all sorts of things about you
Me: Wait....I've only been out of the meeting for 30 minutes
Mr. D; Well, what can I say someone is on top of it! How are things
Me: GREAT ok well I have to go I'll call you again soon see you at homecoming!

(Frantic now calling my next reference)

Me: Kelley, listen you may be contacted by this headhunter I had no idea she would move this fast
Kelley: wait there's someone on my call waiting
Me: OH GOD

(Frantic once more)

Me: Mrs. K listen, I put you as a reference and this woman is moving FAST
Mrs. K: That's great!
Me: Ok....I guess.....gotta go

Me: Hunt, ok so I may have put you as a reference and they might be calling you really soon so just don't pick up because it is all too much
Hunter: Oh, I'm picking up
Me: Please no
Taylor (in the background): Wait, what did you classify Hunter as?
Me: A close friend
Taylor: Schay, we both know thats a lie.

Needless to say this was all very fast and I'm fairly certain I've forgotten a lot of the details. Hopefully my luck in Charlotte will turn around. As I have nothing to do with all my time during the day having no classes and really no where to go the apartment has begun in type-offs. What are those? Well, we all spend our time taking timed typing tests online. I'd just like to say that I am winning with 91 words per minute. As you can see, we are a very sad group so I have taken the liberty of attaching a link to a great housewarming gift that would really lift all of our spirits.

http://www.roomstogo.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=showItemZoom&ID=27374&type=Item

My name is Patty. I just began working as an Executive Assistant at a software consulting firm. Although they may not agree, I find it unfair that Schay and Taylor get to play all day at home together while I am surrounded by short sleeve button downs and Excel spreadsheets. However, I enjoy incorporating my style into the office, as I have already been asked where I get my work clothes! Which is probably my biggest accomplishment there thus far. Except for the large order I made for a meeting from Dean and Deluca the other day. I'm boring. I love my roommates! And would also really like that chair from rooms to go.

PS there was a cockroach crawling on my tv screen in my bedroom last night.

On, On, CharTown.

Welcome to our blog! We cannot believe that we have begun writing a blog...which should be noted as to how desperate we are currently in our life situations. This blog in no way is meant to gain pity, or depress anyone. We're just trying to share the humor that is our daily (unemployed) lives. We are in our second week in Charlotte a.k.a CharTown. We (Patty, Taylor, and Schaeffer) graduated from college together and decided that Charlotte was our next adventure. Charlotte is the banking capital of the south and a huge city! So logistically we thought of course there would be jobs for us right? Then we realized...not so much.

Out of the three of us, Patty does have a "big girl" job. Although we are trying to be happy for her it's  difficult when we are on the dragonfly couch watching the latest breaking news on E! Channel (Lindsay Lohan just got released from rehab...sister is just going to go back to the smack soon). Self loathing has begun. We are happy to report that we have kept up with our personal hygiene. So while Patty gets up and goes off to work we begin the great job search. On our Computers. Mostly on moster.com. Not that we haven't tried to go into places to personally advertise ourselves--and honestly if I had a quarter for everytime I heard the reply, "We're not actually sure if we are hiring, but you can go online and fill out our application" we would be able to pay our electric bill. Possibly our cable. So the search continues......

Needless to say...we miss college.


The score thus far:

CharTown:1
Taylor, Schaeffer, and Patty:  0