Bake Me a Cake

Tomorrow is my Nanniversary!!  

A year ago, I was tripping acid with some of the greatest friends on Earth.  We had to go for a 5-day trip just to make sure I did enough drugs before I became a nanny.  I did.  

I moved here 5 days after I graduated from college.  The weirdest part was there was not one ounce of apprehension in me when I set out on this journey.  I think part of that is in my nature - I am forever plunging into one kooky plan after another.  

Don't get me wrong - my plans don't always work out.  I was going to Africa this summer ... and then I realized I had no money.  Whoops.  I was going to move to Austin ... and then I looked at a map and realized it's in the middle of buttfucking nowhere, TX.  Whoops.  I was going to go to medical school ... that one cost me $2000.  Major whoops.

But I think the point of my life (I ain't gonna talk about yours) isn't to have every single plan work out.  I think my life is more of an exploration, which is helped by the fact that I'm passionate about every idea that pops into my head ... even the ridiculous ones.  

You gotta give an idea the chance to bloom before you can call its color.  

But this kooky plan worked out wonderfully.  I can't imagine life without the Chirrens Garcia and Coco is really one of my dearest friends. (Not to be left out - Bobby Habibi throws great parties.) 

N E Wayzzz....

Somebody said something the other day about my tanning bed habit.  It pissed me off, mostly because it's so irrational.  Nobody says anything about the fact that I'm morbidly obese, or that I alternate between starving myself and stuffing my face on a weekly basis, or that I smoke like a chimney, or that I grossly overmedicate.  Nope.  It's the fucking tanning bed everyone goes after. 

Let me tell you something, I'm going to be dead of heart disease long before any of these freckles turns cancerous.  Go get your own fucking parade to rain on.   

Change in tone?  Change in the weather.  

Seriously?

In addition to being Coco's nanny/sidekick, I also get to work at her office sometimes.  I fancy myself something of a catch-all personal assistant, but what I mostly do is just sweep everything off her desk into the garbage can and then pose in front of the freshly "organized" desk saying:

"Voila! All your worries are GONE (never mind to where)!  Nanny Garcia can do it all!"

But seriously folks, Coco owns a pretty swanky bidness.  So imagine my surprise when a company memo concerning dress code went around and BARE MIDRIFF TOPS were mentioned.  

My first inclination was to protest.  When secured with a neon scrunchie, "middies" are tasteful and refined, the perfect compliment to a nice denim skort.  

But I really just wanted to know who the fuck wore the middie to work.  I need to shake their hand.  Maybe borrow their glitter chapstick. 

You Never Slow Down, You Never Grow Old

I'm a fucking big ass kid.

For the past few days, Trixie has been climbing on tops of various things and then proclaiming, "Look, Nanny Garcia, I'm so high!!" And, being as mature as I am, I just laugh my ass off (after making her get down to safety, of course). That's so funny to me because as anyone who has ever smoked with me knows, my favorite high thing to say is "I'm so high!" with "I feel like I'm in a movie" coming in at a close second.

But there are some times when I manage to take the high road (pun intended). Last night, for example. Justin had posted something about being hyper on his Facebook status update. Then, some little punk posted commented to the effect of 'nobody likes justin'.

I obviously had to get all up in this mess so I commented:

"Uh, whateva, (name of little punk). Justin is sooo the cool sauce."

And then My Gay Husband, who is also Facebook friends with Justin, commented:

"Yeah, COOL SAUCE."

And then I commented:

"Yeah, we love JUSTIN!!"

Follow all that? Ok, so that may seem immature, but it wasn't because I didn't post what I really felt like saying:

"I'm 22 and I'll kick your ass!"

But, obviously, that seemed somewhat inappropriate. See? I'm a big girl now.

Just a Little FYI

I love creating new email address monikers and then hitting that "check availability!" button.  It just feels nice.  I come up with wacky ones:

mexicannanny.@gmail.com

cannanny?  That's funnunny.  

SugarGarcia.@gmail.com.com

So I'm now at NannyMagnolia.@gmail.com 

or, as I'm sure Dora would prefer:

nAnNymAgNoLiA@gmail.com.  

Either way, your capitalization doesn't impact the destination's address.  

When I Forget How to Talk, I'll Sing

Although I've found that blogging gets in the way of my laying in bed and crying hopelessly studying Swahili, I guess I can't quit this bitch in such an alarmingly abrupt manner.  

It's raining for the gazillionth day in a row, and one of Trixie's krazy friends is coming over here today.  Don't fret, y'all, I have a plan (because I always have a plan).  Using several bed sheets, I'm going to turn the entire basement (the part I don't live in, that is) into a big sheet fort.  

That should hold them over for the entire day, leaving me free to sit in the corner of the fort and pour over the thousands and thousands of lists I make every day.  This part is integral to my plan, as today is THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY LIFE and this new chapter of my life will be dictated entirely by lists.   

To-Do lists, obsessive lists detailing every piece of food I put in my mouth, lists of all the boxes I need in my life, lists of everything I need to read or have read, plus another huge list of everybody I know that I've been working on for a few days.  Seriously, I make lists like that all the time.  List-making is therapeutic to me so when my life is entirely out of control I make a huge, daunting, list.  This time I'm making a list of every single person I know.  

You may be asking yourself, "Will the neuroses ever stop?"  But no, they won't.  Over the course of 22 years, I have built a complex web of idiosyncrasies to keep me safe from genuine emotional interaction.  It's working pretty well thus far.  

Oh, and that nail biting picture?  Just like every other picture I've ever taken, it looks a thousand times prettier than what I actually look like.  I have been blessed cursed with being extremely photogenic.  I call it my plastic surgery face and it comes on any time a camera is pointed at me.  I wish I could take a picture of myself (like that one), print it out, and then paste it over my real face.  

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Due to much public outcry, I won't be all together abandoning my blog. 

However, I feel compelled to mention that I've recently fallen in love with a man name Rosetta Stone : Swahili, so he's been getting most of my attention lately.  

So I'll still be posting, but meh, not so regularly.  So until my blog gets a good dose of Benefiber, check out one of my blog friends on the right sidebar of this page. 

Lurvs,

Your Favorite Nailbiter (that's my newest title - whattya think??)

Regards and Regrets

Well, y'all, it's been nice, but I'm shutting the blog down.

Thanks for reading,

Nanny Garcia