Don't Cry, Prove Them Wrong

I ever tell ya about that time my dad changed my life?
No? Okay.
Buckle on in yall. its story time!

Flashback to the late 90's, yeah it was a popping time. It was around the time that I realized how much I loved boy bands, and well, music in general. I used to listen to BSB and *NSYNC and 98* and everyone in there. Oh and not to forget my girls Christina and Britney. I had all of their posters as well as every painting I made at school, hung up on my walls. It was the time to be alive yall.

I'm not sure how old I was, but I was old enough to start "dance." Oh sweet baked potato, I hated dance. I wasn't the cutest, I wasn't the tiniest, nor was I the best dancer. All this made for quite the fun experience. I learned at quite a young age that my looks weren't my best friend, and my attitude didn't make me friends either. My sarcasm, was advanced for my age. One day, we went to try on these awful dance uniforms, and well mine didn't fit, surprise. It sucked because it had to be ordered, because my dance teachers "figured they could just go to a youth medium and not bigger." Wait, before you jump me, I was a chunky girl, however, I have always been capable of doing a standing Toe touch as well as a pretty awesome round-off. So, back to the story, when I heard those adults tell me that. I sucked up those tears and told myself that I'm not going to cry. Later after we got done dancing, I was out putting on my shoes and this girl decided it was a good time to poke fun at me for being "fat." Want to know what I did, I kicked her in the face and I'm not sure if I broke her nose, but she got blood on my socks. I ran all the way home. Yeah, that freaking sucked. Not only did the adults say that, but it was apparent that everyone else heard. It sucked A LOT. I told my dad that I don't want to go back and do that, its not fun. I don't like the girls nor do I like that I have to wait until competition to get my uniform.

That was when my dad did the coolest thing, he went to True Value and bought me my first baseball glove and took me out to the side of our house and in the street light played catch with me. That was also when he told me something that I will never forget, "you're going to finish it out because no one in this family is a quitter." I know there are people who have heard me say that before either about myself or my family member, "We're Florence's we DON'T quit." I will never forget that day. I we stayed outside until my mother came out to tell us to go to bed. My dad signed me up for "Farmer's league" aka the league where you hit off the pitching machine. He also, took a team of kids who weren't the most wanted and we kicked ass. Plain and simple. Ok, we won several games and what not, but our team name was The Bears. That should explain it. I freaking loved that!

And Not to forget that my mom spent a few nights, when my dad couldn't come, being my COACH as well as giving me hitting practice in the back yard. Little did they know, their backyard wasn't big enough. ;) My mom was such an awesome "fill in" even if she benched me for talking back.

That's summer I learned how much I loved baseball, also where I learned that I was better than most boys. It's also when I learned that my dad may be quiet around a lot of people, but he sure was smart as hell.

Fast Forward a few years

I am in third grade, I just moved to a new STATE and well, I made myself pretty known around the town. I was the ultimate tom boy. I played football that fall, played basketball that winter-with girls, then went on to play baseball that spring with the boys. Here's where it woke me up. I was a damn good ball player. My dad and I threw the ball every Sunday after church. Whether that was a football or a baseball it just depended on the season. See, my father he worked in Utah 5-6 days a week and would get home Saturday and would leave Sunday nights. It sucked because he missed a lot of my games but I learned a lot from those couple of hours he spent with me. I was told that I should play softball, but I tried that in second grade and hated it. I hated playing with girls. So I played the Minor League and had a freaking blast.

The next year My dad signed me up for Little League and said that I was good enough to try out for the Major League team. Well I was one of maybe 3 people who could throw from home plate into a trashcan at second base. I was one of few who could throw the ball all the way home from the outfield. And I was one who took some hard hits at short and third base and still could make a play. And I could hit the ball like a freaking boss. That next day, I was cut. I was the only girl that tried out. I was cut because I was a girl and needed to play softball. I went home from school and called my dad to tell him the news. I was DEVASTATED! I tried. I tried so freaking hard, and KNEW I was better than all but the 6th graders. So I played Minors one more time, and vowed that I would make majors. I worked out all summer, and my dad and I "trained" so hard. I made Majors that next year, but I made Softball Majors. And that started my love for softball.

I couldn't have accomplished a lot of those accolades I got from playing YEARS of softball if it wasn't for my dad teaching me all those years back. I couldn't thank my mother for going to some of my best games. Sports has been such a big part of my life, not because my parents "forced" me into them, but because I wanted to play. I began playing "travel" ball when I was 12, and then went on to playing High School Varsity my freshman year, to my Junior year where I began playing year round. I played as much as I could handle with, juggling camps, school, and yes even college courses. I thank my mother for constantly pushing me, and my dad, for believing in me when no one else did.

My first home run in high school, was hit on my Mother's birthday March 23rd it was HUUUUGE deal. And my last home run hit in high school, was on my dad's birthday, May 6th the one that tied me for the state record for most home runs in a season, 12. The girl who had finally hit 13 went on to play softball for UNLV that next year. My parents had 6 other kids who were deeply involved in sports too, so for getting me to ALL my games in Utah and Nevada it was a miracle in itself. For paying for all my camps, and hotel rooms and food, Uniforms, new cleats every year, and two softball gloves-that I still have- I could never thank them enough.

I blew out my shoulder one tournament into my senior year, and spent the remainder of the year at first base. I still had scholarships to play in Minnesota but declined to go because I learned that family trumps softball and basketball ALWAYS. When I settled for going to SUU my dad called me and told, a very distraught Mel-Flo, that things don't always work out they way you think they need to, but they do work out in the end. GET YOU A DAD LIKE MINE! I still play, and I still hit "dingers" over those fences waaaay out there. I also take a ball to the shin at third like a boss, and can still throw it to first for an out.

Whats my point? I'm glad you asked.

My point is, if you're going to kick someone in the face, make sure you break their nose. Just kidding.. or am I? My second point is, don't ever give up. Don't quit. Don't let "yo haters" win. And lastly, things work out in the end, even if its not how you thought it should have.

And there's that awful outfit.

And the two little sisters that pushed me in every sport

 I played to be better than me.

First year of "Major Softball"


All-Stars


Yes, that's a wrestling singlet, and I DID
Wrestle a few years, and I pinned several boys.

Thanks Dad

-MelFlo

Its a Surprise!

If you already didn't know, I like to surprise people. Whether that be with gifts, service, or doing something that someone didn't know or think I could. My personal favorite thing is showing people that I have a crazy side. No drugs or alcohol involved. Shocking I know. Buckle in and I'll take you on a short story you're gonna be begging to get out of the car.

So I have this persona that radiates Bitch...or for the more kindhearted folk, people see me as intimidating, and it's something that I've built up for myself over the years. I like people to know when they first meet me that I am not one to be messed with. Also I like people to look at me and think "if I were to be in a fight, I'd want MelFlo on my team" Yeah, don't question me. But here's where it gets good, I like to hide my extrovert side.

THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS, I AM PART EXTROVERT. Don't get me wrong, I really love being by myself a good chunk of the time, but I love going out and doing things. Getting out and seeing and doing things out of my comfort zone. For hell's sake, I love being scared. That is definitely not anything an introvert would ever say, but it is something an extrovert would.

Alright, here comes the story.
When I first started working at Maverik, I worked weekend nights. It was great, the chick that came in the morning ended up being one of the people who encouraged my shenanigans. When I applied for the Job, I had my future boss Rolling around. It was evident that I had a bubbly personality. HA! Alright, hold up, I didn't walk in the room and start cracking jokes or anything like that. She just asked if I ever did drugs and I replied, "No, but I'm a full time student applying for a full time job and I may need some." That had her rolling....Someday's I miss that Lady. Anyways, I got hired on 2 hours later.
So weekends were spent listening to music and having a grand ol time. Not many people came in through the night. But I was always busy doing cleaning and stocking. And when you spend enough time by yourself you're gonna bust out some vocals and dance moves. So when coworkers showed up at 6 it was the best thing in the whole world. Usually by then I was two energy drinks in and buzzing off the wall. Charity, my crazy coconut, one day came around into the cooler to help me stock and BAM saw me drop it real low. It's like a twerk but you drop your booty as far as you can. Which to people's surprise for me, its inches away from the ground."GET IT GIRL" was at hollered at least 5x a day.
To most girls, when we hear that, it just fires us right up. And with the right attitude and music, it could go one of two ways; someone getting fired up and saying "oh ok that's enough" or in my case, it fires me up just enough to twerk on something or fall to the ground after pulling something. That happened on more occasions than I had wished it did. One day, Coconut came back where the boxes of fountain syrup were hooked up to the CO2 machine and because I was being an idiot, I was moon-walking and knocked off a hose and it was going everywhere....mostly everywhere on my clothes. When asked "what happened?!" I simply explained that I turned around in time to see it "pop" off.

About a year and half later, I moved on from Mav and got a treatment job with some teens. I set my boundaries with no hugging and definitely establishing where I stood with my bubble. But one day, one of the kids had a Christina Agulera song come across their stereo. And I couldn't help it. 8 year old MelFlo came out and she couldn't be stopped. That little dance and wall twerk and hair flip, got me quite the amount of compliments and giggles. It was funny to see the faces of some of those people. To get crazy and just let loose.

I guess the thing with me, it just takes a good ol attitude and song to have me go from "intimidating" MelFlo to Crazy Twerking MelFlo. Its roughly .02 seconds. I learned that you gotta enjoy your job. It's not up to your boss or coworkers, it lies on your shoulders. You can have a crappy shift or you can go home with a smile on your face. I mean, ok you don't have to love your job....but it has to be enjoyable. And sometimes I like making other's days. I apparently dance so terrible its funny. Whatever gets the people going.

Hit my up on the Instagram and check out the videos, I get a good laugh every now and then. But it kinda shows me when I'm carefree. Now that is a rare feat. So its nice to see that for that one song or moment even tight ass MelFlo can let loose. God bless the poor man who marries me. He better not get embarassed, because I hear that my twerk can bring a tear to the eye...whether that be because it was that good, or because you're going blind probably the last one.

Its a surprise to people because you don't know if you're gonna get twerking MelFlo or HeadBanging throwing the HORNS MelFlo..It's a gift and a curse...but I'll take it either way.


Just Let Loose From Time To Time

This was the night the Syrup machine just "popped" off and squirted everywhere. So this is a legitimate story. Some days I miss the Mav Days, then I get a headache and get recall what most days were like when I wasn't out dancing.


XO,
MelFlo

It's Not Right, But It Happens All The Time

I've opened this blog once a week since my last post and have had the hardest time trying to type how I feel. But each time I've pulled out my laptop with something on my mind I know exactly what I'm going to say and how I'm going to write it, but as soon as it comes to me typing it all out it just doesn't work. I can't get my words to flow as if I was talking to my best friend, or even just a friend.
So I'm going to try something, so stay with me ok?

I have this problem.

I can't stand the judgement that is given out on any day of the week, particularly on Sunday. I can't stand when I see GOOD people be torn down for something they did months or years ago. I can't stand that first impressions are already over before two people actually meet.

The bigger issue:
I see it happen every day. I go to church, and people I haven't even met yet already know that I choose not to go to church and instead sleep and go to work. People already know so much about me. And this isn't just with me I see the whispers as someone gets up to bear their testimony and maybe their dress isn't pretty, or their hair a mess. I see this when someone demonstarates their talents and maybe messes up do to nerves, and people chuckle and make fun. I CANT STAND IT!

I will forever live the beliefs and standards of the Church Of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and the covenants I've made. But it makes it difficult to go and sit in church week in and week out to be with people who don't. We accept people who aren't perfect and struggle. But instead of people being welcoming to those visitors, we poke and make fun. What a better way to make someone feel welcome than to sit behind that person and whisper.

It doesn't just happen at church, it happens outside. I see people all the time pissed off that LGBTQ people have a march or are getting married or even kissing. Like, did you not remember where we were counceled to LOVE EVERYONE?? That means even people we don't share ideals or beliefs with. We're not supposed to go out and protest gay marriage even though we believe that marriage should be between a man and a woman. We shouldn't be disgusted that someone has feelings for someone of the same gender. We should be welcoming and letting them know that it must be hard and loving them for who they are! But that's not what happens.

I had a gentleman who opened up to me and another person who was supposed to be his best friend, but instead, she shamed him. I have never been more disgusted with her than any other person. Do you know how hard it was for that gentleman to come out and say those words out loud? But that girl instead stopped hanging out with us, and slowly cut ties with him. She claimed she was LDS but I hate to say it, that's not what the LDS doctrine is about. We are taught that we are to love everyone. We are taught that no matter sexual orentation, color, political offiation, or what ever you put on your toast in the morning, you are loved.

I just can't get over it. You have these people who party every Saturday night and show up on Sunday to bless the sacrament, and your relief society pres, well she had her tongue down some dude off Tinder's throat. *YSA Ward* I just don't get it. I do I really, do think that things can be forgotten and looked past, but these are the same people who see the people from the shelter sitting on the back pews at church and they whisper about them. These goodie goodie girls that all walk in together and sit next to each other who criticize the pianist for missing a note won't ever get up there and play...



Its just so damn hard being a single twenty-something and having to go to a singles ward and push through. I see and hear all of this and pass judgement myself. I think, those girls making fun of the pianist, they're just cowards who don't have the coconuts to get up and play each Sunday, or are talent less and are jealous. I see those homeless people from the shelter come in too and sit on the back row. I ponder if they're good people or just people looking for a piece of bread and a drink of water, or just people looking for a cool place to hang. I do it too, and no I'm not perfect.

I just don't get it, Why are we the way we are?

Legacy

Here's the weird thing about time, there's never enough of it. You spend you life wishing you did more, wishing there was more, hoping that what you did with your time was enough. But you'll never really know. The days seem short, nights shorter-if you don't work night shift- you find yourself figuring out a schedule to where you plan out every minute of every hour then realizing there's just not enough.

You figure that you're going to grow old and live until you're 100 or so, you don't really ever plan your death. You don't sit down with a pen and calendar it out the day and place you're going to go, so that you can fit in as much stuff in between now and then as you possibly can. Its crazy to think that at any given moment it could all end. I used to think that there was a hour glass, or a life glass, that before you came down to earth you took as much sand as you could fit into that glass and that was how long your life was going to be, so when it ran out it was over. I was ok with the fact that I had pretty big hands and probably over filled it. But it never really hit me that not all of our "life glasses" are the same size. Shoot, you could be the happiest, healthiest, and smartest person and still only get to 33.

Time, where can I purchase more? I would like to walk into a store, well I'd prefer a drive-thru, and buy some more time for an assignment that I neglected to finish because I was at work, or I was trying to get a full 6 hours of sleep, or some other excuse that permitted me from completing. Maybe I could purchase an access code to allow me all the answers for why I never seem to finish things on time, or for why I race through other things.

Its just a word I guess. I wish I had more time to do this, or that. I wish the days were longer, I wish I spent more time with loved ones, you know? Its only a word, but what you do with it, that makes it valuable.

My grandma has this quote in her living room, its also from HITCH if ya remember, "Life's not measured by how many breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away." There are so many things you can do in a day. Yeah you have to get enough sleep, go to work, school, eat three meals, exercise, and all in between... and sometimes you have to sacrifice some of these things for something else. Sometimes it sucks, but its the price we pay for LIVING. You have to sacrifice some sleep do drive to exciting places to adventure. Sure, you sacrifice a lot of sleep for various things. The hardest thing, is having to know when someone or something is not worth your time. That has to be the hardest. To cut them out knowing that in the end its just wasteful. Maybe the most wasteful is the amount of time it takes to realize that. It just happens.

Regardless of the amount of time we think we have, we need to use it. Don't waste it away sitting at home on social media or binge watching Netflix. Don't waste it. Do something to remember, whether that is in your eyes or the eyes of someone else. I long to be remembered by others as someone who never gave up. and definitely as someone who was funny and caring. But that's me, I like people to like me. What you want to be remembered for can be totally different, or maybe you don't want to be remembered, but want to have a killer time doing things people didn't think you could do.



Ya know what, there's this poem I think I read it in high school, but it sums up what I'm trying to say perfectly.

The Dash
by Linda Ellis copyright 1996

​I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
​the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before. 

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

​So, when your eulogy is being read,
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent YOUR dash?

Well, I mean that's it. How do you want to LIVE your dash? 

Do you want to be remembered?

Do you want to slip away in the cracks?

I'll tell ya what, the thing I want to be remembered for? Using what time I had here, on not giving up. On whatever it may be. I mean, I don't want to be known as a quitter. 

XO,

MelFlo

**This post took me too long to finish. It sat in my drafts for some time. I couldn't seem to put my words on the page how I wanted them. And a couple of things came up that pushed me to put them out there. Sorry if ya get lost a little bit.**

We All Got A Lot To Learn

I’ve learned a good chunk of things by watching others. People watching is my favorite thing. It’s kind of like a hobby. No, I don’t go pull up a chair at the park and watch or sit on the bench at Walmart. I just like to notice others and my surroundings when out and about.


I’ve learned that the best burger is one that hasn’t been pressed.
I’ve learned that the way parents look at their babies or toddlers really shows how much they love them. I.e when they look them in the eyes, hold their hands, or smile.
I’ve learned that the people closest to you hold the biggest secrets.
I’ve learned that a four way stop people lose IQ points and alpha personalities, well they really take charge—even when it’s not their turn.
I’ve learned that the biggest people aren’t always the slowest.

From a young age I wanted to be a detective. And for years I kinda switched gears and wanted to be a teacher—until I didn’t want to deal with children’s parents. Then I got back on track to be a cop. Well, I had always known that being self aware and aware of my surroundings was my best trait. It came in handy for sports. I could see the basketball court so well. I could pick the open spots, flash, drive the lane, read the rebound. In softball I could read the field as well. I could pick other coaches signs. I could read when the runners were stealing* I was a catcher* and when hitting I could/can read when the outfielders came in or sat on the fence. It is just one of my better skills. So it’s come natural to me.

Growing up I also learned a lot from watching my parents.  Two of the most selfless people I know. I watched when my mom was in a rough patch with us kids being out of a job, have to tell us “no” to candy or Lunchables because she couldn’t afford it. Guys, I don’t think you know my mom. She never says “no.” She goes about saying it other ways but, “no” isn’t her favorite word, it’s second to “hate.” I’ll explain in a minute.

 See my mother, busted her ass along with my dad to provide a great life for us 7 kids. We always had shoes, clothes, a roof over our heads, and occasionally a great meal-if my ma wasn’t cooking. Lol. That adds up. My parents gave us such a great life. 5 of us now have scuba licenses, 3 went on 2 year missions-funded by my parents and a couple others- 5 of us went to college-3 graduated so far. All of us kids were on some sort of travel sports team. Yeah we’re all pretty good.

They taught us that to give means more than to hand money or physical items. It meant that not everything you do for someone needs to be recognized. My parents taught me two of the biggest lessons: 1, Compassion and service are the two greatest things a person can have..and with faith being the greatest. 2, never give up.

My dad taught me that you can have some of the darkest times and be at the lowest in your life and still be a light. My dad taught me that shit happens and sometimes it ends up on your doorstep in a bag on fire. Don’t step on it go around. My mom taught me that you can’t ever hate your family. You can dislike them but you have to love them. Haha.

My parents never really sat us kids down, or me for that fact, and gave us lessons on this stuff. We just watched as it all unfurled. I watched as two of the strongest people went through the worst of times, got new starts, and back again, to now offering us kids money when we visit...or to fill up our gas guzzling vehicles. They never gave up. And they are STILL making sure we have the best life.

I learned the hardest lessons on my own. I learned that in the darkest of times you do think that thought. You know what I’m talking about. If not, you haven’t been there and lucky you. I learned that sometimes the closest people to you, they hurt you the most. I learned that being big bad ass Mel Flo comes along with people not thinking I have a heart. You’re either tender-hearted or stone cold tough ass. And somehow I feel I need to be in the middle haha.

I’ve learned that I’m the person who would give my life, not just for my family, but for a stranger. It’s just who I am. I do not enjoy others being sad or hurt. I’ve learned that the most heartless people will hurt the people closest to you.

The loneliest people... well they tend to be the kindest.
The saddest people... they smile the brightest.
And the most damaged people.. they are the wisest.

I’ve seen people be dirt poor and give their last dollar to someone who was hungry. I’ve witnessed people scraping by paycheck to paycheck spend a few extra bucks for the dude sitting by the freeway with a sign. I’ve witnessed my grandfather take in a man who was train hopping and got washed up in a storm. He gave that man a place to live. He gave him clothes and food for nearly a month until he earned enough for a greyhound ticket to Cali. That was the greatest summer I got to have. And my grandfather, he was a great man.

I’m only 24, working on 25 here. Pretty sure I’ve had about 13 mid life crisis in the last 3 years. And I’ve learned that ya gotta keep going. Ya gotta keep trucking along. I had a close friend kill himself, I was one of the firsts to a car crash where I walked to the drivers side of a truck to see a man with his face halfway peeled off. And he was cracking jokes. I’ve watched someone try to jump off a building. And many others. But I’ve also held my nephew in my arms the night he was born and realized how great life is. I’ve driven a new Jeep off the lot with my name on the title with a big ass smile on my face. I’ve laughed until I’ve cried and cried until I laughed. I’ve broken bones and gotten stitches. I’ve gone to school and I’ve played hooky. Through all of this I’ve learned. I've learned who I am and why I’m here. I’ve learned that in the quietest of moments we learn the most.

Get out and learn from experience. Sit back and watch. Either way do something.

Xo,
MelFlo

Dreams So Real

Ya ever have a dream just so damn realistic? I have them all the time. But by the end of the day most of them have been forgotten. The ones I do remember kinda leave me shook up. Ok, you're either thinking, wow, Mel is very random or this is something deep. Its a little bit of both. I woke up late one afternoon and was in a dead sweat. No, it wasn't because the air conditioner was turned off, or that I was buried under 2 blankets, or the fact that it was 98* outside. It was because I had a dream that my best friend had been shot.

That's right. I have terrible dreams, and usually I let those people know when things like that happen, I honestly don't know why. *pause*
I mean, we all have had a dream somewhere along the line and it actually happens in real life and we're all shook up about it. De je vu anyone? Yea, I would be more scared if this didn't happen to me as much as it really does.
\
Anyways, I and The Bestie- Blair- Are out driving around as we usually do on Monday nights. But we were older, in our late 30's. We went out for our ice cream and weekly catch up, and suddenly we get into an accident. The car speeds towards us, through a red light, and smashes into my Jeep. That's right the Jeep has survived that long. It immediately knocks Blair and I around. We get out of the jeep to asses the damage as well as the other driver. Blair is a doctor, and I a police officer. And as soon as Blair steps out of the Jeep he is impaled with several bullets. I reach into my jeep to grab the pistol located under my steering wheel.

I fire several shots into the shooter. I manage to kill the shooter. I run to Blair who had pulled himself under the jeep. I call 911 and am informed that there is a ambulance on its way. He was hit in the thigh, I took off my belt and used it as a tourniquet. It slowed the bleeding. I felt like everywhere I turned there was another bullet hole. There was one through his shoulder. I sat there holding him and putting as much pressure that I could find on the two holes.

I held Blair praying that the ambo shows up quicker. It felt like hours that we sat there. Naturally I crack jokes. It kept Blair with me. I told him it would have been better if he just bent over and took a few to the buttocks. He agreed, and said he probably would be in less pain. I looked at his face and just knew that things weren't going to work out the way I was praying for.

The ambulance showed up and we drove to the hospital. He was immediately rushed into surgery. After a few hours, and several calls to families later, I was greeted by a surgeon. He extended his hand and offered his condolonces. My eyes filled with tears, but I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. The surgeon sat me down on the chairs and placed his hands on mine. Asked if there was anyone he could talk to or help me out. I told him that family was on their way. I said, "I don't even know how to tell someone that, their beloved friend, brother, father, and husband, was dead. Got any suggestions?"
I flashed forward what appeared to be an hour or so, and I saw myself-from third person- outside puking. Typical MelFlo move. So that made it feel more real to me. I puke about an hour after incidents like that. Remember that accident I rolled up on and the dude had half his face rolled off? Puked exactly an hour later. When I got the bad news about the Ex, about 2 hours later, I was in the bathroom puking. The things I've witnessed at work, have me puking after too. Haha, it happens in situations like that. I remember wiping my mouth and answering a call from my husband.

He said that he and our three kids were on their way to the hospital from the jeep crash. I joked around and asked how seriously my beloved child was injured. My husband informed me that, "The Cuteness, she's not going to make it." And without a beat, "well tonight is really working out in my favor isn't it?!" I sat on the curb and watched as My husband pulled up jumped out and hugged me. And then the water works happened. Tears wouldn't stop! I have never been so embarrassed about not being able to stop crying. Hey, at least I know that my husband isn't always a d bag in my dreams lol.

Anyways, the funeral came around and I was asked to share the life story. And all I knew about Blair, is the times we shared intimate details about our lives. I announced that I didn't know that his favorite color was olive green. I didn't know that he had a secret hobby for gardening. I didn't know that he and I liked the same book "To Kill A Mocking Bird." I did know that his favorite subject was Math because Blair saved my ass several times in Stats. IT hit me that I didn't know my best friend. I gave a few stories about how I ran a stop light and we all nearly died. I shared that the secret to us being best friends for so long was the power of Ice Cream. I told the congregation that we were each other's longest relationship. I told them, that the only reason we were so close was because no one else could stand us. It was the shortest thing I talked about. But I felt so empty.

I woke up feeling empty. I woke up feeling like I got hit by a car. I hate feeling like that. I immediately texted Blair and told him the terrible news and said we were going to play Questions the rest of the night because its f'ed up that I don't even know what his favorite color was. It did make me feel a little better knowing that our strong relationship will prevail haha. It was funny because our ice cream runs made it almost 20 years. And somehow, we managed to end up in our careers, and in the same town. Funny how things work out like that.

But I rolled out of bed and hit the floor and prayed that I only ever stay a dream. And as soon as I stood up, the amount of relief that came upon me was so warming. I mean, I don't know how I could live without The MF Cuteness.... oh yea and Blair. Guess he's gonna have to wear a bulletproof vest when he's with me.

This Is Life According To MelFlo

I had a few thoughts over the week, hold on for a second these are good wholesome thoughts. Though most of this week's thoughts included:
 "What did I eat that was green?"
"Why do I feel like I've sat my fat ass on the sun's surface?"
"How many times can I Web-MD my symptoms and not be convinced that I'm OK?"
Oh and my personal favorite, "When should I stop trusting my gas?"

Though I have had a WEEK long of what seems like the flu, and thought that my body was shutting down, I got to thinking about a few things. Like why I even started this blog. Woah, I know, deep Mel, deep. There's maybe one or two people who read this blog, yeah I look at the statistics. It say that my blog gets visited at least 10 times, and I know 8 of those times are because someone accidentally clicked on it. Anyways, I didn't start it because I wanted to have everyone and their damn dog read it. Shoot, I wish less people did, because those who have read it are offended by something I wrote. It's humoring to me to hear some of the comments.

"Can you write using less vulgarity or without being too blunt?"
"Why do you even think that those stories you write are funny? I didn't laugh."
"Why do you blast your ex's? That's inappropriate, and rude."

Well if I did write without the vulgarity and not being blunt and upfront, I wouldn't be writing like a true writer. As a writer you want the reader to be able to either put themselves in your shoes, or feel like they are present in the story. And anyone who knows me, knows I like to swear and feel that being blunt and upfront about things is one of my best traits/curses.
I think several things I go through ON THE DAILY are pretty funny. And I think that when I share them with people personally and they laugh that maybe they are worth sharing with the two people that read this blog. *calm down I know there's more, I hope.... For all I know its my mother continuously clicking on my Blog Link every day ;) *
And the thing with my ex's, it was fun. That's it. I learned and I grew. I have these experiences I want to share. I hate writing in journals so I figure sometimes I can treat this blog like a little diary.... Kind of like Brigdet Jones-yes I watch movies like that, they're sort of my guilty pleasure. And any time I write about the Ex's, they only know if they read this, and to be honest, they have better things to do. I mean Everyone that I've dated or been in a relationship with... well, they're ALL married.

I write things on this blog because I damn well feel like it. I feel like a good way to keep myself away at work is to write. I usually spend it writing my story. I post every now and again on it. I do so because, my weakness writing is in fiction. I have a very hard time with writing fiction. Clearly writing nonfiction is easy, shoot look at those previous posts. The best way to get better at something is to continue to practice. Hmm, maybe one day I'll write a book. I would like to do a ballad of how being 20-something isn't what it's all cracked up to be. But I also wanted to test the waters with my other fiction story. Who knows, maybe you're reading the writings of MelFlo before I made it big. ;)
AHAHAHAHAH yeah ok I couldn't even type that with a straight face.

Any who, I write on here because I feel like it damn-it. If you don't like it, leave or stay, my stats are low. And if you're here for the long haul, just remember that sometimes I get side tracked, or go on and on about something when I should have stopped. So Here It Is.

I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR THINGS I SAY OR DO
*unless it was completely accidental*
*yeah, people don't like me, and I don't give a damn.*

Simply, if you say or do something you did it for a reason, subconsciously or not. If you were mad, good! Let it out, express yourself. If you were sad, good! Let it out, and express yourself damnit. I tell the kids at work all the time, don't apologize for things you say or do unless you knew it was wrong before you said or did it. I mean, I get called an array of things every day. It just rolls off my shoulders, but they turn around and apologize later for it. I tell them if they felt like I was being a "bitch" its probably because according to them I did something that falls into "their" category for that.
Everyone is entitled to their judgement and opinions. And as much as it irks me, yes, everyone is allowed to be offended. I do not get mad if people are feeling things and express themselves, because that's how I roll. Be upfront, let people know something pissed you off. It comes off as rude, but its better than keeping it in and boiling over. Do things that make you happy. Stay away from people that piss you off. And by all means, don't give a damn about other's opinions of you.

So this is it. This is my blog. MY blog. I write things here and sometimes share them because I feel like they need to be shared. Sometimes I show y'all just how dark I can get. And sometimes I show you just how funny things are. And there are days like today, that I hop on my soap box and rant for a little.
This is my blog. I write things that I feel can be relative to others. I post things that maybe come straight out of right field, but have your head nodding up and down. Know that this isn't a normal ballad of one night stands as some people think the 20-something years are spent. This isn't the ballad of hey, look I went to school and am now knee deep in my career. And this sure isn't a ballad of Hey y'all, read about my adorable family and *BLEH*
This is the beaten dirt path that people sometimes have to take because the paved one is crowded.
This is the hard working woman, who wants to have that career and perfect family, but is a little behind. This is all those things that you don't read or hear about your 20's.

*taps mic*

This is MelFlo and I'm coming at ya in the wee hours of the morning from my laptop that needs to be upgraded. Strap in because this is going to be one hell of a ride and you might like it.
And this is Life According To Me.