I didn't know love #itbrokeme #ibrokedown

I have this really bad habit of overanalyzing situations. I've been told by my cubes at work that it's because I'm a gemini and that's what we do - overthink things yet still act on impulse, both which are not good given the right circumstance. Lately, I would say I've been acting more on impulse given my  recently single status, deeming for each year taken (or some would say wasted) is another adventure to take advantage of. Thus sprouted the "Matsumoto Motto," something my younger sister took the liberty of enlightening me of in lieu of my statement that I am "dangerous when I am single."

With that in mind, I've come to find being single is a whole new world to me, especially considering it's been about a good five years since I've been in the game last. Granted it's not that I can't play the game, don't get me wrong, but I find that it's definitely not like it used to be last time I was single. I read this article a while back, (see http://elitedaily.com/dating/sex/why-chivalry-is-dead-from-a-mans-perspective/) about why chivalry is dead, from a man's perspective and it basically boiled down to the fact that women nowadays just go with it and don't expect anything more, essentially adhering to the bare minimum that has become the norm of today. Dating is something of the past, because all we care about today is hooking up, getting a drink, and getting down. And like the article says, it's not that I'm a Debbie downer when it comes to the scenario of a late night text about stopping over for a fun romp, but at the end of the day, beneath all my smack talk, this girl might actually want somebody to take her on a date, and heaven forbid maybe even somebody to cuddle (holy crap, I can't believe I just said that). 

What's especially interesting is I've fallen prey to the norm that's mentioned in the article, and I've been trying to figure out how, and I think I've boiled it down to the mere fact that at first, I wanted to just have some fun. Being newly single, why should I have to care about dating? I just wasted five years that only ended up in heartache, so why can't I have a little fun? Just give me your number and if I think you're hott and we hit it off, I might contemplating texting you later on. And this scenerio works out well and great for a while, until you meet somebody and start hanging out with them more than once. And this is where you make your fatal mistake because now you're walking a fine line between pretending not to care and trying hard to dodge a bullet of feelings. 

I've thrown up a wall with the smack talk I've thrown around so I've been maneuvering under this facade of not giving a fuck when really deep down I really am just an old fashioned girl who's got this mission to be taken on a date to ice skate at Campus Martius. So now, I'm kinda cornered, and the only options I really see are 1) admit to actually liking somebody and the smack talk is just that, talk or 2) stop it before it gets any worse, and walking away. Option #2 is by far the easier of the two because if I elected option #1 this means I have to actually go through with not only admitting to myself that I might like somebody, but also finding a way to tell the person, and while things might go well received, I'm one who tends to see worse case scenarios, and I don't play well when I don't get what I want. Rejection really doesn't suit me well. But at the same measure, if you do just walk away, you'll never know. I'm also one who let's 'what-ifs' bother the shit out of me, so never knowing would likely drive me nuts. Also, to be quite honest, I'm not positive I'm even ready to admit that I let my feelings best me, and actually admit that I let myself like somebody. Bottom line is either way I'm screwed.

And for the record, yes, I am hearing you yell at me to "not fuck this up" cubes. 

Sigh. Why did feelings have to go and mess things all up? 

Oh what a tangled web we weave.

Side Note: This entire post was me overanalyzing the situation.

It's raining #boohiss

It's quite upsetting how much power the rain has over my extracurricular activities. While tonight is only Thursday (aka Friday Eve) I was actually contemplating going to RO for some $2 u call its and free apps at BlackFinn with a frand of mine from hs/CMU days. BUT then it had to go and start raining, and after I walked out of the cognitive testing I partook in for some aging brain research at WSU, a warm bed and some snuggly blankets started sounding a helluva lot better than potentially getting into way too much trouble with those u call its. One could only imagine the shenanigans I could have gotten myself into tonight had I opted that route, and one can only imagine my cognition when I rolled into work tomorrow morning. Yes, I may have taken the lame route once again, but I'm going to pat myself on the back when I wake up and not be a stupor beast.

Honestly, I find myself much more fun on the weekends, where lately I've been gallivanting to the wee hours of the next day. This is because I don't have to worry about the consequences of having to wake up early and put on my big girl pants to go to work. I can sleep in as late as I want, roll out of bed a hot mess, and stumble about in my comfy pants all day long. Go ahead and judge me... because this girl doesn't give a fuck. That's right. There are no fucks given when the clock strikes 5:30 PM on Friday (well, until the depression of Sunday evening and Monday morning looms in on you... but that's besides the point). If my night consists of a Matsumoto Motto adventure, I will even do the drive of shame if I have to (which I am finding I've become rather stellar at) and sneak out so I can crawl into the comfiness that is my own bed and you'll never know what hit you. BOOM! You wake up and don't know what just happened. Where'd she go? You may never know. And don't try to find out because if you do I might have to kill you. Be forewarned... and be afraid. Unless you bring me pancakes, and then I'll be your bff. 

Speaking of pancakes, tomorrow is Friday and not only will I get down on it, but I might even contemplate having myself a flapjack to begin the movement #flapjackfriday. Not in the morning of course, but well after happy hour and my nightly shenanigans have commenced. Seriously though, I've been wanting pancakes for the last few weeks and I think it's about time I ate me some pancakes.

Meh. It's still raining. #boohiss 

It's prolly not any good that these off-brand Tylenol pms aka Kirkland from Costco are starting to kick in, and I'm beginning to feel I'm headed to nonsense land #boohiss 

So, on that note, the Porks and I are going to go be snuggle buddies, and I know you're super jealous. High five!

I took a nap and it was the most glorious thing ever

About an hour ago I woke up from a short lil napper and it feels so amazing I feel like I could tackle a bear. I think lately I've been so overwhelmed with life that I had forgotten the gloriousness that is a nap. I'm publicly apologizing to myself and the nap for neglecting you for this long. I don't think I've napped this well since college. I have so much energy right now when I looked at my MacBook Pro I screeched "it's bloggin' time beeches!" Goodness nap, what have you done to me?

I also just discovered this option on iTunes where you can download previously purchased music that for some reason or another has 'disappeared' from your iTunes library... seriously I think I'm in the process of downloading like over 200 songs - WHAT?! How did this happen that all these disappeared?! I'm looking at songs that I didn't even know I had but are amazing - like "Boyfriend/Girlfriend" by C-Side; honestly, when did this song come out? They're referencing Myspace on here lol. Or how about some We the Kings and "Check Yes Juliet!" Or one of the only country songs I actually enjoy, "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood. That song by the way is exactly what I will do to you if I am your girlfriend and I discover that you are cheating on me, so future boyfriend be forewarned. You don't mess with a Matsumoto. I've even been missing out on songs from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. AND BILLY JOEL "UPTOWN GIRL" HOLY SMOLEY I'M IN MUSICAL HEAVEN. I'm over here jammin' out like nobody's business right now. Man, this is like a musical jackpot that I've discovered at the end of some lyrical rainbow. BEST DAY EVER.

Speaking of best days ever, today is Wednesday, and for those those of you who are not familiar, Wednesday is not only HUMP DAY (WHAT!) but also Work It Wednesday, which is a movement I started. Basic premises is you wear your best, dress to the nines, look fine as eff and post a picture of it on instagram with the hashtag #workitwed. Here is today's #workitwed outfit, courtesy my Grandma Pearl (a few months back I discovered the style jackpot and came across a ton of vintage dresses of my grandma's and I fit in them... score!):

Please notice the matching coat.

I'm over here having an epic jam session kids, so I leave you with this:

And actually, according to my Director, my #workitwed outfit was "off the chains hot" so chew on that. BOOM!

I've been lying for twelve years

When I was a freshman in high school, I was called up periodically to play on the Varsity softball team. I had made the Junior Varsity team, so being called up to play was a big deal. During districts, I was called up to play for the games. Obviously this was an even bigger thing, even if I was only sitting on the bench. During the first game, I was put in the game to pinch run (think we were playing Kettering maybe? Them or Clarkston, my memory is failing me right now) and I was given the steal sign to steal third. Back then, I was a pretty damn good base runner (still am, but not as fast since my knee injury) and I knew the importance that when I did steal, I stole third successfully.

Let me paint the picture for you: the pitcher is on the mound and she glares back at me on two like 'bitch stay put' and I mean mug her back with my signature 'kill look.' Meanwhile, the catcher's got her panties in a twist (omg I hate that word... the p one... and as I typed it I said it in my head and I'm cringing now but the word is what makes the saying so I had to say it) because she knows she's gonna have to throw down to third and thinks she can throw me out - WRONG BITCH, YOU AIN'T THROWING NOBODY OUT! After the pitcher releases, zing! Off I go, and before you can say go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog (that's a palindrome by the way... you're welcome) next thing you know I'm sliding head first into third safe. One would expect me to be happy. I stole third successfully and accomplished my mission. Except I am not because I am suddenly struck with godforsaken pain in my hand. OHMYFUCKINGGOD I THINK I AM GOING TO DIE. What evil softball god is bestowing this pain into my hand, why are you punishing me? Is it because I stole? Because really, I didn't, I swear, promise the third base is safe and sound still on the ground. Clearly, something is wrong, but I sluff it off and eventually get hit in and have my hand looked at. In between games, the trainer says it might be a sprain, and to have it iced and checked by my doctor.

So what do I do? Ice it, and then before the next game, have the genius idea to play catch with one of the girls who has the best arms on the team. It only took one throw to have my mitt come flying off because the force of the ball hurt my hand so badly (honestly, sometimes I think back at some of the genius ideas I've had in the past and wonder how the hell I'm still around to tell the world of them... sigh).

To make my already long introduction short, eventually I went to the doctor and was told it was a ganglion cyst, which should heal by itself, but if it doesn't, surgery is an option. Of course, since it wasn't made out to be all that big of a deal, I sluff it off and go along my merry way, because clearly I can't have surgery if I'm playing softball. Can't miss out on travel ball because I am a super star, end of story. Jennie Finch in the house, biz-och.

Fast forward to today, twelve years later, when my "ganglion cyst" is still bothering me because I re-injuried my hand this summer playing coed softball. Today, I finally decided to see an orthopedic hand surgeon about my "ganglion cyst" and was advised that I've been lying for twelve years now. My "ganglion cyst" is actually a bone spur, which developed because I had torn ligaments in my hand. The bone spur was my body's way of trying to heal itself. Had I been told I had a torn ligament, and actually gotten surgery to fix it when it happened, twelve years ago, the bone spur would have never developed. I wouldn't still be in pain. More importantly, I wouldn't have allowed people to slam heavy books on my hand to try to pop my "ganglion cyst" after a few boozy drinks had I know it was a torn ligament and NOT in fact a "ganglion cyst." Seriously?! WTF PCP. You really screwed the pooch there with that misdiagnosis. Lettme give you a high five YOU SUCK.

I was given a cortisone shot and a brace today. Words of advice for those of you who have never had a cortisone shot: prepare yourself - THEY HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. And for me, it wasn't during the actual shot itself (likely because I wasn't paying much attention because I was in the process of trying to figure out who was going to be billing for my brace, which is DME and lettme just tell you, DME IS A NIGHTMARE, but that's another topic). My hand is also bruised. I am not happy. I dislike bruising. However, I do enjoy showing everybody my bruises, so I guess I don't dislike them all that much.

ANYHOW. While I elected the non-surgical option, after careful thinking, I scheduled myself with another appointment to discuss the surgical option in two weeks. I figure if cortisone shots are the temporary fix to my permanent situation that I've been lying to the world to for the last twelve years, I might as well just get the surgery over and done with an call it a day so when I'm 50 years old I'm not wanting to beat the fuck out of my 26 year old self for not doing it and still being sour over the cortisone.

All I can say is I'm sorry I lied, it wasn't my fault, I didn't know, and screw you cortisone, I hope you stub your toe.

P.S. Yes I am still alive, manbearpig did not get me.

But you can still name a holiday after me because that'd be great. K, thx.

Monday is the bane of my existence

I despise Monday.

If I could take a knife to Monday's throat, I would and not feel bad about it. I hate Monday that much. I once had a friend question the ability to have so much hate for a weekday, and he quickly found out how serious that hatred was. The last few Mondays he's sent me a text reminding me that it was my favorite weekday - today's read: "Welcome to your favorite day of the week. Lol." Thanks for the reminder, now if you'll just give me a brief moment while I go beat the shit out of the remaining hours of Monday... k thx.

On Monday, the department I work in is ALWAYS busy. Call volumes are up, service levels are down, time off the phone is sparse, and for some reason I always end up questioning why I got out of bed that morning. Believe me, if I could sleep every Monday away, I would do it, in a heart beat. It's bad enough we only get a two day weekend and have to slave through the rest of the five days of the work week, let alone the first day back always makes me want to blow my brains out. That's right Monday, I hate you that much. (Insert boo and hiss here). It's almost like Monday enjoys being as terrible as it is. I'd go far enough to say Monday probably throws a celebration party just to see everyone suffer throughout the day. I say screw you Monday!

To make things even better, just now I noticed my bedroom door crack open. Porks and I went out to the kitchen just to check up on things, and when I walked to the laundry room, I noticed the door to my garage was cracked open. Weird, I thought, seeing as the door itself is locked. I also notice that I neglected to set the alarm like I usually do. AWESOME. Now my heart is beating a little quicker, and I decide I better check the garage. I'm also thinking, wow, I'm going to be that girl in the horror movies who everybody is screaming at not to go into that room, who ends up getting slashed to bits by the killer. SUPERFUCKINGAWESOME. But, I go outside in the garage anyway and notice all is normal except the garage door isn't locked, but the deadbolt was. Okay, even weirder. At this point, I decide the hammer is looking mighty fine so I snatch that up, and walk quickly back to my bedroom where I keep my shiv and pepper spray handy. Go back and grab those, and then proceed to do checks in each room, closet, nook, cranny, everyfuckingthing some douche bag could imagine to hide in. I've done about 10 sweeps of the house and am still alive, so at this point I take it as a good sign. I still have the hammer, shiv, and pepper spray right next to me, and the alarm is now set as well. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little freaked out still, but I've called my Aunt who lives about five minutes away and she's aware of it. I'm debating about calling the neighbor over to come do another sweep with me because I'm likely to be air stabbing at every noise I hear from here on out tonight and I'll be lucky if I get any sleep. #singlegirlprobs #homealoneprobs

Moral of the story? Next time, don't forget to set the alarm when you get home and FUCK YOU MONDAY.

P.S. If you do not hear from me tomorrow, there was some sort of creature manbearpig person who actually did sneak into my house, and I'm sure I put up a gallant fight, but sadly, did not make it. I'm sure you will all remember me as your bff and grieve the loss of me for decades to come, and probably even name a holiday after me.

Welcome to my Quarter Life Crisis

I've spent the last hour or so perusing Thought Catalog and I can't help but laugh hysterically and feel the need to share this little gem I just read in a little diddy titled: "100 Men Answer 'What Is One Thing A Woman Should NEVER Do In Bed?'"According to Mark, the one thing a woman should never do is:

Mark, 28

Pee the bed because she’s drunk.

Um, what the hell kind of woman did you pick up Mark to where your bang out session involved her peeing the bed?! I mean come on here, I may have been drunk a time or two but I've never peed the bed while I was getting it on. Seriously, wtf. Mark, that girl was a bad choice that night.

Proper introductions are needed, aren't they? Sorry about that folks. My name is Kaylan, but you'll often hear me referred to the plethora of nicknames I've been given over the years derived from my last name. The most recent one is Mats. (P.S. That's me telling you not to be surprised if I start referring to myself with seemingly random names, just an fyi). Lately, I've decided to embrace my quarter life crisis (qlc from here on out) to the fullest. I am not ashamed of this. In fact, I love it. I'm having the time of my life right now. Be jealous. The interweb gives qlcs and #twentysomething's a rough time (for why, I've not the slightest clue... okay, that was a lie, but seriously, gimme a break, don't judge me monkey) and I'm here to squander the roughness and enlighten the world wide web of the amazingness that is my qlc.

Allow me to introduce you to some facts of my qlc:

1. A few months ago I was broken up with (yes, I know, I still can't muster the thought that I was the one broken up with and it wasn't the other way around). I'd been in the relationship going on five years, and while I can't deny the reasoning behind the break up, I think my ex did a piss poor job of handling the situation. Said break up started via text, then escalated to a phone call, and after a failed negotiation of discussing his decision in person, ended.

At first I was hysterical. Five years just shit on me and were currently being flushed down the toilet. I might have shed a tear, maybe even sobbed like a baby for a brief moment. Don't judge me, I was having a weak moment. Then I was enraged. Who is he to break up with me?! Fuck that noise. Fuck him and his stupid face. I'm going to continue to drop f-bombs and shake my fists in the air while I seethe hatred and curse your life and hope you die a horrible death. By the time I got home from work, I had a somber atmosphere to me, and was somewhat loathing in my own self pity. Maybe I should have seen it coming? It's not like I didn't see it coming myself, it was the elephant that had recently moved into the fucking room and took over our relationship. Shit, maybe I even deserved it. At this point I had in my hands a bottle of white wine (no clue what kind, all I know it had a funny name and that's why I bought it from Trader Joe's in the first place) and was sitting on the tree stump outside of the garage door soaking up my self pity. Then finally, when my little sister rolled up and I broke the news to her, is when I came to the enlightenment that everything was going to be alright and this was the start of a new journey for me. When my ex and I had started dating, I had just turned 21 years old and five years later, at 26 years old I realized much of my twenties had been squandered by our relationship. Not that dating him was a bad thing, but the normal stupid things a #twentysomething does I was never privy to because of said relationship.

Hence why I am now arriving fashionably late to the qlc party, and embracing the fuck out of it.

2. I'm not one of those #twentysomethings that are unemployed or doing the whole unpaid internship gig. I actually have a pretty decent job, working for a pretty big company, and I'm doing a damn good job at it - except I'm stuck and I hate it. For fucks sake, I've got two degrees and am currently pursuing my MPA. Motherfucker, 11 months cannot come soon enough.

3. Matsumoto motto, because it's not that I don't want to get to know you, it's just I don't have time for it, and a girl's got needs. I'll elaborate more on that with time. And no, you cannot judge me monkey.

4. I'm determined to get me some abs and tone my arms. No more flibbity flab on the under arms and love handles around the mid section. If I'm gonna rock the hell out of this qlc, you better bet I'm gonna look hott as fuck doing it. Swoll Patrol sahn... wait for it... BOOM! Side note: I'm not entirely positive why being a toned, sexy motherfucker is a fact of my qlc, but considering it's been in high gear lately, I feel it deserved to get a shout out.

5. Bitch, don't kill my vibe.