25 Facts About Me You Might Not Know

Thursday, April 27, 2017


After yesterday's post I think we need to lighten things up around here. So I'm going to share 25 random ass facts about me. Some you may know, others maybe not?! Let's jump in!

First things first, when I wore this dress last year the strap broke and unannounced to me, I rode down Michigan Avenue seated behind Chris on our scooter whilst freeing the nipple. Don't believe me? Read about it here.

I played with Barbies until I was far too old. Like teenager-old. When someone would walk into my room during the midst of a good play session I'd quickly throw them under the bed, or act like I was "practicing doing hair" on them.

Speaking of dolls, I was always a little afraid of my bigger baby dolls. So I made sure to check in with each and every one of them for at least a moment or two every day, (just a casual "Hey, how's it goin?" "Is that a new dress?") Just in case... just in case they really did come alive at night.

I was a big fan of the Goosebump series and Are You Afraid of the Dark.

However, I refuse to watch real scary movies. I saw The Sixth Sense for the first time last week and I'm still not sleeping great.

I believe in ghosts.

I also believed in Santa Claus until I was 14.

I've always had a strong imagination (are you gathering that yet?) My favorite summer was in '94 when my dad cut down a huge tree in our backyard and it became my very own pirate ship! Ah, such good memories.

One of my favorite movies is The Way Way Back. I've watched it three times this week.

Best advice I've ever gotten from my parents was:

My dad- "It'll all work itself out."
My mom- "Always paint your toenails before a road trip."

My dream job is to live the life of a recluse writer. I have this fairytale in my head where I live by water, but also have a lot of land (so my 500 dogs can roam free) and I only "go into town" about twice a month. And even then it's because Chris insists on it and is like, "Tay, you haven't left the house in weeks, don't you think you should go out and see people?"

But I don't care! Because I have 100000s of dogs to talk to every day. But I'll go in for Chris's sake because I know it's important to him.

Chris was my first boyfriend! And after our first date I knew we'd probably get married. "Not for like ten years though," I told my college roomies, "but eventually."

I consider moving to Chicago one of the best decisions of my life (second only to saying yes to go on a date with Chris.)

I know this statement ^^ seems weird given what I just said about wanting to be a recluse, but right now we're in our "city stage." The recluse stage won't come for another 10 or so years.

I've been blogging for nearly 9 years. Which in blog time is actually 109.

I pierced my lip with a fish hook when I was three. I thought the worm was a gummy worm and I just couldn't keep myself away.

I pierced my nose with a safety pin when I was 15. I watched Parent Trap in preparation. (I re-pierced my nose when I was 26.... not with a safety pin because I'm an ADULT now and do body piercings correctly.)

I need at least 9-11 of sleep to function properly. I'm one of "those people" who fall asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.

To this day, my closet at my parents house is covered in Delias and Limited Too magazine clippings. It also says "Paris Taylor" all over it, as that was what I liked to be called for a brief time in the early 2000s.

The first joke I remember writing was in middle school. It was a social studies assignment and we were supposed to draw a "political cartoon." Mine was apparently "too dark" and the teacher threatened to call my parents and made me resubmit.

(I still think it's a good joke.)

I've stopped doing standup and I miss it, but I also don't. The nighttime comedy club hopping just isn't for me.

However I'll never stop "doing comedy," (whatever that means.)

The "religious apocalypse" of 5.21.11 as predicted by crazy minister Harold Camping scared the shit out of me. I'll never forget the relief of waking up on 5/22 and still being alive!

I'd like to say I've stopped believing in all that weird shit since, but..... But.

And now I'm about to wrap this up because I'm under the weather today and I need to go make another cup full of Emergen-C. Ugh, that stuff is the worst. Do you have a good cold remedy? If so, please share.

Happy Thursday, friends!

When It Comes To Animal Abusers

Wednesday, April 26, 2017




It happened again.

One dog story led to another and I've found myself in a dark hole of worry/sadness this morning about things I can't control. I'll snap out of it after a good walk with Harlow, I'm lucky my sad moods don't stay around long. I know what triggers them and I know how to get out of them. But every once in awhile I allow myself to sit in them for a bit (like right now.)

Today's abuse story that got me hit closer to home than expected.

I saw a few articles this morning about the brutal killing in North Carolina of a pit bull named Huey (one report said he was a therapy dog.) *about to share what happened, skip over to the next paragraph if you need*  He was tied to a tree, shot five times, and it was recorded. For starters I obviously don't understand abuse, it seems so simple to me- you just don't do it. But then to record it? Why are we seeing so much of this shit these days? It's so disgusting to me I can't wrap my head around it.

I assumed the couple was on meth. I just don't understand how anyone in their right mind would think, "hey lets shoot our dog and make sure to record it all so we can have it as a keepsake forever." Laughing and giggling can be heard throughout.

(I read that anyway, I would never ever watch such a thing.)

I stayed away from the article and gathered everything you read above from the headline and from the few comments I saw. Unfortunately my mind was feeling extra grim today, so after a few hours of dwelling on this and feeling sick, I clicked on it to know more.

And that's when I realized I knew one of the people responsible for this heinous crime. He's a guy from my small town in Nebraska. He's the younger brother of a girl I went to high school with. I played at their house several times growing up. I had sleepovers with her.

I know this guy. Or I knew him when he was a kid.

When I put the pieces together it got even harder for me to comprehend. Why would he do this? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

When it comes to animal abusers I get quite vindictive. I want the kind of justice that never seems to happen. A person who treats a helpless animal like this is a monster and should get a taste of their own medicine.

And so I started to write a really nasty Facebook status. And yes, I know that's just as ridiculous as it sounds. But, I was angry and wanted to feel better by yelling into social. I AM SO MAD AND WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW!!! But then I imagined his sister reading it, or his parents, and how chances are they're already feeling bad about this and what good would my negativity bring them?

Nothing. I'd just be adding to the hate cycle.

So after I talked myself down from being an angry troll on Facebook, I remembered there's only one thing that brings me resolve when I'm feeling like this, and that's donating to a shelter in the name of the specific animal who's been hurt by senseless humans. Today that happens to be the shelter in Norfolk, Nebraska found here.

If you see abuse or neglect happening, please do something. It's as simple as googling "reporting animal neglect (then fill in your city, state)" and you'll find the info you need. I do it all the time. You can ask to remain anonymous. But if you're too scared to turn in a neighbor or family member, email me. Give me the info and I will turn them in. My email is thedailytay@gmail.com.

Now I'm going to take Harlow on an extra long walk and try my hardest to focus on the light rather than the darkness.

When You Turn Into Your Parents

Tuesday, April 25, 2017


You ever notice the moments when you realize you're starting to turn into your parents? They sneak up on you in places you wouldn't expect and leave you wondering, now why the hell why did I just say that? But you know. You definitely know.

My moments have been happening lately at the plant store by our house.

Little back story on my parents and how they feel about their plants- (they're nuts.) Nuts to the point where once their garage got broken into and someone stole a bunch of stuff from my dad's car and do you know what he was the most upset about?

"My cucumbers! That bastard trampled my damn cukes!"

"Yeah, but dad your wallet was stolen, and credit cards. And cash.... What about that stuff?"

"These were going to be my best cukes yet and would you look at them? They're ruined. RUINED. Well thank GOD they didn't get my tomatoes."

Whomever broke into my parents garage did so by trompsing through their garden first, a tragedy none of us has forgotten ever since. My parents installed an alarm system shortly after, but I'm fairly certainly it's mostly to protect their garden and potted plants.

And such I grew up in a world where summer days were meant for one thing, and one thing only: planting.

As a kid they'd drag me to boring plants stores like "Mulhalls" and "Lanohas" and "Earl May," and I'd sit in the car counting my arm hairs (after I'd get my free popcorn from Earl May, obviously.)

When I got older and realized my parents were actually paying money for this crap my mind was blown.

BUT WHY? Why would you spend money on plants? Who cares?????

They would try to teach me about the plants and their names and their hobbies and blah blah blah but I didn't care at all. I had so much more important stuff to worry about; like which Hollister board shorts I should buy with my lifeguard money.

I blocked all of the plant talk from memory, certain I'd never care about something so boring.

Until ten years later. When it turns out ... I do. Ugh.

Last night Chris and I were picking out plants for our rooftop and kitchen balcony, (because that's what we do now) and he pointed to a pretty flowering plant and said, "that one looks nice, wonder if it blooms all summer?" 

And without skipping a beat I responded, "yeah it does, it's a Hibiscus. And you can bring it in the house in the winter and it will do fine, it'll stay alive years. But you have to be careful as it gets older because it will get so heavy it could topple over in the wind."

And then your pot will crack and your mom will be mad for days and your dad will say, I told you so!

Chris was like, "how do you know all that?" And I just responded, "I have no idea."

A lot of people can recognize a hibiscus, I don't think I'm Jenny-Green-Thumb for knowing that one. But as we continued to walk down the rows of plants I could name them all, using knowledge I was certain I had ignored.

Bougainvilleas, Snapdragons, Blackeyed Susans, Hastas, Gazinias, and the famous Oleander, (also a movie starring Michelle Pfeiffer.)

In the past three days I've been to the plant store four times.

I used cilantro for our tacos last night that we're growing on our kitchen balcony. We also have mint and basil and parsley. And a tomato plant. And a cucumber plant. I check them all, several times a day.

I don't know who I am anymore.

But I do know one thing, if anyone were to mess with my cukes I would be pissed.



A Post Written By My Mom On Her 30th Birthday

Friday, April 21, 2017



Here is a photo of my mom on her 30th birthday. I repeat, this is a photo of my very young mom with her three very young kids helping her blow out her birthday candles.

My 30th may be inching up on me. (But if you're a talent agent reading this I'm going to tell you it's my 25th!) Wanna know how I feel about this? Exactly how I look in that photo, that's how. Confused and sweaty. The story of my childhood.

Thus I present to you,  "If my mom had written a post on her 30th birthday, I imagine it would have gone like this."

*******

I can't believe I turned 30 today! However, this photo was taken two weeks ago in anticipation of today, knowing it would take that long to develop.

I've had a great day and am feeling quite lucky. All of the kids bought me new Precious Moments that I can't wait to add to my collection in our hutch. I'm up to 76 figurines now! And dare I say each and every one of them are ... precious to me!

Jay surprised me with a cordless phone! Crazy, I know! I feel so mobile. I can go anywhere around the house (within 3 rooms of where the receiver is on the kitchen wall) and talk to anyone. What will they think of next?

A few of my friends are starting to get "pagers," but those just seem like a little much for me. I don't think you can even make a phone call on them, so I just don't get the point? Why would you want to lug around something extra like that, when you don't even use it to have a phone conversation? It just seems a little silly to me! Besides, if someone needs to get a hold of me that bad they can leave a message on our answering machine. And if I'm out and about and need to make a call I can just use a payphone, that's what they're there for!

Anyway, enough talk about modern technology.

We celebrated my birthday by going bowling tonight at Kings Lanes. In case anyone is wondering it was not a surprise party. Which is fine, because I didn't think it would be. So I definitely didn't wear my best acid wash jeans and striped knot-front tee, with my matching striped socks, pink Keds, and dangly watermelon earrings, thinking it would be a surprise party. Because I for sure knew it wasn't going to be a surprise party. So I was in no way surprised when it was not in fact a surprise party.

Like I said, it's really been a great day.

The kids didn't fight much which was very sweet. Jade spent the day playing Barbies and listening to her NKOTB cassette. Jordan played legos and with his My Buddy doll. And Taylor, well I'm not sure what she was up to all day, but if I had to guess I would say she's back on the bottle. I know that's terrible to say about your two year old, but look at her, she's a mess. She's clearly been drinking. I'm just worried she may grow up to be one of "those adults" who's never quite ready for adulthood, you know what I mean? Like what if one day she's about to turn 30 and she spends her days all alone cooped up in an apartment playing make-believe with a dog she swears talks back to her or something?

Or even worse, what if she spends her time corresponding all day with people she's never met? Like via chain letter or something.

That sounds bad, I don't mean that. I'm just saying I worry about her. But what mother doesn't?

What mother doesn't worry about Taylor, I mean. I've heard the whispers. Apparently she doesn't "play well with others." While all of the other kids at daycare are in the toy room having fun with each other, Taylor prefers to hang out in the corner talking to her Little Debbies. Some of the kids say she even pets them. I should really stop buying her those Zebra Cakes, but she loves them so.

There I go again, making my birthday post all about the kids!

My twenties were great and I'm excited to see what my thirties bring. I feel blessed and happy to have my kids at the ages they are as I enter into my thirties. I can't imagine just starting to have children now like my friend, Pam. Of course I would never say that to Pam, but I think she's okay being an older mom. So good for her! You go, Pam!

I can tell you one thing, after all of this birthday cake I may need to join a fitness center or start doing a little more aerobics. Pam invited me to try a new workout craze called "Jazzercise," but I think I'll have to pass. Dancing around in thong leotards just doesn't seem like something I could get into.

But now I'm getting a little sleepy so it's time to towel dry my perm, hit the waterbed, and call it a day.

Cheers to another great birthday.

It's crazy to think it will be 1990 soon! That's so weird to say. We'll be living in the 90s, it sounds so modern and chic, just like I'm sure the 90s will be.




Things We Can Learn From Our Pets

Thursday, April 20, 2017



The question people usually ask me when they learn that I work from home (and have for the past 3-4 years) is, "Don't you get lonely?"

Truthfully? No, I don't.

And the main reason for this is a four-legged best friend named Harlow. He simply doesn't allow it. Harlow doesn't stand for moping, or laziness, or refusing to get up in the morning (even in the winter when it's dark and freezing and I all want to do is stay in bed.) It goes without saying that Harlow is a definite mood-booster, and because of that, I often think of him as my hero.

I feel so lucky that I get to work from the comfort of my home and spend every single hour with him. From morning until night, usually seven days a week, we are by each other's side. Occasionally, he encourages me to take more walks than I'd normally go on or take a break from working to play fetch with his ball in the house, but spending that extra time together is always worth it when I see the joy on his face.



In my seven years of spending an abundant amount of time with him, I've come to the conclusion that there is so much that humans can learn from our furry besties.

Things such as...

Their gusto for life. The moment I say "up" in the morning Harlow literally jumps out of bed and can't wait to see what the day has in store for him. He goes from a dead sleep to bouncing off the walls in less than five seconds. His energy is contagious and forces me out of bed, as well.

He lives 100% in the moment; you can see it in his eyes and his ears. He's always present and enjoying his current situation.



Whether we're camping in the woods or the mountains or simply playing fetch with his toys in the house, he's an adventurer and is always anxious to see what's around the next turn.

Harlow greets everyone he loves with pure excitement and happiness so they know just how thrilled he is to see them. It doesn't matter if it's been 10 days or 10 minutes, Harlow will be excited.

Harlow's empathetic and caring. Harlow knows when I'm sick and will ease off just a little on demanding another walk. He'll lay his head in my lap and look at me with concerned eyes.

Most of all, Harlow couldn't care less about technology. He's more of an adventure seeking kind of guy. He forces me to put my phone down and enjoy the scenery around me, no matter where we are.

It's for all of these reasons why I don't get lonely working from home and why Harlow is without a doubt my very best friend.


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When I Knew I Was Destined For Greatness

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

I peaked in the 6th grade.



It was at this very time during the spring of ... well the year's not important, really. What's important is that it happened. It was at the annual all city "6th Grade Track Meet." If you didn't catch that, that meant that 6th graders from ALL over the metropolis of Norfolk, Nebraska were going to compete in one very big track meet to see who could run the fastest and jump the furthest.

Naturally, I assumed it would be me.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'd been preparing for this monumental event since the 2nd grade when I first learned of the track meet after my sister "competed." At the end of year school assembly when our P.E. teacher handed out ribbons for the meet winners I was determined to get the blue and felt sad for my sister and the way she had represented our family by only getting the purple "participant" ribbon.

I remember thinking to myself, "she should have trained harder," as I sat criss-cross on the Northern Hills gymnasium floor that morning. Why did she not care? It was evident my sister cared more about scouting boys to date for the next year in middle school than actually running a race at the "ALL CITY TRACK MEET."

It made zero sense to me. Winning was everything. If I had been able to get the tattoo I wanted at that age it would have literally said, "WINNING IS EVERYTHING" followed by a Nike swoosh.

The only time I considered rocking a short buzz cut was in 3rd grade and it was because I was incredibly jealous of the boys and their NIKE swooshes they all got shaved in the back of their heads. I get envious just thinking about those blonde little buzzzed swooshes of hair. They were SO COOL.

Back to my training. (See #4 on list.) Please ignore all others.



For the next four years I made my parents take me to every track meet in the Northeast Nebraska region. When I felt comfortable enough with my talent we even went to bigger state events such as "The Cornhusker State Games," (the Olympics of Nebraska) my heart skips a beat just typing that. And also the Hershey State Track Meet. Oh, and one time I ran a mile holding a fire torch for the "Nebraska Torch Run" on a random stretch of highway, next to a cornfield, outside of Norfolk followed by a man in a white Pontiac driving at the rate I was running. I'm hoping that man in the Pontiac was an affiliate of the race or something and not just some creep on the highway following a little girl who thought she was the Marion Jones of Northeast Nebraska. I guess we shall never know.

In my off time I set up small bean bags in our very long driveway and practiced the "shuttle run" to keep my agility up. I did pull-ups on my dad's pull-up bar and occasionally snuck a few lines of his protein powder into my Fun Dips.

I'm not ashamed of any of this. It was all in preparation for the biggest day of my life, the 6th Grade Track Meet.

My race day outfit is also worth noting as it was the best race day outfit to ever exist. Red running shorts with a silver stripe down the side, with a matching grey tank top with red stripes, that read "LTD too athletics." It was a Limited too outfit, OBVIOUSLY. *I wore a thick t-shirt under the tank because I was not about to show off my shoulders!!! 

I had done some light scouting at the practice meets and knew my biggest competitors would be girls by the names of Jeni, Amber, and Jessica.

I won my first event, the long jump, and was feeling very good about the 100 meter dash.

My favorite thing to do before lining up for a race was casually ask the runners next to me, "so are you fast?" Most would shrug or say no, probably wondering who this weird kid was asking them a question like, "are you fast?" And I'd always respond, "yeah, I'm not really fast either."

I don't know where I picked up this odd "I like to hustle other kids" attitude. But it was a move I was known for. I knew I was fast, what I did not know, was what the word "humble" meant.

As we lined up for the 100 it was obvious to me the "volunteers" had us at the 110 meter mark, rather than the 100. Having been an experienced track competitor, I politely told the adult who was instructing us, "um, you're not doing this right."

I'll never forget how she shrugged me off and acted like I knew nothing.

Use the fury for the race, Taylor. Do not let her get to you.

I won my heat for the 110 by a landslide. And the racers after our group were moved up to the 100 mark.

Boys from other schools came up to me afterward and noted how fast I was. They also noted how I looked like a "blowfish" when I ran because I puffed my cheeks in and out so hard. But it didn't bother me, I'd seen those boys run. More like jog! Pppfff.

This post has gotten longer than I intended. I guess I enjoy writing about the best day of my life/when I peaked at the age of 11.

Long story short, I won every event that day.
*except the 200, but I didn't try that hard because I was tired and the 200 is stupid.

At the end of the day I was exhausted, a little sun burnt, and very very happy. Every other sixth grader at the meet knew my name. What next? Collegiate running? The Olympics? WNBA? Who knew? My future was so bright I could barely handle it.

In fact, those were my PE teacher's exact words as she gave me all 10000 of my blue ribbons at the end of year assembly, "her future is so bright!"

Indeed.

Anyway, I've got to package up a bunch of "Let's Day Drink" shirts and then take a few photos of Harlow in a bathrobe for a blog post, but never forget, follow your dreams! Anything is possible!


Here's a very grainy photo of my sister and I. Although I'm not actually in 6th grade here as it appears, I'm probably 17. I was a "late bloomer."

When did you peak?

Friends With Babies

Tuesday, April 18, 2017


Chris and I have been doing this thing lately where we accidentally always end up matching our outfits, in some shape or form. Last weekend in Austin it was stripes.... On the way home it was matching heather grey sweatshirts. At this rate by the time we're 40 we'll be that couple at the retirement home wearing identical neon windbreakers.

Last Friday we flew to Austin to celebrate some 30th birthdays.

We got on a boat, did a little bar hopping down Rainey and 6th street, and spent late nights with the girls giggling in the hotel room and eating pizza like we were back on 1545 S Street. (Some addresses never leave you.) That was our sorority house. Yes, spare me your judgement, I was in a sorority. I bought some lasting friendships from KAO so I have no regrets.



It's hard to spend four years with friends, seeing them almost every day, sleeping under the same roof (or bunk) and then one day you spread out all over the country and only get to see them once a year, twice if you're lucky.

It's also weird for me to think that as a 20 year old I slept in a bunk bed. In our sorority we had "open air," so imagine what you've seen on movies about old-timey orphanages, where there's a big long room filled with rows of bunk-beds, and that was life for me sophomore year of college. To this day when I hear Show Stopper by Danity Kane (which is rare, but occasionally happens) I think of Ashley W and her alarm clock and all of open air shouting, "Ash, SHUT OFF YOUR ALARM!"

Ah memories.

As I was saying.

I love those friendships when you can get together after ten months apart and not skip a beat. Nothing has changed, yet everything has. We've added a new member to the group, a little guy just under six months affectionately known as "baby Mingy." And we've picked up some husbands along the way, as well.

And let's just say our brunch convos have certainly evolved. I think we spent two hours talking about pregnancy and giving birth and bodies doing things I didn't know they could. Three out of the four girls I met up with this past weekend are doctors or work in public health, meanwhile I was asking opinions for a new tshirt idea along the lines of, "I like beer," while my other friend Kammie was wearing her favorite poop emoji tank top (she nor I are the doctors.)

But never the less, the convos were good and never seemed to end. You know you're in good company when you have to wait an hour for a table in a crowded restaurant but you don't really mind because there's so many topics to cover, and so little time.

Such was the case with the entire weekend, so much we wanted to do and see, yet time was so fleeting. I'm still yet to see the infamous "i love you so much" wall, or watch the bats fly over the bridge. But we did have lunch at an awesome spot in Holly called Launderette, and later in the day I took a photo of Chris next to his favorite movie line.


I know, I know, it's kind of embarrassing. Chris loves movie lines... We all have our things and I will love and accept him anyway. Until he starts saying, "Rod, you were there." Then I get mad because enough is enough.

On that note, I've got a full work load ahead of me and have to get to it because rumor is that it's supposed to be mid 70s today and Harlow will want an extra amount of playtime. Bye! Have a good Tuesday!