Space YOUR Face

Pros and Cons of a Las Vegas Wedding

2011-08-25T09:49:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentleman, here it is, my first ever GUEST POST!

Behold!

If you are thinking about turning that whimsical summer fling into a life-long contractual obligation by hopping on the first flight to Las Vegas there are some pros and cons you should consider first. Thankfully, for your sake, I went to the trouble of making such a list, and I will share that list with you now.
Pro: Elvis Will Marry You
Having the King marry you is quite an honor. No matter which King it is, you’re basically having a royal wedding. And we all know about the boner Americans get over royal weddings. You will probably make it on the news. Also, I’m pretty sure this King won’t insight Prima Nocta, like that bastard Longshanks did to Braveheart. I’m pretty sure.
Con: Love is Fleeting
It is. Nothing lasts forever. Change is inevitable. Diamonds are forever. Every kiss begins with Kay. All the clichés are true. There is a 90% chance that your relationship ends horribly. Leaving you forever scarred emotionally and a piece of you gone forever. Or maybe it will work out, who knows for sure.
Pro: Cheap Buffet
Serving all your guests dinner can be one of the most expensive parts of a wedding. Not so in Vegas, home of the $8 Buffet. Is there anything more beautiful than a woman in her wedding dress asking for extra mashed potatoes? I would venture to say there is not.
Con: You Will Probably Be Cheated On
Statistically speaking, it is likely that anyone entering a serious long-term relationship will cheat or be cheated on. For someone who gets married in Las Vegas that number doubles or triples. Where am I getting these numbers? From a reliable source, that’s where. I have groups of researchers running around the clock to bring you up-to-date statistics like “double or triple”. That’s why you are reading this in a medical journal.
Pro: Nic Cage
It will be just like that Nic Cage movie, “Honeymoon in Vegas”. What could possibly go wrong when you base real life decisions on something you saw in a Nic Cage movie? Full Disclosure: I’ve never seen that movie, but I did see “Leaving Las Vegas” with Nic Cage and I imagine your life-story will be closer to his character in that film.
Con: In The End, You Are Married
That just doesn’t sound like a good time. Remember when you were just having casual sex with this person? Was that not good enough? You might want to think about this for a second and just go back to the casual sex deal. You two were so great at it.
Pro: You Can Always Get Divorced
It’s true. And most married people do it, so it must not be a big deal. And there are literally thousands of lawyers in Las Vegas, so if your relationship falls apart before the weekend is over there are many fine Las Vegas divorce attorneys awaiting your call.
Con: There Are A Lot of Attractive Single People In Las Vegas
And now, you are not one of them.
Good luck!

Kevin O'Connor is a content manager for Olicity Online. If you do decide to get married and then also decide to get divorced, please visit the Las Vegas divorce attorney's office of Naimi & Dilbeck.

A Favorite

2011-08-10T16:48:00.005-04:00

From time to time, being that I have had this blog for an eternity, I get all ambitious and decide to read through again. Sometimes I pick random posts and sometimes I search for specific things I have written about. I have my favorite posts and I have my least favorite ones. I read over, every so often, the heartbreak I've experienced and the debauchery that I have participated in. And sometimes I get a little teary…but most times I am wondering how I survived for the last several years without being killed in some bizarre accident. (I have stolen giant stuffed animals and carried them down busy streets, ya'll! After 17 shots of something terrible that probably tasted like liquorice!) I have really been wanting to find the time and go through and pick out some of my favorite posts from the past, oh 80 years or so, that I have been keeping this blog, but I have yet to actually do it. Today, however, I started thinking about this ONE post that I wrote that I like okay, but what really, really, really makes it memorable and ultimately one of my favorite posts are the comments. One, in particular of course, by a guy I never met and who calls himself Muckypuffin. Anyway, I thought I would share it with you, because every time I read it, it makes me super happy. And it makes me want to…well, send Muckypuffin whatever would be the equivalent of fried spaghetti in his world across the Atlantic. ENJOY!

A Favorite.

Victimology

2011-08-10T09:06:00.002-04:00

I think that one of the weirdest parts of not really being friends with Spliff anymore is the connection we both have with other people. I have a hard time going to places I know she likes to go because I don't want to see her outside of the office. I don't want to be forced to talk to her in public and I don't want to have to pretend for more than 40 hours per week that I have any desire to be in her life. But that is kind of a weird feeling, even though it has been that way for well over a year now.

In the office, I don't have to make small talk. We talk about work. And honestly, I don't have an issue most days having to spend at least 8 hours with her. We still laugh about stuff and we are "work friends" and I am totally fine with that.

I recently got back into touch with a friend of mine from high school who stopped hanging out with me shortly after (his best friend) J and I split up. I always thought that the reason that we stopped talking so much was the fact that J was his best friend and, even though we had all been friends for over 5 years at that point, I was not. I could see where that would be weird for him. And J. And even me at that point. But, that's the thing with break-ups. You don't always get custody of all the friends in the divorce. And I have been around the block a few times, and I am okay with that.

Needless to say, last night when BB and I hung out for the first time in over 6 years and he told me that the reason he stopped hanging out with me wasn't because of J, but (like so many others of my friends) because of Spliff, I was pretty…well…I don't really know. I was definitely a little pissed that her selfishness had cost me so much time away from someone that I cared so much for and I was obviously hurt that he didn't make an effort to tell me this before falling off the planet for six years. But mostly, I felt an overwhelming sense of "DUH".

Spliff always had a way about her that made everyone really comfortable. My guy friends (not all, but many) always had crushes on her and, at least with the ones that she wanted to remain friends with (which was only really two of them) she was pretty clear that she wanted nothing romantically to do with them. And those two, followed her around like puppies for years and just pined and pined. But the ones that she didn't care about? Chewed up and spit out. The thing was? I DID care about them. I was the reason they met her. I felt responsible. And I was the one who had to hold their hands through the whole crushing mess. And eventually, because I lived with her for 8 years, I lost a LOT of friends over it.

Last night, sitting with TT (who was a victim, but is now the best thing that ever happened to me) and BB (former great friend and also a victim), I giggled. Because yeah, it sucks that they both got burned by my former BFF, but they both made it. And now have girls who won't treat them like shit. So? Everybody wins. And everybody hates her. (Which also makes me giggle, cause I got the good friends in the divorce.) There was not really much thought of her at all until BB waved me over to point out the bartender. A guy I used to talk about a bit here, on this blog. Spliff's unicorn. The one guy she could never really have. He broke up with her at least twice, both times crushing her into tiny blonde pieces and both times she was begging for more. (And the last time we spoke of him, she would still take him back.) He did to her what she did to everyone else. And there he was.

The Molester, having been a friend of mine, also since high school, was the one of my guy friends that all of my girl friends wanted to date and that all of my other guy friends wanted to be. To me, he was just "The Molester". But to Spliff, he was a god. And last night, standing there with two boys that she crushed and the boy who crushed her and knowing that I had lost touch with all three at one point or another because of her, I realized it. There was no doubt in my mind that not being friends with her is the right thing to do. In the end, I just wanted to hug them all (and then maybe slap TM for good measure) and thank them for reaffirming JUST how much I have because I don't have her.

Moral of the story?

Connection or no connection: Removing her from my life has brought me my boys back. And I wouldn't trade that for 20 Spliffs. (Unless they looked like Taye Diggs. Then I would consider it.)

Because EVERYONE Likes Free Stuff!

2011-08-01T16:47:00.000-04:00

Because Sometimes Youtube is on Acid

2011-07-28T20:32:00.003-04:00

Upromise Guest Shopping for Crystal

2011-06-23T08:45:00.000-04:00

Upromise Guest Shopping for Crystal

Day 30: Your Favorite Song at This Time Last Year

2011-06-15T10:24:00.003-04:00

First and foremost, I would like to say that this is ridiculous. At the start of this challenge, I had a hard enough time trying to figure out what my favorite song was THEN. Now I am supposed to remember last year’s favorite song? What?!

I am going to go out on a limb here and go ahead and say that I was listening to a lot of Rocky Votolato at this time last year. I have no idea if this is an accurate statement. But I can be sure about one thing. I heart Rocky Votolato. A couple of years ago, Pookie’s ex turned me on to him and I couldn’t have been more in love. I can also go ahead and say that if I was listening to Rocky this time last year, then I was probably listening to “White Daisy Passing” which is a beautiful (albeit sad) song. And if I was listening to that song, then I was most likely listening to it over and over and over again, thinking about people from my past and either wishing that they were around or wishing that I had punched them in the face when I had the opportunity. Either way…amazing song!

Day 29: A Song From Your Childhood

2011-06-08T09:52:00.002-04:00

Oh man, internet…it is about to get really 1980’s in here.

So, as a female child of the 1980’s, it is totally fair to say that I was kind of in love with Jordan Knight. I tight-rolled my jeans, totally did that wave thing with my bangs, and liked things that were bedazzled and/or fluorescent. (Which sounds much like what you see now, when you enter…THE MALL.) But even with all the NKOTB obsessing, I had time to devote to my real hero. Debbie Gibson.

When I was in second grade, Debbie Gibson’s first album came out. And I was totally in love. I am serious. My friend Scarlett and I probably wore out several Debbie Gibson tapes (yes, tapes. God.) during the course of the time that we were neighbors. Scarlett and I were super-fans. We both dressed up as Debbie Gibson for Halloween one year (and, of course, since her mom was awesome, her costume was better and I spent the entire night lamenting over that bedazzled jean-jacket that I absolutely NEEDED. IN. MY. LIFE.) I was, however, the blonde one, so I felt some superiority because I might have looked a little more like our idol than Scarlett did.

Scarlett’s mom used to dress us up in costumes to go to the grocery store (and I am talking two 8-year-olds in FULL crazy, glittery makeup and ridiculous outfits which may or may not have involved tutus) and QUITE often, we had to be Debbie. Picture it with me, internet, two miniature Debbies running around the produce section of Winn-Dixie singing “Only In My Dreams”. I am sure that we frightened people.

So, that, my friends, is my song for today. Now go over here and see if you can picture me and this lovely lady, prancing around the grocery store dressed like little tranny-clowns. Go ahead.

Day 28: A Song that Makes You Feel Guilty

2011-06-07T16:28:00.001-04:00

Usually, when I am preparing to pick a song for this challenge, I put my iPod on shuffle and I wait for something perfect (which might explain why it sometimes takes me weeks to come up with a song that fits…oops) and then I write about it. For the last week, however, I have been trying to think of songs with my BRAIN and without the assistance of my trusty iPod because, you see, some fucktard decided to steal it from Tony’s house a little over a week ago and now I am without my very best friend. (RIP Shabuta Jenkins 2.0. Yes. My iPod’s name was Shabuta Jenkins 2.0. What?) No offense to my human best friends, of course, but I don’t see you guys following me around and singing to me all day. Assholes. Anyway, I digress…

So, fortunately for me, thinking of a song that makes me feel guilty was super easy (read: ridiculously effing hard) and I didn’t need my iPod (read: sort of wanted to pull my hair out and/or bang my head against something hard and possibly pointy). But I found it, guys. I found it.

I picked “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bonnie Raitt. I think we have all been, to some degree, on both ends of this situation, ya’ll. I have definitely been Bonnie Raitt in this scenario, being all smitten and retarded over some dude who obviously didn’t love me, but liked me enough to make out with me (while, in turn, keeping me hooked and more smitten), but that isn’t the part that makes me feel guilty (foolish, yes, but I was a teenager, and that means it was my job and my right to be an idiot). I have also played the part of whomever Bonnie happens to be singing to. And that, I am not proud of. Sometimes, it is easier for people to just have someone to…have…than it is to deal with being alone. Even if that person, isn’t the one for you. Or, like, listens to Godsmack or something. It is always nice to be wanted. But it kind of sucks when you know you’re kind of…well…being a douche.

So there it is. My feeling guilty song (which only took me a billion years to think of).

Preach On...

2011-05-26T15:01:00.002-04:00

So, I try really hard not to get into touchy subjects here. Sex? Eh. Sometimes. Drugs? Come on, ya’ll, *I’m an adult. Rock and Roll. Yes. But Politics and Religion. No. Never. Not a chance. And this is not because I don’t have strong views. Because I know that I DO have strong views and I would rather not have to argue with anyone here about them. This is my safe place. And I know, I know, I should be saying a big FUCK YOU to anyone who comes here and wants to argue in MY house, but I would rather just not get into it. I will tell you though, internet. I don’t like hate. I don’t like war. I don’t like ignorance and I will punch you in the face if you are a racist. That said, I am going to go ahead and give some props to my friend Hesper over here who got a little fed up with the whole passive-aggressive Muslim-bashing that happens on Facebook. (I am totally aware that it isn’t just Muslim-bashing, but all these “patriots” who get on their high-horses and start spewing their ridiculous, “patriotic” nonsense trying to tell the entire world that the USA is the best country in the world are really just proving that there are a lot of really stupid people here.) Anyway…I got a little carried away…Sorry. (See above where I said that I don’t want to talk about this stuff here? Remember why? I ramble. And I get pissed. And I will punch you.)

Ahem…starting again…Hesper! My friend over here…wrote this on her blog and I thought, “Well hell…I totally agree. I am gonna bring her soapbox on over to my soapbox and they can hold hands and skip together and be friends for all eternity. (Also, she is awesome. Give her props.)

Enjoy! (Read: Holla if ya’ hear me!)

Brace yourselves. It is about to get all controversial up in heeeere. I am fired the eff up right now. A so-called “friend” of mine on facebook just posted the following:

“I need to start a business in the middle east making land mines disguised as prayer mats.”

Is it just me or is that absolutely disguisting? I thought all of the hate mongering almost 10 years ago was ridiculous, but I just can’t stand to listen to it at this point. Muslim does not equal terrorist, just like German does not = nazi. How can you write off an entire religion because on one major (awful) event?

The Islam faith did not attack the world trade centers, a group of religious fanatics did. I think it is important to remember that there are fanatics in every religion, race, country, etc.

Is it really fair to make Osama Bin Laden the face of Islam? I don’t think so. I do, however, think it is high time people get over themselves. Burkas don’t come with bazookas and bibles don’t come with a license to judge the hell out of everyone else.

*Debatably.

Day 26: A Song You Wish You Could Play

2011-05-26T09:08:00.002-04:00

Okay, internet, yes. I realize that I haven’t posted anything in a really long time. And I probably should have tried to be realistic about doing this in thirty days. But I am still on it. I swear. Thing Two and I have had a lot of company and a lot of debauchery at our house. And, well, honestly, I am exhausted.

Okay, so here goes. First of all, I think I have already told you that the only instrument I can play is the kazoo (and possibly the triangle, I suppose, depending on the difficulty of the song). That being said, it is safe to say that EVERY song is a song that I wish I could play. So, I really had a lot to choose from here. I thought about a bunch of songs that I would love to be able to play. And I kept ending up at the same place, Mates of State.

I am sure there are way more obvious songs out there. And I am sure there are way more complicated ones, or beautiful ones, or touching ones. But I really, really, really love Mates of State and the dynamic that they have together. Also, I am sort of jealous of anyone who can play the piano (keyboard…whatever.) So, I chose, “My Only Offer”.

Day 26: A Song that You Can Play on an Instrument

2011-05-03T16:51:00.000-04:00

Ummm...seriously?

Can most people play instruments? I am going to go ahead and tell you right now, internet, that I have absolutely NO musical ability. I can identify songs by the first two notes. I can recognize the screech of Axl Rose from 15.3 miles away. I once even tugged on Damian Marley's dreadlocks with both hands and he didn't kill me. But I couldn't play the triangle to save my life.

So, I thought, "Well, hell, how the hell is someone as inept as me supposed to answer this question?" But then I realized..."I CAN PLAY THE KAZOO!" And I don't care what you say, internet, the kazoo is a musical instrument. It makes melodies. And I can play it.

Which brought me to my choice of song.

Enjoy!

Day 25: A Song that Makes You Laugh

2011-05-02T11:35:00.002-04:00

Oh, this one is fun, internet. I am going to go ahead and tell you that Jonathan Coulton is effing hilarious. I had never heard of him until one day, Rack sent me a text that said, “I made this half-pony half-monkey monster to please you”. At first, I thought he had lost his mind, but then I just shrugged it off and when he didn’t mention it again, totally forgot that Rack may or may not have had some sort of mental breakdown and could be locked up somewhere in a straight jacket. Then a few days later on the way back from dinner, he plays this song and I nearly peed on myself (read: probably DID pee on myself).

So here it is, “Skullcrusher Mountain” by Jonathan Coulton. I tried to get Fish Head and Mr. Fish Head to play this at their wedding but they don’t like half-pony half-monkey monsters. What can ya do?

Day 24: A Song that you Want Played at Your Funeral

2011-05-02T08:55:00.003-04:00

This may be a little morbid, internet, but I honestly didn’t have to think about this at all. I have known forever what song I want played at my funeral. I have been fairly certain that I might not have a wedding, but a funeral? No avoiding that. If you know me, chances are I have already told you what my funeral song needs to be, but here it is, in writing. Pay attention, ya’ll, because Thing Two won’t even let me utter the word “funeral” in his presence. So…it could be up to you to make this happen. So here it is:

“Brokedown Palace” - Grateful Dead

Fare you well my honey
Fare you well my only true one
All the birds that were singing
Have flown except you alone

Goin to leave this Broke-down Palace
On my hands and my knees I will roll roll roll
Make myself a bed by the waterside
In my time - in my time - I will roll roll roll

In a bed, in a bed
by the waterside I will lay my head
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
to rock my soul

River gonna take me
Sing me sweet and sleepy
Sing me sweet and sleepy
all the way back back home
It's a far gone lullaby
sung many years ago
Mama, Mama, many worlds I've come
since I first left home

Goin home, goin home
by the waterside I will rest my bones
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
to rock my soul

Goin to plant a weeping willow
On the banks green edge it will grow grow grow
Sing a lullaby beside the water
Lovers come and go - the river roll roll roll

Fare you well, fare you well
I love you more than words can tell
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
to rock my soul

Day 23: A Song that You Want Played at Your Wedding

2011-04-28T14:02:00.002-04:00

I would like to preface this post, internet, by saying that I don’t even know if I want to have an actual wedding. My idea of a dream wedding would be me and Thing Two, Tahiti, and someone to marry us. I don’t really care about the long white dress thing (good song, though, check it out). Or the overpriced caterer. Or the D.J. that plays the worst music known to man. What I care about is not the wedding. It is the marriage.

Now that I have gotten all that out, don’t think that means that I haven’t thought about songs! I mean, HELLO, internet! I am a woman and I am sentimental and, duh, I am obsessed with all things musical. So, NATURALLY, I have picked a song for me and Thing Two and it goes a little something like this…

“You Are the Best Thing” – Ray Lamontagne

Baby, it's been a long day, baby
Things ain't going my way
You know I need you here
Here by my side
All of the time

And baby, the way you move me it's crazy
It's like you see right through me
And you make it easier
You please me and you don't even have to try

Oh because, you are the best thing
You are the best thing
You are the best thing
Ever happened to me

Baby, we've come a long way, baby
You know, I hope and I pray that you believe me
When I say this love will never fade away

Oh because, you are the best thing
You are the best thing
You are the best thing
Ever happened to me

Now both of us have known love before
To come on up promising, like the spring, just walk on out the door
Our hearts are strong and are hearts are kind
Well, let me tell you what exactly is on my mind

You are the best thing
You are the best thing
You are the best thing
Ever happened to me

You are the best thing
You are the best thing
You are the best thing
Ever happened to me

Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Now, now, now, now

Day 22: A Song that You Listen to When You're Sad

2011-04-28T11:49:00.002-04:00

This one could have taken me all day. A lot of the music on my iPod is that kind of melodic heart-crushing stuff that could easily drive me into a hysterical fit of tears. But I like it. And sometimes, face it, you need something to hurl you into hysterics. And if you ever need that, internet, I got your back.

I went back and forth on this one because, well, I didn’t want this entire 30 Day Song Challenge to revolve around Ryan Adams, but seriously, people, he writes some delicious depression. I didn’t do it, though. I didn’t take my page-long list of Ryan songs that sometimes make me want to stick my head in the oven out. I deliberately chose someone else. And I believe I made a wise choice.

“Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley. Now, I know, I know. This is kind of an obvious one. But come ON. This song is PAINFUL. Kudos to Leonard Cohen for writing it, but holy cheesus, I am so glad that Jeff Buckley covered it!

Day 21: A Song You Listen to When You're Happy

2011-04-28T09:08:00.003-04:00

I have gained a lot of experience in finding and maintaining the happy place over the past few years. For one thing, my job is sort of depressing. And secondly, I work with Spliffany. Happy songs help prevent me from committing homicide. I had a hard time picking a specific song for this because, typically, as long as there IS music, I am happy. But as I was sitting at my depressing little desk in my depressing little office this morning, listening to the iPod and trying to drown out Spliffany’s annoyingly loud voice from her morning ritual where she talks for a straight hour to everyone in the office, one at a time, about things that no one cares about, (You can see why a happy place is important, no?) a song that makes me do a little desk-dancing came on. Instantly, I felt a little less punchy! Voila!

I chose, “Everybody’s Got Their Something” by Nikka Costa. Ironically, Spliffany introduced me to Nikka Costa in the first place. But that’s not Nikka’s fault. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have serious desk-dancing to do.

Day Twenty: A Song You Listen to When You're Angry

2011-04-26T12:37:00.000-04:00

I am not really into angry music. Partially because a lot of it is just a bunch of screaming and if I wanted to listen to screaming, I would just go hang out at a daycare or something. Screaming is not really for me. But there are a couple of really great angry songs, that do NOT involve screaming. My favorite song to listen to when I am angry (usually when I am angry at someone in particular) is "Untouchable Face" by the brilliant and talented Ani Difranco. Ani has a lot of really beautiful songs, some are empowering and inspirational and some give the perfect message of "Fuck You". That's this song.

Day Nineteen: A Song from Your Favorite Album

2011-04-25T16:00:00.002-04:00

It should not come as a shock to you, internet, that my favorite album is “Heartbreaker” by Ryan Adams. There is literally not ONE song on this record that I could not listen to over and over again. I am not sure if my goal here is to pick my favorite song from my favorite album or just a random one, so I am going to just wing it. (I can’t really pick a favorite anyway, this album is really THAT good.)

I had to go with “Come Pick Me Up” here because it is so excruciatingly beautiful. It’s true, it has the ability to make a well-adjusted person slit their wrists, but really in the best possible way. This whole album really is a Heartbreaker. A perfectly orchestrated Heartbreaker.

When they call your name
Will you walk right up
With a smile on your face
Or will you cower in fear
In your favorite sweater
With an old love letter

I wish you would
I wish you would
Come pick me up
Take me out
Fuck me up
Steal my records
Screw all my friends
They're all full of shit
With a smile on your face
And then do it again
I wish you would

When you're walking downtown
Do you wish I was there
Do you wish it was me
With the windows clear and the mannequins eyes
Do they all look like mine

You know you could
I wish you would
Come pick me up
Take me out
Fuck me up
Steal my records
Screw all my friends behind my back
With a smile on your face
And then do it again
I wish you would

I wish you'd make up my bed
So I could make up my mind
Try it for sleeping instead
Maybe you'll rest sometime
I wish I could

Day Eighteen: A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio

2011-04-25T08:42:00.002-04:00

I am going to go ahead and say again, that I don’t listen to the radio. Because on the rare occasion that I like something that the radio plays, it is inevitable that it will get played so much that I will begin to hate it. I prefer to listen to music the way that it was intended, for enjoyment, and not to torture myself.

All of that being said, I don’t really know how to answer this question except to say that I want to listen to “Hey” by Pixies pretty much constantly. I love, love, LOVE the Pixies and cannot get enough of this song. In fact, Rack is fully aware that in order for me to ride in his car, he must play one of two songs: “Hey” or “Hot Topic” by Le Tigre. Because I am a brat. But I gets what I wants.

Day Seventeen: A Song that You Dance To

2011-04-25T07:59:00.002-04:00

I am just going to say right now that I am not a big dancer. I need a couple of cocktails and some pretty significant motivation before you will catch me on a dance floor. Motivation usually equals a really good song and a cute boy. For dancing though, a really good song, almost always has to be reggae. Reggae is the only music I can dance to with confidence that I don’t look like a I have some sort of disorder that causes uncontrollable twitching. So, for today, I chose, Beres Hammond’s “Rock Away”.

It reminds me a lot of the days when I liked hanging out with Spliffany. (You know, before I knew she was actually the anti-christ). A lot of good times were had, drinking and dancing to reggae on Sunday afternoons at our favorite bar overlooking the ocean.

Inception

2011-04-21T15:21:00.002-04:00

Currently, Rackamonie is attempting to convince me that everything I do, he causes through inception.

Me: You don’t even know what I am doing right now.

Him: Yes I do. You are digesting a sammich and wishing you could take a nap.

Me: NO. I am standing on my head, crocheting a blanket.

Him: That’s exactly what I wanted you to do. BOOM! INCEPTION.

This, my friends, is why I love Rackamonie.

Day Sixteen: A Song that You Used to Like but Now Hate

2011-04-21T12:50:00.002-04:00

This was not hard for me at all. There are bunches of songs that I have just gotten totally sick of over the years, but honestly, the first one that came to mind stuck.

I had to pick, “I Will Possess Your Heart” by Death Cab for Cutie. I am not going to go into my reasoning for my loathing for this song. I will just say the reason is a specific person (who lurks around here from time to time, against my polite request that he stop). This person is not a bad person. Not a serial killer (I hope) or anything like that. Just someone I am reminded of when I hear this song and someone I would rather not have to be reminded of at all. And it sort of ruins the whole thing for me. All 35 minutes of it.

(And no lie, iPod is on shuffle and guess what song just came on!)

Note to self: Update iPod. Stat!

Day Fifteen: A Song that Describes You

2011-04-21T12:04:00.002-04:00

Oh. My. God.

This is so hard. I have been stalled here for 24 hours trying to find a song that DESCRIBES ME. How the hell does one DO this?

Hespy suggested “You Don’t Own Me” by Bette Midler. Even though that is a great song, I had to say no. Because the mention of Bette Midler reminds me of “Beaches”. And then I think about Margaret Cho’s joke about “Beaches”. And then I think of drag queens. Again, with the drag queens.

So I picked lesbians instead.

“Closer to Fine” by Indigo Girls.

After all, some of my closest friends are lesbians. And the song is pretty great too.

Day Fourteen: A Song that No One Would Expect You to Like

2011-04-20T15:46:00.002-04:00

Okay, I really had to think LONG and hard about this one, because really…if you have seen any of the previous days or know me at all, then you probably don’t get surprised about the ridiculousness of my musical taste at all. I range from Bluegrass to Emo to R&B to…well, you get it. My iPod is confusing and clearly has Multiple Personality Disorder. So I had to dig really deep to find a song that I like, that someone would also be surprised that I like. And I found one, ya’ll. And my choice in song here makes me feel like I should…you know…do what all the cool thirteen-year-olds (or drag queens) are doing these days. (Seriously. What ARE the cool thirteen-year-olds doing these days? Listening to this song? Sad.)

The song I picked shames me. But I intend to defend myself.

So, (brace yourselves) I picked “Tick Tock” by Ke$ha.

1. I would like to say, internet, that the reason I know this song is because I frequent drag shows. Yes, I know, you are totally shocked that someone as totally conservative such as myself would attend a drag show. But its true. And drag queens really, really like Ke$ha.

2. I bought Just Dance 2 for my Wii. This song is on it. I dance to it periodically (when I am not dancing to various Fat Boy Slim songs. My choices are limited. Stop judging me.)

That’s really all the defense I got. But I will say that were it not for my love of drag queens and dancing badly in my living room while tipsy, I would never have heard this song. Because I am neither 13 or a drag queen. But, dammit internet, it is catchy.

I said good day.

Day Thirteen: A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure

2011-04-20T12:39:00.003-04:00

Okay, you guys, I am a huge dork. And I know this. And I embrace it. (And admit it, it is part of why you like me.)

I was going to go with the obligatory Justin Timberlake answer on this one, but in really giving it some thought, I realized that, while I DO feel guilty about digging JT on that rare occasion, I can’t think of anyone who couldn’t answer this question with one of his songs. (And if they can’t, they are probably just afraid of letting out their inner teenaged-girl. Which I guess could be embarrassing for…dudes. Not me though, I routinely still listen to NKOTB on my iPod. Cause I’m cool like that.) So, JT wouldn’t do.

I decided to go with a song that reminds me of my childhood. A song that I remember listening to during snow storms when I was clomping around the house in too-big cowboy boots and singing all the wrong words. But it makes me happy to think of all those years ago (and for those of you who are counting, I was 5 years old, 7 million years ago.) Are you guys ready for this? I chose, “I Love a Rainy Night” by Eddie Rabbitt. (And there WILL be a link here later, but unfortunately, I can’t get it to work right now.)

So, there ya have it, folks. I am 7 million (and 5) years old and I like old Adult Contemporary music from the early 1980’s.

And I am not ashamed.

Day Twelve: A Song by a Band That You Hate

2011-04-18T15:07:00.001-04:00

Oh, man, internet. I think I have mentioned before how much I loathe (and yes, I mean LOATHE) Bedouin Soundclash. There was no question that I would have to use this band for my “band that you hate”. (I hate you, Whiny Bedouin Soundclash guy!)

I picked, “When the Night Feels My Song” because I might hate it the absolute most. I didn’t mind it for a long time, but then it seeped its way through my bedroom walls 35 times a day and became Spliff’s ringtone and seemed to be everywhere (even at work, because she keeps her phone on “annoyingly loud ring” all day) and I couldn’t escape. And this has not changed. (I dare you. Check it out. If I ever meet this guy, I will flick him in the forehead like in that episode of “Friends”.)

Curses, Bedouin Soundclash!

Day Eleven: A Song by Your Favorite Band

2011-04-18T14:51:00.001-04:00

First of all, internet, I would like to say that I am aware of my slackdom and I apologize. But it isn’t my fault. There have been many, many things to do on top of a work trip that sucked the life out of me and very nearly made me bland. But I am back now. And because I am trying desperately to avoid doing anything that I actually NEED to be doing, I am here, blogging about songs for YOU.

Ahem…

So, today (read: eleven days ago) I am to pick a song by my favorite band. This is hard for me because I don’t really have a favorite band. Historically, I would have picked a Pearl Jam song and left it at that. But, I can’t really say that Pearl Jam is my favorite these days (but accidentally discard of any of my Pearl Jam momentos and I just might fumigate your home. With fire. Not to worry though, that has been taken care of already. Not the fumigation part. Seriously.)

So I went ahead and chose my favorite…guy: Ryan Adams. I love him with the Cardinals and Whiskeytown too, don’t get me wrong, but I sort of dig The Lone Ryan more. (heh, heh…The Lone Ryan.)

I picked “Two” for this song because, while it is sad (a lot of his music is), I really, really love the words. Painful, but totally relatable, I think. I mean, come on internet, who hasn’t been there to some degree?

If you take me back
Back to your place
I'll try not to bother you I promise
'Cause it's cold in here
And I wish it was hot
The sink's broke, it's leaking from the faucet
And i'm fractured from the fall
And i wanna go home
But it takes two when it used to take one
It takes two when it used to take only one
Well, my money's no good when i'm up to no good
No good ever comes from it, honest
I got a really good heart
I just can't catch a break
If i could i'd treat you like you wanted me to i promise
But i'm fractured from the fall
And i wanna go home
I'm fractured from the fall
And i wanna go home
But it takes two when it used to take one
It takes two when it used to take one
It takes two when it used to take one
It takes two when it used to take only one

Day Ten: A Song that Makes You Fall Asleep

2011-04-06T16:39:00.004-04:00

Okay, Day Ten is super hard. I can’t fall asleep if I am listening to music, typically. Nor do I want to. (I can, however, fall asleep while watching Law & Order, go figure.) I can tell you, though, that I love a lot of really chill music and I figured, hell, chill is almost asleep. Sort of. Either way, here goes.

So I chose, “I Could Hold You in My Arms” by Ray Lamontagne.

1.
This song is freaking awesome. It is sweet and soft but folky and bluesy all at the same time.

2. Ray Lamontagne’s raspy sexiness makes me want him to sing me to sleep. (Again, however, I wouldn’t fall asleep. Because it would be impossible because of the music thing. And then, you know, because Ray Lamontagne would probably be in my bedroom.)

Zzzzz…

Day Nine: A Song You Often Hear on the Radio

2011-04-05T15:01:00.003-04:00

Oh, internet, you should know better. I can’t remember the last time I listened to the radio. And if I did, it was probably the oldies station, and then…YOU GUESSED IT, internet. Phil Collins was playing!

“In the Air Tonight”, I am convinced, is playing constantly. It never fails, if a radio is on and I walk into a store, a public restroom, an underwater basket weaving seminar, it won’t be long and the famous notes will start to play and my skin will begin to crawl.

I don’t really think that I need to say anymore about this.

I did, however, recently hear that Phil Collins was retiring from music and that is good news. If only it meant that they could no longer play him on the radio (read: everywhere I happen to be.)

*Also, is this not the CREEPIEST picture of Phil Collins you have ever SEEN? Just sayin'.

Day Eight: A Song You Know All the Words to

2011-04-05T12:20:00.002-04:00

I had a hard time with this. Partially because I know the words to so many songs and I couldn’t figure out which one I am most proud of knowing all the words to. I mean, I seriously could have gone all Color Me Badd on your asses. But I didn’t. And I know you are thankful.

I chose a song that I could seriously listen to on repeat for hours (and have in the past). It isn’t the most upbeat or uplifting song, but I think I might be a little in love with Jenny Lewis. I can’t help it, ya’ll! She was on “Growing Pains”! On what planet is that not awesome?!

Anyway, the song I chose is “Pictures of Success” by Rilo Kiley. And I am listening to it now. And probably will listen to it 13 or 14 more times this afternoon.

Day Seven: A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event

2011-04-04T15:44:00.002-04:00

I bounced back and forth on a couple of songs here because I have been to a lot of concerts and a lot of them were really memorable for me. But also, I remember a lot of ridiculous details when things happen. I remember the first time I ever slow-danced with a boy at my friend’s 11^th birthday party and “Vision of Love” by Mariah Carey was playing. And I remember that the first car accident I was ever in forever scarred me and I can no longer listen to “Super Bon Bon” by Soul Coughing. But I didn’t pick these songs. Oh no, internet.

The song that stood out the most when I was thinking about this was “Heart of Gold” by Neil Young. I love this effing song. It could have actually fallen into any number of categories in this Challenge but the reason that it shows up here is sort of a touchy subject for me still.

When I was 16, Brandizzle, Tory and I took Brandizzle’s mom’s Crowne Victoria on our first ever road trip to see the H.O.R.D.E festival in Live Oak, which is about 1.5 to two hours from where we lived. B and I were totally forthcoming with our parents about where we were going and for what and even though I am sure that they were totally freaked out (what, with us all being under 18 and the potential for pot smoking and car accidents and stuff), they were sports. What Tory neglected to let us in on, however, was that she had lied to her mom about where we were going. B and I, being totally allowed to be out of town for the evening, were so excited about seeing Neil Young (who was headlining the tour), that we almost didn’t care that we were being eyed by a bunch of old drunk men in the crowd and occasionally fondled. We got all the way through Neil’s first song and then were informed by Tory that she had to go home. We sort of ignored her at first, because we were mesmerized by the candle-lit stage and the beautiful acoustic guitar and summer air, but as the music got louder, so did Tory.

Needless to say, Neil starts to play my favorite song and Tory begins to drag us out of the crowd and toward the car. So I got to hear this song played live almost one whole time, but I didn’t get to see a damn thing.

Still bitter. Damn it.

Day Six: A Song that Reminds You of Somewhere

2011-04-04T12:03:00.002-04:00

This one was hard for me, internet, because every time I travel, there is some song that sticks out. Songs for those Summers that I used to spend visiting my dad in Georgia. Songs for visiting the grandparents in Upper Michigan. Songs for New Orleans, Washington State, Vegas…I could go on forever. But my favorite song that reminds me of a place has got to be “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show. It takes me back to the week I spent with B in Raleigh, NC, lounging poolside with dirty martinis and a whole lot of time on our hands.

I argued with someone once about whether or not this would be considered Bluegrass and still don’t really know. I know that it is good. And that Bob Dylan wrote the hook. And that it makes me smile (and wish that I was hanging out with my friend B, drinking in the sun and letting our skin get pink.

Here’s to you, B!

Day Five: A Song that Reminds You of Someone

2011-04-04T09:06:00.002-04:00

I am little behind, internet, due to a crazy busy weekend wherein I did not even turn on my computer. Except when, at the direction of Spliff (and a week of constant nagging), I watched a Youtube video called “Guilty Dog”. Which was sort of a waste of the few minutes that it took. But I digress….

So, the thing about music for me (and I am sure it is similar for all of you as well) is that almost EVERY song reminds me of something, whether it be an event or a person or whatever, so these next couple of posts shouldn’t be too hard for me.

Forgive me for getting all country on your asses though, because I can’t help it. These are the rules and these are my songs…

So, for Day 5, I picked, “She Don’t Tell Me To” by Montgomery Gentry. Now, I am not a fan of Montgomery Gentry (nor would I know another of their songs if it jumped up and bit me on the arse), but this song reminds me of ZH. He played it for me when he picked me up from the airport when I flew into Seattle and I, at first, thought he had lost his mind for making me listen to such ridiculousness. But then, over the course of the couple of weeks I was there, I started to love it. And it has nothing to do with the song. But it has everything to do with ZH being adorable and sensitive and awesome. I get a little sentimental, internet, I can’t lie.

Love Is: Completely Overreacting When You are 6 Hours Late Coming Home From Work

2011-03-31T14:36:00.003-04:00

One thing that you should know, internet, about my relationship with Thing Two is that we do pretty much everything together. We talk all day via BBM and we are together every second after we get home from work. And yeah, sometimes I think, “Jesus, we are one of THOSE couples.” (And I can usually argue myself out of that because then I remember that “Those Couples” are typically just really jealous and weird and search through each other’s phones to find evidence of some infidelity even if there isn’t any and THAT is the reason they are always together, not because they genuinely enjoy each other as TT and I do. So there. HOLY RUN-ON SENTENCE, BATMAN.) I know what time he gets done with work every day and he knows where I am when I meet friends for dinner and drinks. And yeah, he says he misses me when I am gone for two hours. And yeah, I generally actually DO miss him when I am gone for two hours. And I don’t mind saying so either. And we are mushy and dumb but we don’t care. Because that’s what people do when they love each other. They show it.

All of that being said, I would like to share a little story with you, internet. This happened the other day and I am not sure that, if it had happened two years ago if I would have cared at all (and if I had cared, I would have been WAY too proud and badass to share it with you…and you know, the WHOLE UNIVERSE.)

Thing Two has a very physical job and sometimes, he misplaces his phone. This being said, I can tell you that if I haven’t heard from him and it is around noon, it is fair to say that this is exactly what happened. A couple of days ago, I didn’t hear from him all morning. And then all afternoon. And then I sent him a message saying, “You better not be dead. Or have lost your phone. But, more importantly, you better not be dead.” (Which is probably where the crazy began.) I knew that he would, most likely, be sitting on the couch when I got home from work, playing his Xbox, being a boy (like he does when I am not home, because there is no one there to whine about wanting to watch “What Not to Wear”). But when I got home, his car wasn’t in the driveway and he wasn’t playing Xbox. Now, I’m not gonna front, internet, I thought that was all a little strange but I went on about my evening, just the same. I washed some dishes, I started a load of laundry and I sat down and watched “What Not to Wear”, relishing in the alone time I had been granted. I did this for exactly an hour. And then I realized that Thing Two was over three hours late getting home from work and that he still hadn’t read my messages from the morning. Naturally, I immediately pictured my beloved boyfriend face down in a ditch somewhere. Possibly being gnawed on by wild dogs. Or monkeys. Something.

Although a wave of panic washed over me, I remained calm. I pushed the panic aside and scolded myself for being so pessimistic and ridiculous. I did more laundry. I sent Rackamonie a text, casually asking if he had spoken to TT that day. Nope. Then I sent a text to TT’s sister, who I knew was at work. “Just checking”, I said. Nothing.

By 7pm, I was determined to ignore the whole situation but, I had had two glasses of wine and smoked half a pack of cigarettes and my patience was wearing dangerously thin. TT’s sister had become convinced that I should be calling hospitals and police stations because, naturally, he must be dead because OH.MY.GOD. this is so unlike him. And I had to agree. Did I call hospitals? Not immediately. But after three conversations with Thingette (The Sister), who was starting to formulate theories involving abductions and car accidents, I was starting to get a little rattled. I called Tony, who checked with the emergency room at the hospital where he works. Nothing. I called two other hospitals. Nada. I called friends of TT’s. No answers.

By 8pm, Thingette had contacted their other sister, their mom, an aunt and a cousin trying to determine the location of Thing Two. No one had heard anything from him all day and now, internet? You guessed it, Thingette had created complete pande-fucking-monium. (I don’t care if this is not a word. It is now. Shut up.) She even recruited a cousin to actually drive his route home from work, just to see if his car had broken down. (This was not something I was supportive of at that point, as I had a sneaking suspicion that he was hanging out with his idiot friend from work.) Just for good measure, I tried the idiot friend ONE MORE TIME on his girlfriend’s cell and when he answered, he knew exactly why I was calling, “Yeah, he left here about thirty minutes ago, he should be home soon. He thinks he left his phone at home.” I hung up and immediately after the click, Thingette called to tell me she was getting into the car to begin Operation Dr. Suess and before I could stop her, I heard a car in the driveway and then the rattle of keys approaching my front door.

Now, internet, when I am very angry, I am also very calm. I am a quiet storm. And I will destroy you.

When TT walked casually into the house as if nothing had happened, my first words to him were, “Do not speak to me.” Followed by, “Call your mother.” And then the bedroom door closed slowly and purposefully.

My beloved didn’t originally seem to understand the gravity of what had just happened. He didn’t seem to grasp why I was so angry. So, I had to break it down for him like this:

6 hours late getting home from work + no phone call to your girlfriend = you, dead. (Either by car accident or wild rabid monkeys or by girlfriend’s hand when you return home uninjured.)

This, he understands.

The moral of the story: Do not go out after work (even if you are doing so simply to help do something nice for someone else) if you cannot call and tell your girlfriend that you will be significantly late. By the time you return home, she will be wearing a black veil and preparing for the funeral procession.

The end.

Day Four: A Song that Makes You Sad

2011-03-31T08:10:00.002-04:00

Evidently, internet, I listen to a lot of depressing music. To choose this song, I went back and forth from Jeff Buckley to Ben Harper to Ryan Adams and back again, but I finally settled on “Return” by OKGO.

This song was on their first album, which I listened to constantly after I saw them open for They Might Be Giants (many, many moons ago) and became a little obsessed. (Which may have been because I actually got to meet them and they all gave me hugs because I had bought and was wearing one of their shirts. They weren’t aware that, the reason I was wearing their shirt was because Alex had spilled something all down the front of mine. But I still have the shirt and I still like the band a lot.)

Shortly after Matt died, I was standing in my bathroom, brushing my hair and listening to OKGO, and “Return” came on. And I don’t know if I had just never listened to the lyrics before but it was like I was hearing the song for the first time. And the whole song seemed to be written for my dear friend. Of course, as soon as I realized this, I slid down to the floor, hit repeat on my CD player and sat. I don’t remember if I cried or how long I sat there.

Every time I hear this song, I think of Matt. I miss him.

Now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that
are all thick and dull, all gravel and glass. But who needs them
now -- displaced they're easily more safe --
the worst of it now: I can't remember your face.

Return.

For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure.
The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll,
and things get bent into shape...
Antiseptic and tired, I can't remember your face.

Return.

You were supposed to grow old. Reckless, unfrightened, and old,
you were supposed to grow old.

Return. You were supposed to return.

Day 3: A Song that Makes You Happy

2011-03-30T12:18:00.003-04:00

Honestly, internet, this one wasn’t so hard. There are a number of really good songs that just…make me smile (and maybe make me wanna dance around a big). I actually had a list going this morning and had to listen to every song again to make sure that I was choosing the right one. And I did it. I chose ONE song that makes me happy.

“Bowl of Oranges” by Bright Eyes

I don’t typically think cheerful and uplifting when I think of Bright Eyes, but this song is just…fucking happy. And happy looks good on Connor. (And he doesn’t look happy very often, trying to find a picture of him smiling is insanely difficult. Believe me.)

“Bowl of Oranges” – Bright Eyes

The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in my dreaming,
so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open.
Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been.
So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets.
But everything seemed different and completely new to me.
The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body.
And each person I encountered, I couldn't wait to meet.
I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.
I said "{I am terribly sorry but} there is nothing I can do for you
{that} you can't do for yourself."
He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would help."
So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt.
He said, "I think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure.
Thank you Stranger, for your therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone.
And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow.
But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself.
It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope.
That is why I'm singing...
Baby don't worry cause now I got your back. And every time you feel like crying,
I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad,
then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company
through those days so long and black.
And we'll keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve
Of Love's uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole.
But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall.
Then I think we would see the beauty.
Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.

Day 2: Your Least Favorite Song

2011-03-29T15:15:00.002-04:00

Okay, internet. Now, there are a LOT of songs that I dislike and I have to say, it took me a very long time to come up with one that I would consider my “least favorite song” but…I think I did okay. I will tell you that I will probably, over the course of the next few hours, think of several songs that I dislike as much as this one, but this one, my friends, is terrible. It would have to be “Barbie Girl” by Aqua.

I honestly don’t know if this song is a joke or if it was, like, supposed to be an actual, like, piece of music. I suspect that this bunch of weirdos got really methed up and went to a gay bar and BOOM! “Barbie Girl” was born. It is obnoxious. It is stupid. It was surprisingly popular for such a piece of complete crap. And I am regretful that I was unable to slap each and every member of Aqua, one by one.

Seriously, people. Gross.

Thirty Day Song Challenge

2011-03-28T15:42:00.012-04:00

My friend L7 has been posting song titles and videos and stuff on Twitter all week and I finally just Googled this “Thirty Day Song Challenge”, found it here and here and decided to try it out on my blog. I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. So, what the hell, internet? Let’s get to it, shall we? (Feel free to join in, I am going to go ahead and tag my little friend Hespy over here so I am not playing alone!)

Day One: Your Favorite Song

This one, internet, is kind of a toughy. I hate being asked this question because there is no correct answer. This all depends on my mood. And generally speaking, my mood is not too…um…predictable. So, naturally, neither will my choice for “favorite song”.

I think that the song that has held significance for me for the longest time and that I still absolutely LOVE, is “Black” by Pearl Jam. I remember the first time that I heard it and it attaches to some very fond and beautiful memories of someone who has now passed away. I remember the first time I saw it performed live and I remember the way that it made my whole body shudder. Say what you will, internet, but Eddie Vedder is a supremely talented guy (and I refuse to fault him for growing up and not sounding like he did in 1992. Grunge is over. You learn, you grow. Get over it, haters.) and the lyrics of “Black” are beautifully melancholic. I love it.

The List:
Day One: Your Favorite Song (see above)
Day Two: Your Least Favorite Song
Day Three: A Song that Makes You Happy
Day Four: A Song that Makes You Sad
Day Five: A Song that Reminds You of Someone
Day Six: A Song that Reminds You of Somewhere
Day Seven: A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day Eight: A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day Nine: A Song that You Often Hear on the Radio

On Being In Love (Alternately Titled: On Being So Effing Happy and Smiling So Much That Your Face Shatters into Tiny Pieces and Then You Hate Your Faceless Self for Being Such a Girl)

2011-03-23T16:00:00.003-04:00

(Disclaimer: This could get mushy.)

I am not the kind of girl, internet, who falls in love fast and hard for every guy she dates. But I have been around the block a few times and I have experienced some earth shattering love (and some that was more like saying, “I will pretend to love this guy until something much better comes along, at which time, I will crush his little heart and move on.” I know, it is cruel, but I don’t do it consciously. It isn’t until after it is over that I realize what I have been doing. You know you are guilty of it too, internet, stop frontin’.) My previous relationships have all been significant in some way but they haven’t all been exactly…right. And there are a couple that I won’t even mention because I am still, to this day, trying to figure out what I was thinking…And that’s okay, I think we all know which one is at the top of that list, so…no surprises here!

I’ve always maintained that I am independent and kind of a hard-ass skeptic when it comes to relationships. I want my space and I want to run the show. (Duh.) And usually, that is exactly how it goes. (Coincidence? I think not.) The guys I date normally fall into the same kind of category. Soft-spoken, shy, kind, usually artistic, witty, smart and, most importantly, let me have my way (and it helps if they are tall…just sayin’.) Thing Two fits in here perfectly (not to mention that he is effing hilarious) and I never once noticed. I just never looked at him that way (nor him at me). Which, lets face it, could have been because I was busy making sure that Spliff didn’t do irreparable damage to his ego or it could have been because I was busy having a crush on Thing One. After Spliff ripped him to pieces, I couldn’t see him as anything as “another one of my friends that Spliff treated like shit”. So, I stayed friends with him for awhile and then we just stopped talking. But back then, I saw him like an annoying little brother and I didn’t really care if we were friends or not.

Then we got back into touch. And there was a pool party and a gay bar and then he tried to kiss me and I laughed at him. And now here we are. And I’ve never been happier. And he isn’t the same person he was back then. And neither am I. And there is no Spliff. And we have a really awesome apartment and we share everything. And yes, internet, I love him. Madly. Profoundly. Intensely. And I can’t imagine anything possibly being any better. (Except, you know, if I lost the ten pounds I have gained while being in the “I’m so effing happy” stage of this whole thing…yikes. Rant: Why can’t you LOSE weight when you are super happy? Why do you have to get super fat? Why does everything awesome make you fat? Like mozzarella sticks? Why? End rant.) And honestly, I am excited every day to get to go home to him and every day I am a little less surprised that he is so amazing. And now I just wonder why it took us so long, why I couldn’t have pushed Thing One and Spliffany out of our way and just gotten straight to the good stuff. I guess it had to happen this way for it to work. Because back then he was coming into my room wearing a bra in the morning saying, “Why don’t you take your shirt off and make some coffee?” and now…well, I might actually be doing just that. It pays to be patient. And to think, if he hadn’t had that one last beer after I laughed at him for trying to kiss me, he may not have tried again. And THEN where would we be?

Grown-Ups?

2011-03-17T15:18:00.002-04:00

Well, internet, Thing Two and I are all moved in. The furniture is in place, the remaining boxes are hidden securely in the office closet (in the perfect location to give the illusion that we are well-organized and proper), the fridge is stocked. And sometimes the bed is even made. It was quite a process. Buying furniture, however exciting it may be, sort of pisses me off. Sure, we could have gone without and filled our spacious living room with giant pillows and various inflatable seating items but we thought we should be grown-ups about the whole thing.

A couple of weekends ago, we invited the family and friends to the house for a celebration of…well, being able to fit into my house at the same time. And we drank wine, we ate delicious food (courtesy of Uncle Paul, the wonderchef) and we slow-danced until we all fell down. (Because slow-dancing when you have gone through 754 bottles of wine on a Saturday evening is not only exhausting, but dangerous.)

Number of injuries : 1

Number of glasses broken: 2

Number of friends I’ve known for more than 15 years in my living room: 4

Number of children who stayed up way past their bed-times and played inappropriate zombie video games: 1 (And no, I am not speaking of Thing Two)

Times I wished I had invited Spliff: 0

I really enjoyed finally having somewhere to entertain people that I actually wanted to entertain instead of having to run it by a roommate or re-arrange my entire apartment to fit them inside. There was always something left to be desired when I tried to entertain in the studio apartment. You know, like…chairs. So, it was fun to be able to give tours and stuff. (Woohoo!)

Work is also getting better. L is picking up everything I have taught her so quickly and it is making my life easier tenfold. Compared to the last idiot they hired, she is a genius. Which is good, because she is at the end of week three and tomorrow she is covering my caseload for the first time. And I am not even worried. (Thank you, Cheesus.) She even seems to almost be enjoying the work, which, I guess one might if they haven’t been getting shit on for three years. But, I digress. Things are getting better every day.

Now…if this day would hurry up and end…I have martinis to attend to.

FOUND Magazine | I'd Like to Do ...

2011-02-24T13:18:00.000-05:00

FOUND Magazine I'd Like to Do ...

I write like...

2011-02-24T11:36:00.002-05:00

I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

After The Storm

2011-02-23T16:21:00.001-05:00

Now that Thing Two and I are pretty much settled into our new place and L has accepted the position at my office, things are looking up. I feel more at home and comfortable (if we could secure some effing cable and a DVR so I can watch Jersey Shore before my heart collapses! Sheesh! What’s a girl have to do to get some New Jersey trash in her LIFE?) and with L starting the job on Monday, I am confident that some of this crazy is bound to die down.

Work has been a complete clusterfuck for about the last four months but just about three weeks ago, they fired the idiot who was replacing Spliff in her previous position because it was becoming evident that The New Girl couldn’t speak/spell correctly and was very loud at inappropriate moments in every conversation. And, well, did everything wrong also. So, naturally, since Spliffany and I basically do the same thing, instead of divvying up the duties, I was informed that they would just be…you know…all mine. Which has been fun, considering I work 4 ten hour days per week now and really sort of want to kill myself…daily. So, I have been praying for someone with computer skills, some knowledge of the English language and possibly, just possibly, a personality. I promptly convinced L that this is a great place to work (which it typically is, when all the work isn’t being dumped on you) and that she would fit in great (hello? Lesbian.) So, now she’s got the job and is looking for an apartment as we speak to get back to our little beach town. She may have just saved my life. And possibly the lives of several of my coworkers.

Spliff and I are even getting along better. Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t want to see her outside of work and I still haven’t even mentioned that I am dating Thing Two (or, you know, living with him) because I still don’t want her in my life. At least, not any more than she has to be when she is all up in my grill every day at work. But we talk at work. And occasionally, I will get a text from her over the weekend when something is hilarious or whatever. And I am totally good with that. As long as the texts don’t turn into phone calls or dinners or, you know, that stuff. But I can tolerate her. And mostly, I don’t want to hit her with my car. Unless I think about this. Or the abbrev. But especially this. And then, folks, right back to square one.

Right now, though, I am actually worried about her. She might have appendicitis and has been out of the office all day going from doctor to doctor and blood test to radiology test. If I were still her friend, I would be there with her because that’s what I do for my friends and it is what I have always done for her. And I feel bad that she is somewhere across town alone, sending me pictures of her IV. (Yes. She is actually doing that. Because I love needles. No. Wait, that is the opposite of true.) See? Totally not a heartless bitch. Truth is, I guess I still care. (As long as no one mentions Pearl Jam. And then she’d be lucky if I didn’t yank that needle out and stick her in the eye.) At least enough to not want her to have to have emergency surgery.

Of Course

2011-02-23T14:40:00.002-05:00

The radio in another department at work, which is strangely loud this afternoon:

“In the Air Tonight” – Phil Collins

“Take it to the Limit” – The Eagles

Coincidence? I think not.

(Curses, universe. Curses.)

The Sound of Settling

2011-02-21T16:44:00.001-05:00

So, for the past week, Thing Two and I have been trying to adjust to our new digs while simultaneously trying to chase people out of our new digs and into…you know…anyone else’s. We’ve just moved in and have already had a lengthy visit from L and several drunkards passed out in random spots throughout the apartment. I know, I know, this is what I wanted when I got a place with rooms. A place where my friends would feel comfortable staying (and not having to sleep in the closet or with half of their body in the “kitchen” while the other half is blocking the way to the bathroom). So, I would like to say, “Yes. Mission accomplished. Now get out.”

L’s visit was not completely just a social call (however, the actual amount of ANYTHING other than texting she does in a day is miniscule at best). I had lined her up an interview at my office since we recently got rid of someone (who I trained for three months and complained about every day until FINALLY, the powers that be recognized that she was illiterate and maybe mildly retarded). Even though L has successfully avoided working at all in the last two years, I knew she would be a better fit for my office than the last one. (L can read. And she is a lesbian. Which is almost a prerequisite to work in my office. I am not sure why they hired me. I am going with boobs, though. My boobs are good.) Either way, she got the job and will start next Monday but in the meantime, she has to find somewhere to live. There was talk of her moving temporarily upstairs into my old studio while she gets settled into the position at work, but being that she hasn’t worked in a billion years and has no money and her dad will be paying for the place (at least initially), he gets the final say. And of course, it is a studio. So…he is protesting and being pretty annoying and practically insisting that Thing Two and I just let her and her two yappy little dogs move into our place. You know. “For now.”

No.

It isn’t that I don’t want to help my friend out. But I think I did my part. I got her a job. I shouldn’t have to give her a place to live too. And feed her. And try to grow accustomed to my new life with Thing Two while she is all up in our way. I am just not a fan of this idea. It took me forever to get out of roomie-hood and into this rather adult way of life and the last thing I want is a squatter. Dammit. Of course, if it comes down to it, I will give her a place to stay (hopefully, VERY temporarily) but, I just kind of want to settle in now. And I don’t think that is too much to ask. It isn’t, right?

A Home

2011-02-07T16:27:00.002-05:00

It took exactly seven days, but Thing Two and I are officially living in the new apartment. We spent all last week picking out paint colors and then…you know…painting walls and whatnot. I was so excited when this process started because, aside from my previous apartment, I really had never lived in a place that I was permitted to paint. (Landlords and their crazy rules!) The thing is, my landlord doesn’t care about any of it. He is prepared to do the bare minimum at the property because he knows, because of the location, he will never have trouble renting it out. Either way, we spent days and days and days going to work for 8-10 hours, coming home, changing clothes and getting covered in paint By the end of the week, we were exhausted and delirious on paint fumes and spiced rum and we were just ready to get everything moving from point A to point B.

Friday afternoon, I picked up some big ticket furniture items and then delivered them home for Thing Two to assemble. After that, it was all just a matter of getting the 80 million items from my studio apartment and spreading them about in our lovely two-bedroom. (Freshly painted, mind you…) And by Saturday night, all of the stuff had been stashed conveniently in the new “office” where it can remain out of sight (and out of mind) until I feel like I can sort through it without going completely insane. (Read: Not today.)

But we are in. Meals have been cooked, dishes have been washed, cigars have even been smoked and I have to tell you, internet, we both feel great about it. I can’t, however, say the same for Ernge, who seems more confused about the added space than anything else. He runs around the house over and over like he is seeing it for the first time. (Which, lets face it, he might be. He is, after all , almost ten years old.)

The only pressing thing left to do is to buy a couch. Which, I haven’t owned since my days of living with Jer. More stuff to move = annoying. But, I think it will be pretty nice to own all of my stuff again. And it will be nice to have a couch to nap on.

Reason #837

2011-02-03T15:37:00.002-05:00

There are so many reasons that my boyfriend rocks my face off and I will share with you the latest.

Me: There will be no chili tonight. It is cold and rainy and I ran late and didn’t get to start it this morning. Also, I just spent 8 years on the phone with AT&T so that they could charge me an inordinate amount of money to NOT install our cable/internet for two weeks. I am punchy and sad about the chili.

Him: Sorry, baby. I am driving home right now and it is pouring. I love you.

Me: drive safely (insert dissatisfied expression at his lackluster reaction to my rant.)

30 minutes later:

Him: Baby? What all do I need to do to make chili?

The end.

An Open Letter to Annoying Bitch in my Office (Part 2)

2011-02-02T11:05:00.003-05:00

Well, hello again.

I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for, not only being the most careful person in the office (I can only assume that you are the most careful person, as you are most definitely the slowest. I give you mad props for being so cautious in your work and caring enough to appear almost slothlike in everything that you do. It proves that you are most accurate and amazing at your job.), but also for assisting me with my job on such a consistent basis. You know, I really, honestly don’t know what I would do without your constant comments from across the entire office to tell me how to check email or respond to questions when I am on the phone (and cannot hear over you to actually have the conversation that I happen to be engaged in…) I think that the entire office will agree that you are quite a big help.

I am sure the office will also agree that, while your age-inappropriate slumber parties with other religious freaks are fascinating, they are far too exciting to speak of with coworkers. The stories you tell fill me with so much joy and longing to be part of what you are part of. I think that you probably notice that this longing is painful for me as I constantly turn away from you and block you out when you are telling me about your niece insisting to paint your nails “super sparkly pink” and making s’mores with your friends after the nine hours you spent at church on Sunday.

In closing, I would like to express my appreciation for all you do but to ask that, in the future and to save me the painful longing of missing out on scrap-booking parties and nail painting, you refrain from speaking at all, thus, releasing me from the growing urge to staple things to your face.

Thank you,

The Curse

2011-02-02T07:33:00.001-05:00

Her: Whatever you do, do NOT turn on the Eagle radio station right now.

Translation: PHIL COLLINS.

I know, I know internet. You have no idea about the significance of the mention of Phil Collins in my life. I haven’t gone into this for fear that it would culminate MORE insanity. But now is the time. I should really explain.

Back in high school, I had this deliciously quirky friend named Alex. She was beautiful and smart as hell. And more importantly to me, she was a wealth of musical information. This chick knew every song ever made. Like…ever. And she knew who sang it. And what year it came out. And who the drummer of the band was. And if he dated Kathleen Hanna. And this was not limited to music made between the years of 1985 and 1999, this was, like, all music ever made. All the music. Of. All. Time.

Anyway, one day Alex and I were having a pretty deep conversation with regard to her extreme (and before this conversation, secret) hatred of The Eagles, and right in the middle of her dissecting the lyrics to “Tequila Sunrise”, her face became serious.

“I am going to tell you something that you are going to remember for the rest of your life.” She said.

I braced myself for this intense and important thing she was about to say to me and then I waited.

“You will think of Phil Collins every day. For the rest of your life.”

Naturally, I protested, thinking that there was no way in holy hell I would have that many occasions to think of Phil Collins. Not only did I not despise him enough to give him much thought ever, but because of my distaste for Disney movies, I didn’t think about him at all. So, yeah, there was disbelief but I humored Alex and considered the possibility that, after this moment in time, Phil Collins would become a staple.

What I didn’t realize was that Phil Collins is fucking everywhere, you guys. And Alex was right. You will wake up in the middle of the night, realizing that you have forgotten to turn the TV off, and you will see Phil’s big, round head on the screen. He will be singing “Su-Su-Sudio” and you will curse the day that you ever heard this story. I know what you’re thinking though, internet. “Why would Phil Collins be on the TV in the middle of the night singing ‘Su-Su-Sudio’?” The answer is this: The universe is obsessed with Phil Collins.

You don’t believe me? Just wait.

So, there you have it. If you hadn’t already heard the story of the birth of The Phil Collins Curse, you were lucky. I didn’t want to have to do this to you, internet. But, I did what had to be done. Avoid your TV. Avoid cheesy radio stations. Avoid leaving your house all together.

And don’t even get me started on the number 23.

For the Love of Books

2011-02-01T13:49:00.000-05:00

Oh my God, you guys. Finally! A solution to my issue with not wanting to buy books and then trade them in for next to nothing! Hooray!

Domesticated

2011-01-31T09:10:00.000-05:00

When Thing Two and I decided to move in together, we thought we would take our time and try and really work out the details of our situation before we hastily decided on something to rent or buy. We wanted to really get in there and find a place that suited us. One that we could afford and one that would afford us some luxuries that we hadn’t really had living in my tiny studio apartment. We had kind of decided, though, that we would suck it up and stay put until we had found something that we loved/could afford and possibly could actually own.

As it happened, however, the fates didn’t really want us to wait.

The house that I have been living in for the past year is a massive one. It is divided into a one bedroom, a two bedroom and my studio. Recently, (and really since I moved in) there has been a lot of moving about as far as the tenants have been concerned. The people who were living upstairs when I moved in were promptly evicted (and, I suspect, are cooking meth somewhere) and the people who lived downstairs moved up, making room for the weirdo who moved in downstairs with her two kids, no furniture and giant pit bull. She has now moved out leaving the two bedroom vacant. Again.

When my landlord called me on Friday and asked if I thought that Thing Two and I would be interested in moving in, I really didn’t have an answer for him. I told him we would discuss it and that I would get back with him as soon as I could. Of course, as soon as I could, was not soon enough. Sunday morning the phone started ringing before we were even out of bed and before we knew it, we were inside the apartment downstairs discussing paint colors and whose name to put the utilities in. My landlord is pushy. But he definitely gave us a deal on the rent and that’s never bad.

So, we kind of just fell into a new apartment without even having to get out of bed. Easy peasy, internet.

The fun has already begun, too. Walls have already been painted (of course, not all of the ones that need to be) and furniture is being chosen. And Thing Two and I should be bona fide domestic partners in a matter of a few short days.

I have to say, I am pretty excited about having, not just a bedroom that is separated from the rest of the house, but having TWO whole bedrooms. And a kitchen. Oh, internet, I have really loved my studio, but the lack of a full kitchen has been really painful for me. And now…the wait is over. I have ROOMS. Like, several of them! And, of course, I have Thing Two. Who, lets be honest, makes everything better.

How Things Change...Originally written 7/17/08

2011-01-26T13:01:00.001-05:00

I found this post today while trying to clear out the crap from my email Inbox. (Let me tell you, internet, I have been laughing for the last hour and I am not even a fourth of the way finished with this little gem of a project.) I found this post that I wrote when I was dating TK. You remember TK, right, internet? The 4 ½ year old I dated a few years back? Yeah. That guy.

Anyway, I guess I have been a little jaded for a long time, but it is funny how much has changed…Enjoy!

Drumroll, please….

"I hate how jaded you can be sometimes."

When TK said this it made me think. Not because it had never occurred to me that I might be a bit jaded, because I am well aware of that fact, but because I have a hard time remembering what it was like not being jaded. And I can't help it, really. This is sort of just the way that I am. I am under the assumption that most chicks have that thing in the back of their brains that (even if they refuse to admit it to themselves) makes them dream up that mushy fairy tale relationship where the guy is all charming and perfectly handsome and she is all having 30 orgasms every day and wearing nothing but fancy and raising little perfectly behaved children. That irritates me. Because it will never happen to you, ladies. You will marry a man with mediocre looks and an even more mediocre bank account and you will have mediocre children and a (probably less than) mediocre sex life. You will probably argue about why you can't buy a stupid Prada bag and his inability to fathom the use for a coaster. It's true. Because that's real life, ya'll, and I am not so sure that there is much difference between being jaded and being completely realistic.

I mean, if refusing to have unrealistic expectations of a person or a relationship means that I am jaded, then sue me. But my fairy tale is very different than those "other chicks". For one, the whole marriage and kids thing? Not really at the top of my list. I mean, yeah, I want to meet someone that I love enough to want to do those things with, but I don't really consider them necessary (don't even get me started on weddings, I think we all know where I stand on those from previous posts). I get the whole idea behind getting married. I do. I just don't know why it is important. Unless, like, one of you needs insurance. Or, like, you are in Vegas and you are at a drive thru wedding chappel and Elvis wants his forty bucks. Because then, at least, there is a good degree of novelty involved.

Secondly, I don't hold on to the ridiculous idea that I am going to find, like, the identical, rich, brilliant, twin brother of Taye Diggs. (I wouldn't argue if I did, but let's face it, internet, if there was one of those out there, he would be gay and he would be my best friend and I would stick my head in the oven.) Honestly, wouldn't that get boring?

Boogie Freaks, Black Kids and Beer

2011-01-10T15:04:00.000-05:00

You will be glad to know, internet, that no one was killed over the weekend by the hands of yours truly. Also, you will be proud that I did not, inspect anyone’s home for death-proof (except by fire) vermin. (Go, me!) The urge was there, believe me, but I felt that it would be in my best interest to refrain from committing illegal acts and make myself feel better by talking about the whole incident to people who hate the person who caused said incident. It worked rather well, although, I imagine that committing illegal acts might have been more satisfying. Either way, no one is dead, no one is in jail and I drank the Diet Coke very angrily. That’s all I have to say about it.

Aside from the waves of intense fury that crept up every once in a while, I had a pretty decent weekend. Tony, Thing Two and I spent Friday playing Just Dance 2 (O.M.G., you guys have NO IDEA how hilarious it is to watch my very tall, very uncoordinated boyfriend try to dance to Britney Spears is…Seriously. Everyone should see it.) and eating (read: attempting to eat) the delicious (read: INSANELY salty) shrimp stir-fry that Thing Two made for dinner (read: to cause us all to have strokes). He’s precious, that guy. Next time though, no matter how nice I think it is that he wants to cook dinner so that I don’t have to, I will not leave him unattended. He clearly needs supervision.

Saturday, Tony, Thing Two and I headed out to Clifftopher’s house for a party in celebration of…Ummm…Saturday? There were about 7 dudes in a room watching football and looking…well…stoned…and the rest of us hovered very near the pulled pork and Captain Morgan. You know…so we could make sure that they didn’t get away (read: so we could eat and drink massive amounts of deliciousness and no one would ever know). As always, there was a fair amount of falling down involved (not by me this time, this time, internet, I played the spectator instead!) but only a small amount of blood. (Go, team US!) I did meet a really cool girl who introduced herself to me as “Ollie-Ollie-Oxenfreeeeeee!” and believe I may have actually sang some Disney songs with her (I know…I hate Disney. But this is what happens when you are drinking Absolut Peach. And by the way, BLEH.) and later was informed that she is actually Ali Youngblood from Black Kids. Go figure! Naturally, on the way home I had to play a song or two for Thing Two and Tony since they had never heard of them. (Check them out, ya’ll!)

Yesterday was Sunday Fun Day with Uncle Dork (as I like to call him). We had a delicious brunch at an Irish Pub in the ‘hood and then went bowling for what seemed like an eternity. Tony didn’t bowl, but he sat down at the table and watched us shouting things like, “YOU SUCK!” and “DO YOU NEED ME TO TEACH YOU HOW TO BOWL?!” Which, you know, are great motivators. If nothing else, I was motivated to throw my shiny green ball, right at his huge, bald noggin. (I, again, resisted. In your FACE, Quentin Tarantino!) After the bowling extravaganza, we went back to my house to open my birthday presents from my uncle (read: Drink Chimay and Southern Tier Imperial Stout Crème Brulee Beer, which is totally DIVINE), watch the boys play the Wii (read: Shoot fake zombies and get all testosteroney) and cook dinner (read: drink wine). Again, dancing ensued and I kicked everyone’s arse at Rockafeller Skank choreography. And that was all anyone could handle.

I am too old for Sunday Fun Day. I need a nap.

Zen and The Art of Not Kicking People's Teeth In

2011-01-07T15:06:00.003-05:00

So, I am a pretty laid back person. In fact, I might sometimes even be too laid back. And that’s okay, I think. I don’t bother anyone and I can’t be bothered most of the time. But I don’t like to be disrespected. I mean, say a stranger is all up in my space in the grocery store, right? They are definitely disrespecting the space-bubble rule, but they are doing nothing that warrants a kick in the teeth. However, say I live with someone for 8 years and leave some very valuable items boxed up in a closet (with permission, of course) for safe keeping and due to lack of space in my place when I move out. And let’s say that these valuable items are collectible and irreplaceable and maybe that I have been collecting them for oh…say…15 years. And then, just for fun, lets say that the someone who I lived with “absent-mindedly” threw out every single one of those valuable items along with about 300 more items, knowing full well what the boxes contained because he/she was the one who packed them.

Now this situation is sticky, internet, and might actually be teeth-kick worthy. But stickier still because the angel on my one shoulder (who I believe goes by the name of Thing Two) says, “There is nothing you can do, you have to accept that she is not a good person and that she will get what is coming to her. Besides…you are SO much better than her.” But the devil on my other shoulder (who looks and sounds oddly like Quentin Tarantino) is saying, “If you leave work right now, you can get to her house in enough time to set it sufficiently on fire before she even knows you’re gone.”

Both valid points.

I have to say though, I think that this act of disrespect is one that is definitely worthy of kicking someone’s teeth in. But, I will resist you, Quentin Tarantino Satan. I will remain Zen in this situation and moment of great fury and I will not set fire to anyone’s home. (Unless, you know, it just happened to become infested with some sort of vermin that could not be destroyed with anything with the exception of fire. Then I would just be helping.)

And just so you know, internet, if you do something like this to someone, you cannot make up for it with a 20oz Diet Coke. Even if the person REALLY likes Diet Coke. Just saying.

New Directions (and Pie)

2011-01-04T13:47:00.003-05:00

Okay, okay...so I am not really sure that this post is about "new directions" at all. I really just thought of "Glee" when I almost titled this post "New Developments" and decided that I prefer to Gleek out. Although, now that I think about it, maybe it is about new directions. Either way, that's the name of the post, internet. Get over it. Gosh.

So, I made it through Rack's birthday and successfully avoided spending the day with Spliffany and instead, had him, Tony and Thing Two over for dinner. Dinner really wasn't anything special, but I would like to point out to you, internet, how wonderful a friend I am. I woke up Thursday morning and proceded to make a cherry pie. This was not just ANY cherry pie, though. This was my first EVER pie of any variety. Like...EVER. The problem, of course, that after making the crust myself, I didn't like the way said pie looked. So, naturally, being the crazy person that pie-baking evidently turns me into, I went to the store and bought stuff to make a second cherry pie. (And then stuff to make a blueberry pie for Thing Two. Why? I have no idea. Did I make a blueberry pie? Heck no.) So, by the time Rack arrived at my house to exchange gifts and eat dinner, he was hammered and I was exhausted. But there was an abundance of pie. And that can't be a bad thing....I mean, if you like pie. (Which I do not. But I did like the Warrant accompaniment that came with the acts of pie eating, so it all worked out.)

Christmas was a lot of the same. Running around like maniacs trying to make sure that we saw everyone and ate everything and drank lots of mimosas and tasted too many birthday cakes. But as I suspected, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I managed to get a lot of time to just sit back and enjoy my day (and the presents...oh, the presents were glorious!) and even got to spend a few hours at the local dive bar and have entirely too many drinks in such a short period of time. But it was all in good fun...and no one puked.

New Year's Eve involved a bunch of my family and a lot of vodka. And, internet, if you are familiar with any one member of my family, then you know it wouldn't be a proper party unless someone was falling down. In this case, I would say about half of the people there were falling down. And there was moonshine. So there ya go. Happy drunken New Year.

So, that's really it for the holiday update 2010 but there is other news, internet. Of course there is.

Other news:

1. I have decided, for the 858th time, that I am going to quit smoking. I started the Chantix today (as did Thing Two) and hopefully will be smoke-free (and with a lot more money) within the next week or so...Keep your fingers crossed, internet. This should be interesting.

2. I am rewatching the entire series of LOST (Thanks to my new Wii and Netflix streaming...hooray!) because Thing Two never watched it. Ever. (I don't know how this happens to people! How can you not have watched LOST?! Seriously!)

3. Thing Two and I have decided to move in together. Yes, I know I have really enjoyed living alone. And yes, I am aware that I haven't lived with anyone (other than Spliff) in a really long time. And of COURSE I am aware that this is a big step and we haven't been together for that long. What do you take me for, internet? An idiot? The thing is, I know what I want. And for the first time since Jer, I really mean it. (This is not to say that I didn't love my previous boyfriends, I did...well...all except for that one that I tried to convince myself I loved so that I wasn't totally bored all the time. I think we all know which one I am talking about here...cough, cough, TK, cough...Duh.)

So, we are currently starting to look at places and are actually considering...gasp...BUYING. Yes, that's right, ya'll. I am getting old and ready to settle down. (I don't really know what that phrase MEANS...but if it means, like, own a home and make lots of noise and not disturb neighbors, then I am IN.) I am a grown up. Shut it.

Sidenote: I just realized that this post IS about new directions.

Because I Can Totally Relate...

2010-12-22T13:51:00.000-05:00

Something like this could totally happen in my life...only it would be Phil Collins instead.

HILARIOUS. Merry Christmas, internet!

On Sucking it Up

2010-12-22T11:30:00.000-05:00

So, tomorrow is Rackamonie's birthday. Last year on his birthday, Spliff, Tony, Rack and I were on our way to good old New Orleans. We had a really good time, but I knew that my friendship with Spliffany was over months before that. This year, things are much different. I don't like Spliffany. I have realized that and I am okay with it and everyone is a better person for it. But then there's Rack. Who wants nothing more to spend his birthday with his two best friends and not have to worry that one of them (me) will stab the other one (her) in the neck with a fork. (I will not stab anyone in the neck with a fork unless they attack me first with a set of chopsticks or something. I swear.) I agreed to meet them for lunch, in a moment of weakness when Spliffany wasn't annoying the bejesus out of me. And then I immediately regretted ever doing so.

Yes. I do want to give my dear friend Rack whatever he wants for his birthday. And this is something that he wants because he has missed being able to hang out with both of us at the same time. And yes, I think I can handle a couple of hours and a meal with her (without any fork stabbing). But do I want to? Hecky naw. I want to tell Rack that I will take him on a hot air balloon ride or buy him a pony if he doesn't make me do it, but...then a part of me says, "Come on! Suck it up. How bad can it be? After all, you lived under the same roof for seven years!" And then the other part of me says, "But she is a horrible person and you can't stand the sound of her voice!" I don't know which part of me is going to win, but the internal battle is ugly.

I just need to think about Rack. And how good of a friend he has been. And how he deserves whatever he wants. And how I am a bigger person than this. And that I can look past everything for a few hours.

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

A Little Less Like Scrooge

2010-12-20T15:03:00.000-05:00

If you have read any holiday posts of mine, you might remember me as being a little Scrooge-y. (Okay, a LOT Scrooge-y...but I think it was all justified.) I have had a few very disappointing holiday seasons over the last several years and I will be the first to admit that these shitty holidays have made all the subsequent holidays equally shitty. Maybe they have gotten progressively less shitty. But still shitty.

This holiday season, however, hasn't really been that bad. I mean, I was dreading Thanksgiving just as much as I always do. I agonized for days about how I could get out of attending all the family festivities and then possibly avoiding Thing Two's family festivities. But in the end, I sucked it up and attended all three of the family gatherings that I was supposed to. I ate turkey, I held children, and I had a pretty damn good day. But then I had to brace myself for the clusterfuck that normal people like to refer to as...Christmas.

I can't lie, the smoothness of the Thanksgiving holiday put me a little more at ease about the impending doom...I mean...Christmas...but I still wasn't convinced that I wouldn't have a breakdown. The stress of spending all that money on gifts for people and then not even being sure that they will like them, or not being able to get them what they wanted in the first place, or not being able to get anything for people at all just gets to be too much for me. I start to panic at the beginning of November and I don't stop until right around the first of the year. Bills take a back seat to making sure I get my mom (the most difficult person to shop for...EVER) something that she won't toss in a closet or immediately donate to a homeless shelter. And then there's the melancholy that sneaks in when I think about my grandparents and what it will be like without them this year.

Shockingly, however, it hasn't been so bad. I have been in a pretty good mood, despite the 4 billion times I have been forced to hear WHAM! singing that horrible Christmas song they had. In fact, so far, things have been pretty pleasant.

Things that have not sucked about the holiday season:

1. I got a really nice Christmas bonus. This has never happened to me before and was COMPLETELY unexpected and helped me to buy something for my mom that I believe that she will actually enjoy and that will not end up at a shelter.

2. I have a really awesome boyfriend who bought me a red Wii! Yes, he stood in line for 2 hours at Wal-mart (Gasp!) to get me a gift and then...gave it to me early. I am in Wii Heaven!

3. I am not turning 30. I know, I know...I have spent a lot of time NOT turning 30 and it shouldn't make things any better this time I don't turn 30. But last year, I DID turn 30 and...I have to be honest, 31 isn't nearly as scary.

I guess I am just thankful. And, its true, maybe I should have been more thankful a lot sooner, but I am getting there. And I am not dwelling on deaths or money or how many times I have had to hear Mariah Carey screech "All I Want for Christmas is You". I am concentrating on things that DON'T suck. (Like, for instance, a brand new RED Wii!)

Doppelganger?

2010-12-16T14:01:00.000-05:00

So, as most of you know, Spliff and I lived together for about 7 years. We have known each other since we were 15 or 16 and when I decided to move to the beach, she packed up her stuff and headed north and that's where it all began. Naturally, living together for so long, we rubbed off on each other. We used the same slang, inflections, and often spoke in unison. This was all sort of expected when you are around someone so much. Coupled with the fact that we were both blondes with blue eyes and were rarely spotted independently from one another, people sometimes got us confused. In the grocery store people would ask if we were sisters, sometimes even if we were TWINS. Neither of us ever really understood that, because we are OBVIOUSLY very different. For instance, I am taller, and just generally bigger. My eyes are dark blue and my hair is a natural blonde where Spliff's eyes are the lightest blue and her hair has always been blonder because it is dyed. I have freckles and pale skin and Spliff is tan and unafraid of skin cancer. These might not seem like obvious things to just any regular Joe who just met us. But they are big differences to us. I am not saying I don't get it. People are dumb and the two of us have similarities.

When we started working together, we weren't shocked at all that our office-mates couldn't tell us apart. And even though I had been here six weeks before she started and thought that there was no way that this would be an issue, it was. And we thought it was pretty funny and could have easily taken advantage of it, but we didn't. We calmly and patiently accepted that nothing had changed and that we would be confused for a while until people learned our personalities and, you know, what we LOOKED like. And eventually, people started to figure it out. Gradually, people got to know us and could tell us apart.

We are rarely ever together outside of work anymore, but at work functions people we have to schmooze with still ask, "Are you sisters? You look alike!" And even though it is frustrating, it is still sort of funny that even now, with Spliff dying her hair brown, closer to her natural color and her bizarre obsession with skinny jeans and her glasses, people still get confused. But those are people who have never seen us before.

I have suspected for a long time that one woman in our office still hadn't figured it out. Up until about two weeks ago, Spliff's desk was directly next to mine, so when N needed us, she would walk over, say one of our names and wait to see who turned around. Every time it happened, I would point it out to whoever was around and say, "See? I still don't think she knows which one of us is which!" But I was never sure. Until today.

Today, after I have been with this company exactly 2 years, 7 months and 4 days, I asked Norma to locate something for me so that I could take care of it. She read the email I sent and didn't respond. I assumed this was because she was trying to locate said document and would get back with me if/when she found it. No. Twenty minutes later, Spliff placed the document I requested in my hands and said, "This was on my desk and I have no idea why." Yes. That's right, internet. She thought Spliffany was me. Still. After almost three years of seeing us on a daily basis, she still has no idea which one of us is which.

I find this offensive. From now on, I am calling her Judy.

Potentates (Revisited)...For Grandpa (RIP 12/11/09)

2010-12-14T12:36:00.002-05:00

Well, internet, this past Saturday was the one-year anniversary of my grandfather's death. I've been a little freaked out thinking that this will be the first Christmas with neither of my grandparents around and even more freaked out that the anniversaries of their deaths are also both this month.

This morning, my grandmother on my mom's side of the family sent me this link from the Pepsi Refresh Project and it appears that someone wants to fix up the old Calumet Theatre. This, my friends, is where most of my very early memories of my dearest Grandpa take place. He was a member of the Calumet Players when I was just a tiny thing. I remember seeing him on stage and how much excitement I got from watching him perform. He was, by no means, a professional actor, but he was good. I mean, really good. He used to come to visit with us during intermission and I would always giggle about the fact that he was wearing blush (come on, guys, I was three or four).

Needless to say, this place holds a significance for me and my heart swelled to see that someone (or lots of someones) want to make it new again. Please go and vote, for my grandpa!

(just because)

Reasons to be Punchy

2010-12-09T15:01:00.003-05:00

, thThis week has been a disaster, internet. It has taken everything I have not to kick people in the teeth, or like, hit them with my car. But I have reasons, internet. Oh yes, I have reasons.

1.The Office Nazi has started the Christmas music extravaganza wherein she blasts crappy choir music or Celine Dion's Christmas Disaster all day. Every day. Until Christmas (or someone straps her to her chair and rolls her down the two flights of stairs in the hallway). The only Christmas music I like is Bing Crosby. (Or the RENT soundtrack, because it CAN be considered Christmas music because it takes place ON or AROUND Christmas. It counts.)

2. There have been several staff changes in my office over the last couple of weeks. What used to be a well-oiled machine has turned into a wild and crazy clusterfuck. This is due, mostly in part, to the lovely and charming Spliffany. It seems that, when she accepted a new position replacing Han (who is moving back home to Hotlanta), it was discovered that, not only is Spliff incapable of doing her new job, but she doesn't appear to have ever been capable of doing her OLD one. Han has been training the new girl and finding all sorts of ridiculous stuff that hasn't been done and having to put out all the fires. And then, of course, promptly every evening, calling me to bitch about Spliff's ineptitude. Thus, making me punchier.

3. Tuesday. Tuesday could possibly have been the worst work day I have had in, ohhhhh, about my entire adult life. Combined with Spliff's idiocy, the new girl's training (the jury is still out on whether she is a slow-learner, a victim of Spliff's inability to effectively train, or in fact she is an imbicile...perhaps a combo?) Han's frustration with the aforementioned and with the sheer VOLUME of work that passed over my desk, I felt that my head would pop off of my body as a red, firey ball of fury. I made it home. But, then...

4. The Flat Tire. Okay. Yes, I know that it is my responsibility as a car owner to make sure that my tires are not low and are functional and have...you know...rubber on them. But, I drive 4 miles per day. Period. When the tire is low, I fill it up with air and then I go on about my day. Or I don't fill it up with air, have the worst day ever, and then pull into my driveway only to discover that said tire has been demolished. Luckily, Thing Two knows how to take a tire off and replace it with the donut. Which then, of course, would also be flat. SERIOUSLY luckily that the dude at the Tire Kingdom near my house let me have a used tire and mounted it for TEN BUCKS. Saving me the evergy of a homicidal rampage. Then I drank way too much wine and went to bed.

5. It is effing COLD outside. Fuuuuuuck.

That is all.

A Few Pieces of Awesome

2010-12-03T13:58:00.000-05:00

Okay, so, I really should be working. Duh. But it is Friday, I am bored and my office is the temperature of the tundra. So, in order to keep my mind off of the fact that I am inches from unconsciousness and my toes are turning blue, I have been blog surfing. Or blog reading with a side of stumbling. Either way, here are a few pieces of awesomeness that I found today.

Drumroll please....

1. This made me giggle a lot and also made me think of that 80's movie "The Peanut Butter Solution". I likey. (Oh my GOD, ya'll! Do you remember this movie?)

2. Same guy. I think I want to marry him. I can't stop giggling. (Also, this will totally be my response the next time I am posed with this question.)

3. Thing Two walked in to the room while I was reading this the other day (read: laughing until tears were streaming down my face) and it is chock full of awesome.

4. I just read this just now. And I, again, am in tears. I want this guy to handle all of my affairs for me. (Especially any and all correspondence with AT&T. They only employ individuals with IQs less than 7.) I believe there is also one in which he attempted to pay a bill with a drawing of a spider with seven legs. But I will have to get back to you on that one, internet. After all, I should be working.

I really should get back to that working thing now, actually. Enjoy!

A Celebration of the Bloggie Thing

2010-12-01T10:50:00.001-05:00

Well, internet...Today, I celebrate my 1000th post here on my blog. It is insane to think that I have been doing this for so long and that I thought it would be fun to take a stroll down memory lane.

I started this blog in 2004 because Brandy insisted that I do so. I don't remember why now, and I know that when I first started, I had no idea what I should be writing about. I was all, "What is this 'blog' thing you speak of?" and Brandy was all, "You write shit there and junk." And I was all, "Well...okay." So that's the exciting story of how my blog began. I know, you are riveted.

It took a while to get into it, but once I did, writing here became pretty much daily and my blog was not only a BLOG, but a friend. A confidant. It saw me through times of tribulation (read: snake killing 1 and 2), pain (read: being hit by a dead guy), insanity (read: thieving, calcium deficient gypsies) and all sorts of other madness. There were a lot of really awesome times too...lots of debauchery and hilariousness. Lots of great friends. Lots of just plain old idiocy.

I don't want to get all sappy and such, internet, but damn, it has been a fun 1000 posts. Congrats to the Bloggie Thing!

Cheers!

A Terrifying Tale

2010-11-24T09:13:00.000-05:00

If you know me (or have read the sentence in the "About Me" section over there on your right), you know that I am terrified of spiders. And I don't descriminate either. I hate the tiny ones just as much as I hate the mammoth-sized ones (partially because I am constantly concerned that they are ON ME, and you can't always see them. Not knowing if a spider is on you? Excrutiating.)

My close friends and family members have (many, many times) had to run to my aide (sometimes from across town) to kill spiders for me. Most often, when my chosen spider-slayer arrives, I am somewhere at the furthest corner away from it in the fetal position, shaking and crying. Naturally.

So, T and I used to work together at the mall when I was in college and to go the back way into our store, we had to use this dark, damp, disgusting hallway. One day, it was raining and my shift was over and, of course, my umbrella was in the car. So, I thought, "Well, I guess I'll stand in this dark, damp hallway and smoke a cigarette until the rain lets up." The rain let up a little bit and as I started to walk out of the hallway, I felt a drop of water on my head. "No biggie." Except when I get to the car, and reach across my body to buckle my seatbelt, I realize that instead of water dropping on my head, a giant brown spider had landed there and crawled over to my shoulder. Just as the rain begins to pick up again, I jump out of my car, right there in the middle of the parking lot and start to flail around like an effing maniac and run screaming back into the disgusting hallway and into the main part of the mall (because this was an emergency and I couldn't wait for someone to let me in the back door) and began throwing my clothes off while making a bee-line for the back room of my job. Luckily, it wasn't far and I don't think anyone saw my little, frantic strip-tease (except T and Jennigiraffe). But let me tell you, internet, I was hysterical and half-naked in the back room for at least a half hour before I recruited T, Jennigiraffe and several Burger King employees that I didn't know, to thoroughly check my car and surrounding areas. Nothing.

I am fairly certain that everyone was convinced that I had dropped seventeen hits of acid and had hallucinated the whole thing. But I know what I saw. And it was huge and ON ME. Naturally, I sped home in the pouring rain with all of the windows down, just waiting for the giant arachnid to crawl out from wherever he had been hiding and make me wreck my car. He didn't, but if you think that I didn't have 19 more people check the car for him, you would be wrong.

So, the other day, I got a nice little facebook message from T including this...It is really funny and I think that the author of this blog and I should join forces and defeat the eight-legged army...But the whole thing sort of makes me itch. Either way...good stuff!

On the Road Again...

2010-11-18T15:12:00.001-05:00

Well, internet, I'm super excited to report that Wave #2 of my new project has begun and already has traveled 2,060 miles and arrived this morning in Phoenix, AZ. I did manage to get the attention, right off the bat, of the Invisible Children team (Via Twitter) who really liked the idea and I am excited to see how far we go with it. I sent it to the lovely, charismatic Amanda (circa: last year's 30th birthday trip to New Orleans) knowing that being a fellow do-gooder type and ultimate people person, she would know just who to send it on to. So, I am really optimistic!

I am still working on trying to think of a creative and fun way to bring in a lot of money (and bodies*) for next year's Gulu Walk, as well as trying to just have a really fun fundraiser for IC just...because. I am thinking Pub Crawl...or Scavenger Hunt...or...muggings. Whatever.

I'm excited about all of the possibilities for fundraising and I actually think, despite all the work, that it is a lot of fun...and well worth the effort.

Now go buy some merch.

*Preferably LIVE bodies, thankyouverymuch.

Conversation with a Coworker

2010-11-16T15:46:00.002-05:00

Her: Wacko, Texas??

Me: It's Waco.

Her: Oh. How do you know that?

Me: You don't know about Waco, TX?

Her: No. Why? What happened?

Me: What year were you born?

Her: 1990.

Me: Excuse me. I have to go kill myself.

Waco happened in 1993. Fuuuuuuuuuck.

The Burning Question

2010-11-12T09:53:00.001-05:00

This morning, I got the common, every-couple-of-weeks check in email from LBG where she asks a bunch of questions about things like a quickfire challenge and I shoot answers right back and fire off my own questions. If you were to read these emails, you would think that we had some sort of disorder where you cannot form complete thoughts or sentences. Sometimes, words. But we understand it. Because we have known each other for 18 years and this is how we roll.

Among the questions in this morning's email shoot-out was "How's Thing Two?" Of course, I said, "He's good, we are doing really well." Simple. True. No need for elaboration. Her response, "What makes it so great? I'd love to hear about it!" Hmmm...

What makes my relationship with TT so great? I mean, there is no answer to that question. I could have referred her to my previous post on dating requirements, but that would be too obvious.

The truth is, there are a lot of things that make my relationship with TT "so great" but I guess the biggest thing for me is the fact that he just fits. We laugh often. We sleep late. We do all of the things that I would do alone but, for once, I don't mind doing them with someone else. And there is no power-struggle with him. He knows that I am a control freak and that I have a case of OCD about certain bizarre little things and he hands me the wheel, lets me drive and tries hard not to anger the OCD beast. And really, I couldn't be happier. I know I am tough to deal with, and he handles all of my quirkiness with ease. And I appreciate him. And he adores me. And we compliment each other.

To sum it up, internet? I am happy. And I dig it.

Because free stuff is awesome...

2010-11-11T09:49:00.000-05:00

AND it is almost Christmas...Check this out, I have bought things here before and it is RAD.

On Walking and Blind Boys

2010-11-10T09:58:00.000-05:00

Well, internet, I made my goal for the Gulu Walk (thanks!) and had a really good time with Thing Two and Rackamonie. It was a cold morning, but the sun on the ocean was absolutely stunning and after a while, the chill of the wind didn't bother me anymore. The turnout was better than two years ago when Spliff and I walked and it seemed that it was a lot better organized. They had breakfast set out when we got there and lunch when we returned. There was a raffle and some bongo drumming and some African dance (which we didn't get to see because it was moved to a different, less windy locale), which I thought was really effing rad. I got to talk to the girls who organized it this year and we discussed joining forces for a bigger, more promoted walk for next year. Which, I have to say, I look forward to. Even after all the work I put in to the screening, which didn't seem to pan out as well as I had hoped. I am no quitter, ya'll.
The rest of the afternoon was spent drinking fruity martinis at The Flamingo Room and chatting with our hilarious, albeit very odd bartender who brought me a newspaper and showed me what I would be missing if I didn't go to the Lincolnville Festival. And by "what I would be missing" I mean, The Blind Boys of Alabama!
So, Sunday morning, TT and my Uncle and I trekked right back out to St. Augustine and drank a few delicious beers (Puppy's Breath Porter, OMG...) and then got us some good ole' Southern fried soul food and planted our asses right down in the grass and watched those Blind Boys sing some gospel. I have to say, I am not a fan of gospel, but these guys are incredible. Seriously. I heard about them several years ago when they sang with Ben Harper on a few of his songs (and then later released an entire album with him). I feel instantly in love with them and even had them played at my grandma's memorial service. (Naturally, I spent a little bit of Sunday afternoon crying behind my sunglasses...but hell...I'm allowed.)

It was a really great weekend. Made me miss a lot of people, but also made me really happy to have the ones I do...

Lesbian-ed Up for the Cause

2010-11-05T14:15:00.000-04:00

So, internet, tomorrow is the day of the Gulu Walk. Thing Two, Rack and I will be heading out first thing tomorrow morning to lovely St. Augustine Beach to walk a few miles for the displaced youth of Northern Uganda. Spliff and I did this walk a few years ago and really enjoyed ourselves. She did, however, keep telling me that I looked like a lesbian in Tony's shorts and a sports bra. But looking like a lesbian for one day in the spirit of helping someone can't be the worst thing in the world. (I will say, though, it wasn't too much fun looking like a lesbian when we went to lunch at a really fantastic restaurant. Was NOT a fan of that.)

So tomorrow, I am gonna get all lesbian-ed up and go for a walk. I still haven't raised the amount of money I set out to, but I did pretty well considering I just registered on Monday. You can still sponsor me HERE!

Take a minute. Check out the cause!

The Dude Abides

2010-11-04T14:38:00.000-04:00

Ummmm...guys?!

Were you aware, internet, that there is such a thing as Lebowski Fest?! And, internet, if you were aware, is there some reason that you were keeping this information from me?!

I am totally going to this! And I am going to dress like Jesus.

You should sponsor me...

2010-11-01T11:57:00.000-04:00

Sponsoring me in the Gulu Walk this year will help in two ways:

1. You will help me raise money for the children of Gulu (desperately needed and goes hand in hand with what Invisible Children's mission is. And you KNOW how I feel about those guys...I mean, you would if you have been paying attention...)

2. You would help the expanding ass situation, mentioned in my last post.

I think you know what you have to do, internet.

The Tale of the Incredible Expanding Ass

2010-11-01T09:31:00.000-04:00

The last few weeks, the weather here in Florida has been fantastic. I mean, like, the kind of fantastic where I can still walk outside in the morning wearing a flowy little sundress and not freeze my ta-tas off but it gets cool enough at night that a little sweatshirt action (or cuddling) might be necessary. We are lucky here, because we get to hold on to that last grasp at Summer for a little longer than most. Now that the colder weather is approaching, (seriously, supposed to be in the 60's this weekend! EEEEK!) the question "What the hell am I gonna wear?!" is looming.

The facts:

1. It will be too cold soon for flowy sundresses.

2. I only ever wear flowy sundresses.

3. I am in a panic about which (if any) of last year's jeans will fit over my rapidly expanding ASS.

4. Diet or bigger jeans?

This is my own fault, internet. I have fallen into the "I have a boyfriend now who eats whatever he wants whenever he wants" lifestyle...which I foolishly equate to "I have a boyfriend and if he can eat pizza and ice cream and not gain any weight, then I can eat pizza and ice cream too."

This is incorrect. I cannot eat pizza and ice cream. I will continue to get fatter and fatter until my ass actually needs its own zip code and until I am being rolled everywhere because I can no longer find my legs. You know, like Violet in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". Only, hopefully, I will not also be violet. That would just add insult to injury.

So, what am I gonna do about this? I am not really sure. I could always actually, you know, stop eating pizza and ice cream. (Which, of course, would mean that TT would no longer be permitted to eat those things. Which, of course, might make him very bitter. But one would think that if I had a better ass, he might see the payoff. Right?)

Ugggghhhh...Why isn't it hot to be pale and fat? Why?

The Commute

2010-10-29T12:55:00.000-04:00

My new project!

Abbrev. and Fishing (continued)

2010-10-27T11:36:00.001-04:00

Naturally, the transition from "boy who had never caught a fish" to "boy who would now be responsible for scaling, gutting and filetting" was an interesting one to watch. I will say that, without the immediate help of Rack, we would have been stuck with several dead fish attached to several fishing poles (you know, because taking them off would be icky). I could see us catching fish, getting super excited and then being perplexed and disgusted at the idea of removing them from the line, subsequently, requiring us to grab a new pole. Then I can picture us surrounded by poles with the little guys still attached and having to recruit a neighbor to help. Or resort to scizzors so as not to have to actually remove hooks. Gross.

Anyway, it all worked out for the best. TT is now skilled in hook removal, gutting, scaling and filletting. Which makes me happy because it means that I can focus on the task at hand. Drinking. Duh. He is actually really quite adorable when doing all those manly things that I wouldn't dare take on. And I think those manly things make him feel...well...like he needs to pound on his chest and grunt a lot. He doesn't do that, thankfully, but you see where I am going with this.

This past weekend, Fish Head and Mr. Fish Head joined us for some drinking (read: fishing). We spent a lot of time fishing, with the exception of Mr. FH who basically sat there and drank beers, every hour or so, casting his pole out one time and then announcing that he is the worst fisherman ever and expressing concern about ever being stranded on a deserted island. (Ironic, however, that his name is Mr. Fish Head.) I will say, though, despite his unwillingness to attempt to help us catch dinner, he participated fully in the rounds of drinking games we played later. He wore the Asshole hat (which consisted, in the absence of my stuffed monkey draped over a ridiculous straw hat, of a red trucker hat which had been thoroughly wrapped in toilet paper) and proceded to get ridiculously hammered and fight with me about which one of us was actually Jesus. (His argument being that he has long hair. As do I. And mine is longer. My argument being that I share a birthday with Jesus. AND I have long hair.) This was not so much an argument as much as it was a discussion that ended with Mr. FH, in a defeated, drunken epiphany admitting "Maaaaaan...you are Jesus." Hilarious.

I am starting to think that I might have to try and convince my step-dad to let me live there for free, quit my job, and start work at the little redneck grocery down the street. TT says that he would be okay with this as long as I keep all of my teeth.

Deal.

Abbrev. and Fishing

2010-10-26T15:49:00.002-04:00

Alright. I am seriously ready for the weekend, people. I can't take it anymore. If Spliff adds an "s" to a word that doesn't need an "s" on it (i.e. yums or nopes) one more time, my head is going to explode. And I haven't even touched on the irritating and unneccessary abbreviating today (i.e. ridick = ridiculous, inapprope = inappropriate). It is like she has morphed into a second grade version of Paris Hilton. Vomit.

Thing Two and I (and various other people) have been spending our weekends in St. Augustine at my step-dad's place on the river which has been awesome...but it has this tendency to make the weeks seem ENDLESS and the weekends so effing short. It has been a lot of fun though. I mean, seriously, who doesn't like boozing it up while fishing for your own dinner (that you have no idea how to prepare because not only is it alive but it is slimey)?

What you must know about me is that I will do most anything if I am allowed a glass of wine while I am doing it. Grocery shopping would be much more enjoyable, work would be a lot more fun but wildly inappropriate in my line of work (read: ridick inapprope), Math might even be a little more bearable, you get the point. Anyway, in fishing, drinking is acceptable. And actually required, as it were. What you should know about TT is that he is a very tall, kind of clumsy thing who had never caught a fish before in his life and being the man in this scenario, it should have been understood that (since I would be drunk) he would be doing manly things. Like? Taking fish off of hooks and doing gross things with them later to prepare them for becoming his drunk girlfriend's delicious dinner. This SHOULD have been understood. It seems, however, that none of this had crossed his mind before it became necessary.

(To be continued...)

Phew!

2010-10-25T10:54:00.002-04:00

The screening is over! And I didn't have a heart attack!

I will say this to you now, internet. If I ever want to do something like that again, remind me of how difficult this was. Because I swear to Cheesus, this was exhausting.

The turnout was NOT what I had hoped, but the people who came were generous, respectful and, I believe truly moved by the film. Which is just about better than having a huge turnout. I did feel a little defeated at first because I had hoped that more of my friends would have shown up, but I hadn't really expected much to begin with. All in all, it was a super good night though. I left feeling WAY better about things when I got to walk around and talk to everyone about what they thought. Since many of them had never seen any of the films before, I was excited to hear what they all had to say. And it, I believe, was unanimous that it is a fantastic organization and the films are definitely inspiring. I don't think there was one person in the place who walked out without supporting the cause and buying some merchandise. And that made me feel good. Really good. Judging from everything that I saw people walking out with, I would guess that through merch alone, we probably helped raise about 700-800 dollars. (Thanks, guys, you are all amazing!) Also...just saying...I think Casper bought more than anyone in the place...

So, I definitely feel good about what was accomplished. No matter how small the group, because of yesterday, that many more people know about the effects of this war on the children and I am proud of that. I am confident that next time (oh yes, there will be a next time) I do this, many of the people who participated last night will be involved. And that, my friends, is pretty bad ass. (Also, next time, I will come to their homes and drag them out by their hair if I have to. Don't try me.)

To sum it all up. Good night, great people, amazing organization! And you know you are sorry you missed it, internet! It's okay, go here and buy things.

Crazy amounts of thanks to Casper, and the IC crew (Annie, Shane, Monica, Irene, Dan and Elise) who did an amazing job! THANK YOU!!!

The Big Day Approacheth!

2010-10-22T11:25:00.000-04:00

Well, internet. The "big day" is almost here and you know what that means...this is the last time I will beg you to come to the screening. Seriously. After this, I will be heading off to spend the day with the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Fish Head and my sweet and patient boyfriend (who hasn't punched me even though I am constantly spazzing about something screening related).

I have been wildly unsuccessful at getting refreshments for the event. Evidently, if you are going to do something like this, you have to quit your job and ignore your friends and family and focus solely on making people want to give you things. Which is easier said than done, mind you. I haven't given up though. I have been consistently faxing and emailing and begging all week. And I will continue until I get in the car for my day of relaxation with my favorite people.

Regardless, I am excited and I am hopeful and I feel good about all the work that I have put into this. Even if I probably could have done more if time permitted. Thanks to all my peeps who have spread the word around and I hope that you will continue to do so until Sunday! (Go ahead, use the buttons below. Post to twitter, google, facebook, I don't care!) I hope to see you all at the screening. (If I do, YAY! You are the best! If I don't, I hate your face. Just kidding. Sort of.)

Peace and Love!!!

Master Plan...by Criz

2010-10-14T15:47:00.000-04:00

This week, in comparison to last week, has been pretty damn relaxing. No one in my life or my close friends' lives is missing, I am not wondering when I will get paid, (yes, this is an issue in my life...and not because I don't have a job or a set pay period and whatnot, I just happen to have an idiot that works there who pays us all willie nillie. Yes. I said "willie nillie" just now. Get over it.) and I haven't been stressing about the screening. (Translation: A lot of wine has been consumed and my boyfriend allows me the chill time to watch "Jersey Shore" in peace. This makes me very happy.)

With the screening less than two weeks away, I am starting to freak out a bit. Mainly because I haven't had the manpower to promote the way that I wanted to and I don't want to feel like a gigantic arse if no one shows up. (I don't think that will be a problem, but I am still really nervous about it.) I have been tweeting about it like crazy and I am fairly certain that all of my friends on Facebook have deleted me, but things are looking...ummm...decent. This whole, being a good human being and trying to get other people to want to do the same thing...it is really hard. People are really self-centered, yo. I still need food donated, so that is my serious plan for the week.

The agenda goes like this:

Master Plan by Criz

1. Harrass local businesses to provide food and drinks for the screening.

2. Drink wine.

3. Snuggle with Ernge.

4. Harrass friends to invite their friends to the screening.

5. Drink more wine.

6. Breathe into paper bag.

7. As a last-ditch effort, send mass email to everyone I have ever spoken to, heard of, passed on street corners, or just seen briefly in person, harrassing them about coming to the screening and inviting their friends. Preferably ones who will donate food and drinks for the screening.

8. Drink more wine.

Tonight, though, internet? I am going to get kinda dressed up, head out with one of my oldest friends to her favorite restaurant and have a lovely girls-night dinner. And drink wine.

peace.

P.S. Come to the screening. There will be food and drinks. God willing.

Thanks

2010-10-08T12:19:00.001-04:00

Now that Lindsey is safe and probably grounded for the rest of her natural life, I can rest easy and get back to my...well...natural life...

As you all know, I have been trying to get this Invisible Children event to be a success and that has been taking up most of my internet time. It is coming along surprisingly well, actually (Thanks for asking!). I am still trying to get someone on board to donate food so I don't feel like a giant arse when I have no refreshments to offer, but I have managed to get a lot of local businesses to contribute gift cards and such for the raffle. (My cousin suggested that a raffle might be a fantastic idea because who can resist the opportunity to win free crap!?) Putting something like this together is a lot of work (which Casper has helped a LOT with) and I am just keeping the fingers crossed that people show up. (PLEASE! For the love of CHEESUS, show UP!) I am excited though, and I am really hoping that people realize what an amazing organization this is and how much they need our help!

First, I want to thank some peeps, you know...because pouring one out for my homies is inappropriate in this situation...

1. Casper! Thank you for helping to find somebody to send food and for making the poster that I have shamelessly been sending to the entirety of Northeast Florida! You rock my face off.

2. European Street Cafe, Cinotti's Bakery, Adventure Landing, Boutique Unique, and Wipeouts Grill who have sent gifts and/or donated things so far.

3. Invisible Children!!! Thank you for all you do every day and inspiring so many to get off their couches and make a difference. Thank you for doing this tour and allowing me to be a part of it...(And if no one shows up at the screening, I hope that you realize that I will be leaving with you guys. Oh, the shame!)

4. The Academy. Okay, no. I haven't come this far yet. My bad.

So, there it is, folks! SIXTEEN DAYS and we will be screening "Go"! If you can't be there, then you should threaten anyone you know who could. And I don't mean threaten them with, like, chocolate cake. I mean, like, threaten them with scorpions or, like, nipple clamps.

Also, holy crap, guys, Google is so cute today!

(Okay, seriously, don't do any of that to your friends. But make them come. They won't regret it!)

Phew...Lindsey Rayl is FOUND

2010-10-08T08:27:00.000-04:00

Well, internet, Lindsey Rayl is found. I don't know many details but I do know that she is no longer in danger. I suspect that she is in a bit of trouble, but I am glad that she made it home. Thanks for spreading it around.

Keep in mind, however, the family still needs help financially. This has been a horrible time for them and they spent several thousand dollars in an effort (success!) to find Lindsey, so if you can, please help out here!

Thanks, internet, you are a good and generous friend!

Find Lindsey Rayl

2010-10-06T14:52:00.001-04:00

Okay, internet, I have some serious things to talk to you about today.

You guys remember Brandy, right? One of my best friends ever? You know, like, EVER?

Her sixteen-year-old sister, Lindsey left home sometime in the middle of the night on October 5th. She stole her mom's car and credit cards and took off for LA to be with a guy named Giovanni. Her phone is off and she last used one of the cards at around 8:30 am in Amarillo, TX on October 5th. LA police think that Lindsey has been lured to LA by this guy Giovanni (goes by "Johnny") and is in serious danger.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, if you are here and you are reading this, send it everywhere. Lindsey's family and friends are very worried.

Stolen from the Website

2010-10-05T15:53:00.001-04:00

With OUR event just less than three weeks from now, I thought you guys should read up...so you will know what to expect when you GET THERE.

Invisible Children--A Nonprofit Organization offering help to the people of Uganda

How it Started

In the spring of 2003, three young filmmakers traveled to Africa in search of a story. What started out as a filmmaking adventure transformed into much more when these boys from Southern California discovered a tragedy that disgusted and inspired them, a tragedy where children are both the weapons and the victims.

After returning to the States, they created the documentary “Invisible Children: Rough Cut,” a film that exposes the tragic realities of northern Uganda.s night commuters and child soldiers.

The film was originally shown to friends and family, but has now been seen by millions of people. The overwhelming response has been, “How can I help?” To answer this question, the non-profit Invisible Children, Inc. was created, giving compassionate individuals an effective way to respond to the situation.

Who We Are

We are storytellers. We are visionaries, humanitarians, artists, and entrepreneurs. We are individuals part of a generation eager for change and willing to pursue it.

As a non-profit we work to transform apathy into activism. By documenting the lives of those living in regions of conflict and injustice, we hope to educate and inspire individuals in the Western world to use their unique voice for change. Our media creates an opportunity for people to become part of a grassroots movement that intelligently responds to what.s happening in the world.

But our work extends beyond our borders. In war-affected regions we focus on long-term development, working directly with individuals and institutions that are eager to realize their full potential. Through education and innovative economic opportunities, we partner with affected communities and strive to improve the quality of life for individuals living in conflict and post-conflict regions.

How We Make a Difference

Our approach to humanitarian work is founded in the strength and intelligence of the Ugandan community. We learned early on it was not only important but essential to heed the wisdom of people that had not only lived in the war, but were surviving it. People who would know better than anyone what the greatest needs were and the best ways to meet them. What we came to find is that while there have been many efforts to address the issues that stem from living and fighting in such a long-lasting war, the people of Uganda are asking for a future beyond the conflict.

Their pleas have become our development strategy.

All of our programming is a partnership between those of us at Invisible Children and those in the Ugandan community. We focus on long-term goals that enable children to take responsibility for their future and the future of their country. Our programs are carefully researched and developed initiatives that address the need for quality education, mentorships, the redevelopment of schools, resettlement from the camps, and financial stability.

http://www.invisiblechildren.com/our-story

Join us!

2010-09-14T09:09:00.001-04:00

Math

2010-09-07T15:21:00.000-04:00

Baked spaghetti < Grandpa's fried spaghetti.

Just sayin'.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

The State I'm In...

2010-09-03T14:38:00.002-04:00

Well, internet, lots of things have changed since we last spoke!

I know, I know. You are all wondering if I have gone and killed Spliffany. And the answer, my friends, is no. I have not murdered my former best friend. Actually, things are going...smoothly. I wouldn't say that we are really "friends" at the moment, but we are cordial. And we are pretty nice to each other (despite the occasional urge I have to rip her throat out with my bare hands. An urge which is diminishing; slowly but surely). She tells me about things and I listen. I do the "smile and nod" when I don't care what she is saying but I try not to be rude. Sometimes we still have our giggling fits at work when something ridiculous occurs and we forget that we don't really like each other. And we chat. Which is much more than I can say for a few short months ago (after the temper tantrum she threw about an upcoming vacation I wanted to take) when she wouldn't speak to me at all. (You must remember that, internet. It was that time when I thought someone had replaced her with a whiney 12-year-old.) The one thing that is interesting about this "relationship" we have right now is that, while she insists on telling me details about her love life and funny things that happen over the weekend, she never inquires about anything that might be going on with me. This is totally not a bad thing for these reasons:

1. I don't ask her anything about her life either. Because I really couldn't care less at this point. And that is not meant to sound harsh or bitter, just truthful.

2. I actually really don't want her to ask.

a) I haven't really ever had a personal life that she wasn't super-involved in. She has known all of my friends, my boyfriends, my family members, since we were only kids. And when you live with someone for as long as we did, nothing is sacred. Up to this point, she knew everything about me. It feels pretty good to have a little effing privacy for once.

b) I've recently started dating someone. This "someone" has been in my life a long time. He has never been someone I could see myself dating...but at one time, he dated Spliff.

Okay, now I know what you're thinking, internet. You're thinking I am a scandalous, horrible meanie with no soul. Well, you are wrong. It isn't like I set out to find "someone" who would keep me busy while simultaneously sort of throwing stuff in Spliff's face. Really. I honestly never even thought of it. But I can see how it might be percieved that way. I'm no dummy.

The thing is, he's really amazing. And this isn't news to me. When he and Spliff were "dating" (this is in quotes because he won't admit that this is what actually happened), she treated him much like a lap dog. She took advantage of his kindness and his generosity and she was shameless and awful. I spoke with her about it before, during, and after the "relationship" and nothing seemed to matter besides how convenient he was for her. I am not going to go into detail here about the way she treats people, because I think you get the idea, but I will say that...well...it ain't good.

So, fast-forward about four years and here we are. And I am really happy. I can't remember the last time that I laughed so often or so hard and I'm not afraid of it. I'm honestly not. We haven't had the ideal start to a relationship (for reasons I won't get into), but we have made it work. And now that it is working, I can't imagine anything better.

So, it might be evident from this post that things are going pretty well over here. I am happy, healthy and free of Bedouin Soundclash. (Still a very, very big part of my happiness, mind you.)

In your FACE, universe.

Love and Blogging

2010-05-25T19:25:00.000-04:00

The interesting thing about living alone is that it affords you all sorts of time you wouldn't normally have to a) think about things you wouldn't normally think about when people are "all up in your grill" and b) read over your blog. I have to say a couple of things here. One being that I think an awful lot.

I was talking to a friend today about first kisses and first loves and all sorts of cutesy things in the spirit of...you know...nothing at all. Actually, with Fish Head getting married in a week, things have been sort of weird for me. Not because I thought I would get married first or that I even see that in my future at all, but that my LITTLE sister is getting married. I see in FH and Mr. Fish Head a whole lot of love. (And he can fight me on this as much as he wants, but I love her more.) I am so proud of her. Not for finding love but for knowing how to maintain it. We weren't raised to know how to do that and I can only speak for me, but I sure as hell don't have the slightest idea how. I could be cynical and cold. Or I could be realistic. The jury's still out. But I have definitely been in love. And I know I couldn't make it last. Fear? Maybe. Idiocy? Probably.

Do I think my "first love" was love? No. But when I found it, I knew what it was. And I ran screaming for the hills. Because that is what stubborn bitches do. Do I regret it? Not entirely. I do, in that I miss that "feeling". I remember every single detail of his face. I remember the exact moment that I knew I was in love. I remember every single word of the first voicemail he left me. I remember the smell of the candles at dinner on our first date. I remember the first instant I saw him. I remember everything. But could I make it work? No. But he wouldn't have wanted me that way. I wasn't ready for him yet. Am I ready now? I have no idea. I would be hard-pressed to say yes.

I respect love. But I don't entirely believe in it.

That is where the blog-reading comes in. You can't read back on some of the posts in my blog and believe that I never believed in love. It is pretty evident that I did. Or do. Maybe I am just hopeful. Either way...Some days, a girl just wants the "feeling" back.

And other days, she wants to kick boys in the teeth.

Digging in the Dirt and the Lack of Biscuits...

2010-05-06T14:07:00.001-04:00

Oh, internet, it has been a while since I decided to grace the blogosphere with my presence, but here I am, ready to go!

The past few weeks have been really busy for me, which is definitely not a bad thing, but leaves me with very little time for blogging or shaving my legs. If I could figure out a way to do these things simultaneously, I'd be in business.

A couple of things:

1. I have taken up pseudo-gardening. I don't have a yard, but I have a very narrow, very useless porch on which I have decided to place pots full of dirt and hope that someday, they will contain more than dirt.

2. I have started (for the 287th time) the South Beach Diet. Tony and I are competing and thus far, I am kicking his ass. I can tell that it will only be a matter of time before I start shanking bitches for biscuits. (I am totally starting a band so that I can't name it "Shanking Bitches for Biscuits".)

3. Next weekend is Fish Head's bachelorette party. All I really have to say about this is that I am going and she is peeved because I don't want to spent a night in a hotel room with a bunch of chicks that I don't know. I don't really know why where I sleep is an issue. But evidently, I am unsupportive and not excited about it because I don't want to share a bed with a stranger. Or a lesbian who has been trying to turn my sister for 6 years. But we won't get into that now, internet.

4. Spliff has gotten over her most recent boy disaster and found herself a new one. Which makes her happier, which makes her easier to tolerate because she isn't walking around scowling constantly. (The last one made her pretty scary for a while.) It also makes for a whole lot of one-sided conversations wherein I say, "uh-huh" a lot. But it is better than wanting to punch her in the throat. Much better than that.

5. This "poking" thing on Facebook is getting out of hand. My phone vibrates 20 times a day because someone has "poked" me. What is the purpose of this? There are so many other ways to communicate on Facebook. Like...I dunno...sending a message? This "poking" thing tells me that you have nothing to say to me. But that you want me to remember that you exist in the world. But still, nothing of interest to say. Seriously, people. Stop poking me. If you were poking me in the real world, I would have kicked you in the teeth by now.

That is all.

Why Work isn't All Bad...

2010-04-27T11:12:00.001-04:00

Conversation with a client:

Him: I just need to know when my paperwork is due because I was talking to my support group and they said that you send all these really nasty letters when paperwork is late. Like you are going to set fire to our first born children and stuff.

Me: Your paperwork was due on 4/22...blah blah blah...

Him: Okay, so if I send it now it won't be late right? Cause I don't want a letter about burning my children.

Me: Yes. And we don't burn children.

Him: Girl, I am a big gay man, so I don't even have any. But you stay away from my wardrobe, that would hurt.

Later...

Him: Sugar plum, you have been a wealth of information. And just incase this call is being recording for quality assurance : You need a corner office with a male secretary who works out, doesn't like to wear shirts, and gives fabulous pedicures and backrubs. And this is buh-bye. Buh-bye!

The First Birthday Without

2010-04-20T17:59:00.000-04:00

Friday would have been my grandpa's 95th birthday. Wow. Ninety-freaking-five, right? That's insane.

I miss him terribly. But it isn't like when my grandma died and I couldn't get out of bed for the two weeks surrounding her birthday. When I think about him, even though I am missing him like crazy, I just smile. I mean, I have been having dreams since I was a little girl where he would die and I would be lost and lonely and scared so maybe I just had time to prepare for the day when it actually happened. And you know, it helped me that he seemed to be ready. He had lost already, the love of his life, lived a long, happy, ridiculously interesting life and knew that his health was steadily getting worse. So maybe there was a little comfort for me in knowing that, even if I wouldn't so easily, he had accepted that it was time.

Still, the day itself holds a lot of memories. And, you know, I would have given anything to have been able to bring him a giant cupcake with a candle in it.

Here's to remembering our beloved Grandpa. And...of course...Charlie Barley. (I miss you...)

Some Debauchery

2010-04-15T16:47:00.004-04:00

So, internet, I have been attempting to blog for the past 5 days. I don't know what is happening, I got all, like, on a roll and stuff...and then BAM! Nothing!

Anyway, you might remember the mention of a possible Randular Festival Visit Spectacular and to be honest, I was fairly certain that good old Randular would wait until the last minute to make up his mind that he was not, in fact, going to grace us with his presence and enjoy the drunken festivities that we locals like to call Springing in the Blues. But, to my surprise, Saturday afternoon, just as Tony and I were about to venture out into the drunken abyss, I got a text that simply read: "Where are you?"

Well, hello, Randular. I am right here waiting for you. (I totally did NOT mean to quote Richard Marx there, but I mean, I kind of was and not in a girlie way, just in a lets go play way. I digress...) Thirty minutes later, the crew (not my crew but some other random posse that had just emerged), Randular, Tony and I were headed out to see the rednecks who live in town...I mean, hear the blues. I have to say, I hadn't heard of anyone who was playing this year and I still haven't. Because really, I think I got too distracted by the older, larger woman in a bathing suit who was giving lapdances to strangers at 4pm. I know, that doesn't sound distracting at all.

By the end of the night, I had run into a few old friends and a couple of newer ones, attempted to locate my cousin and his lady, and managed to go to the bar that I most despise. It was eventful, to say the least. By the time (what time? No idea) Randular and I had had enough, Tony was successfully making friends with everyone standing around us and somehow wrangling free drinks for all. Long Island Iced Teas. No. No. NO. That is the last thing I remember. I can only assume that I drank it because...well...that is the last thing I remember. I know that we left Tony at the bar because he was having fun. And I know that Randular managed to drive to my house, against everyone's better judgment, with one of his side mirrors folded it so no one would hit it when the car was...you know...parked. (What it should have been doing...being parked.)

When I woke Randular up at 5am, freaking out about the lack of a) nosering and b) lack of phone, he humored me and went out to his car to locate the new beloved BlackBerry and didn't even punch me in the throat for being a spazz and searching like a maniac for a tiny piece of metal which could have been anywhere. (Luckily, was just feet from the bed, nestled in carpet. Crisis averted.) So, naturally, I let Randular go back to sleep for a few hours until we simultaneously woke up and tried to piece together the day over a couple of cups of coffee. I tried, like I always do, to call Tony for the old obnoxious morning after phone call. But he didn't answer.

"Weird! You always answer your phone! I hope you aren't dead. If you aren't dead, call me back."

Twenty minutes later, there's Tony, banging on my door yelling about having been punched in the face and robbed on his way home. (We have narrowed it down to Redneck Townies or Beach Police, although, I happen to LOVE the beach police so I disagree with this. But as it was so delicately put to me by Tony, I am not a black man and he is.) Before we knew it, it was 11am, Scotty was pulling in to my driveway with a case of beer, and Tony was chain-smoking my cigarettes. Happy Sunday morning! Turns out, Scotty used to work with my new neighbor, so before too long, the neighbors, their dog, child and parrot, were outside on porch with us. (This is possibly the best way to meet your new neighbors, by the way.)

The rest of the day went by really quickly. Involving some pizzas and some shooters and a little bit of Missy. And by 8pm, I was at home, in bed with my beloved Ernge. Satisfied in the fact that Tony wasn't dead, the phone and nose stud were located and intact, and I got to see Randular, I was able to sleep it off. For the most part, anyway.

Some highlights of the workweek so far include:

I got an email from Casper that said, "Also, did you know that dolphins are just gay sharks?" (OVERJOYED that this was not a picture of a placenta sandwich.)

I made lasagna for the first time and realized, the moment that I put it in the oven, that Ernge had not stopped yelling since I made the sauce. All of a sudden, the fact that people always called him Garfield (hence his fatty, adorable, orangeness) all made sense to me. More so than ever.

I just poured a glass of red wine and Etta James came on my iPod. I suddenly feel like I should be slow-dancing in a dim candle-lit room with some tall handsome dude. Hmmm. Maybe tomorrow.

Brandy wrote me a song. It goes a little something like this, "C-C-C-Crizzle and the Jets, CRIZZLE, CRIZZLE, CRIZZLE...Criz-zle and the Jetttts." It sounds a little familiar to me, but it has a nice ring.

That is all for now, internet. I have to go and find someone to slow-dance with.

Things I Never Said (Part Deux)

2010-04-07T17:32:00.002-04:00

So, I did this a while ago, I stole the concept from This Fish and I totally dug it. I just read my last one and thought it might be a little like therapy to do it again. So, here goes...

I am not sure you realize how much you mean to me and that hurts. I blame myself.

I didn't mean what I said when we spoke last, I was drunk and you are one of my best friends. I really wish you would get over yourself. I miss you and you would think I had said something BAD.

Someone just called me Puddin' and I didn't know what to do.

If we hadn't known each other so long, I would never speak to you. You are a self-centered, heinous bitch. And I hope that someone tells you so, very soon.

I hope that you know how much I loved you. I think I said it enough, but I hope you felt it enough.

I am sort of glad that things didn't work out between us.

You were never any good in bed (with the exception of that one time in your car). I loved you anyway.

I dropped your toothbrush in the toilet. Oops.

I really wish you would crawl out of her ass. You are a beautiful person and you have so much more to offer the world.

Sometimes I envy you. Just because you are all the things I will never be.

If you were smarter and had a better job, I might go out with you.

I am so lucky to have had you. And I am so sorry that it took me so long to realize it.

I still resent you, but I am working on it.

I am not really sure what you want from me. I am also not really sure what I am willing to give.

Spring has Sprung

2010-04-07T15:35:00.002-04:00

Well, internet, more than halfway through the week and not only am I still exhausted but I am insanely bored. Work has been rather uneventful this week. You know, aside from the constant Spliff chatter and/or cackle which I have, about 90% of the time, been able to drown out with my iPod, "Shabuta Jenkins 2.0". The only plans I have for the entire week include a trip to check out a new gym and, you know, to drink a lot of flat beer at Springing in the Blues.

There is talk of Randular coming in to town to celebrate Spring or Blues or...you know...beer, but plans have not been finalized. Part of me is super excited to see him because it has been too long and another part of me is just hoping that he does not want to stay with me because I really need to take up the whole bed and sleep as late as I want. And while Randular is not a massive person, he takes up more of the bed than...none of the bed. And he gets up really early. And I, for the life of me, do not understand early-risers. (Why do you people DO this?! And don't say "internal alarm clock" because that doesn't even make sense. Nature would not have you wake up at ungodly hours like you do. New excuse.)

Randular or no Randular though, I plan to spend most of my weekend, relaxing in the grass, flat beer in hand, taking in some blues music and being glad that my toes aren't frozen. Welcome Springtime. I have missed you.

FH and Mr. FH's Co-Ed Bridal Shower Extravaganza

2010-04-05T15:47:00.001-04:00

First, I would like to say that I am exhausted. I have cooked more food in the last week than I have in my entire life. (This is probably not true, but I think that it is pretty close.) I have taken a few good whacks at a pinata, drank my weight in homemade sangria, danced with my step-dad, been beaten up on my numerous cousins and one uncle, made 37 trips to various grocery stores, argued with my friend's completely ignorant boyfriend, forced FH and Mr. FH to wear a tiara and crown (of course, Mr. FH had to wear the tiara that said, "Bride to Be". That is a total lie. Although, I thought that it would have been fun), chased Tony with the pinata stick, and got to play with LBG! And most of that was just Saturday, internet, and I feel like I might collapse.

Fish Head and Mr. Fish Head's Co-Ed Bridal Shower Extravaganza was fun though. I was so busy, I didn't have time to be overwhelmed by the amount of family gathered in one place. And, to be fair, my step-sister and her husband didn't show up and that really would have been the source of most of the punchiness. I hate my brother-in-law. Hate. But I am not going to get into that because he ranks so insanely high on the douchebag scale, that talking about him somewhere like my personal blog makes me feel dirty and wrong. Blek.

Anyway, so the lack of HIM, was a nice surprise. (It ensured that no jobless old loser would be following me around begging for cigarettes and trying to fit in with the younger dudes by cussing entirely too much and being generally idiotic...Blek.) The food turned out really well and I only wanted to kick my mom once or twice and basically just because I sat down twice in the first 7 hours I was there and both times, it was like she had radar. She found me and made me cook something or stir something, or play bartender. And, you know, for a shower of any variety, it was a blast. (I tend to not mind the ones where I know everyone, but FH is having another where I will know NO ONE in just about a month. Hooray. This is the one that will make me want to jump out the window, internet, this will be it.)

I can't even really remember the rest of the weekend. The whole thing happened so fast and in a whirlwind of gluten-free deliciousness, it was gone. I am pretty sure, though, judging from the amount of sangria I made, and how quickly it disappeared, that everyone had a good time. Or at least a drunk time.

Thanks to everyone who showed up to make my little Fish Head smile.

Crizzle OUT.

A Party and A Wind Tunnel

2010-04-01T11:56:00.001-04:00

This weekend, internet, is the big Fish Head and Mr. Fish Head Co-Ed Bridal Shower Extravaganza. Luckily, my office is closed tomorrow for Good Friday (I don't know how good it will be since it will be spent with The Mother doing things like cleaning shrimp and chopping tomatoes, but...) and I will hopefully have time to get everything done that needs to be done before the big party. Also, I hope to get a haircut...because, holy crap, internet, my hair is not a joke.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I might be becoming a softie. But keep in mind, the last shower I went to was for my best friend. Of 18 years. And most of the people there were my friends. (And I only had to bring a thong and a broom.) And this, internet, is my little sister! I would do anything for FH. (You know, give her a kidney or whatever. ) And boys are invited. So, naturally, I invited Tony so that he can eat food. Because really, that is sort of all that concerns him and what kind of friend would I be if I didn't point him towards the home-cooking? Exactly! He is a growing boy....errrr...something like that.

Anyway, there should be a good turnout and hopefully, the registry is no reflection of the giftage. (Seriously? Who buys a couple ONE placemat out of the FOUR they registered for? WHO? Yes, someone actually did this.) Now I just have to find somewhere to hang that giant flip-flop pinata, make some deliciousness in the form of ceviche, and hope that I don't screw up my first gluten-free cake. Wish me luck!

Some other things of note:

1. I am throwing myself a shower. It will be an "I am not getting married and I don't like kids, now buy me things" shower. I think it will work.

2. Casper just emailed me a picture of a placenta sandwich that sort of made me throw up in my mouth a little. Thanks, Casper.

3. When I came into work this morning, half of the office was swampland due to a broken toilet. There are people here trying to fix it and I currently feel trapped in a rose-scented wind tunnel.

4. I am wondering if guys have some gene that tells them that a girl is absolutely interested in them if she ignores their calls. Every time.

5. I just actually hissed and made my hand into a claw because my work phone rang. I think it might be time for a break.

That is all, internet. Please keep your fingers crossed that The Mother and I can see each other three days in a row without hurting each other. Thank you.

Pancakes and Pinatas

2010-03-29T14:09:00.001-04:00

Well, internet, it has been a busy week, followed by a busy weekend, followed by a ridiculously long Monday (which, mind you, is still not over).

Friday, since Pookie and I were supposed to be attending a funeral but didn't (It was really far away and Pookie has a tendency to be more concerned with *The Silver Fox than anything else these days), I blew off the rest of the planet and other potential plans to fall asleep at 8pm, wake up at 10, make pancakes and then go back to sleep. I don't even like pancakes. Why did I make them? Because I live alone. And if I wake up at 10pm and want to make pancakes, dammit, I am going to make some effing pancakes. Word.

Saturday, my mom and I ran all over town looking for decorations and favors and you know, a giant flip-flop shaped pinata for Fish Head's co-ed Bridal Shower. We were pretty successful (especially in the pinata department) and managed to find a lot of fun stuff. Now I have to concentrate on baking gluten free cake and making ceviche. Ugggghhh.

After the shopping was over, Tony wisked me away to a 40th birthday party, where there was yet another pinata. This time we actually got to play with it which, I would like to point out, is hilarious when you have had some "Crunk Juice" and get to watch Tony swinging a multi-colored stick around until finally hitting it, knocking it completely down and then toppling over. Classic. First, there is nothing funnier in the world to me than watching people fall down. But watching TONY fall down? Oh that is GOOD stuff.

After we'd had enough 40th birthday fun, Tony and I headed out to meet Wheels and CB out at the only club that I will set foot in. We poured one for our homie John (actually, we just kind of, you know, drank one for him. Stop being so technical, internet, I am trying to update you on my weekend! Sheesh.) We had a good time, at least, I had a good time. I can only assume that Tony did too, seeing as when a bachelorette party full of Asian girls walked in, I never saw him again. You know, until the Ugly Lights came on and I literally had to drag him away from them. I was perfectly content to stay there and let him get his last few minutes of dancing in before they threw him out, but while I was standing against the bar watching him, I suddenly became aware of someone booty dancing on me. Despite my many, many attempts to get him away from me, he had an unwavering will. He was born to boogie, ya'll.

Me: Who ARE you?

Him: (Boogie, boogie boogie)

Me: Ummm...Seriously. Who are you?

Him: (drop it like its hot)

Me: Okay...nevermind then.

This is when I had to get Tony and, well...Leave.

There is still a lot to do for the shower, but I managed to take yesterday all for me and do the things that adults do. You know, laundry, dishes, and dinner and "LOST" with Rack. (Yes, I am finally caught up! Woot!) I even, almost, got through a whole day without envisioning punching Spliff in the face. And of this, internet, I am proud. (Not too proud though, I said "almost".)

This week's gonna be a killer. Wish me luck!

* The Silver Fox is Pookie's new boyfriend. Who is old and married to someone else. So, naturally, he is perfect. Gross.

Smells like...Emo?

2010-03-25T22:21:00.003-04:00

Sometimes, Internet, I really wish it was, like, 1994. Remember 1994? (If you don't, get out. You are too young to read this blog. Your mother will kill you.)

In 1994, if you were sad and wore plaid, you were normal. Now? If you are sad, you are emo, and while I am really not sure if that is good or not, it means you dress really...badly...and if you wear plaid, you are trendy (read: slutty, because everything that is plaid now, is really short and frightening and this is not how we did it...You...ummmm...no.)

I liked 1994. I did. If you looked sad, you were cool. And even if you weren't sad, you tried to look as if you were because then you could walk around the 8th grade hallways and no one would fuck with you. But now? There is no Nirvana. You can't get away with the cute sad. The thing is, if you weren't sad in 1994 when it WAS cute, right? And you are sad in 2010 when it isn't cute...what the hell do you do? Now it is called "Emo" evidently...what is that? What IS that?!

I miss 1994. When people screamed about things that mattered. Like, deodorant and daddy issues.

Best Facebook Message EVER

2010-03-23T22:50:00.002-04:00

I am having a drunk moment, but I haven't had a stupid, drunken, stoned, stoked, hungover or lustful Crizzle moment in far too long. Crizzle moment being the point. I really miss you. Love you lots. XOXO

Some Thoughts on Disrespect

2010-03-19T14:49:00.002-04:00

Alright, internet, I promise to drop the Spliff talk after this. (Maybe, it really is the most annoying thing going on in my life right now, and what would I do if I didn't share it with you? Explode? Possibly.)

The situation is this, evidently. On Monday, after speaking with a few people about a trip to North Carolina to visit some family and some friends there who all live in different places, I requested off some dates in August. Among those dates is Spliff's 30th Birthday. Okay, now maybe I should have thought about this before agreeing to the dates, but I really didn't think about it much because we can both be out of the office at the same time and have been before, so you know, it really doesn't make any difference at all. Right? No. Absolutely NOT right.

She tells me today that I was "disrespectful" by requesting her birthday off. Because you know, she MIGHT want to go out of town. "Or something." Really? So I offered to reschedule so as not to anger it. She did the passive-aggressive stupid BS that she always does and said, "No, don't cancel it, it doesn't matter." Clearly. When things don't matter, naturally, you have a temper tantrum and refuse to speak to people. I mean, isn't that the way everyone handles stuff?

Oh. Really? Only 12-year-olds do that?

Good to know.

So then I get to thinking, internet, about why requesting time off is ever disrespectful I mean, every day is someone's birthday. But usually other things are happening too. Like things that aren't about you. Right? I mean, I am correct here? Other things happen?

Well, that's what I thought.

So then I started thinking some more, internet, about some other things. Disrespect, in general.

I didn't share this little tidbit before because it is a little more personal than I care to get on the interweb, but I think it is an appropriate example of disrespect. Ahem...

A couple of months ago, actually, the day that Spliff and I had the talk about living UN-together, a few friends came over. Among them, internet, was a guy that I had been seeing very casually for the past few weeks. She was aware of this, proceded to get retarded drunk and throw herself at him. Now, he is a moron and I knew that I didn't want anything serious with him. But this is not a free pass to get drunk and practically attempt to swallow him in my very own living room. Is it? I mean, it isn't...right?

You must understand here, do I like this guy? No. Was I upset with him? No. Was that shit disrespectful? HELL YES. And he is an idiot dude and I have known him WAY long enough to know what to expect from him, but her? Really? Did I stop talking to her and throw a temper tantrum? No. Did I have a reason to? Yeah, I think I did. I should have probably just punched her in the throat right then and there, but I am an adult. Imagine that.

Now internet, I would like to to take what I have just told you into consideration and tell me which of these scenarios is more disrespectful. Go ahead. I'll wait.