Birthday Snapshots

My birthday toast with Fida Aziz (an old junior high friend who has the same birthday,) was interesting... Sex on the Beach shots from a bartender at Macaroni Grill who hadn't made (had?) Sex on the Beach in awhile.

My lovely calendar from Tom. (Chip-en-Dale.)

The pj's from Denise that I ended up wearing much later in the evening and obsessing over the bow on the front of the shirt.

The card from Bradley that he demanded I opened first, so that in the off-chance I received a duplicate card his would be the original.

Birthday cake that was the size of a large sandwich.

Pat's amazement over Tom's GPS system in his new car.

The boots. (The heels....)

The shot that took me half an hour to actually do, that surprisingly made it down my throat and not into my cleavage.

Dancing... with Tom. With Kristin. And with Tom, Kris, and Pat. (Minus holy spirit room on all occasions.)

Almost going into the guys bathroom with Kris.

Not knowing who RP was... and being upset that some random guy would be sitting on "our" couch in the Velvet Dog and not belong in "our" group, even though it was quite obvious to everyone but the (getting very) drunk me that he actually was part of "our" group and belonged to Jenny B. (Who did say hi to me, but I don't remember that very clearly.)

Falling asleep (almost passing out) on Tom's shoulder in the bar, and waking up to concerned friends and the awful feeling of nausea.

Trying to walk to the car in the boots.

Trying to be quiet and professional in the hotel lobby and failing miserably as a drunk Kris points out the lovely Christmas trees, and I attempt loudly to "SHH" everyone.

Worrying about my wrap, not wanting it on the floor and making sure it wasn't lost.

Repeating numerous times: "I want this to be over." "I don't like this." "Is it over?" "Am I going to throw up?" "I don't like throwing up." "Is it over?" "TOM...." "I'm sorry."

Kris repeating after my complaints: (Me: "Is it over?") Kris: "Are we there yet?"

Wanting to put on my pj shirt but not getting undressed. (Tom asking me if he would have to undress me, and me being petulant and telling him that it's not like he hasn't seen it all before.)

Finally laying down and everyone falling asleep, only to be frequently woken up by loud snoring.

Whispering (loudly) to Tom that I was glad he didn't snore because I would have to kill him. (Only to be woken up later by him snoring.)

Pat telling me in the morning that I said to Tom: "I'm a bad girl when I drink. Remember the last time we did this?" Followed by me giggling.

Tom not telling me if I put any drunken moves on him.

Again going through the lobby attempting to act un-hungover, (or un-drunk,) and Kris dropping her corset in the middle of the lobby floor and not noticing she dropped it.

Finally getting home to realize that I had lost my wrap that I had been so concerned with losing.

Planning on never doing that again.

(It will be interesting to see what everyone else has to add, considering I don't remember great portions of the later evening.)

The End.

Inside Bad, Outside Bitchy.

I just found out this evening that Billy Bob, or whatever his code name was, is flying out to meet his new girlfriend's parents sometime soon. And that she will be moving to wonderful Cleveland in April or May.

When I was in elementary school, one summer Kris and I were playing soccer in her backyard with some of the neighbor kids. Soccer is what drove us apart in fourth grade, (she was into sports and I was not at all...) but for some reason I had agreed to be goalie for this one game. All I remember is that Kris kicked the ball towards me, and it came directly in contact with my stomach and I got the wind knocked out of me. Then there was that shocked feeling that drove through your whole body, and the sickly feeling at the pit of your stomach.

I feel the same way right now. Like he took a running punch at my stomach.

Why did I have to become the punching bag?

You're Amazing... But....

Don't you hate that phrase? It's like, okay I know I am amazing. Just skip that part and tell me what went wrong.

There is a line forming of people waiting to tell me "I told you so."

Go ahead. I'm actually in line myself.

I think the best part of him telling me was the when he said that if things didn't work out between the two of them, (when she realizes she doesn't want to move to crappy Cleveland??) that perhaps one day things could work out between us.

Yes, I did laugh at him and told him not to expect me to be waiting around.

As a wise woman once said: "A guy isn't worth it unless he will swim through shark infested waters to deliver you a [fucking] lemonade."

And don't expect me to be waiting for my lemonade. I think I've learned my lesson by now, I'm just going to get off my ass and get it myself.

All Grown Up.

My mother said that my sister wanted clothes for Christmas. At first I thought she was talking about Kel, but no. Lindsey all of a sudden is into clothes. (??) This was the sister that only wanted a dog, (which she now has,) and refused to wear pink. This is the sister who worshipped Eminem. This is the sister that says "duh" and "whatever," rolls her eyes, snorts, and flairs her nostrils. This is the sister that had a quote about how voting booths were like having sex (you go in and come out real fast...? or something to that nature,) on her profile but when I told her to take it off she admitted she didn't know what it meant and it was from someone else's profile.

But now she is "into" clothes. (And her away message has been changed to "shopping is a sport.") Sigh. When did she grow up? The next thing I know she'll have a steady boyfriend.

Which reminds me of my boyfriends back in sixth and seventh grade.


Hahahahahaaa.

Remember when I told Katie to dump Brian because she didn't like him? Then an hour later I wrote Brian a note asking him to go out with me? (And remember how he laughed in my face when he read it, but said yes later?) And remember how he called my house and I was in bed (at like nine pm,) and my father yelled at him for calling "so late?"

Muahhhahaaaa. What craziness elementary school dating was.

That's all I have to say about that.

Ladybugs

"When I was little girl, I used to spend hours looking for ladybugs. Finally, I would just give up and fall asleep in the grass. When I woke up, they were crawling all over me."
- Under the Tuscan Sun

This is how I feel. That I'm searching and searching for ladybugs and I just need to give up and get on with my life and then maybe, just maybe I'll wake up and they'll be crawling all over me.

Then I'd probably freak out, because I'm not so much a fan of bugs all over me, even if they were ladybugs, but that ruins the moral of the story.

But where are they? I'm waiting calmly. Unfortunately I think falling asleep in the grass in hopes of waking up to ladybugs defeats the purpose.

~

Meh.

Meh. My new word for "I'm not feeling good but I can't put to words what doesn't feel good." Perhaps it's the bronchitis. Perhaps it's the cough medicine talking. Who knows. (The cough medicine last night liked talking about threesomes and $100 Create-Your-Own-Dildo-Kits... so who knows.)

Girls who put yellow smiles on their AIM profiles should be hit in the head with a brick. One smile is torture, but five or six... one after every sentence... bad. Just bad.

Yes, there is such a thing as a Create-Your-Own. It's featured in the January Marie Claire. Look it up for yourself, and stop thinking about how exactly it works.

Oprah today had this guy on who wrote a soon to be famous book - He's Just Not That Into You.

Let me just say, wow. Every woman should read this. It's like those bricks that half the girls on my buddy list have now embedded in their skulls. Hello!? Wake up call. (A "Knock me up" in London. Poor Americans who think they are going to get laid by a Brit when instead the phone rings at eight AM for their "wake up call.")

I have now a list of men that is quite short, well, non-existent. They just weren't that into me, eh? Well hey, I wasn't that into (all) of them either.

Ok, I lie.

Stop looking at me like that. I swear, it's the medicine speaking.

Goodnight dearies.