Thursday, June 24, 2010

Tie a blue ribbon

For the last few years, I've been attending the Renaissance Pleasure Faire. It's only here for a few weeks out of they year and I usually go several times: A “family” trip…where I take the Brat and her friends, and again with the girl friends (if you follow me on the twittah, you will see that I twitpic'd the hell out of this year's trips). Not surprisingly, the girl friend trip is a little more bawdy. It contains more drinking, more flirting and a lot more of the risque talk.


Also not so surprisingly, it was during one of the girl friend trips to the Ren Faire that I was introduced to the practice of kilt checking. In Ren Faire speak, it is asking a gentleman if he is regimental. In plain speaking, it is the practice of asking a man wearing a kilt if he's wearing any underwear. Depending on the boldness of the asker, you can lie on the ground and have the fella walk over you so you can get an eyeful or you can run your finger up the side of his thigh and check for boxers/briefs. Guess which I am? Heh.

HOWEVER, please be aware that if you are going to ask a gentleman if he is regimental, you should have a blue ribbon to award him for being so.

My friend, who had to bail at the last minute was going to be bringing the blue ribbon. And since we only had a few blue ribbons (they were tied to my sister’s chalice---her fancy medieval drinking cup, we didn’t do very many kilt checks…and sadly, there were many kilts in attendance. On the way home, we discussed how NEXT TIME, we were going to packing plenty of blue ribbon.

So naturally, I get home to find that a gift I had received but not opened was tied with a ginormous length of blue ribbon. Of course.




PictureMail sent with the message, It is SO ON for next year.




And then I went to Vegas a couple of weekends ago. As me and my friends were heading back to our hotel, who should be stumble into at 4AM but a VERY gorgeous Scotsman wearing...a kilt. And as I was drunk, and used to being the person who asked complete strangers inappropriate questions, I asked him was he regimental.



WHY DO I NEVER HAVE BLUE RIBBON WHEN I NEED IT?!

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

A gift and a bunch of other stuff

My friend Mo wants to go to Vegas for a girl's weekend to celebrate her birthday. Yeah, I know. Me? Another Vegas trip? Hard to believe. /sarcasm. ANYWHOOTS, she invited a couple of her cousins...and she's hoping that we'll all get along. We've all been sending facebook messages fast & furious-like because we're all kind of excited to run away from home and hang out for the weekend. So I decided to send her an e-mail, mostly to tell her that me & MLB bought her a t-shirt. But I decided to tell her some other stuff while I was at it.

============================================

Hey Mo!

I’m so excited that we’re going to Vegas. AGAIN. I’m bringing my flask. And filling it with Vodka. Also, I will TRY not to pick any fights (I will leave that to MLB or maybe "The Drunk Mo". Kidding...Sorta.). I will try not to get so drunk that I wander off, but if he’s cute, please allow me to wander as far as the nearest bar for another drink, please & thank you.


Also, Mo, because we love you, and you didn’t want to spend your Vegas money on it – we bought you a shirt. Happy Birthday, bitch. (In case you're wondering, mine says "I'm the married one". What are the chances it will stop the cute boys from buying me drinks?My guess? Slim to none.) We’re wearing them on Saturday.

I hope your cousins are aware that your friends are rude, crude and socially unacceptable… and that we like to drink, flirt and say inappropriate (and sometimes politically incorrect) things.

Please feel free to forward this e-mail as a warning ...as an F your I.

Wuv u.

Am I an awesome friend or what?

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Better

Thursday night/Friday I was sitting in the Emergency Department praying for the Man to get better. SOON. And he did. They released him Friday afternoon. But in the typical “I’m feeling FINE stop worrying” attitude, he did too much and ended up sick AGAIN Saturday.

Saturday. The day we were scheduled to have Champagne/Birthday Party at my house for one of my best friends in the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD (Her son's Prom was scheduled on her birthday). I’ve known her since I was 5 years old (and believe it or not, she still likes me). I introduced her to her son's father, and I was a constant babysitter when they split and she worked crazy hours to support them.

The Man, who loves her son like one of his own, was determined to see him off for his prom. No matter what.




(yes. He rolled out of his sickbed long enough to say cheese because my friend INSISTED he take a picture even though he looks like hell and because I'm a jerk I posted it on the internet for the world to see)

You'll be happy to know, that he's doing MUCH better today.

P.S. Thanks all of you for your well wishes. I needed them.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

The thoughts I keep inside my head

So it's like 10:45 in the evening and I'm sitting in the Emergency Room. The Man is sick. I really, REALLY hate it when he's sick. He's been sick before, and he's been sick recently, and every. single. I tell him he's gonna be okay, but in the back of my mind, I worry that he won't be.

Now that they've pumped him full of Morphine for his pain, I can cry without worrying him, or having HIM trying to comfort ME while he's lying there in his hospital gown, with his IV and the blanket we always take when he has to go to the hospital (no matter what hospital we go to, you can be sure it's gonna be FREEZING). I don't have to tell him that he's going to be fine when I'm desperately afraid that he won't be and that one of these days he's not going to make it. I know the body can stand a lot of pain, and that he has been through worse...but what if he doesn't want to anymore? What if he just...gives up?

I try not to let these thoughts of doom and gloom get to settled in my head. I have to be strong for him. I kiss his head and tell him that I love him (because if something does happen, I want it to be the last thing that I said to him), and I shove the scary thoughts out of my head again. He tells me that he loves me too (for the same reason?) and goes back to sleep.

And I will read my book and sit here. When he wakes up, I'll be sitting here waiting for whatever happens next. No tears, no drama, calmly ready to help The Man with whatever he needs, for as long as he needs it.

and I'll say a quiet prayer that he'll be okay. Please let him be okay.

Girl talk

You know how you get together with your friends and share your secrets? This post is gonna be just like that...only, on the interwebs.

What do I want to talk about? What do I want you to tell me ALL about? I wanna know what makes you feel sexy. But I want to know over here.

So come on over. Tell me what you do to get 'em hot.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Hai. I'm an asshole.

I believe in fair warning, so I have been known to tell my co-workers that I'm sort of a jerk. That way, when I do something jerky (like watch you knock over a stack of charts and then say "hey, you dropped something"), no one is surprised.

I AM a professional, mostly, so I try to keep my dislike of co-workers to myself. Or at least, I try not to make it OBVIOUS. Ahem. But there's always one, you know? That one co-worker who makes it realllly hard to like them. For whatever reason. And maybe this co-worker is not a horrible person, but for some reason, you just...can't. I cannot stand her. I am completely aggravated by her and I really have a hard time hiding it. Let's call her the nickname that I've given her already: Noxeema Jackson. And this is REALLY what she looks like: Wesley Snipes, in a dress. And I imagine that she gets dressed in the morning for work like this.

Recently, she's taken to trying to become my BFF, for no reason I can imagine. We had a staff meeting where she made it a point to ask me about some random thing that I did several months ago, that she had already asked me about when she called me about some equally unimportant thing, several months ago. She's invited me to come to her apartment and lay by her pool, to go go-karting, to go the jazz festival...blah, blah.BLAH. Every time I have to send an (work-related) e-mail to her, she tries to make it personal and/or attempts to invite me to her kid's basketball game. Every conversation, which is as rare as I can make it, she finds a way to bring her deceased husband of five or so years into the conversation. She tries to convince me, and everybody else that she was a model in her younger years (please see: Wesley Snipes in a dress. Also, nope.com)

So the other day, our department was "strongly encouraged" (read: not mandatory, but really kinda is) to attend some award ceremony, as one of our co-workers was receiving a fancy award. Toward the end, I decide to cut out with a couple of other co-workers (the newlywed and the mouse) because a) it had already been an hour and a half b) my co-worker had already received her award and c) I was tired of listening to this long ass award ceremony that wasn't even HALF over yet. And I see Noxeema get up as I walk past to catch up with me out of the corner of my eye (I would never look directly at her because she would take that as an invitation to engage, which...it wasn't).

I start walking faster. Because Noxeema is also an AMAZON, she is catching up quick. But I am smarter; so I know she's not going to scream my name while in front of all of these people and so I can pretend like I didn't see her since I didn't look directly at her. While I still have the head start, I cut into the bathroom around a corner before she can catch up to me. And while, I'm there, I decide to, you know...pee. So when she peeked in, she didn't see me. As I'm finishing, the mouse comes in and tells me that she DID come in looking for me, but is gone now. The Newlywed says that I disappeared but when she turned around Noxeema was standing there. And then I had to admit that I sorta ditched her by hiding in the can.

I feel a little bad because I know that she's trying, for whatever reason. And I don't make it easy. But I really don't wanna make nice unless it's absolutely necessary, i.e. Staff Meetings. And when I see her in staff meetings, I am almost the epitome of professional, and attempt to keep all smartassy comments to myself.

Except one:

I'll see you later, unless I see you first.


(see? I told you. I'm an asshole.)

Monday, May 10, 2010

My Weekend (In Pictures)

Friday
Saturday


Sunday (Happy Mother's Day!)

And if you're wondering about Monday...