The Burning Question

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.

A Shower with No Water.

So, I think that everyone on the planet knows how I feel about weddings, baby showers, bridal showers and anything that involves a bunch of giggling and/or mushy shit...so you might be surprised to know that I attended LBG's bridal shower over the weekend and did not puke. In fact, I didn't even WANT to puke. (This is HUGE for me!)

 

For starters, LBG and I have been friends since we were 12, so I obviously enjoy hanging out with her and we don't get much time to do that these days, so naturally, I couldn't NOT go.  Secondly, I got to see a bunch of people that I haven't seen in ages and carve a penis out of a cucumber! How can you not have fun while watching all of your friends create penis art? 

 

I wasn't sure what to expect when I was asked to bring 1) a broom, 2) a pair of underwear, and 3) nail polish remover. In fact, the only one of those items that was of any use, was my black lace thong...and that was only useful for a minute when LBG was guessing who belonged to which underwear and insisting that mine was belonged to Jess. 

 

Normally, any party involving that many chicks and no boys is not my cup of tea, but in all fairness, there were two boys there, they just happened to be gay boys. So...they counted. Sort of.  Either way, we got to wrap LBG up in a dress made up entirely of toilet paper (to which she says to me, "This probably isn't even the first time you have done this to me"...because, lets be honest...Just because I don't remember wrapping my best friend in toilet paper, doesn't mean it hasn't happened.) Jess and I took home a lot of prizes because of her penis carving skills along with her mastery of other bridal shower games.  (These games are strange, internet. At one point, I was standing in a front yard in the middle of the afternoon with pantyhose tied around my waist with limes in the foot part, swinging them around trying to knock stuff over...Yes. This was the object of the game. I was not just doing that because I felt like it.)

 

I am super glad, though, that I did not get pulled over on the way home because the array of weird shit I had on my person and in my car, would have surely caused questions.

 

Ahem...

1. The thong in my purse.

2. Queso dip.

3. A broom.

4. Two sandwiches.

5. Something called "Orgasmic Teardrop". (You will have to use your imagination for this because, well...I don't really want to get into it with you, internet, we are not that kind of friends.)*

6. A teapot. (and tea)

7. An air freshener.

8. A candle.

9. Nail polish remover and cotton balls.

10. Banana Now and Laters.

 

When I got home and emptied the contents of my purse and bag out onto the table, I thought Spliff was going to fall down. (Mostly because of the Orgasmic Teardrop...but...you know...) That is how you know that you have had a successful day. Right there.

 

*I don't carry it around in my purse, okay....it was a PRIZE, you perverts.

 

Spliffday

So, today was Spliff's 27th birthday. She said she didn't really feel like getting drunk and acting like an idiot so she spent the weekend with family in O-Town, which gave me time to plan the surprise dinner for tonight.

I asked The Idiot to take her out for martinis and woo her with hot bartenders and vodka and he agreed. When she got home, I had prepared fresh mango salsa to top the baked tilapia paired with black beans and yellow rice. She was shocked.

No one really ever gives a shit about my birthday...it is a major holiday and all of my friends are usually gone to see their families, but it means so much more to me when I can make a friend's birthday something special. And maybe I am just living through them, but seeing Spliff's face when she saw the people that were here to celebrate HER, made me feel like gold. Better than gold even. I felt amazing. I felt so proud. Not because the food was incredible (which it WAS, if I do say so, myself...) but because I had completely surprised my best friend. Because I had made her day a little bit brighter...and that, my friends, is a great feeling.

My grandmother died on her favorite holiday...Christmas...which is also my birthday...I was 23. No one really knew what to do...Jess threw a little get-together at her apartment which was the only thing that got me through it. She made the turkey (her first time) and stuffing...and everything you would want for Christmas dinner...and because I had been at the hospital all day and had eaten nothing, it was the best dinner ever...it didn't matter...it was the best birthday because my friends were there...celebrating me...but it was the worst ever, because I was mourning my favorite person...ever...

In July, Tory and Chris and Brandy and Spliff threw me a surprise 23.5 birthday party. And it was possibly the best thing that anyone has ever done for me. So, I appreciate the element of surprise. And I love my fucking friends. I love Tory for being the light in my life for years, I love The Idiot for not ever leaving my side, I love LBG for being the sister I could have never imagined, and I love Spliff for being...well... she is hard to put into words...she is a sister, a soulmate, a fucking hero...and I am so glad that I could make her birthday special...I love you, Spliff!!! You rock my face off...and I hope that you realize how much your friendship means to me...every day...every freaking day, bitch!

Warped

Tomorrow, for the first time since 1996, I am going to the Warped Tour. I feel too old to attend.

The first time I went, I was 16. I was accosted by the "girlfriends" of Limpbizkit (yes, I knew them before they got all...retarded...) and given a free ticket and an assload of pot. I spent the day smoking out of Fred's new "gravity bong" in the band room and listening to Magic Mike bitching at me about not bringing an extra joint, passing out from heat exhaustion, and having cold Zephyrhills poured on my face by both JB and John Otto. Yeah...but I got to see Pennywise. And 311. And Blink 182 before they sold out. I know...You're jealous.

LBG is not a common concert goer. In fact, she rarely goes to any shows. And the good ones that she has been to (TRICKY) were with me. Because I rock. Anyway, I feel like this: I don't have anything else to do...she is depressed, I am a mess. We will have a great time. We will be old enough to drink beer...(We will be the oldest bastards there.) But Pennywise will be there again. And...well...I may be old...but I sure do like Pennywise...

What in hell do 16 year olds like these days anyway? Jared Leto's lame-ass band?

Music as Memories

I’ve been hearing a lot of music today that I haven’t heard in a long time. Music is one of those things that helps to preserve memories of events and people for me and while I’ve been sitting here at work…you know, um…working, I have been reminded of a lot of good stuff…just thought I would share some of that in an attempt to ignore my headache…and you know…I am a sucker for music memes…

Here are some of the songs that I’ve attached memories to…

1. “Life in Mono” – Mono : Tory and I used to listen to this song on repeat while waiting for the headlights of the Prelude. (1998)
2. “Sylvia’s Mother” – Dr. Hook : I had a friend named Silvia. My dad used to drop me off at her house so that we could go to Einstein’s on Friday nights. The Grateful Dad would sing this song, the ENTIRE way to drop me off. (1995)
3. “Super Bon Bon” – Soul Coughing : Driving to Live Oak with Brandy and Tory (none of us having any idea how to drive) in a Crown Victoria (and almost dying in the process) to see Soul Coughing, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and Neil Young. (1996)
4. “It’s a Shame about Ray” – The Lemonheads : Tosh Mosh and I taped this video from MTV and watched it every day after school. Evan Dando + Johnny Depp = My favorite music video. EVER. (1994)
5. “Detachable Penis” – King Missile : First, Robby, one of the famous Middle School friends, used to write me notes, in which he would include drawings and/or blatant descriptions of his own “detachable penis” (1993). Second, getting stoned with Spliff and trying to sing it, but only coming up with the words “perpetual tenis”.(2002)
6. “The Brews” – NOFX : Skipping school with Justin (now a cop) and going to Taco Bell in his bright yellow 1968 Beetle. (1997)
7. “It Takes Two” – Rob Base and DJ Easy Rock : Riding in Eppernepperhart’s car to Orlando, or Savannah, or anywhere…ever. (1996-Today)
8. “Change” – Blind Melon : Sitting on the beach in Daytona, letting the sun kiss my face and turn me into one gigantic freckle and thinking that this album would change my life. (1994)
9. “Down by the Water” – PJ Harvey : The first song I ever danced to at Einstein’s. (1995)
10. “Gone Daddy Gone” – The Violent Femmes : Getting really stoned and playing air xylophone in my living room after school while LBG, Tosh Mosh, and Mel stared at me in awe. (1996)

The Twenty-fifth Year

This morning, I realized that in less than two weeks, I will be twenty-six. I’m not too fond of birthdays anyway, but what the hell is twenty-six? Will I still be considered mid-twenties? When do those end? When is it not acceptable to run down a busy street with a giant tiger in tow?

Oh. Its not acceptable at twenty-five? My bad.

Anyway, as of right now, I boycott twenty-six. I quit you, aging. Done.

Twenty five wasn’t bad. I managed to accomplish quite a bit. (You know what this means, its list time! Yay! Er…whatever…)

Things I accomplished during my twenty-fifth year:

1. I managed to stay single for the entirety of it.
2. I got a new job.
3. I got a new car.
4. I got a new roommate and a new apartment.
5. Then I got another apartment without her.
6. I managed to find the only dead guy willing to drive a car and get right in his way.
7. I was brave and wrote a letter that changed everything.
8. I went to Las Vegas.
9. My JGJ found me.
10. I met a lot of interesting and unique people*.
11. I decided not to hate white wine anymore.
12. I got rid of Pinhead (after years and years of torturous arguing).
13. I managed to not quit smoking. (Go, me! What a goal!)
14. I got my LBG back and then got to watch her graduate.
15. I got stickers with me and Spliff on them.

I am pretty proud. Wouldn’t you be? Yeah…don’t hate.

* Fucking crazy and deranged.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Lake of Fire" - Nirvana

Graduation Day and a Doormat

Here it is, Monday again.

On Friday, when I remembered that LBG’s graduation was this week, I distinctly remembered her telling me “Monday the thirteenth” but it wasn’t until this morning, that I realized that that didn’t quite fit. That it was either, Monday the twelfth or Tuesday the thirteenth. Not some twisted combination of both.

Shortly after I got to work, G sent me an IM to say good morning.

“Good morning! What the hell day is LBG’s graduation?! Is it today? Or tomorrow? Where is it? What time?”

You would think I would have kept SOME of these details in the memory bank. But I didn’t. It snuck up so quickly that I didn’t even have time to prepare. (Actually, I imagine it happened at the regular rate of speed but my brain does not function on that same rate.)

G got me sorted to an extent but only had the correct date to offer.

“Today?! Dammit, I thought it was tomorrow!”

So began the scramble. Since I had agreed to ride with my Pseudo Twin, I had to get in touch with her and work out some details. (And see if she knew anything at all outside of “the graduation is today”.) She knew the time, but not the place. This was at about noon and I still didn’t know if I would be able to leave early (thanks to Mail Merge From HELL).

LBG says to get there early so we have a seat. G has an appointment at 4, so he isn’t sure what time he will be out. PT has to finish running errands and then find out if Pantera Boy will be off in time to come with us.

The plan, we have established, will go like this.

4:15- PT is to call me and let me know whether or not PB will be joining us.
4:30- Leave work.
5:00- Meet PT (and PB) at my house.
5:15- Be terribly lost downtown.
6:25- Finally finish parking and call G to tell him we didn’t save him a seat because we are directionally challenged.
6:30- Enter at the very last possible moment and find G with the seats that he has saved for us.

That’s the plan. It helps to have one, even if you must allow time for being lost and a little slow.

In other news, a couple of months ago I was in the cafeteria with Mrs. P at work, and I spun around to go in the opposite direction and found myself standing face to face with a guy that I had gone to middle school with and then later worked with at The Stupid Loop, as I call it. SM was a really dorky, desperate to prove himself to everyone and be liked by all, kind of guy. He used to bring me roses on his days off and once, when I cut my finger he made me a milkshake and bandaged me up. He is a nice guy, much too needy, and much, MUCH too annoying and puppydog-esque for my taste…but there he was. Evidently, he just started working at the hospital. Hooray.

He looked the same. Still skinny and tall. Still very eager to prove himself. Still annoying.

I, of course, acted happy to see him, while, ll the while, envisioning myself trying to avoid him in the halls and having to fake a smile when he caught me off guard.

The next week, I ran into him once. He called my desk twice and suggested a lunch date. I kindly declined, saying that I had so much to do that I wasn’t sure that I would even have lunch that day. The next day he sent an email venting about problems with this girlfriend. Problems that, after not seeing or speaking to someone in almost six years, I don’t need to hear about at all. But again, I felt bad and humored him. After that day, he didn’t call or write again. And I hadn’t run into him. And I had almost forgotten about the encounters.

Until today.

Today, the phone rings and I can see by my caller ID that the call is coming from his department.

“………standard work greeting……..”

“You owe me a lunch hour.”

“Um…well, I can’t today, I have to leave early.”

“Well, okay, not today, but sometime this week, we should catch up!”

“Okay, sure.”

“S and I parted ways this weekend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” (Shuffle paper, shuffle paper, shuffle paper)

“Yeah, well, you know, it had to be done. I found myself wanting to date other people, you know.”

“Okay, I better get back to work. Sorry.” (shuffle paper…)

“Okay, well…I-uh…I’ll call you later in the week then. You know, for lunch or whatever.”

“Right. Bye!” Click.

I don’t want to have lunch with him. And not because he isn’t a good guy. But because he is the kind of guy that I find myself either being really mean to or not speaking to at all. And the danger in not speaking at all is that then, I get to listen to all of his drama (because he is the straight, male equivalent of a Drama Queen) and become a friend because he takes my lack of speakage to mean that I am just a good listener. I don’t want to be a friend. I am much more content being where I was for that moment in time when he lost interest in me and started focusing his attention on another girl at work. Nikki? Becky? I dunno…Fill in standard blonde girl name here. That rocked. Because then, I could listen to him when I wanted to and then tell him to buck up and not take any shit. Not that it did any good. He will always be a doormat. And I have very little patience for that.

In the meantime, I will be conveniently busy at lunchtime until I can figure out a way to avoid a) smacking the shit out of him when he starts crying to me about his love life or b) becoming the silent lunch date who secretly wants to strangle him.

Nostalgia

I got a bulletin on myspace today that prompted a little ridiculous remembering. It is a great thing to do every once in a while…so I will do it here…

Some things that I miss:

1. The way that Tory used to pretend that she didn’t have any feet when she was standing in a door frame.
2. Skipping school and going to Five Points…Every time I pass that Wendy’s, I remember how I only (ever) ate french fries dipped in frosties.
3. Underage drinking. (Man…where does the time go?)
4. “The Happy Beach” (Otherwise known as Guana Park) and skinny dipping and then getting glowing beads that stuck to your skin all over you.
5. Watching Ben draw all over my arms and legs with marker.
6. Lisa’s punk rock pantelones.
7. Sleeping in class.
8. Rack saying, “Why you so damn stoooopid?”
9. jnco’s.
10. Smoking pot with Jeremy under the stage in the auditorium.
11. Me, LBG, and Tosh stealing cigarettes from the Lil’ Champ.
12. Me, LBG and Tosh stealing anything from anywhere.
13. Laughing at Folder Boy.
14. Having a shit job like O-Tree.
15. Buy one get one free day at Blockbuster Music.

Some Memories for those of you who were around back then:

1. Princess Carmen used to try and buy my dad’s Grateful Dead shirt from me, using acid as currency.
2. (This one was the best from the myspace thingy) Me and LLCJ drinking a bottle of something ridiculous like Arbor Mist at the Happy Beach and falling into her house in the middle of the night, trying not to wake her parents but make it to the bathroom without peeing in the hallway. And then thinking that she may have ACTUALLY peed in the hallway, and me falling INTO the bathroom.
3. The Pep Rally/Bomb Threat of 1996.
4. Sonic Youth.
5. When I was obsessed with J.A. and M.B.
6. Walking down the boardwalk with a bottle of juice mixed with vodka with J.B., Matt, Magic Mike, Jer, and Epernerperhart and MM got on his knees on his board and rolled down the sidewalk chanting, “I have no legs, I have no legs…”
7. Trips to Orlando to see Spliff (before she was Spliff).
8. The picture in front of Betsey’s.
9. Rocky singing “Allison Road” on the beach in Ft. Lauderdale.
10. Trying on prom dresses and then running around and falling down in them.
11. Tory chasing me with her mom’s vibrator.
12. The Duck Call.
13. Black lights and Mono. (Not the illness, the group.)
14. Using pain killers for fun and not injuries.
15. Tory’s sixteenth birthday party.

Feel free to add. I am feeling nostalgic. It is lovely and drug induced. (Hooray for the dead guy who left me with whiplash! Umm…well…sort of.)

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Tricky Kid" - Tricky

In Memory...

Oh, my little pretty one…

Myyyyy Fiona…

Today could very well be the last full day that I will have my Fiona. And whether or not you want to, we will be taking a stroll down memory lane.

Memory One: I pull up in Tosh Mosh’s driveway with LBG in tow. It is dark but I have to show her off anyway. TM gets in the passenger’s seat and I flip down the driver’s side visor. And it falls off and hits me in the face. (She loves me, she loves me not.)

Memory Two: I show her to Pantera Boy for advice on what her name should be. He names her Fiona…after the prettiest psycho waif there is.

Memory Three: One night, while waiting for Eps to get off of work, Matt, Magic Mike and I sat in the parking lot of Applebee’s. Matt wanted to get his skateboard out of the trunk, so I opened it up. “Holy shit! You could fit people in there!” he says, as he climbs in. Magic Mike and I giggle and slam the trunk. We drive about ten miles, all the while playing a game with Matt to see if he knew where we were. At a stop sign, he figured out how to unlock the trunk from the inside, got out and opened the back door and got in. I swear I peed myself right before I beat the living shit out of him. (How many Asian boys can we fit inside Fiona’s trunk?)

Memory Four: I was driving a stoned MM and Matt all over town one night when the decided to pretend to be stunt men. I finally had to pull over and put them in time out before Matt actually succeeded in climbing out the window of my moving car and onto the roof where he would do a handstand.

Memory Five: We were lost in Tampa with little Sashy drooling all over my pillow in the backseat. The sun was bright and low and J, since he was driving, went to put the visor down and it fell out and hit him in the face. (She loves him, she loves him not.)

I won’t bother you with any more of these, as I am sure most of you have your own memories of her. Please take a moment of silence for my trusty automobile.

R.I.P.
Fiona

1997-2005

Tidbits...

Something about the chill in the air has changed the mood of the entire planet.

I went to the grocery store tonight because I thought, “Hey, I am feeling super motivated to pack. I need beer.” (and packing tape and garbage bags to get rid of all 1,500 of the Powerpuff Girls dolls that I have accumulated (that’s what I get for having blonde hair and blue eyes) over the years. LBG, your daughter can have 12 Bubbles dolls if she wants them. (I also have temporary tattoos, toe socks, a coloring book and about three million stickers, but if you think I am giving away the sole Spongebob, you are sorely mistaken, it has sentimental value.)

To The Idiot: I love you and I am sorry I have not called you, I am going insane.

To LBG: Sorry, I didn’t think it was funny when you called me a jackass yesterday. Hormones.

To Boobs McGee: The poem was really lovely. Where are you?

To Spliff: If you don’t come and spend my first night in my new place with me, I might die.

To Eppernepperhart: I gave you a kickass nickname and you won’t even come here and hang out with me? I will kick you (but only out of love).

To Grandmaster Superstar: I want to pinch your cheeks…and dat baby’s…you guys are really the cutest EVER.

To Jolly Green Jordan: That conversation about pants brought hours of laughter (and not just to me).

To Pookie: I am sorry I called you “Miss Cranky Pants”…(although you were QUITE frightening the other day.)

To John Legend: Spliff and I will be with you soon, don’t panic. Distance makes the heart grow fonder…and I will just leave it at that, you beautiful man, you.

That’s really all I got.

Girl-ville

I guess after the dim light of the tiki bar and the sound of the ocean, the time sort of slipped away from me. When LBG and I pulled into my apartment complex blasting John Legend on the stereo, I walked right inside and didn’t even bother looking at the clock. I guess I was probably a little more tipsy than I had intended to get or even realized I had gotten.

I sent a text message to ZH that said nothing but, “Divorce”. I try and keep him posted when there is something preventing me from embracing my possible cross-country move. My phone was ringing before it even left my hand and when I picked it up, I realized that I shouldn’t have. “I will never let you divorce me.”

“Let me?” Clearly, those words don’t go together. And I knew he was kidding. And I knew he was serious. And I knew that I should not speak to someone that I miss so terribly after too many Tuchers. Conversations like this could only lead in one direction. To over-emotional girl-ville, where no one calls anyone “dude” and people actually get choked up about stuff. I hate that place.

I have been described as cold, emotionally unavailable, and all sorts of colorful ways of saying that I basically am a heartless bitch, but I will tell you one thing, last night (even though he never even sensed it) I just felt weak and alone. I guess maybe it is time I joined the land of the living. I just kind of liked it there in the cold, dark depths of emotional unavailability.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Sweet Child O' Mine" - GNR