Requests for more Deborah stories are pouring in by the dozens. Ok, maybe one or two is more like it...
My gchat conversation with TheGuy yesterday afternoon:
TheGuy: How is Deborah?
Me: Hmm, what did she do today? She started freaking out when I rolled down my car window just a crack because she's terrified a bee is going to enter into her car and sting her.
TheGuy: Like fake freaking out as in a joke or a serious OMG?
Me: One of her old cars didn't have air conditioning so even on super hot and humid days, she refused to roll down her window for fear of bees, bugs, etc so she'd be sweating buckets in her car.
She once got into an accident because a moth was flying around in her car and since she felt stupid (understandably), she told everyone it was a bee.
TheGuy: Wow, she sounds like she's really living life to the fullest.
Me: Yeah, you don't know the half of it!
Friday, September 28, 2007
Requests for more Deborah stories are pouring in by the dozens. Ok, maybe one or two is more like it...
Thursday, September 27, 2007
I've been trying to compile a list of positive thoughts for when I run the marathon. This doesn't come easy for me (the eternal pessimist) so I best be prepared.
1. Getting my first book published. Nothing could ever be more validating than this day. Nothing.
2. My family's 13-yr-old golden retriever Max. He's got the biggest heart. Struggle as he may, his unconditional love for his family is what keeps him going.
3. My grandpa (mom's side). He passed away a couple years ago. While we were never close, I deeply admired him. He came from nothing but his drive and work ethic led him to great success.
4. Love and support of family and friends (blogger friends included).
5. Beating Jordan B. in the 50 yard dash in 7th grade. When I got to the finish line, I was running so fast I couldn't stop and fell to my knees.
6. This blog. It's cheaper than therapy and forces me to write.
7. My grandpa (dad's side). He's one of the kindest people I know. It's heartbreaking to watch him get older.
8. All my hard work training. It will finally pay off.
9. My 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Thompson. Commendable role model, she taught me to read and write and so much more.
10. Overwhelming sense of accomplishment for running 26.2 miles.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
GC has this guy friend -- we'll call him Sparky -- whom I've met several times. He texts to see what I'm up to on weekends and sends random texts here and there, but we've never hung out one-on-one. While GC has never said "Sparky has a crush on you" or words to that effect, she's told me whenever she invites him to do something, he asks if I'll be there. When he heard about my car accident, he texted right away to see if I was okay. Last Sunday I was over at GC's house when Sparky texted to ask about my weekend so after a few exchanged texts, he said he was going to relax and listen to the new Debbie Gibson CD but to call him later because he would need a break from work. I cracked up as I had a flashback of me and my childhood best friend with side ponytails lip syncing to "Lost in Your Eyes." I wrote back and told him I was going to bed.
Last night he texted me with, "I need a fucken drink." After getting over my annoyance at the demise of the English language, I told him I would go but that I was at my friend's house, trying to hint that I was busy. He asked if I wanted to go later. I responded that I didn't think tonight would work. I almost brought up getting together the following day, but thought better of it.
The thing is, Sparky is one of the funniest people I've met in a long time. Am I interested in him? No. So while I would love to hang out with him, I don't want to give him the wrong impression. My question is this: If I were to hang out with him, would I be leading him on? Sure, maybe not the first couple times. But what if he starts assuming my platonic interest is romantic? Eventually he would try to kiss me or date me or both and I'd be forced to have the uncomfortable "let's be friends" conversation. Shudder.
As someone who avoids confrontation at all costs, I'm not sure it's wise to spend alone time with Sparky. What do ya think? Agree? Disagree?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Last night on the premiere of How I Met Your Mother, Barney (Neil Patrick Harris) desperately wanted to be Ted's (Josh Radnor) wingman, but when Barney realized Ted didn't need him, he scoffed, "This is going on my blog!"
I think this likely made all bloggers chuckle. In more than ways than one, blogging has changed the way I live my life. I dwell on every experience, situation and observation in search of my next blog topic. I constantly file away mental notes. Would this make for an interesting post? Memorize this conversation about why guys shouldn't order cheap beer. Wait, did Deborah eat 11 or 12 Pizza Hut cinnamon breadsticks? I must admit that my knack for recalling the most trivial details is instrumental in this regard. To my disadvantage, however, alcohol-induced memory loss often works against me so I work double time in many cases namely when I feel obligated to distinguish d-bag #1 from d-bag #2 and so forth. It's tough when you're drowning in a sea of them.
Having a blog can also be empowering. In retrospect the blogosphere is so gynormous that the majority of bloggers are minute specks, but if someone were to wrong you, you have the ability to publicly drag their name through the mud if you so desire. Or if nothing else, you can always threaten friends by saying, "This is going on my blog!" Behold my new motto.
Monday, September 24, 2007
We went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch today. Deborah insisted we flip over our placemats because the sketch of the rat for the Chinese zodiac sign repulses her.
My fortune cookie said:
"You are serious about your emotional relationships but tend to be more reserved with your feelings."
This couldn't be more true of me.
TheGuy and I have been spending more time together but I'm still not sure what to make of it. He came over last Thursday 'cause we've been trying to catch up on season three of The Office before it starts this Thursday. While we were hanging out, I told him about the details of my raise at work since they finally decided to fill me in on them. The raise was actually more than I anticipated, but what surprised me more than anything was TheGuy's reaction. He hugged and kissed me and told me how happy he was for me. Twice.
If you know my ex-boyfriend of the last four years, you understand how this might be foreign to me. Picture the most inconsiderate person you know and multiply by ten -- you've got my ex. I dunno, it almost weirded me out a little that TheGuy was so happy for me. I am not used to that. Nor do I know the appropriate response. He even said, "I can't believe you're not more excited." Well, I still make less than I should and my job still sucks.
Did you truly miss me? Surely my life isn't all that entertaining. Unless, that is, you only intend to visit through October 8th to see whether someone with my drinking habits and lax marathon training schedule runs out of steam somewhere between mile 18 and 19. Probability = high. Yesterday was my worst run ever.
Around 11 am, I awoke to finally see the light of day. I set out at a decent pace but soon learned the high dewpoint coupled with a high level of dehydration (alcohol to blame yet again) did not make for a successful combo. The first six miles went smoothly, but miles 7-14 were miserable. I refuse to stop while running -- it's that much harder to get going again. The only time I stop is to tie my shoe, avoid cars, or pick bugs out of my teeth. That was not the case yesterday -- in fits of dehydration, I was forced to take breaks every 1/4 mile. Physically, my knees didn't hurt like they typically do, but I had zero energy. I have never been so relieved to be finished running as I was yesterday at 1:05 pm. That was brutal.
I've been meaning to get one of those water bottle belts at The Running Room but haven't gotten around to it.
Friday night we met at GC's house for her pre-party birthday celebration where we enjoyed lasagna, garlic bread, and wine. Heavy on the wine. We even brought a plastic to-go cup of red wine, or "the blood of Christ," in the car to share as communion for the ride to the bar. It reminded me of high school minus the Hot 100 and Peach Schnapps.
Our group of nine attractive females caused a bit of a scene as we hit up Bella first where the shots and drinks just kept on comin'. If they weren't supplied by the friendly bartenders, the old men at the bar were generously taking turns with rounds. I even wore a dress for the occasion!
We then moved on to club Aqua where we had reservations to rent a V.I.P. table, which essentially means you're obligated to buy two bottles of alcohol at completely unreasonable, jacked-up prices. I don't know what happened but within the first five minutes, I was out $110. I couldn't hear the scantily clad cocktail waitress' explanation over the booming bass as to why it ended up being so much, but what can you do? Regardless, GC's birthday was a ton of fun! She's one of my best friends and I love her to death.
Saturday was definitely more low-key, but just as fun. A break from the downtown scene was just what I needed. I met Stripes (my co-worker) and his roommate at Billy's where we enjoyed beer and darts. I hadn't played darts in three years, so I gave them fair warning of my sucky ability only to kick their asses in the countdown game. I don't even know if that's what it's called, but I amazed everyone, myself included, with my extreme talent -- ahem, beginners' luck.
I bumped into some of TheGuy's friends, one even played darts with us -- so it was good to catch up with them (we go way back). TheGuy stopped by later too and I did a very non-convincing job of telling him I got engaged. I found this huge fake ring in the bathroom and thought it would be funny to come out and tell everyone I was engaged. What can I say? I sometimes think I'm funny, especially when drunk. Clearly, I'm not.
So I just tried to take a picture of my ring and realized my camera screen is pitch-black. Wonderful.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
So much has happened, but I've had NO time to post. We added a new person to our team at work and I am the designated trainer (among a group of women who have been with the company for 30+ years). Training is not fun. The work is a bore. What's worse is watching someone do 8 hours of mindless work for you. Meanwhile all you can do is stare at the computer screen contemplating the meaning of your life with no way to check email or blog or chat online (the things that make you NOT want to slit your wrists).
I wish I had the time for updates, but I need sleep. Hopefully I'll churn out a post or two tomorrow. 'Til then.
Posted by wearingthepants at 10:19 PM
Friday, September 21, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
I apologize if you tried to view my blog today only to be informed it's strictly available to invited readers. Perhaps you shed a tear or two upon this discovery. Paranoia instantly set in this morning as I was caught blogging at work by a co-worker. Worried he would find my blog, I changed my privacy settings. He's cool, we're friends -- in fact, I've mentioned him a couple times on here so it wouldn't be the end of the world if he found it, but as I've mentioned before, I'm apprehensive about sharing my blog with those who know me personally. I prefer the safety of anonymity. Oh wait, this is the internet.
If one day this blog disappears altogether, assume my mom found this, I hit the delete key, crawled under a rock, and died.
You nosy people want to know if I've been running. Well my workouts have suffered lately due to 1.) laziness 2.) a little thing called fun (fun and booze are synonymous, right?) 3.) random chores
I wish I had a better excuse like my knee, but the bruise is no longer visible. I did 14 one day last week and 6 on Monday, but yesterday I had to get my car estimate - a crazy $2785, today I have to work late, and tomorrow I have plans. I'm gonna be good this weekend though. I promise.
When someone asks what my "type" is (in my top five of most annoying questions), I know it's cliché, but I don't have one. What I do know, is that I tend to weed out the undesirables first. What can I say? I'm a glass half-empty type of gal.
As far as physical attributes, I'm traditionally a sucker for the tall, dorky white boys with spiky hair and sideburns. However, the first test is whether I can stand to be in the same room as the guy without wanting to jab pencils through both my eyes. Given my irritable nature, this proves challenging. When forced to spend an extended period of time with others, I often hit my breaking point. Hence the reason I have so few friends.
What I DON'T look for in a guy:
More feminine than myself
Overly sensitive (namely to deflect my sarcasm and aloofness)
Tries too hard
If I detect one or more of the aforementioned traits, the temptation to run the opposite direction will be overwhelming. Now I realize I'm no gem -- guys must be willing to put up with an awful lot from me (I make out with dogs) -- but I'll save that for a future post!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
It's down to the final two. I couldn't bring myself to watch the clips from the least entertaining season of Big Brother tonight. While no one is happy with the end results (no one ever is), the one thing I can say is at least they (father/daughter) both played the game. It's a rare occurrence -- usually at least one is accused of riding coat tails (a favorite BB term). These two, nauseating as they may be, both took risks in the game. That's all there is to it. America dislikes Daniele moreso than Dick, as Eric, America's Player, has been instructed to vote and campaign for Dick. I find this funny since I'm guessing Daniele has no clue how terribly whiny she can be. While people may not like Dick personally, he WAS the show. No question about it.
This weekend was one long run-on sentence so here is Part II of my last post, as the weekend took an unexpected turn of events. I wrote that hungover post while I waited for GC and my guy friend C-Sharp to awake from their respective sofas. The first words out of GC's mouth were: "Why the hell is there a shopping cart in here?" Did I mention she was wearing a dress?
So after we collected ourselves (as best we could), we took a cab to the parking ramp where I'd parked my car. Not only had I arrived downtown from a foreign direction, but I'd parked in a ramp I'd NEVER parked in before. With a buzz. Those conditions don't exactly mix. So it was a game of "Dude, where's my car?" There we were: three scrubs, GC lugging around a paper bag of her clothes, roaming the parking lot looking like we'd just done the walk of shame listening for the panic mode (blaring, repetitive honks) of my Jeep trying to figure out where the hell the echo was coming from. We went from level 3 to 4 to 5 to the basement level to 1 and then FINALLY we checked the 2nd level. Success.
By then we were famished, so we hit up The Bad Waitress. Food has never been more satisfying. And I possibly have never laughed so hard. We could have our own comedy routine. If I tried to recap the hilarity, the humor wouldn't translate.
GC was up for doing something totally random (like Como Zoo or Underwater World) but when she learned C-Sharps's family had a cabin, she was dead-set on going there...in the next couple hours. So the spontaneous trio did just that. We all went home, showered, packed and were off to The Hamptons (at least, that's what we told ourselves). As GC stated: "It's a vacation in our minds."
Recipe for Lake Cabin Fun:
1 bottle of wine
1 jar of sangria
1 game of rummy
5 iPod plays of Shake That Ass by Booty Bass (cue Augie's strippers)
4 cheeseburgers, 6 brats, 1 bag of Old Dutch Mesquite BBQ chips, 1 bag of tortilla chips, 1 jar of Byerly's salsa, 1 bag of Twizzlers licorice, 1 bag of [nasty] candy pumpkins and 1 bag of Reese's peanut butter cups (eating so much you'd have thought we were preparing for a famine)
1 $3.99 (+ package of double A batteries) light-up green "Ghostie" bought at County Market
10 extra rummy points awarded to C-Sharp doing "the move"
1 long list of crazy business ideas
3 props to Zubaz, Starter jackets, and Air Jordans
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Last night started at Fuji-ya in uptown for sushi and cocktails for GC's friend's birthday dinner. From there we headed to Park Tavern for one of my all-time favorite activities: drunk bowling. I had been secretly wanting to do this for quite some time, but it always seemed too dorky and/or inappropriate to suggest. Good thing GC came up with it all on her own. Great minds think alike.
After booze and bowling, we went to the Imperial Room and met up with our guy friends. The drinks picked up where we left off. When we came to the realization they were more intoxicated than us, we tried to catch up.
The rest of the night went as follows:
1.) One of our guy friends was hit on by a dude, one guy looking to pick a fight when he got shot down.
2.) Engaged Guy (now Married Guy) was at the bar working his magic with ghetto chicks. That is to say, he tried anyway.
3.) Shopping cart mayhem. We came back to my apartment where GC took a spin in the shopping cart. Photographic evidence was taken.
My Diet Coke tastes like Captain right now.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
So I just called and ordered my microchip for the marathon. We were given the option to purchase one last spring when I registered, but I hesitated to pitch in the additional $38 in case I failed to train or backed out. Participants are required to use a properly functioning chip so as to accurately record one's time, with the posted results available online after the race.
I should be receiving an information packet in the mail any day now that I will need to bring to the Target Health & Fitness Expo on October 5 &6 (race is the 7th), the final step in race registration. While browsing the Twin Cities Marathon website, I learned all finishers receive a t-shirt and medal. I know it's totally dorky of me, but I am excited for the medal. I mean seriously, when was the last time I received one of those? Not since junior high soccer...
My car is cursed.
If you've kept up with my blogs lately, you can confirm I've been SOL. The streak continues, as I was hit by a car by this morning on the way to work. The good news is the damage was minimal and no one was hurt, but a nuisance nonetheless.
From the accident scene, my phone convo with Dad/Lawyer:
Dad: Are you okay?
Me: Yes, I'm fine.
Dad: Who hit who?
Me: He hit me, but he says I hit him.
Lawyer: Whatever you do, don't admit to fault.
Me: Uh huh.
Lawyer: If the cop starts pressuring you and asking too many questions, don't say a word. Tell him you want to speak to your lawyer.
Me: Ok, Dad.
Lawyer: Don't back down.
Me: I won't.
Here's how the rest of the events unfolded:
Hang up phone. Sigh. Wait for cop. Highway Helper in bright yellow truck pulls up and instructs us to vacate the busy freeway premises. Take first exit, pull to right side of the curb. Wait for cop. Flip through phone contacts. Consider calling/texting friends. Realize it's 7:30 am -- they don't give a damn. Cop shows up. The other driver, East Indian Dude, shows her his hand-written diagram depicting how I was in the wrong. Cop agrees with him, declaring the extra lane for has changed since the bridge collapse and that there have been many accidents and complaints since then.
Cop (to me): ...so you're at fault.
Me: Ok (I am weak, passive, and back down to authority figures).
Cop takes our license and registration info back to her vehicle, promising we'll be on our way in a few minutes. I secretly hope they'll discover a warrant for Indian Dude's arrest. It's windy so I wait in my car. Dad calls and asks for update. I give him the rundown -- he scolds me, "I taught you better than that!" No, not really, but it's never been more clear that his desire for me to follow in his footsteps is simply asinine. Instead of disappointment, however, the zealous attorney in him kicks into overdrive.
Lawyer: Just don't say anything else. Don't worry -- we're going to fight this.
Lawyer: You have your phone? Take pictures.
Twenty minutes later, Cop gives us back our info and I ask for further explanation of the lane divide, and defend myself again, still confused as to how it was my fault. We each receive a statement of the police report and a motor vehicle crash report where I can draw my own diagram and take my sweet time crafting a carefully worded description of the incident.
I need a drink.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
I've been stuck in the Friends with Benefits Zone (FWBZ) for quite some time (7 months, not that I'm counting) with no end in sight. Shouldn't there be an expiration date of 90 days, give or take? I thought I'd hash out the possible outcomes of said actions:
1.) One grows tired of the other as thrill tapers off. Cue ego-deflating sound effects (balloon losing its helium). We never speak again.
2.) One begins seeing someone. The other, enraged with jealousy, starts plotting new love interests' demise. We never speak again (potential restraining order is filed).
3.) In rare circumstances, the two emerge from the FWBZ and build a foundation for a romantic relationship. Inevitably (99.9% chance rounds up), this ends in break-up. We never speak again.
Damn these appealing options!
4.) He submits application to teach English in Korea for 1 or more years. We never speak again.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Saturday I went out for a friend of a friend's birthday. Birthday Girl had arranged dinner plans downtown with the intent of bar-hopping to follow. To her dismay, only three friends showed up for dinner with a few others (us included) meeting up later. This got her friends whispering things like, "Maybe if she were a better friend..." and "That's what happens when you get a boyfriend and ignore all your friends for two years."
It was ironic considering just last weekend this became the topic of conversation between TheGuy and myself. We discovered our stances differ when it comes to inviting friends out for one's birthday. I'm not one to make a big deal of my birthday. For one, I don't enjoy being in the spotlight. I do, however, wish to milk a good excuse for bringing people together with one common goal: to consume alcohol. The more drunks, the merrier.
Yet in a couple months when my super sweet golden 27th birthday rolls around, I won't be sending out mass emails, texts or posting a MySpace bulletin announcing my plans as if it were equivalent to a visit from the Pope. I know my close friends will inquire about plans and not-very-close friends who like to have a good time (i.e., pass out in gutters) will do the same.
I've been in way too many situations where I've felt obligated to attend a birthday celebration for someone I don't consider a close-enough friend. Awkwardness is guaranteed to ensue. If you go, you're miserable, forcing small talk with people you either don't know or met once but don't recall because you were seeing double at the time. Here's where it helps to drag a friend along (preferably one that owes you a favor) for moral support. If you don't go, you feel guilty as a result of all the pressure put upon you to attend. The next time you invite said Birthday Boy/Girl to do something, they'll be reminded of your absence, thus rendering them less likely to reciprocate the offer.
Birthdays are fun. But it can be a major downer when your birthday rolls around and your so-called friends go MIA or suddenly remember their promise to drive Grandma to the airport -- or even worse -- forget your birthday altogether.
Friday, September 7, 2007
I feel repulsive. 3 days of no running can make an alarming difference. I took it easy the past couple days after my nasty downward spill, but I'm raring for a long outdoor run provided it doesn't rain all weekend. That would blow.
I have no specific blog topic in queue so consider yourself forewarned: when my mind begins to wander, there's no telling where things may lead. Happy Friday to you all! What do you people have planned for the weekend? I have no plans. I am not a maker of plans. I let others do the plan-making -- they tell me when and where to show up. It usually involves alcohol, plentiful and readily available.
I wish there were more going on in my life to razzle and dazzle my depleting number of readers. But no, my life is a big bore. The best I can come up with is a Marley update. If it wasn't official before, he officially hates me. His attention-whore lifestyle fails to coincide with my aloofness and need for distance. He exemplifies his dejection by attacking me mid-stride, wrapping his front paws around my ankle and sinking his razor-sharp teeth into my exposed skin. I forcefully yell "Ow!" while he gleefully scurries to safety, usually beneath the bed or behind the couch.
Sorry for the lame post. I keep getting distracted by co-workers and now it's time for lunch so this is it for today.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Last night was dinner with old college friends. Of the people we know, it comes down to one of three categories: married, engaged, or babies. It was strange sitting at a table with two married and one soon-to-be married friend. Forced to sit on the sidelines during the "when I picked out my wedding gown...." conversation, I felt like the fourth wheel. Odd woman out. I could practically hear two of them thinking, thank God I found my soul mate and don't have to deal with being single again!
It's especially evident when asked questions such as, "Will we be sitting here while you tell us your wedding plans a year from now?"
Well, let's see...I think a boyfriend may be a prerequisite...
As expected, I was interrogated regarding TheGuy (whom they all know from college), to which I had no definitive response. I've come to learn this triggers a series of questions demanding an affixed label. I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine.
Fortunately, dinner wasn't all talk of ticking maternal clocks. There was plenty of reminiscing about college acts of debauchery and the sort. It's always good to catch up with old friends -- particularly the ones who've seen you at your best and worst.
It proved to be the perfect distraction from my car trouble. So let me backtrack a bit. Before dinner, I'd been killing time at the mall and when I went back to my car, the wheel was locked and the key wouldn't budge in the ignition. Between my dad shouting into one ear over the phone how I needed to manhandle the wheel while jiggling the key in the lock and the boiling temperature inside my vehicle, I was more than frustrated.
Luckily, my friend was nice enough to give me a ride to and from my car for dinner and tried her hand at getting it started, but to no avail. After the meal, she dropped me off at my apartment where I rushed to gather a change of work clothes, makeup, spare car key, and some odds and ends. My dad picked me up and we headed back to my car where he was eventually able to get it started by pushing down on the brake. However, the battery was nearly drained and the car made a horrific screeching sound that echoed throughout the parking ramp. So we left the car and its' unidentified noise overnight and they towed it to our mechanic this morning.
I was stuck driving my brother's car to work today -- how considerate of him to leave the gas tank on 'E' -- delaying my commute by ten minutes, a drastic difference during rush hour. I was somewhat frazzled by the time I finally got to work this morning. No one knows this better than the guy who sits across the room from me, for I said "good morning" to him from the descending side of the staircase as he was on his way up. The next thing I knew, I lost my footing (probably tripped on my hemmed pants) and was going down, down, down as if in slow motion. He managed to catch my left side (pretty sure my shirt flew up a ways and he caught the flesh of my ribcage), preventing me from toppling face-first into the cement stairs. My left knee took the brunt of the fall and my right ankle twisted slightly.
Both are feeling better now, but right after the nosedive of the century, I hobbled from cafeteria to cafeteria in search of a properly functioning ice machine to alleviate the swelling. God I am a clumsy moron. How lovely to know every time he sees me, he will think of me doing a Superman down the stairs. Sheepish feelings aside, I thanked him profusely. That could've been a lot worse.
I just hope my "injuries" don't interfere with marathon training.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Monday, September 3, 2007
I've returned from a weekend up north with the parents. Note: I first went to write "'rents" but just couldn't do it. It would've flowed better, but that term is so cheesy.
The weekend got off to a great start. I got up Saturday morning and had the best run of my life. It was about 9 1/2 - 10 miles, but I never tired or slowed. In fact, I picked up speed, which isn't uncommon for me, but I gained a great deal of momentum around the 7 mile mark. And I never felt better. The only thing that stopped me from going further was the fear my parents would send out a search party if I wasn't back in the amount of time I said it would take. I also had to tell them the path I planned on following in case I was attacked by a black bear or something! I swear, they still see me as 12 years old.
The weather was beautiful -- we couldn't have asked for better. Thanks to lazy weekends at the Lifetime pool, I have a wonderful tan this year. I can't remember the last time I was this tan. This past weekend only added to my golden brown base. I spent the majority of it soaking up cancerous, UV rays on the dock and floating on a tube in the water while Brody was busy going after minnows. He began employing a new tactic of standing still, staring down into the water, and then as soon as he sees movement, pounces.
I also finished Something Borrowed and got some writing done so that gave me a sense of accomplishment. My dad and I went fishing and caught some pan fish. I'm a girly-girl, but I LOVE fishing and camping and outdoor activities as well.
Things didn't take a turn for the worse until Sunday night when my mom and I got into it yet again. I don't know what's up with her lately, but she has not been herself. She's been ornery and bitter and hostile to everyone. It was evident all weekend so I finally let it be known Sunday before dinner when she snapped at me and told me to quit asking her stupid questions when I'd only been inquiring about the segway tour she'd taken about a month ago. I told her she'd been mean and condescending all weekend, which she denied and when she asked my dad if he agreed, he told her she'd been "angry." She then refused to eat supper, saying to my dad, "enjoy your daughter" as she pouted upstairs and decided to take off at 7:30 pm to drive the four hours back home.
That was fine by me. I had plans to meet up with TheGuy that evening. Both up north at our cabins, we met in a town that happens to be a twenty-minute drive for both of us, coming from opposite directions. When we made arrangements to meet, I found it amusing that with no cell phone signals, we had to communicate the old-fashioned way, through the LAN line -- no text messaging or caller ID. When he called my cabin, no one was home so he had to leave a message on the answering machine. Then when I returned his call, his mom answered, I had to ask for him, she had to notify him, he picked up, and then we had to wait for his mom to hang up. It most definitely reminded me of junior high when you would call a guy's house and cross your fingers that his mom or dad wouldn't answer the phone. Oh, how times have changed!
TheGuy and I met at an ice cream parlor called Frosty's -- it's sort of legendary up there. It's tradition for my family to go there every trip. We got ice cream (my second one for the day) and walked around the town -- mind you, "town" consists of one block. Then we headed over to a playground we spotted nearby. I was really disappointed there was no tire swing, for I have a reputation for being a good tire swing pusher. However, we swung on the regular swings and he pushed me on another swing that was a circular disk attached to a knotted rope. Never too old for playgrounds, right?
We then crossed back to the other side of this stream and went to the only bar/restaurant in town, Patrick's with a four-leaf clover as the apostrophe in the name. We talked and had a few beers. He had Summit and made fun of my Miller Lite. Yeah, not much of beer drinker, but it seemed appropriate for the venue. Our beers were a whopping $2 each.
I've eaten at Patrick's many a time with my family so it was quite different to be drinking late at night there. That was a first and interesting experience for me. Our bartender was borderline creepy and kept muttering things to himself, or if he was talking to us, we couldn't understand him. For some reason, the last hour we were there, everyone's conversations suddenly came to a halt and they appeared to be eavesdropping on ours. I have no idea why. Perhaps because we were half their age so they thought we might have something intriguing to say? We weren't talking loudly, but somehow our voices were overheard over everyong else in the bar.
At one point, we got into a funny conversation about fru-fru drinks. It began with margaritas and daquiris, but then turned to what you drink when you're 21 and don't know any better -- Boone's Farm, Smirnoff Ice, and Zima with the jolly rancher in the bottom! Apparently, TheGuy never tried it with the jolly rancher. The townie woman next to him butted in, saying, "You guys are making me thirsty for one of those drinks!" Um, yeah, anyway...
My favorite part of the bar was this framed, autographed picture of a snowmobiler with his shirt off. He looked like a fireman posing for one of those calendars, only there was a picture of him mid-air in a snowmobile below his chiseled stomach. It was ridiculous! So damn funny. If I'd had my camera, I definitely would've posted the pic for all to enjoy.
When we left the bar, TheGuy pointed out that there was a dog in the middle of the street. The dog got all excited when he saw us, quickening his pace. He was a mutt of some kind -- possibly chocolate lab and german shepherd?? I worry when I see dogs on their own like that. I can't help but think of their distraught owners. At least, I would be a wreck if my dog went missing. TheGuy tried to assure me the dog wasn't lost, but I guess we'll never know. When I went to pull out from my parking spot, I almost ran over the poor dog!! I knew it was so because I saw TheGuy get out of his car to warn me and then I saw the dog to the side. I felt terrible as I was leaving because the dog continued to follow my car for as long as he could. I am such a sucker when it comes to animals. :( Had the circumstances been different, I probably would have taken him home and posted "found dog" pictures around town.