All About the Drama

Just as I'd hoped, things got a helluva lot more interesting 'round here. I found out why Curly Sue was in tears earlier this week. Last Friday after work, Curly Sue and Boris went to Buffalo Wild Wings where the spicy wings beer worked as an aphrodisiac and they ended up getting a hotel room. Scandalous! Apparently there had been one kiss that took place prior to that, but that was all the further it had gone.

So it turns out Boris is indeed happily married, contrary to the evidence, and has told Curly Sue he wishes he would've met her before his wife. However, Boris also claims to feel no remorse. Strange, no? I'm not sure where Curly Sue stands, but perhaps this will make her realize she married a loser. You know, since being married for a year, half of which they spent separated and drawing up divorce papers over him concealing financial debt didn't seem to do the trick.

One has no regret and one has a deadbeat husband. What do you think the odds are of this being a one-time thing?

Oh Baby!

Last weekend I invited TheGuy to go to dinner with my family. It was the first time he met my brothers so it was kind of a big deal.

And then there's my mom. You may recall she did meet TheGuy at the wedding, but that was only a brief encounter so her moments of opportunity to humiliate me were few and far between. But when you have a mother who tends to rapidly form emotional bonds to the significant others of her children, it can be a scary thing to bring boys home. She’s still not over the loss of Platonic Ex and probably never will be.

To my surprise, she behaved herself at dinner. For the most part.

At one point, she turned to TheGuy and said, “Have you seen WTP’s baby pictures?” Yes Mother, we sit around and page through my baby books on weekends. TheGuy said no, and thus when prompted to see them, he gave the only polite response in such a situation and pretended to be amused as he flipped through my mom’s wallet-size photo booklet.

I mean, really, do guys care about their girlfriend’s baby pictures? I think not. She pulled this once before, busting out the baby pictures back when she first met Married Ex. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

It's not like my mom said, “Would you like to see a picture of my daughter making out with another girl?” or “Hey, do you wanna see a photo of my daughter in a schoolgirl uniform?” Seeing a picture of a pudgy baby dressed in trousers with red suspenders and saddle shoes is hardly interesting.

I really don’t know what my mom is thinking by asking the guys I bring home if they want to see my baby pictures. Is she hoping they’ll see how cute I was and suddenly get down on one knee and ask for my hand in marriage? Damn, she sure was a cute baby, imagine what our kids would look like! She's not really a picture person, but for some reason, when it comes to whipping out those baby pictures, it’s always a quick draw. Typically cashiers and sale associates are the victims of her Proud Mother Syndrome.

Speaking of babies, my mom and I were at the mall a couple weeks ago when she struck up conversation with the young couple + baby in front of us. After cooing over the newborn, she turned to me and said, “You know, I would like to have grandchildren someday.” Thanks Mom.

I Hope She's Got Pepper Spray in Her Desk

There's a girl who works a few cubes away from me, we'll call her Curly Sue, who was rumored to be crying at her desk the other day. Curly Sue is twenty-five and married to a deadbeat husband. When Curly Sue first started here, she and her husband were separated so she was living with one of her best friends. Five months down the line, Curly Sue and her husband reconciled and she moved back in with him.

Deadbeat Douche is unemployed and sits at home all day while she puts in a full day and then goes directly from here to her second job as a hair stylist. While she spends her weekends trimming mullets at the local salon, he spends his chugging beers at the local bar or passed out on the living room sofa.

I'm not close with Curly Sue but I make it my business to know the personal affairs of others, even complete strangers are at risk. Apparently Curly Sue is distraught because she and another guy at work, Boris, also married, have strong feelings for one another. Boris works in a different building but his visits with Curly Sue seem to be a daily occurrence these days.

As an outsider looking in, the situation is crystal clear. One has a job and one doesn't. But I know, I know. For poor Curly Sue, love is blind. I don't know whether Boris and his wife are happily married, but I'm hoping for some major inter-office drama to unfold in the very near future. Not that I want to advocate infidelity, but hey, this just happens to be the most exciting thing to happen around here since Deborah described her method for lying down perfectly flat on her bed in order to button her fly.

One for the Record Books

You know your blood alcohol content was likely near the .20% range when you wake to a ball of chewed bubble gum firmly planted on your nightstand. Gum you apparently put there at some point during the hours of 2:30 am (give or take a few) and 10:34 am. Because upon the realization you'd a.) gone to bed with a wad of gum in your mouth b.) slept a few hours and been fortunate enough not to choke to death on the wad of gum in your mouth, you'd decided the five feet from your bed to the nearest trash can was an impossible feat.

Saturday was T.'s birthday so we went to dinner and did some shopping. Afterwards we got ready at her place and watched Steve-O get his butt cheeks pierced together on Jackass. Some people decided they were too cool to hang out with us, but it turned out for the better since we had way more fun than we ever imagined. Per C-Sharp's suggestion, we decided to check out a new bar downtown. It didn't look a whole lot different than the old bar it replaced with the addition of some booths and a better dance floor, but it was a different crowd that seemed to attract more people in our age group (25-30).

We arrived way-too-sober, but fret not for there were drinks to be had (8 or 9 of 'em + 3 shots), dancing to be done, lack of skill aside, and boys vying for our attention. It seems the black guys have been into me lately for one approached me as we were standing near the bar. As I stood there, arms crossed, he approached from behind which is never a good thing as I learned from The Game. It caught me off-guard and made me ill-at-ease. He introduced himself, but that was it. There's nothing I detest more than awkward silence. I was too sober to carry on a conversation with him at that point, and he really just failed with his introduction. I'm sure he thought I was a total bitch but I couldn't come up with anything to say to him so he just walked off.

Fast forward to drink 6. T. and I were rather amused by the males on the dance floor. One guy insisted on raising his hands high above his head as if he were taking part in one of those energized sermons where you sing and clap and praise the Lord. Or whatever it is they do. Then there was Scary Scarf Boy who wooed women with his scarf. His red and orange silk scarf possessed the power to seduce women. He managed to invade a group of four girls and danced provactively with one who happened to either be a stripper or knew Carmen Electra's striptease video by heart.

Not quite drunk enough to dance yet, we stood beside the dance floor as innocent bystanders, mocking all the dudes making fools of themselves. All in good fun. And then the second guy to hit on me came up and asked why we weren't dancing -- the standard pick-up line of all-time. Guys should really be more creative in this regard. He was attractive and sort of charming and he was actually older than me (doesn't happen often these days). I talked to him quite a bit but he was really too good-looking for me. I know that may sound crazy, but I prefer to be the more attractive one when it comes to dating. And I instantly don't trust good-looking men, particularly the ones who know they're good-looking. I also felt bad that his friend spent some talking to T. and as we headed to the bar for our next drink, she revealed the guy had bad breath. Gross dude, get a mint. Or take a step back.

The night really didn't get started until we took our first shot and decided to occupy two seats directly beside the dance floor, slowly inching our way towards it. This is the point in the night when we met Wheelchair Guy. He and his buddies had been out on the dance floor all night so it wasn't much of a surprise when he walked up to us and said, "Hey, why aren't you girls dancing?" Again, where's the originality? "Oh, we're waiting for a good song," the standard BS response. "You look like two girls in wheelchairs sitting there," he said. Then, in unison, he motioned with both his arms as if he were spinning the wheels of a wheelchair which became this hilarious dance move for the remainder of the evening. Not only did it get us to get up and dance, but he'd managed to provide an opening for himself. Not that either of us were interested in him in that way, but if that had been the case, he'd successfully opened the lines of communication. Ever since I read The Game, I've found this sort of thing fascinating: they way men pick up women and the interaction between males and females. It also turned out that Wheelchair Guy had a possessive girlfriend at home that called every fifteen minutes to check in on him which was rather comical. We had a good time dancing with Wheelchair Guy and his buddies. That is, until we realized we needed an umbrella to deflect Wheelchair Guy's saliva as he spoke.

After about drink 7 and shot #2, things get a bit fuzzy. I know another guy tried to say hi to me on the dance floor but I just laughed it off and wondered if I happened to look extremely hot i.e., easy or if the guy-to-girl ratio just tipped the scales in my favor. We wound up talking to another group of guys but by that point, I can only imagine what I must've sounded like, slurred speech and all. Drunkity, drunk, drunk. Toward the end, T. was so wasted that she decided it was time for her to go home -- right then and there. I offered to go with her but she pretty much bolted for the door. That's usually my move. I get too drunk, vacate the premises and put myself to bed. So I stayed and hung out with Jason and our new friends and it was somehow decided they would give me a ride home. No clue if I asked or they offered, but I'm willing to bet it wasn't my idea. Fortunately Jason didn't try to invite himself up or anything (not that I would've let him), for he had to give his two friends a ride home. Or maybe that was just his excuse, for I have a feeling I was "that girl." You know, the really hammered one they felt obliged to take care of, but couldn't wait to get rid of. After I got out of the car, they probably reiterated to one another how I was indeed "that girl."

Sneaky Little Thing

Before my brothers came along, my parents described me as this vibrant, cheerful little girl full of zest. Upon their arrival, my world came crashing down faster than Britney Spears' dignity. They were these pesky little creatures who not only stole my coveted personal belongings, but also stole the undivided attention right out from underneath me.

There's an old photo of me sitting peacefully on the perched area of our brick fireplace, toys neatly beside me, as my rugrat of a brother crawls below me. Since he hadn't learned to stand yet, I'd found a temporary way to keep him from being within hands reach of decapitating yet another Barbie.

As the misfits grew older and I realized they weren't going anywhere, I discovered ways to use their naivety to my advantage. If I learned a "bad word" at school, I'd rush home and tell the first one I saw and watch with guilty pleasure as my mom stuck a bar of soap in their mouth. They were putty in my hands. If I told them to jump on the living room furniture, I'd first be amazed by their stupidity, then run off and snitch to my mother. I never got bored of finding new ways to get them in trouble. As they were being hauled off to their rooms, I'd relish the role of the "good kid."

Being a good listener, I look for the weaknesses in others lest I need it for future use to strike a nerve. I became an expert in the field of pushing people's buttons using my two brothers as lab rats. It didn't take much for me to get one or both of them riled up, pitting them against one another. Not before long, they'd be wrestling and getting hollered at while I sat back and enjoyed the show.

I didn't know it at the time, but even our neighbor said something to my mom about my uncanny ability to manipulate men and how oblivious they were to my evil doings. So yes, I'm a little manipulator who instigates drama. I'm so sneaky about it that those around me fail to notice and it's become second nature so I no longer realize I'm doing it myself. Don't be fooled by my quiet presence. Bwahaha.

Single Self vs. Relationship Self

One thing I struggle with is not wanting to lose my independence in a relationship. Is it possible to be with someone and not lose a part of yourself? I don't believe so. You give up your freedom (to make out with random boys/girls). You make room in your life for this person. You factor them into decisions on a daily basis. You make compromises. You make promises. You do your best not to break said promises. You love. You trust. You share. Your capacity to do these things grows. You forgive.

After Platonic Ex and I broke up, I shut down emotionally. The thought of going through the whole process with someone else was unfathomable. Yet on the plus side, it was liberating to have my single life back. It took me a while to get back into the swing of things i.e., going out and partying every weekend, but as it turns out, it's like riding a bicycle.

Unfortunately, I can tell I've begun to shift from my rockstar lifestyle and it saddens me. I miss crazy late-night shopping cart shenanigans with GC and C-Sharp. While I still try to go out at least once a weekend, it's just not the same. And as more of my friends say "I do", the sadder it gets. Once a friend gets engaged, you see less and less of them. And once they're married, well, you see them at showers, weddings, and funerals. Keep in mind I'm speaking generally. Yes, I have married friends whom I still hang out with, but I can't help but long for the carefree days of college when everyone's first priority was which party to attend this weekend as opposed to what color should the table centerpiece be.

Sometimes There's a Moment

The other night I went and hung out at TheGuy's house. It was nothing special. We got dinner and watched some TV. But everything was different. Rather, his demeanor was completely different in a warm-hearted, romantic and affectionate way. For the first time, I could feel that he really cared about me. It used to concern me that I never truly felt it before. But this time I did. And it didn't freak me out like I thought it would.

I'm not always cynical.

Rule #1: Don't Scare Him Off!

Platonic Ex had a blind date last Friday with someone he met on Facebook. Apparently he added some dating application specific to single males/females in the nearby vicinity. He's lived out in Denver for about a year now so he's got a few friends in the area but now that he's single, he's definitely looking to branch out from his group. He thought this might be a good way to meet new people.

Her name is Rachel and he described her picture as "homely" but after he met her in person, he confirmed she is "okay" at least better looking than he anticipated. When they were emailing back and forth to set up their date, he told her he'd made reservations at a restaurant downtown. She wrote back and said, "Gotta love a man that takes charge!" He was beaming. They went to dinner and then hit up a couple bars for drinks afterwards. I asked how he ended the date and he got all quiet so I knew that meant he kissed her. He said, "I'm a man that takes charge." Somehow I knew he'd let that compliment go to his head. Also, he threw in the standard, "I'll give you a call."

While he never openly admitted it, I assume he had a good time and planned on calling her. But when I talked to him last night, he said she'd emailed him Saturday night at 11 pm (24 hours later, on a Saturday night) telling him how much fun she'd had and that she couldn't wait to do it again. She sent a follow-up email yesterday asking if he'd received her first email. So now he doesn't know whether he'll write her back because she's probably "psycho."

When it comes to guys, I generally wait for them to make the first move. I'm always under the assumption that if a guy wants to call, he'll call. Plain and simple. What do you think? Did Rachel make a mistake in contacting him first? By not waiting for him to reply to her first email, does that make her appear desperate and/or psychotic?

Watch Where You Step

Friday night I went to see the movie Definitely, Maybe and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. When I first saw the preview, I thought it looked like another silly chick flick, but I knew the movie got good reviews and people had said it wasn't the typical girl movie. They were right. In the film, the young girl (Abigail Breslin) tries to figure out who her mom is in the story, as told by her father (Ryan Reynolds). He changes the names of the women so it becomes a mystery for her to solve.

What I liked best is the way the film portrayed relationships in a realistic way as opposed to a romantic fairytale. When a relationships fails, we sometimes struggle to define why. There's not always a clear-cut rhyme or reason. Even the two parties involved don't always have an answer. While the predictability element was somewhat lacking, the movie got me thinking about my own failed relationships in a different light so that was a refreshing change for a chick flick-esque film.

Saturday I went downtown with Ebeth and Little M. I hadn't exactly planned on getting drunk but when a few of her male co-workers met up with us, those intentions went out the window. Since men generally encourage females within a ten foot radius to consume copious amounts of alcohol, it's a little hard to stay sober (or relatively sober) when drinks and shots are delivered to you courtesy of someone else's credit card. In fact, it's positively rude not to drink them.

We skipped around to a few different bars and bumped into C-Sharp and P-Funk. It was good to see those guys because it's been a while since I've partied with them. Good to know things never skip a beat since C-Sharp's first words were, "Whose got bigger boobs?" as he asked me to compare the breast size of his present female companion to those of his long-time female friend. We differed on opinion but he'd have a way better idea than me so I give him the benefit of the doubt. I love being considered "one of the guys."

We drank and danced and drank some more. We ended the night at our usual bar where I pissed off P-Funk by nosing into his personal life. I was kind of disappointed he hadn't brought his girlfriend along since I felt like we'd sort of bonded on Halloween, but he said they'd been having problems. Of course I couldn't leave it at that, and had to ask him over and over and over again, "But why?" like an annoying little kid. And following it up with the question every guy's dying to hear, "So when are you gonna buy the ring?" Could I be any more intrusive? Well, we all know the answer to that.

The night didn't quite end there. As me, Ebeth, and Little M were between the 2nd and the 3rd floors of the elevator parking ramp, some guy with his head hung forward proceeded to spew vomit forth like a geyser. And again. Just as Ebeth stepped out of the elevator, it happened yet again, vomit splattered half inside and half outside the elevator, some of the spray landing on Little M's shoe. The two of us then had to quickly exit the elevator (I'm sure there was more where that came from) as we carefully stepped around the piles of puke. All I can say is, it's a good thing I was drunk.

Rambling Updates

It's been a year since my last post. Plenty has happened but I was extra busy at work this week so that really cuts into my blogging time. Also I never used to do much during the week but I suddenly developed a social life at some point. There's just been no time.

Where do I begin? Forgive me if this is an incredibly scatter-brained post. Things with TheGuy have been good. I think. But then again, I go back and forth. I don't know if it's him or if it's just my inability to be happy in a relationship. Being the eternal pessimist that I am, I find it extremely difficult to be happy and stay happy in a relationship. Last weekend I was certain TheGuy was going to break up with me, but then I realized it was just my extreme paranoia and me letting my neurotic tendencies get the best of me. When I'm with him, if he's not as attentive to me as I think he should be at that very moment, I'm convinced it's because he's thinking of breaking it off with me or that he's thinking about another girl or something equally terrible. I don't know why I'm like this but I am. And it takes a very very very long time for me to finally be comfortable in a relationship to the point where I no longer have these pangs of anxiety.

And then there's me. Some of the time I'm not even sure that it's right. Is it all that it could be? Probably not. Could I find someone better suited for me? Certainly. And then when I'm consumed by these thoughts, I contemplate the strength of our relationship. March 10th is the anniversary of the first time we hooked up. Well, technically the second time if you count that one time back in college. But it's been a year and I feel like we've made such little progress. I know of couples who have been together less than a year and found themselves married and pregnant by now. Not that I wish that were me, but you know what I'm saying. I know I said I didn't particularly want a serious relationship before, but as time goes on, I can't help but think of the future and the long-term potential for our relationship. Honestly I can't picture it. So if there's no long-term potential, what's the point of dating? It would just mean that I may be missing out on meeting other prospective men in the meantime.

Yeah, I am rambling. And so it continues.

So Valentine's Day. I never confessed my hatred for the Hallmark holiday which I still feel slightly guilty about but it proved to be a good test of his feelings for me. I have to admit he was kind of cute about it. If I were into that sort of thing, that is. He took me to a place called Broder's. They weren't taking reservations for Valentine's Day but you could call an hour ahead and get put on a waiting list. So we called around 7 but they said we could possibly be seated an hour and a half from then. We decided to just go to the deli part instead. Originally he had suggested getting food to-go from the deli and taking it back to my place for "a picnic." Just the sound of that made me want to throw up a little in my mouth so I was pleased when he asked if I just wanted to eat there once we arrived. It was really good. Of course I am biased because Italian food is my absolute favorite. But I had this spinach lasagna meal that came with salad and bread as well. And of course I had no problem polishing off every last bite. Afterwards we went back to my place and watched Love Actually. I know, kind of sickening. But he'd never seen it before and it's pretty much the best Valentine's Day movie I own. I am not a big fan of the chick flicks but that is one I actually like. How can you not like it?

He also brought a bottle of wine and a gift bag full of candy (no chocolate though cause he knows I don't care much for it) and a card with a Victoria's Secret gift card in it. He said he went to the store with the full intention of buying me something but that only lasted several minutes before he gave up and went for the gift card. Probably a wise choice. I am rather picky and possibly would have felt bad too bad to return something he bought me.

I don't know whether women are supposed to buy men gifts but I didn't. Finding a decent card was bad enough. It's not like I could get him one expressing my love and adoration. Buying cards is a diffult thing for me. For one, I feel as though I could write something better. Sometimes I consider writing my own cards. Anyway I found the most generic Happy Valentine's Day card from me and I got him a super dorky Barack Obama card from Marley since he's big into politics and I couldn't resist. Even writing "Love, WTP" in the card was a struggle. I know me and I know I'm not anywhere near the love stage. Good news is that I'm pretty sure he's not either. But sometimes I find it frustrating that we're not close to that point. At the rate we're going, I feel like I probably wouldn't be at that stage until summer at least, assuming we're still dating then. I don't know. It's definitely been an interesting journey.

Something I meant to blog about a while back was that I met this older black guy at the grand opening party for r. Norman's/Seven. I was there with GC and her friend when he came up and introduced himself to me. I wasn't all that attracted to him but his confidence was sort of alluring. Although he did admit to being nervous about approaching me and asked if I'd noticed him checking me out earlier in the evening. I hadn't. He asked if I had a boyfriend and I said no. Do I? I guess maybe I do but I don't know if I thought that at the time. He asked if he could take me to get a drink the following day for happy hour and I said yes. Why? I don't even know. I had no intention of going out with him, but it had been a long time since a guy had asked for my number. And this guy was definitely classier than any guy I've ever hung out with so I think I was flattered even though I wasn't interested. He asked when the best time to call was so I said after 5.

I bumped into him again as I was leaving and he asked if I done valet. I said no. Then he asked if I needed a ride to my car to which I said no again and scurried across the street to get away before he insisted on giving me a ride. As it turned out, I probably shouldn't have turned down his offer because I couldn't find my car! I'd parked at a meter a few blocks away and got all turned around so I was roaming the streets in the bitter cold in search of my stupid car. It wasn't until I hit the panic button on my car that I realized it was just kitty-corner to me. I don't know how I managed to walk by it several times. Apparently these things happen when you have a buzz.

Sure enough, the next day I received a call from a number my phone didn't recognize at 5:17 sharp. I let it go to voicemail, he left a message, and I deleted it. No call back. The night before, right after he'd asked for my number, GC's friend had said, "That guy is SO going to call you." And she was right. So the following weekend I was out with GC and the girls when I saw that guy at our usual bar. I immediately felt really bad. He came up to me too. He said, "I knew you weren't going to approach me." Then he talked about how hard it is to ask a girl for her number and pointed out that he'd actually called me and there'd been no call back. He said, "You must have a boyfriend." So this time I said yes. I did think it was kind of cocky of him to assume there was another guy in the picture. Because even if there wasn't, I still wouldn't have gone out with someone so forward like that. I could never deal with someone like that.

Anyway, I've got more stories in store but I am heading out for the night. Sorry if there are typos or if things don't make sense. I wrote this really quick and don't have time to go back and proofread like I normally do.

Next Thursday

When TheGuy asked if I wanted to do something "next Thursday," it threw me for a loop. Was he saying he could no longer do something "this Thursday" and that "next Thursday" would work better? It wasn't until I glanced at my calendar that I noticed next Thursday's date, the 14th. Should I tell him of my strong dislike for the holiday?

I told him he has to plan it, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him I'm not a big fan of V-Day. We don't exactly sit around and talk about our feelings. Ha, I've never been one of "those couples." We haven't even officially declared we're together. So really I'm using this absurd fake holiday as a test of our relationship. As much as it kills me to bite my tongue and not make fun of personalized candy hearts in his presence, I'm simply dying of curiosity to see what he will do. I'll just feel a tad guilty after the fact when I admit to hating all hearts, red and white, and that I would've been satisfied with the Burger King drive-thru.

But Once a Year

Valentine's Day is 'round the corner. I loathe this holiday more than Crocs footwear. Take me out for an overpriced meal of pint-sized proportions, buy me roses or better yet, extravagant jewelry, and cater to me, pamper me, and empty your wallet at my expense. Because you were told to. Not because you necessarily wanted to.

Romantic gestures nauseate me. Is romance even real? Chocolate and teddy bears are for suckers. I don't seek gifts of monetary value for validation.

All I need is someone to be there for me, support me, let me know their thinking about me. Daily. Not once a year. An affectionate stroke of the hair or kiss on the shoulder surely require more thought than that $3.49 Hallmark card written by some sap who sits around watching Lifetime television. How personal is that?

The Old Woman is Snoring

I snore ridiculously loud. I could snore most men under the table. It's been said that I "snore like a truck." Others have pondered how someone so little could produce so much noise. Platonic Ex would attempt to muffle the sound by burying me under a mound of pillows or pinching my nose to make it stop. TheGuy resorts to waking me and then racing to fall asleep before the truck starts revving its engine again. One night it didn't work, however, and I found him curled in the fetal position of my living room floor between the coffee table and TV stand.

Last night I learned that weight gain is attributed to snoring, which I was somehow unaware of. I googled it first thing this morning and found this.

DAN RUTZ: Surprising when you think about it as much as women tend to be smaller, that their airways ought to be smaller as well and isn't that one of the risk factors for snoring?

DR. SAMUEL MICKELSON: Well, it is and women's airways are smaller. But, probably one of the largest reasons why women don't snore as much as men has to do with more hormonal factors. With certain hormones, testosterone, men have more fat deposition in areas in and around the airway. So, when a man gains weight, they tend to get a larger neck, whereas, when a woman gains weight, they tend to put the weight on in the hips or in the abdomen and very frequently, have a very thin neck, even though they may be very heavy.

DAN RUTZ: And the fat, presence of fat in the neck, does have an affect on one's snoring?

DR. SAMUEL MICKELSON: Well, it does. The more fat you have in your neck; it makes your neck larger on the outside. But it also presses inward and makes your airway smaller on the inside. More importantly, the fat is actually deposited in the tissues of the throat, so your palate may be longer, the roof of the mouth, that's the palate. Your uvula may become larger. Your tongue may become larger because of fat being deposited within those structures.

Your tongue grows when you gain weight?!? How gross is that? I need to hit the gym immediately! If my neck gets any thicker, my neighbors are going to start filing complaints about my snoring.

Soccer & Stuff

TheGuy and his sister play on an intramural soccer league so Rockstar and I went to check out their game Wednesday night. Having played on the soccer team back in the day, she and I will always have a special place for the sport in our hearts. It was fun to watch even though the dome was freezing! The high was a whopping 1 above zero which made it even colder.

After the game, our presence shook things up during the team's beer bonding time. In the dome snack area, two tables were pulled together so me, TheGuy, Rockstar, and two other guys were at one table while his sister and the rest of the team was at the other table. The other table discussed how they played the game, past/current jobs, and beer. Our table talked about Facebook vs. MySpace, strippers, strip clubs, and grinding at clubs/strip clubs. Every time the other table fell silent, it happened to be just as one of us was saying something wildly inappropriate like, "so she was getting off on the pole?" or "simulated air-fucking."

Everyone on the team was really friendly though (except one biatch who turned around and shot us a dirty look for laughing when TheGuy took a spill during the second half) and kept encouraging us to play at their next game. Rockstar told them she would if I agreed to. But I don't think that's gonna be happening. It's been 14 years since I stepped on a soccer field! I wasn't good back then so I can't even imagine what I'd be like now.