I. Am. So. Excited.

Memorial Day weekend is edging closer and closer.  And I can’t wait for:

 

Whatta Weekend! And Happy Birthday, Mike!

It was a good one.  Lemme tell you.

Cleveland can be fun.

Friday night, I went downtown (Cleveland) for a friend’s bachelorette party.  We saw a comedy show at Hilarities, ate at Pickwick & Frolic, and then hit Flannery’s, the Mexican place (can’t remember the name) and The Corner Alley.  It was a lot of fun!  I had never really “done” East 4th Street before.

So I got to see two girls from college, made some new friends, and got to go out on the town.  The next morning, I drove to Pennsylvania where Mike and I took a 22 mile bike ride down the Allegheny River, rented some movies (3 Ninjas, baby!) and went out to dinner for Mike’s birthday.

 

Mike’s birthday is TODAY!  Just in case you were wondering.  (I always get a little sad about this because we

can never be together on our birthdays.  My wish for his birthday–and my own–and every other opportunity I have to make a wish is that we can be together every day from now on.)

And on Sunday, we did my favorite thing.  We did the domestic thing.  We washed cars, went to the grocery store, went shopping, cooked dinner, watched television.  It was perfect.  It makes me really think about the trend we started when we started leaving each other for jobs.   We’re meant to be.  Make a wish when you blow out your candles without me, Baby.

Happy Birthday, and I love you!

 

 

When the Hell Did I Get So Boring and Twitchy?

I was talking with my friend Chris today and we both agree that our late 20′s are kind of shitty.  I can’t get in the same town as Mike and Chris is looking to catch a break in more than a few ways.

And I’m so damn worried about the future that quite frankly, I’ve turned into a royal curmudgeon.  So much so, in fact, that my left eye has not stopped twitching for weeks.  TWITCHY CURMUDGEON!

I rarely go out during the week with my coworkers…and if I do, I’m usually pretty lame.  You can ask them.  They will tell you the same.

I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday.  I got cranky about my oil change.  I pouted about living alone when I had to kill a spider.  I get pissy because I can’t decorate my apartment (if I can’t paint, then why even bother?).  Then I get pissier because I don’t want to live in an apartment and I want a backyard.

It never ends.  I’m boring.  I’ve lost my excitement about “right now” because I’m so worried about the future.  I’m going to try to change that…

If you catch me being a curmudgeon, smack me and tell me to snap out of it.

 

Over Ohio and Through Indiana to Roseanne’s House We Go!

!!!!!!!!  It’s official.  I am going to Roseanne’s house.  It’s true!  Okay okay, not her real house (which is in Hawaii now), and not even a house she ever actually lived in.  And truth be told, according to my good buddy, Bruce, they never actually filmed inside this house, either…  But I will be visiting THE HOUSE (or at least the outside of it) that is featured in all of the episodes of Roseanne!

The Promised Land of All Domestic Goddesses

Alright alright, you’re not excited about this at all, are you?  WELL YOU SHOULD BE!  On October 21, my roommate from college (Kay, aka Snoop-A-Loop) will grab her green hat, and we will go to Indianapolis to pick up Barbs, another friend from college.  No doubt, Barbs will have her cranky thong on, so we’re going to have to get her drunk and throw her into the car the next morning.

From there, we will drive to 619 South Runnymeade Avenue in Evansville, Indiana, and we will take shameless photos in front of the house.  Barbs will probably be snapping most of the pictures, as she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Roseanne.

Would it be out of line to ask the people who live there if we can come in?  I hope it’s not out of line, because I fully intend on doing it.

I AM SO EXCITED!!!

 

 

An Official Announcement: I Am Coming to Wilmington, NC

It’s official!  Officially I am going to  Wilmington!  I’ve had the travel bug for some time now, and I am still astounded to say that I miss Wilmington.

So when I get off of work on June 30, I am going to drive to Pennsylvania, pick up Mike, put him in the front seat of Delilah, throw his luggage in the back, and start off across Pennsylvania on our 12-hour drive to Wilmington!

And I’m not just excited about Wilmington.  I’m excited about a multitude of things:

Pilot Mountain

1)  The Drive.  I fell in love with the drive to Wilmington and certain parts of the way along with it.  I love the Sheetz in Breezewood, PA, and how all the gas stations sit in a tiny valley where huge roads intersect.  The cigarette tower in Richmond, VA, how dangerously close I come to Washington, DC and all its scary traffic.  I love Pilot Mountain in North Carolina, and the way I can convince myself that I already smell the ocean.   I love being in a car for 12 hours, drinking coffee and eating beef jerky, seeing the number of North Carolina license plates increase.  I love driving 75 mph and throwing my hand out the window to feel the wind rush through my fingers.

2)  Seeing friends.  Scott, Michelle, Harden, Jenny, Carmen, Erica, Amy, Loretta, Erin, Brent, the Stonewalls, Shane, Doug, Nick, St. John, and everyone else (If you want added in, let me know).

3)  FOOD. Flaming Amy’s, Mellow Mushroom, Indochine, gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

4)  Bars.  The Reel Cafe where I knew I loved Mike.  The Blue Post.  Barbary Coast, The Goat and Compass, Level 5, THE FAT PELICAN!

5)  Beaches.  Getting TAN!  And seeing the ocean.

6)  Driving around in the memories.  I’m so excited.

If you want to get together, please let me know!

 

People On Facebook I Wish I Was Like

I’m not quite who I want to be yet.  I’m darn close, but I’m not who I want to be.  And as I was looking at Facebook tonight, I was thinking about the things I wish I could be from each of my friends.

So mini-tributes to my lovely people who I aspire to be like (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER–AND IF YOU’RE NOT IN HERE, DO NOT BE OFFENDED.  I’M SAVING YOU FOR THE NEXT ROUND).  (PS, if it’s something silly, it’s probably because you’re an old friend, and chances are, I’ve already grown and learned from you.  I love you!)

1)  I want Jenny’s spirit.

2)  I want Kay’s alcohol tolerance.

3)  I want Barb’s…middle finger?  Ha ha

4)  I want Rachey’s climbing abilities.

5)  I want Monica’s strength.

6)  I want Lacey’s desire to see and understand the world.

7)  I want Harden’s ability to understand and make peace with life.

8)  I want Heidi’s snappy ass comebacks.

8)  I want Brittany’s tie to the social scene!

9)  I want Shelley’s ability to forgive.

10)  I want Hope’s ability to giggle…about EVERYTHING.

11)  I want Jessica’s hopefulness.

12)  I want Jena’s ability to turn everything into a party.

13)  I want Leta’s ability to dance in the proverbial rain.

14)  I want Aimee’s musical ability, and her laugh.

I have awesome friends.  LOVE YOU ALL!

 

Bowling-A Ladies’ Sport

I have mixed feelings concerning what I’m about to say.  And I think what I’m about to say my have solved some of my “finding friends in your 20′s sucks ass once you’re out of school” problems.

I bought a bowling ball.

Me.  A bowling ball!  I’m really excited.  It’s in Pennsylvania right now getting drilled.  To fit my fingers. I guess I’m so excited about this because I’ve never had a personalized piece of sporting equipment.  I played softball and tennis, but I just bought off-the-rack.  Besides the chintzy t-shirts given to us by the recreational leagues, nothing ever had my name on it–and it wasn’t personalized for me.

The bowling ball is both.

Let’s go back to the beginning of my career with bowling.

We all did the bowling thing in Junior High and High school–the GLOW BOWLING THING.  You know…farm kids hanging out in neon lights laughing at the fact that our teeth were blue, embarrassed by the fact that we had so much lint on our clothes.  Couples thought it might be more fun to make out in black light.

The rest of us tried to perfect our kick, to get the attention of that guy or gal that we were interested in, and to happen to fall into their lap on the fiberglass chairs by the end of the night.

And then we’d stand outside in the parking lot, rejoicing in the night, all hopped up on Mountain Dew, laughing at the snow, planning to do it again.

The score wasn’t important then.  We still thought it was fun to get a strike, but in the end, we got to laugh in the black light for a few hours, and that was enough.

And then we got to college, and the competition became the more important thing…but in a different way.  It became about who could sneak the most beers off the tables from the drunk regular bowlers.  It became about the “sex pin,” although most of us never held up on our word.  (((For those of you wondering, the “sex pin” is the bowling pin in the very middle of the triangle.  The opportunity to use the “sex pin” happens when you knock down all the pins but leave the middle one standing.  If you pick up that pin on a spare, you’re supposedly going to get laid that night.)))

I remember bowling with my cousin Heidi when I visited Ashland University before I attended.  She sneaked me a couple beers, taught me about the sex pin, and let me hang out with her now-husband’s little brother.  I felt freaking cool.  Tim McGraw’s “Red Rag Top” was the big song that year, and they played it so loud over the speakers that something about it made me anxious to get to AU for my own college career.

And then there was bowling here and there in grad school.  Mostly I just played along, not actually wanting to be there.  And then the night of Christmas 2009, all of my cousins, Heidi excluded, went out to Plaza Lanes off of Route 20 in Fremont, and we bowled.  BOY did we bowl.  I got my high score that night.  176.

You may not know this about Mike (boyfriend Mike), but he’s an avid bowler.  I bought him a bowling shirt for his birthday with “Big Ern” embroidered on the shoulder–as it is his bowling name.  He has the shoes, the ball, the bag, the nifty little thing that cleans oil of the bowling ball.  He’s hardcore.

And this weekend, after he made me tacos, bought me Skinny Girl margarita mix (it’s so good!), and let me watch Ghost Hunters, we took off on Saturday to do some shopping.  We ended up at Seneca Lanes and bowled a couple of games.  I realized how much I love it–and that we could do it together, and often.  But I also realized how much I freaking hate finding a ball to fit my hands.

So we went and bought one.  It looks like a peacock!  I’ll post pics when it’s done being drilled.

BUT the solution to THIS PROBLEM:  I can go bowling in Brunswick!  I can make bowling friends!  And if…WHEN, Mike gets here, we could join a league!  I’m super psyched about this.

Bowling.  The joy of it all. 

 

Okay I Give Up…

How the heck do you make friends once you’re out of college!?

Think about this:

In college, you were forced into dorms, common eating areas, classes.  It was easy to find people like you.

But now, out of college…shit got weird.  In Franklin, Mike and I had no real “friends” besides his Deputy friend who came over occasionally, and this super creepy guy named George who was obsessed with getting Mike to kayak down the Allegheny with him.  People at the bars already had their cliques.  People at restaurants don’t talk.  People at Sheetz were stoned.

And now that I’m in Brunswick, I’m running into the same problem…only solo.

I do believe I’ve made friends at work, but at the end of the day, they go home to their families, eat dinner with their spouses, tuck their children into bed. I’m not there yet. So this leaves little room for, “Hey, let’s go get a beer after work.”

Last night I went and read COOP at Starbucks for just under two hours.  One person between the ages of 16 and 50 walked in.  Everyone else was, well, a child or a mature mature adult. Perhaps another coffee house is the answer?  I’ve located one.  I intend on going there next week.

But I’ve thought of other places–and reasons not to try them.  Here’s the list:

Bars: Okay, I love to drink as much as the next lush…but when you’re a 25-year-old girl walking into a bar by yourself, call me old-fashioned but I think you’re asking for trouble.  That is not to say that it isn’t okay to go sit at a bar like, say, Applebee’s or Chili’s, as the restaurant atmosphere is much less threatening.  Plus, I’m just not sure how Mike would feel about it.

The Gym: First off, I DO NOT like to work out in front of people.  I pretty much just won’t do it.  I have no problem walking/running on the streets…but the people that see me are momentary.  I pass their house.  They pass me in a car.  Then it’s over.  End of transaction.  Not so with the gym.  You’re stuck on a track running in circles, in a class where someone is staring at your ass every time you bend over, or on an elliptical machine or the like where all can see you bounce.  No thanks.  And I don’t want to meet friends at the gym because I don’t want the basis of our relationship to be, “Yeah, let’s get sweaty together.”

Social Events: This would work…but it is winter.  And there are none.  I will reserve it for the spring.

And that’s it…I have no other ideas.  I follow folks on Twitter from around the area.  Perhaps there’s something in that.

A book club?

SERIOUSLY.  Where are you 20-somethings?!?!

 

Taking Lessons From Someone I Respect

My brother played baseball with this kid named Eric when we were younger.  And Eric was at always at our house, or Jason was always at his.  Our parents became good friends, and our families often spent time together, too.

I remember going to their house to swim one night.  We didn’t have a pool or a computer at the time, and I was completely intrigued.  Eric showed me how to use the computer.  I do believe I managed my way into a chat room and befriended a German man who was going to swim the ocean to be with me and my 13-year-old self.

This is not the point.

I always respect his older sister, Rachael, who sometimes came along.  I remember sitting in the front yard looking at her senior pictures and wishing that I could have the very same ones when I was a senior.  There was also a time that my friends and I were going toilet-papering and Rachael and her mom tagged along.  I respected her then because I thought she was cool.

Now, I still think she’s pretty freaking cool.  I’m envious of everywhere she’s been, and of her Etsy wedding.  But I also respect her blog, and her honesty.  Recently, she’s taken to answering a series of questions/prompts that no cowardly person would.  I respect that.  So check her out.

It also made me want to try it, if nothing else to resurrect my blog.

So Question #1:  Day 1: Something you hate about yourself.

Something I hate?  Lots.  This is an easy one, but it’s all for shallow purposes.  Sometimes I hate my body, no need for specifics.  Sometimes I hate my spending habits…how sometimes I go overboard, and other times, I’m so stingy that I miss out on things.  But I think the big one is that I hate how much my mood is affected when I am away from my significant other for long periods of time.

When I was living in Wilmington, I was certainly homesick, but I had a good time with my buddies.  Jenny P in particularly made me really take advantage of where I was in the world.  I fell in love with Mike at the end of my second year in Wilmington.  I had one more year in my grad program, and he’d gotten a job in Pennsylvania.  For a year, we were apart, and I was completely miserable.  There were a few good times, but nothing like the times when I wasn’t fixated on being back with Mike.  I don’t blame him for this.  And I don’t really blame anyone.  I just hate how reliant my happiness was on him.  I quit spending money because every dime to me was a dime toward going to see him.  And every night of fun somehow filled me with guilt.

Now that I’m in Brunswick, I’m 2 hours away from him.  And I see him every weekend, which is a far cry better than once a month in Wilmington, but I still catch myself slipping into these horrible moods when I can’t just reach out and touch his hand.  I don’t have any friends here yet, so it’s not really a big deal about going out and having fun.  Now that I’m more aware of it, I try to stop it.  And now that I’m back in Ohio where I feel like a normal person again, maybe this will subside.

But that’s what I hate about myself.

Thanks Rach!