Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Princess Bride

"That day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'As you wish', what he meant was 'I love you'. And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back."

"You have a great gift for rhyme."
"Yes, yes, some of the time."
"Enough of that."
"Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?"
"If they are, we'll all be dead."
"No more rhymes now, I mean it!"
"Would you like a peanut?"

"Look! He's right on top of us ...I wonder if he's using the same wind we are using."

"Can you move at all?"
"Move? You're alive. If you want I can fly."
"I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Well, you were dead."
"Death cannot stop true love; all it can do it delay it for a while."
 "I would never doubt again."
"There will never been a need."

"The king’s stinkin’ son fired me, and thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you’re at it why don’t you just give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it."

"Sonny, true love is the greatest thing in the world. Except for a nice MLT; mutten, lettuce and tomato sandwich - when the mutten's nice and lean and the tomato's ripe. They're so perky. I love that."

"Give us the gate key."
"I have no gate key."
"I see. Tear his arms off."
"Oh, you meant this gate key?"

"There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world, t'would be a pity to damage yours."

The Princess Bride

Monday, February 22, 2010

I Have The Rabbit; It's Not Going to Happen

So, I don't get asked out on dates really. It's probably my fault. I'm terribly picky. In men, in relationships, in giving in to temptation. However, I'm going to list this under: Good Trait.

Friends are friends and should stay friends, I think. I'm a Libra so my first impressions tend to be fairly accurate and I can "smell" chemistry, I swear it. Well, I mean, really, we all can  (or a podcast). But perhaps some are more susceptible than others? I do smell everything: before I eat something, I smell it. Before I drink something, I smell it. Someone asks me what something is? I smell it. I smell my clothes. I smell other people's clothes. There have been a number of times I walk into a room and go: Who is wearing this perfume/cologne? So much of my memory is linked to smell. I know they say it's the most important sense (or something), but for me, I feel like my brain takes it that little extra mile.

Back from my tangent, I know pretty well in the first moments I meet you what category you could fit into. I'm in no way interested in a relationship right now, but for some reason I still evaluate guys I meet based on this. (Practice for the future?) The number of people that fit into the category of datable/relationship material is small. (Don't my ex's feel special now?) Perhaps I'm too picky, but I'm just going to say I know what I want. Good spin, Me, good spin. I think I'd like to try to just date, but I'm very honest and it sort of just feels like lying. I'm still figuring this one out.

I had a moment this past weekend where I guess drunk me decided she needed to be kissed. Or just to kiss back. Who knows? Rum told me to do it. Datable? Not for me. And that's fine. However, I find that in DC when someone meets you in a bar (or just meets you), they think they can go home with you and then go home with you. Interestingly, no dates though. I'm just going to throw it out there: Promiscuity is not my thing. I have gone so far as to tell this to men guys penises with people attached and I just don't think they understand. Or maybe they hold out selfish hope.

I want to write on my forehead: IT AIN'T HAPPENIN', but I don't think that would look good with my hair. In a conversation with a girlfriend earlier today, I came up with a good idea for a t-shirt [regardless of owning Rabbits or not]. She said it was "brilliant", so I took about 5 minutes to design one:

1. Don't steal my design. kthx. And, 2. Don't lie, you love it. And if you don't know what The Rabbit is, you should watch more Sex and the City. I just don't understand why boobs and blond hair translates to anyone as easy or stupid. I like to think I'm the exact opposite of both of those...and I can see right through the games.  

Oh, and, by the way, you're losing.

Smiling Helps, Despite the Guilt

I had a fantastic weekend spiked with pain. Friday I went out for some birthdays; it was a good time, from what I remember. I had rum and cider; but no dinner. So I was functional, but forgot some. However, I made up for it on Saturday as I ate a lot of chicken and drank moderately, but remember the whole hilarious night. Note to self: eat more Chik-fil-a and keep doing this. Unfortunately, sitting in my car waiting to meet my friend to get on the metro and head to the concert Saturday, I got a call from my mom. I knew what it was before I picked it up. The bad news got worse. The worst: "but at least she went fast and painlessly". Well, I guess so...

That line is only so helpful. I had a debate; I could go home and just think or go out with my friends. As guilty as I felt doing it, I went out. The sadness is still settling in; but perhaps in life you have to lose people you love to make room in your heart for more; not that the love is any less once they're gone; but they need to watch over you, spirits renewed and souls shared. I miss everyone I have loved and lost, but in a conversation earlier today, I realize that the pain you feel is directly related to the quality of love and lessons they brought into your life: so if that's what it takes, I know my sadness will subside and make room for a plethora of memories, stories and lessons told to young from old. And still I learned, smiling helps, despite the guilt.

The importance of friends is also highly underrated.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Importance of Hugs

This is just going to be one of those posts where you go: Everything sucks and I want to talk about it.

Although, it smells more like: I get in my own head and I fret over everything. Then again, it has been a bad week. It's moments like this where I miss a partnership - or better yet, living near family. I need a hug.

I posted a while back that I am laughing more - like I used to, before everything in my life changed, I moved and it all went WHAT?! And that's great - sometimes I even consciously think about it now when I laugh and I thank the Heavens. But after leaving the weekend and laughing into Monday, I received some bad family news - as of yesterday, that news got worse. Then I think I got a photo ticket this morning(out of pure stupidity). Then I got yelled at by my CEO (for something else really stupid).

It's like a total 180 and I find that I let it all get the best of me. Will it all work out? Probably some parts better than others, but I still feel very deflated at the moment. And I kind of really hate it. I just need a hug, but there's no one around to give me one.

It's so interesting how indefinably important human contact is. Newborns who miss out of tactile communication develop slower than children who are touched a lot. And studies have shown that premature  babies are more quickly to heal, grow and develop than babies who are touched less...or not at all. I can't wait for warm weather so I can take part in the Free Hugs Campaign and hopefully brighten someone's day after they got bad news, a photo ticket and a bad moment at work in a 24 hour period. A warm embrace is so simple, yet truly comforting.

The importance of hugs is highly underrated.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Off the Vodka: How It All Began

(con't from previous entry...)

I started drinking as a teenager. 14 to be exact.  I have always hated beer - I was spoiled in that my parents were divorced so getting liquor or wine coolers from my dad was easy. If my mom found out, it would piss her off, plus him buying it made him 'the good guy' for a minute, so win-win for him. So that's how the vodka part began. Plus, I'm a WASP, I'm suppose to love vodka.

But my drinking experiences really started when my best friend's (ex)boyfriend was a guy who went to a local college (we had all attended the same high school). At 16, we started to party at his frat house: This is where I picked up the habits I'm currently trying to thwart. At 17, I dated him for a couple months, only because that decision was made for me, as I was (more) interested in his friend. His friend whom he explained me to as: "She's a bitch when you first meet her, but if you can deal with her at first, she's great," - probably the most proper (pre)introduction I could ever get. Then I dated his friend for nearly three years. (I guess I really am "great".)

I became friends with many of those guys. I spent my latter high school summers in their apartment just drinking away. I sort of became Momma Bear of that place. We drank almost every night. Drinking a lot. I never drank beer: Just liquor...mostly vodka. Some people drank more than others; sometimes I needed a night off. But this is what was normal at their place, for their parties: Drinking to excess. Someone probably should have gotten hurt (aside from a sore throat from swallowing a goldfish backwards), but we were young and stupid and this was a small town with little entertainment value. His New Years parties were a fantastic mess of sloppy delight too, and I have yet to have a New Year's celebration that meets the expectations he set for me (and probably all of us) back then.

When I left for college, I went to school in Ohio. The same habits he had helped me build. Habits that had worked out poorly for me while still in high school and almost got me into big trouble a number of times in college. The most obvious of times was when I went to a frat party (the same frat I learned to drink at - where all the guys knew me - but a different chapter in a different state) and I ended up way over-drinking and upchucking in mulch, followed by almost getting shoved into a van by a large group of frat guys. (You do the math.) Some kid came by and saved me.

After that incident, and a miserable freshman year in general, I chose to transfer schools. I moved back to PA and went to school near home the following year. A few months after that, I broke up with the guy that I had been dating for nearly three years who, at this point, had been extremely close with the guy that taught me how to drink over the past four. Although, they had drifted apart somewhat, as our friend had started dabbling in drugs, drinking heavily and had since dropped out of school, I still saw them, but less often. The habits, however, stayed with me - remaining unaware they were not "normal" (though I'm unconvinced they aren't, especially after moving to the drinking city of DC).

If it gives you any understanding of how intense my training was, this friend of ours passed away last year. He had finally gotten his life together, he had a good job and a girlfriend he loved. But his heart had given out. He died at the age of 26. He is dearly missed and we all remember him with fond, fond memories. He was someone who could always make the room laugh and brought people, who wouldn't normally meet, together as friends. I can't thank him enough for all the fun I had when I was younger, but it's time to change the habits he helped develop as a kid. I remember him with much love, but I have to break those habits now; not just here and there, but every night...because I really like the memories.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Off the Vodka: Week One

Per my last post, I decided to break up with vodka. And like any dysfunctional couple, I smell an eventual reconciliation, but one where the other person cheated and so I will re-enter the relationship weary and un-trusting. Also, like any good dysfunctional relationship, vodka and I have been teasing one another - and by that I mean, I have taken a few good sips of friends drinks with vodka in it. WHAT?! I needed the caffeine!

It snowed a lot this past weekend; over 20 inches, I believe. And after my roommate made us ("us" meaning myself and 2 of his visiting friends) watch him play some xBox war game while he wore a headset after I got home early from work since the snow started to stick, he then called me shallow because I said I didn't care of anyone else (read: him) drinks for free at a bar this week. (That was a run-on.) Because 1. I don't and 2. he makes enough to pay for it and I've scored him a many free drink before. Was the favor ever returned? No. (P.S. Hi Mark.) After I got heated over that - which I deem to be the worst insult - he told me I was over-reacting. Even his friend said my roommate deserved a kick to the face. I agree. And I am still awaiting my apology.

So I had to get out. In the worst storm in many, many years, I got ready, put my snow pants on over my jeans and headed out to the bar. It was a great night. And because I broke up with vodka, I had cider the whole night - they have Strongbow on tap there, yum - and I remember everything...I think. I only took a few sips of friends' Red Bull and vodkas. I ended up with 2 bruised knees, but that's only cause I started playing in the snow after the snow reached about 16 inches by the time we left the bar. I stayed at a friend's.

We woke up the next morning, played risked and waited for the pizza that never came (shocking, 20" of snow shuts down Papa John's). Then we headed out for the snowball fight. We walked down the center of the street; a surprising number of people were out, all walking down the middle of the snow-covered roads and we saw only a few cars.

Then we got to the epic Dupont Circle snowball fight. And despite some very rough men - one who dropped a brick of snow in the center of my back, which still hurts from it and another who got 3 feet away from my face and launched a packed snowball as hard as he could at my ear, fucking ow - it was a great time.

Afterward, I went home to shower and change then headed back out to VA. We went to the bar and I stayed at another friend's house because the metro closed at 11pm. I also remember this night, as I stuck to cider again and a Malibu and Sprite (Gross! I miss you vodka tonic!). I had a few sips of Red Bull and vodkas again, but that was about it. I remember everything that night. Sad? Or exciting?

It really sucks that it took me being completely uncomfortable and stupid at a near stranger's house for me to get the memo that pacing (for me) might not be the issue so much as vodka. When you're at a bar (or playing drinking games) and you have a drink in hand, you naturally take sips of it; you don't count the minutes between sips and after you've had a few you definitely aren't thinking "Do I really need another", you just go for it. I really enjoyed the right point of tipsy that something with 5.5% alcohol gives you, as opposed to 40% - it's hard to pace with 80 proof because it seems to hit you all at once and then you decision-making skills go WHOOPS! till you wake up the next morning certain that it's not your dinner on the later discover that, yes, actually, oops, it is.

Anyway, so far it's been an interesting week. A week I can fully remember. I remember laughing and I remember someone else being drunk. And it makes me sad that I missed all that when I drank too much as a kid up until last week...

(continued on next post...)

Monday, February 1, 2010

Lets Call This One "And I'm a Fucking Idiot"

Dear Mom, You jinxed me. [Now stop reading here.]

Over gchat this weekend my mom told me to "maintain my coolness", (read: not blackout) always one to prove people wrong, I decided to drink what appeared to be an entire bottle of vodka and proceed to lose my dignity not only on the floor but also in the kitchen sink. Then vehemently deny it because I honestly thought: That's not me. I have never in all of my drunken years upchucked in a place I'm not suppose to. (Except for maybe that one time a little bit on my now ex-boyfriend. But we dated for 2 years after that. Oh, and that other time, on the metro - but what choice did I have?) And here I go and do it at the house of relative strangers (only friends of friends, really) where the guy I went on a date with on Thursday lives.

I broke Stacy and I's first rule of drinking. I was smart when I was 18...26 year old me should listen.

To be fair, the date appeared only to happen because he thought I was asking him. So, I really have no clue. Decidedly, tipsy me is fantastic, sober me is okay, and drunk be is unlovable...and really loves "chicken". Noted. Duly.

In the vein of full disclosure, the "date" was okay. We had actually chatted and texted for the prior week, which were enjoyable. The "date" was a dinner with little to no thought that was bought for me "because you're letting me crash at your place". ...First, sir, you asked me, so, um, well, you pay. Then I womped him at Trivial Pursuit and poker. I'm a cheap date. Other than that, nothing to report really.

Earlier in the week his roommate who I had met when I met him at karaoke a few weeks prior had invited me to a house party that was suppose to be attended by many of my friends as well. So, as in, not socially awkward for me. Well, Saturday rolls around and we get 8 inches of snow. Well, that fucking Yes Year claimed it's first casualty - determined to fight cabin fever (which develops quickly for me now since Yes-ing everything means I'm never home), and committed in my "yes's" I drove 23 miles (and 80 minutes) to go. Second clue not to go, I'll leave you hanging with the first.

Anyway, I awkwardly arrive and as it turns out - and to my surprise - only ONE other person I know was there. (And he's good friends with the guys that live there.) Had I not feared for my life in driving back, I would have left. Uncomfortable. Drinking through an awkward situation? Or just too much of a love of playing drinking games? You decide. Either way, I ended up with no dignity, a tarnished reputation of judgment by the first impression of people that really don't know me but are friends with my friends, no memory of anything past 11pm and a hangover well into the evening.

Oh, then I tried to save face by asking if he wanted to meet up again. Not as a date, just, you know: Hi, I'm not normally an asshole. No dice. Evidently, in the end, my textual conversations were not enough to save my drunk ass and I got an "um, maybe some other time". That actually cracked me up. My poor little pride. Bruised. Sad little ego. I swear, that's not who I am and I'm a little unnerved to be judged, but lesson learned I suppose.

I'm not kidding when I say I think I'm done drinking. Bye vodka, it's been fun. But I'm breaking up with you.

(Hopefully this story with help you feel better when you do something just as dumb. Alcohol is sometimes evil.)