In 2012, I was really killin' it with this blog. In 2012, you really got to see Emily play. Well, as much as someone my age could 'play' while living with their parents in a 55+ retirement community. So, mostly riding around in a golf cart, joining in on the Metamucil conversations and being tucked into bed by 9pm.
2013 promised much of the same fervor until I had to get a real job and my blog started sucking wind. Such was the trend for 2014 as well.
2015 was weak af. It's 1/17/16, and I managed to write one blog post last year. And, technically, it's not even a real blog post. It's something I wrote separately and was just like "let me do a little Control C and Control V action here and boom, tricky way to pass this off as a blog post." I mean, it's a swell blog post and I love my darling parents dearly, but it wasn't intended for here...until I needed to make myself look mildly better.
It's like I blinked and it's the beginning of 2016. I can't believe I've been in Florida for over four years. I'm 33 now. 33!!! Read my blog header/description and you'll realize how pathetic that sounds coming from someone my age. Oh well, as my jacked up/blown out tattoo says, "it's all an adventure." Indeed indeed.
Speaking of being old, a few days ago my mom told me the 'new age' to start getting mammograms is 40. I said "oh, ok, that's the age I thought you were supposed to be." And, her reply was "you haven't been getting mammograms??" She said this with the same inflection one might when berating another for leaving the milk on the counter overnight. As though I've been craftily maneuvering my way around the mammogram system for years. Uhhh, don't you think that's something I might have recounted with you mother dearest? Like "hey mom, I had my first mammogram today, it was the worst thing ever." My own flesh and blood, who I talk to and/or text with daily, thought I've been getting mammograms on the reg. She thought I was at the age in which I've already received at least one, if not more than one. I mean, in a certain regard, it's kind of flattering because the notion that my boobs might have enough volume to actually fit in a mammogram machine is rather complimentary. But alas, apparently I have 7 years to go before that fun adventure shall begin.
Anyway, it's the start of a new year - woo hoo! My new year's resolutions are always the same: avoid mammograms (jk, jk), eat healthier, exercise more and drink less. I'm not terrible with any of these things, but I can always be better. 17 days in and I've eaten the same, exercised the same and discovered I now like dirty martinis. So really, I've gone backwards. It's ok, at least I'm not like "I've really gotta start doing less cocaine and less stripping." I don't feel too bad.
Re: dirty martinis
I'm really a pretty non-picky eater, but there are a few things I hate: caraway seeds (straight from the devil), cilantro (a.k.a. soapy mint) and tuna fish with mayo (sickening). Green olives used to be on this list. However, they seemed the most palatable out of these four items, so every once in a while - let's just say every 24th bloody mary for those of you looking for specifics - I'd do a 'green olive check-in'. Pop one in my mouth and see if I still hate them. The answer always used to be 'yes, pure hatred through and through' until recently. I gave that green olive a whirl again and ta da, I liked it. I'm not sure why - I think it's just because I like salty food and maybe my taste buds are changing. Maybe I'll be eating tuna mixed with cilantro on rye bread in no time. OMG, THAT'S SO SILLY, I'D DIE. So yeah, then I made the small leap that I might like dirty martinis now too. And, I did. The End.
I'm going to be better with my blog in 2016. It's going to be one of my new year's resolutions. I've been very good with my new year's resolutions.
The sometimes cohesive ramblings of me as I live on my own in St. Pete, Florida! I used to live in a retirement area with my parents, but now I'm all grown up and shit.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Sunday, March 1, 2015
February 6th
February 6, 2015 was my parent's 33rd wedding anniversary, and this is the letter I wrote to them...
Dear Mom & Dad on your 33rd
wedding anniversary,
We’ve always been an outwardly loving family.
The modern day group texts with updates of our day, funny random comments, lots
of good nights, lots of good mornings, lots of xoxo’s, lots of I love you’s. Lots
of love, really.
The phone calls, the get togethers, the short
stretch of miles between us (I’ve always made sure of the “short” part), the
unspeakable bond between us four.
I’ve always known I was lucky. Not only to
grow up in a family where the two parents were still together and happily in
love but also to have pretty much anything I wanted at my fingertips. A nice
place to live, plenty of food, cars paid for, college paid for, a fostering
environment, the list goes on and on. The necessities were more than covered,
and I had so much more than that too. So much more.
I have always appreciated it. I have. It was
never lost on me. It was just never fully realized either when I was younger.
Time and winding your way through your youth
has a way of uncovering these truths for us. As I get older, I realize the
importance more bit by bit, and I’ve been meaning to write this letter for a
while now.
We all go about our lives and we have good
times together and everything is great, but I don’t want you to just hear about
how much I love you in broad strokes. I want you to REALLY know. And, I’m sure
you already get it, you do, but just in case, here are some examples:
When I call mom and often get put on
“speaker” so dad can hear because it’s more of an event than a simple
conversation – even if it’s the third time I’ve called that week. And, the
“thanks for calling” at the end like it’s a favor to you two even when it’s
something I genuinely enjoy and want to do.
When I went through a particularly difficult
break up and mom was there the next day, no questions asked, even if she
already had other plans.
When no guy I ever date is good enough
because dad is too damn spectacular – at EVERYTHING.
When we watch home videos of Ben and me as
children and you two are flirting with each other in them, deliriously happy,
despite your sleep-deprived faces.
When mom never complains about having
diabetes – 28 years and counting.
When dad is stressed but you would never know
it because he rarely shows it, rarely complains and rarely acts less than 100%
present.
When I have a bunch of sh*t to hang on the
walls and dad is genuinely happy to help me. Like, smiling widely wielding a
hammer.
When I’ve just had a quiet morning or maybe a
particularly overly introspective day, and when I see you two, it’s all chatter
and happy and hustle bustle. It kind of has a way of setting things back to
neutral for me.
When dad would never yell at us unless he was
REALLY mad. When mom would always yell at us. You guys had the balance down right.
When there is some type of family event and
mom has everything planned including itinerary/food and makes it look easy and
never seems “put out”.
When you two talk to me about things
concerning Ben because you want my opinion, and I feel validated in giving it
since I’ve known my brother during his whole span of time on this earth.
When I can come to you with anything and
never feel judged.
When the best thing for each of you, truly, is
seeing Ben and me happy. Sometimes our happiness might be derived from us
having really active social lives and not having as much time to talk to you or
see you. That does not bother you though because this is just one example of
how your love for us is unconditional.
When I can call at 3am, if needed, and mom would
answer – because she’s never truly had a goodnight’s sleep in over 32 years.
When I’m sad about something and maybe I’ve
talked to other friends about that something, but when I hear mom’s voice on
the other end of the line, it instantly makes me break down and cry.
When dad had a pretty terrible upbringing,
but despite all odds and probably in spite of all odds, still became the best
father either of us could have ever dreamed of.
When Ben or I tell mom we want to buy a
table, or something along those lines, and instantly, we have five to six links
of table options waiting for us in our email.
When you gave me Ben when I was four because
even though we are so different in so many ways that is mostly why I love him.
When we just have fun together and are the
“loud family”.
There are so many more examples, but I
digress.
Your love, support, selflessness and patience
is unwavering, year after year. It may shift and change shape with the passing
of time, but it’s always there, strongly rooted. And that is just something, in
and of itself – to know you’ll always be there, no matter what. It’s a
grounding and peace provoking feeling. I know you’d tell me that’s what family
is all about and that’s what family is for, but it’s not. It’s the best gift
anyone can be given.
I’m one of the truly lucky ones.
I don’t even know where I’d be or who I’d be
without you. I like to think I’d still be “me”, but the truth is, so much of
me, is you.
Don’t get me wrong; I know it’s been hard. I know
I was a terrible baby, and I know Ben was no cup of tea as he got older. I know
you both continue to work super hard in different ways, but damn if you don’t
make it look easy, worthwhile and graceful.
I already have so many special memories, and
I can’t wait to make more. I love seeing how our relationship evolves as we all
grow older and continue on this journey together.
I know they say no one can prepare you for
how fiercely and powerfully you’ll love your children. But no one prepares you for
the first people who will steal your heart either. Out of the seven billion
people on this earth, I’d choose you two every time.
We are four, but we are one.
For all the ways you’ve “showed up”, in every
sense of the word, I’m so very thankful. Everything you’ve done for me is
everything to me.
You’re the greatest loves of my life.
xoxo,
Em
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Coast Dental
Our dental plans just changed at work recently. My company offered a completely free, company-paid dental plan during our last dental plan choices and our most recent dental plan choices. This time and last time I chose this free, company-paid option because it was pretty much just as good as the ones I'd have to pay for out of pocket. The only difference is the last free plan was a DMO, and this time the free plan is a PPO. Wow, this is getting confusing and super boring already, so let me offer you a bulleted list to ease your confusion and pepper in some excitement:
This doesn't seem like much of a difference if you don't know a lot about DMO plans vs. PPO plans, but I assure you, it's QUITE different indeed. With my previous DMO plan, a terrible dental facility (in which the dentist has barely graduated dental school and maybe knows a little more about teeth than I do) gets assigned to you.
I think it's like when people barely graduate hair school, so they go work at that "Blow Bar" chain where all they do is blow dry hair all day long because haircuts and hair coloring are too lofty of a goal. At least, I think that's what their shtick is all about at "Blow Bar". I don't know for sure because I can generally manage to dry my hair by myself without the aid of someone meagerly skilled - and also, the air, in general, does a pretty fine job of that. Probably not the best name. The point is that the people working there most likely aren't very good at their job.
Getting back to the dentist thing; you don't have much say in the matter in terms of the dental facility you get assigned to. I was assigned to a Coast Dental close to my condo. I've seen many Coast Dental offices around (mostly inland - that's a hilarious joke), so I knew it wasn't any type of luxurious, one-off dental facility, but beggars can't be choosers, right? I'm not paying a thing, so if you're gonna clean my teeth for free, ok, let's do this. Also, the reviews online said cute things like "they pulled my teeth out unnecessarily", "run for the hills", "this is the Walmart of dentists", "I think I was roofied", etc.
During my first appointment, I was told they would do my x-rays and an exam and that I would then have to schedule my teeth cleaning separately. I said I would like them "all together please", and the woman assured me their dental staff couldn't handle ALL of these complicated dentals tasks on the same day without a good night's sleep in between. After looking around, I thought "yeah, that sounds about right", so I scheduled my cleaning for the next day after gagging through my x-rays (yeah, that's an adorable thing I do). She then told me that I could actually come back in three hours for my teeth cleaning if I wanted - as if she was pulling some strings specifically for me. Three hours? Nice try Mrs. Migillicuddy. I have to get to work. Tomorrow it is.
When I arrived the next day for my teeth cleaning, I was in and out of there in like 20 minutes flat. No joke. The dental hygienist glanced casually at my teeth with measured interest (like one might when trying to determine if the pile of debris on the side of the road is a garbage bag or a body), waved a magic wand in my mouth's general direction, chanted some mantra under her breath, and then I was sent on my way.
Seriously though, that's pretty much what happened. I'm still used to the days where dental hygienists really scrape at your teeth and you leave bleeding - like you've been licking an iron skillet for an hour. Instead of "scraping", the dental hygienist educated me by explaining that if she holds this new fandangled contraption somewhat close to my teeth in a super lackluster manner while simultaneously using her other hand to smoke a cigarette or whatever the case may be, the wand is so powerful that my teeth magically become clean. Ok, cool - I'm not skeptical at all.
Needless to say, I was pumped when our free dental plan option changed to a PPO. I was able to choose my own, fancy dentist now! And choose it I did! And fancy it was! I no longer had to go to a non-updated dental office that looked exactly like one Kevin Arnold may have visited on "The Wonder Years".
When I just got my teeth cleaned at my new place, they did the x-rays, exam, and teeth cleaning all in one appointment. And, they had things like iPads, mouth wash, skilled dental staff, etc. I felt like my teeth actually got cleaned. It was a delight! They were sure to mention that it looked like my teeth hadn't been cleaned very well during my last teeth cleaning. I nodded emphatically, told them I had gone to a Coast Dental and explained about the wand thing. They understood. There was really no need to expound on anything else after that.
- Our free, company-paid dental plan from a few months ago - DMO!!!!!!
- Our free, company-paid dental plan that is currently offered - PPO!!!!!!!
This doesn't seem like much of a difference if you don't know a lot about DMO plans vs. PPO plans, but I assure you, it's QUITE different indeed. With my previous DMO plan, a terrible dental facility (in which the dentist has barely graduated dental school and maybe knows a little more about teeth than I do) gets assigned to you.
I think it's like when people barely graduate hair school, so they go work at that "Blow Bar" chain where all they do is blow dry hair all day long because haircuts and hair coloring are too lofty of a goal. At least, I think that's what their shtick is all about at "Blow Bar". I don't know for sure because I can generally manage to dry my hair by myself without the aid of someone meagerly skilled - and also, the air, in general, does a pretty fine job of that. Probably not the best name. The point is that the people working there most likely aren't very good at their job.
Getting back to the dentist thing; you don't have much say in the matter in terms of the dental facility you get assigned to. I was assigned to a Coast Dental close to my condo. I've seen many Coast Dental offices around (mostly inland - that's a hilarious joke), so I knew it wasn't any type of luxurious, one-off dental facility, but beggars can't be choosers, right? I'm not paying a thing, so if you're gonna clean my teeth for free, ok, let's do this. Also, the reviews online said cute things like "they pulled my teeth out unnecessarily", "run for the hills", "this is the Walmart of dentists", "I think I was roofied", etc.
During my first appointment, I was told they would do my x-rays and an exam and that I would then have to schedule my teeth cleaning separately. I said I would like them "all together please", and the woman assured me their dental staff couldn't handle ALL of these complicated dentals tasks on the same day without a good night's sleep in between. After looking around, I thought "yeah, that sounds about right", so I scheduled my cleaning for the next day after gagging through my x-rays (yeah, that's an adorable thing I do). She then told me that I could actually come back in three hours for my teeth cleaning if I wanted - as if she was pulling some strings specifically for me. Three hours? Nice try Mrs. Migillicuddy. I have to get to work. Tomorrow it is.
When I arrived the next day for my teeth cleaning, I was in and out of there in like 20 minutes flat. No joke. The dental hygienist glanced casually at my teeth with measured interest (like one might when trying to determine if the pile of debris on the side of the road is a garbage bag or a body), waved a magic wand in my mouth's general direction, chanted some mantra under her breath, and then I was sent on my way.
Seriously though, that's pretty much what happened. I'm still used to the days where dental hygienists really scrape at your teeth and you leave bleeding - like you've been licking an iron skillet for an hour. Instead of "scraping", the dental hygienist educated me by explaining that if she holds this new fandangled contraption somewhat close to my teeth in a super lackluster manner while simultaneously using her other hand to smoke a cigarette or whatever the case may be, the wand is so powerful that my teeth magically become clean. Ok, cool - I'm not skeptical at all.
Needless to say, I was pumped when our free dental plan option changed to a PPO. I was able to choose my own, fancy dentist now! And choose it I did! And fancy it was! I no longer had to go to a non-updated dental office that looked exactly like one Kevin Arnold may have visited on "The Wonder Years".
When I just got my teeth cleaned at my new place, they did the x-rays, exam, and teeth cleaning all in one appointment. And, they had things like iPads, mouth wash, skilled dental staff, etc. I felt like my teeth actually got cleaned. It was a delight! They were sure to mention that it looked like my teeth hadn't been cleaned very well during my last teeth cleaning. I nodded emphatically, told them I had gone to a Coast Dental and explained about the wand thing. They understood. There was really no need to expound on anything else after that.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Llama Tell You A Story!
I was on a date recently, and talk about high school came up, as it usually does (or am I the only one talking about high school memories, like being arrested, on dates?)...so, it dawned on me that I've never written a blog post devoted to my high school history. I guess I should write a blog post about being arrested too, eh? Noted. We'll save that little gem for later.
The first high school I attended was in Fairfield, CT. It was the standard 9th through 12th grade, and it was pretty big - about 500 kids in each grade. As you probably know, CT is pretty well off in general; particularly Fairfield County. So, there were the stereotypical popular/preppy kids, the nerds, the theatre kids, artsy kids, the kids that pretended they were hippies...ya know, kind of like you'd see in a movie about high school where 35 year old actors and actresses pretend they are 17 year olds, and then there's a HUGE house party that looks like no party I've ever seen in real life because it's even more elaborate than a wedding. Oh, and Jennifer Love Hewitt is there, just like standing in the middle of the party. It was like THAT.
Anyway, there were the "cool" smokers on the corner, lots of BMWs in the parking lot, lots of sports teams, lots of dances, lots of lots of lots, etc. I had grown up in Fairfield since 2nd grade, so it was all I really knew, and this all seemed normal to me. I even got a Saab and a car phone because............duh. I was definitely not in the so-called popular crowd at this school, but I wasn't dorky either - I was comfortably in the middle. And, I liked it there. In terms of high school, I liked it. I had good friends, I learned how to get drunk after some perseverance, I was the main chorus part in some of our musical productions (a highly selective role), I used AOL like a champ when my parents weren't picking up the phone...things were good.
Thennnnnnnn, my parents decided to drop a bomb and tell my brother and me that we were going to move - in the middle of my junior year of high school! Cue the sad Ben Folds Five music and torrential rain while I sit and write in a journal on my bed with a forlorn look on my face. I'm also saying into the phone to my friend, "I know, it's just not fair! No, I guess my parents DON'T love me anymore!" Oh, sorry, I'm getting distracted as to how my life would be depicted in the movies.
My parents told us we were going to be moving to Goshen, a small, rural town in the northwest corner of CT. I was not impressed. This obviously sounded terrible. My parents were getting tired of Fairfield because it was pretentious, getting more expensive, more crowded, etc. "It will be a fun change" they said. "You'll make new friends" they said. That all sounded pretty silly. I think they were forgetting about my current friends and the fact that I liked getting drunk behind elementary schools.
I don't really remember the details in terms of how long I knew we were moving before we actually moved or how the house sales panned out, but that's probably because I was grasping at making all the memories I could before my certain and untimely death.
And so, we moved...to the middle of bumble f*ck. See ya later everyone! Come visit me never.
When we first got to our new house, I remember being shocked at how dark and quiet the street was at night. There were no street lights, electrical wires, or noises aside from nature. Nature, tee hee. What was that? The stars seemed so much brighter. It was very new but strangely nice. I was thinking, this could be ok.
That was, until I got a tour of my new high school the following day. Now, when I say the word "high school" you most likely picture a structure with walls, ceilings, and a floor like a normal person would...but, no. This special high school I would be attending was under construction, so the floors were made of cement with stains on them, and the ceiling was also undone with all the electrical wires hanging out. Gross. This high school was also regional and comprised of three towns - Warren, Morris, Goshen (so, obviously it was named "Wamogo"). Oh, and it was 6th grade through 12th grade. Benny Boy and I were back at the same school! There were like 98 kids in my grade or some comical number like that that seemed fictional. I kept wondering when Ashton was going to show up with Dax and take me to tour my REAL new high school.
Clearly, I wasn't impressed with the way the school looked, but there was also something more alarming that I had noticed before even entering. There were a couple tractors parked in the parking lot! And, no BMWs! WTF? Were these people poor?! Did they even like Dave Matthews?
During my first homeroom during my first day, I was told everyone had been "expecting me", and I was complimented on my Saab even though I told no one I drove a Saab. Ok, thanks for creeping me out immediately potential new friends. I also wore hiking books to try to make myself fit in and not appear as cool as I obviously was. They would figure out the cool thing later - I didn't need to rub it in.
I think I got high on my first day after school. Or at least the second day. See? I was making friends like my parents had hoped.
I'm typing this on a really old laptop, and now that it's been on a while, it's getting super hot and has started to emit a strange smell (I swear, it's not me). I hope it doesn't explode before I finish this important post.
So anyway, in an effort not to ramble on, that was the basic gist of it all. I ended up liking Goshen a lot because it was so different from Fairfield. It was beautiful and scenic, and I made some really good friends along the way. One turned out to be my very best friend in the world. Don't get me wrong, it took me a while to adjust. High school is freaking tough even when you're not forced to move in the middle of the school year to somewhere so different. But, looking back at it at the ripe age of 31, it was a great experience.
FUUUUCK, I forgot to mention the llamas - the whole subject line of this post. I am SO smart. At Wamogo, there were llamas chillin at the back of the school. Ya know, because that's a normal thing to have at a normal high school. I was solving complex mathematical equations while the Ag kids got to pet llamas all day. So unfair.
Ok, that is all :)
The first high school I attended was in Fairfield, CT. It was the standard 9th through 12th grade, and it was pretty big - about 500 kids in each grade. As you probably know, CT is pretty well off in general; particularly Fairfield County. So, there were the stereotypical popular/preppy kids, the nerds, the theatre kids, artsy kids, the kids that pretended they were hippies...ya know, kind of like you'd see in a movie about high school where 35 year old actors and actresses pretend they are 17 year olds, and then there's a HUGE house party that looks like no party I've ever seen in real life because it's even more elaborate than a wedding. Oh, and Jennifer Love Hewitt is there, just like standing in the middle of the party. It was like THAT.
Anyway, there were the "cool" smokers on the corner, lots of BMWs in the parking lot, lots of sports teams, lots of dances, lots of lots of lots, etc. I had grown up in Fairfield since 2nd grade, so it was all I really knew, and this all seemed normal to me. I even got a Saab and a car phone because............duh. I was definitely not in the so-called popular crowd at this school, but I wasn't dorky either - I was comfortably in the middle. And, I liked it there. In terms of high school, I liked it. I had good friends, I learned how to get drunk after some perseverance, I was the main chorus part in some of our musical productions (a highly selective role), I used AOL like a champ when my parents weren't picking up the phone...things were good.
Thennnnnnnn, my parents decided to drop a bomb and tell my brother and me that we were going to move - in the middle of my junior year of high school! Cue the sad Ben Folds Five music and torrential rain while I sit and write in a journal on my bed with a forlorn look on my face. I'm also saying into the phone to my friend, "I know, it's just not fair! No, I guess my parents DON'T love me anymore!" Oh, sorry, I'm getting distracted as to how my life would be depicted in the movies.
My parents told us we were going to be moving to Goshen, a small, rural town in the northwest corner of CT. I was not impressed. This obviously sounded terrible. My parents were getting tired of Fairfield because it was pretentious, getting more expensive, more crowded, etc. "It will be a fun change" they said. "You'll make new friends" they said. That all sounded pretty silly. I think they were forgetting about my current friends and the fact that I liked getting drunk behind elementary schools.
I don't really remember the details in terms of how long I knew we were moving before we actually moved or how the house sales panned out, but that's probably because I was grasping at making all the memories I could before my certain and untimely death.
And so, we moved...to the middle of bumble f*ck. See ya later everyone! Come visit me never.
When we first got to our new house, I remember being shocked at how dark and quiet the street was at night. There were no street lights, electrical wires, or noises aside from nature. Nature, tee hee. What was that? The stars seemed so much brighter. It was very new but strangely nice. I was thinking, this could be ok.
That was, until I got a tour of my new high school the following day. Now, when I say the word "high school" you most likely picture a structure with walls, ceilings, and a floor like a normal person would...but, no. This special high school I would be attending was under construction, so the floors were made of cement with stains on them, and the ceiling was also undone with all the electrical wires hanging out. Gross. This high school was also regional and comprised of three towns - Warren, Morris, Goshen (so, obviously it was named "Wamogo"). Oh, and it was 6th grade through 12th grade. Benny Boy and I were back at the same school! There were like 98 kids in my grade or some comical number like that that seemed fictional. I kept wondering when Ashton was going to show up with Dax and take me to tour my REAL new high school.
Clearly, I wasn't impressed with the way the school looked, but there was also something more alarming that I had noticed before even entering. There were a couple tractors parked in the parking lot! And, no BMWs! WTF? Were these people poor?! Did they even like Dave Matthews?
During my first homeroom during my first day, I was told everyone had been "expecting me", and I was complimented on my Saab even though I told no one I drove a Saab. Ok, thanks for creeping me out immediately potential new friends. I also wore hiking books to try to make myself fit in and not appear as cool as I obviously was. They would figure out the cool thing later - I didn't need to rub it in.
I think I got high on my first day after school. Or at least the second day. See? I was making friends like my parents had hoped.
I'm typing this on a really old laptop, and now that it's been on a while, it's getting super hot and has started to emit a strange smell (I swear, it's not me). I hope it doesn't explode before I finish this important post.
So anyway, in an effort not to ramble on, that was the basic gist of it all. I ended up liking Goshen a lot because it was so different from Fairfield. It was beautiful and scenic, and I made some really good friends along the way. One turned out to be my very best friend in the world. Don't get me wrong, it took me a while to adjust. High school is freaking tough even when you're not forced to move in the middle of the school year to somewhere so different. But, looking back at it at the ripe age of 31, it was a great experience.
FUUUUCK, I forgot to mention the llamas - the whole subject line of this post. I am SO smart. At Wamogo, there were llamas chillin at the back of the school. Ya know, because that's a normal thing to have at a normal high school. I was solving complex mathematical equations while the Ag kids got to pet llamas all day. So unfair.
Ok, that is all :)
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Rhode Island Vaca
Hey Guys! It's only been less than four months since my last post - not too shabby para mi.
Soooo, update time: I went to Rhode Island at the end of July and saw all my good friends and listened to some folk music and skipped along hand-in-hand beside the ocean. It was swell! Seriously though, I had a really fun time. I left on a Thursday at 7:40am and landed at 10:20am - easiest direct flight ever from Tampa to Providence.
Why do they still pass out peanuts on planes? I don't get it. Some people are so allergic to peanuts that even if someone breathes on them and that someone has eaten peanuts in like the past 7 years, that person could die just from their breath alone. Yet, we are still handing them out happily for consumption on a flying object in the sky. Even if you aren't allergic to peanuts, does anyone actually enjoy them? You might as well be handing me a piece of trash. I take them from the flight attendant with as much enthusiasm as I would muster if someone were handing me their dog's poop bag. Give me a container of peanut BUTTER and a knife (for eating the peanut butter; I don't know what you're thinking) and then we can talk.
Right before getting on my plane, I got all set up at the gate with my egg sandwich and grande vanilla latte from Starbucks. Things were shaping up nicely until I look over to my left and realize, as my luck usually goes, I have like the strangest person at the whole gate area sitting right near me. He is overweight (that fact really bears no significance) and does not seem to have any belongings of any kind with him. Perhaps he checked a bag? During my analytical thought process about where he is hiding his murse, he interrupts by saying aloud to no one in sight "I'm so stressed out! I'm soooooo stressed out!" Now really, the hardest part is done. He's already made it to the airport, through security, to his gate, his flight is on time, etc. There is nothing to be stressed about. He literally has to get on the flight and sit down and eat his god awful peanuts. This is when I start worrying that perhaps he is the pilot. Luckily, he wasn't. Maybe he was stressed out to fly or maybe he was just a little psychotic or maybe both. Either way, he wasn't helping my vacation vibe.
The flight was pretty seamless and actually landed 20 minutes early. The pilot made a hilarious joke as we were exiting about how we should tell our friends and family about the early arrival since we always bitch about the late arrivals. I would have maybe taken him seriously if not for the whole peanut thing. Also, now I had to wait 20 minutes. No one arrives 20 minutes early to the airport "just in case" their friend's flight might arrive early. Personally, when I'm picking someone up from the airport, I add a solid five minutes to the arrival time and then maybe another five to allow them some extra time to poop. I don't know, it seems normal.
So, Nicole picked me up from the airport in her Mini Cooper and we were off to Trader Joe's. She really knows the way to my heart. We got a bunch of food for the weekend and the BBQ she was having at her house on Saturday. That night we went out to dinner, just the two of us, and it was great catching up. Nicole is one of my most favorite people, for so many different reasons, and I really miss having her closer sometimes. After dinner, Amy, Tamara, and Susan arrived, and then it was full on slumber party mode. Everyone slept over Nicole's. Pillow fights! Not really.
Friday was the Newport Folk Festival which was super fun. We took a ferry from Jamestown to Ft. Adams, and there were three stages with different bands playing at different times. I really liked Lake Street Dive, Phox, and Band of Horses. The only thing that kind of sucked is you couldn't drink alcohol while watching the performances. You had to drink in these little partitioned areas which meant everyone was just chugging their booze as fast as possible and then heading back to the stage. Oh, another thing that sucked was their one variety of "white wine" kind of tasted like urine. That was not my favorite. Friday night we all went out to dinner and celebrated Nicole's birthday.
Saturday morning Don-Yell arrived. Now you'd think since we are best friends and talk literally every day either via gchat, text or by phone, she'd give me some type of warm greeting upon arriving at Nicole's house. Nope. She breezily says hi, blows past me like she's queen Elizabeth, and gives NICOLE a hug first. Alas, she's a bad egg. After we exchanged our usual pleasantries like me calling her a bad egg, her telling me I'm a skinny bitch, me telling her she has a lot of freckles, her telling me I'm unusually dumb, me examining her eyebrows and telling her to keep up with plucking them, etc. etc. etc. we had to go buy some alcohol. It was like 11am, but Don-Yell had proclaimed she wanted to do some "day drinking" (sorry everyone if you had anything else in mind) and then do stand up paddle boarding. This seemed like a pretty good plan to me; at least the alcohol portion of it. Stand up paddle boarding on a chilly 70 degree summer day (I kind of say that with sarcasm) in cold water seemed kind of, well, cold. I get goose bumps nowadays just thinking about cold weather. Florida is no joke. Perfect for Don-Yell though since she actively sweats while sitting still in 40 degree weather.
Anywayyyy, Saturday night was the BBQ and Nicole had some more people come over to her house. We finished the night off by playing Taboo. Ya know, that game where someone said "hey, let's take "Catch Phrase", which is a pretty fucking fun game in its own right and just piss people off by adding a shit ton more infuriating rules." It might be good to note here that there was a 5 year old in attendance. So, if it didn't already seem inappropriate for Don-Yell to be dropping the F Bomb during her every turn, it certainly was now. And, even though Nicole fed us all with lots of delicious food, I guess the alcohol was still making Don-Yell hungry because in between cursing, she kept asking if I had any beef. Yeah, I brought some beef with me from Florida...I just totally forgot about it until you asked me ten times. Good one. When that didn't go over well, she asked if I could order her some General Tso's chicken. I couldn't.
Earlier in the weekend, Nicole was imparting some of her wisdom on us about tampons. About how they are laced with bad things because of the cotton crops getting sprayed with pesticides. And about how plastic applicators are bad because they never disintegrate, etc. Now I'm all about buying organic as much as I can and stuff being natural, but certain things are a little too natural. A good example would be brushing my teeth with fennel flavored toothpaste. Not gonna do it. Tried a few natural deodorants, and I might as well have sprinkled fairy dust on my underarms. It would have been exactly as effective. So, I was skeptical about these so-called organic, no applicator tampons that cost $5 for like four of them.
As luck would have it, I got my period on vacation. Yes, that's right, it's what every girl dreams about! I wasn't prepared for it. You'd think that after getting my period super regularly for like 20 years now, I'd have a clue, but nope. It's always like "oooooh, so that's why I havea pimple 7 pimples, and that's why I want to punch you in the throat." Anyway, enter the organic tampon. I was willing to give it a shot because I didn't really feel like going to the store to buy some. Also, after Nicole's speech, I kind of felt like purchasing my normal brand would a) be synonymous to buying some illegal, drug-laced version that only criminals use b) cause me to get cancer instantly.
I pulled the tampon out and right away felt like it looked like a tampon you'd use on a baby. It was so small without the applicator. I couldn't imagine this tiny thing doing much of anything. But, I gave it a try..........................................for about 10 minutes. Because that's precisely the amount of time it was effective for. It was about as useful and probably pretty damn similar to shoving a wildflower up there. Not impressed. I told Nicole her tampons are for the birds, and then she had to take me to a dark alley so I could buy the good stuff.
^ Dad, you told me I should add the tampon thing to my blog. What do you think? Good stuff, eh?
Sunday I saw some of my old Keiler peeps! Cosmo, Laura, and Shannon. It was pouring rain, but we toughed it out by sitting on a covered deck overlooking the ocean. It was really fun to catch up on everyone's lives in real life vs. email. Shan and I ordered some mimosas before we made the disastrous and earth shattering realization that they were $11 mimosas.
Monday I flew home after having brunch with Nicole. It's pretty funny flying into Tampa when you live there because most people on the flight are just starting their vacation. But, I'm on vacation all year long betches!!
Ok, wow, this is long enough. Sorry about the tampon tangent.
Here are some pics:
(Not pictured: Don-Yell doing squats with Kellie on her back)
Soooo, update time: I went to Rhode Island at the end of July and saw all my good friends and listened to some folk music and skipped along hand-in-hand beside the ocean. It was swell! Seriously though, I had a really fun time. I left on a Thursday at 7:40am and landed at 10:20am - easiest direct flight ever from Tampa to Providence.
Why do they still pass out peanuts on planes? I don't get it. Some people are so allergic to peanuts that even if someone breathes on them and that someone has eaten peanuts in like the past 7 years, that person could die just from their breath alone. Yet, we are still handing them out happily for consumption on a flying object in the sky. Even if you aren't allergic to peanuts, does anyone actually enjoy them? You might as well be handing me a piece of trash. I take them from the flight attendant with as much enthusiasm as I would muster if someone were handing me their dog's poop bag. Give me a container of peanut BUTTER and a knife (for eating the peanut butter; I don't know what you're thinking) and then we can talk.
Right before getting on my plane, I got all set up at the gate with my egg sandwich and grande vanilla latte from Starbucks. Things were shaping up nicely until I look over to my left and realize, as my luck usually goes, I have like the strangest person at the whole gate area sitting right near me. He is overweight (that fact really bears no significance) and does not seem to have any belongings of any kind with him. Perhaps he checked a bag? During my analytical thought process about where he is hiding his murse, he interrupts by saying aloud to no one in sight "I'm so stressed out! I'm soooooo stressed out!" Now really, the hardest part is done. He's already made it to the airport, through security, to his gate, his flight is on time, etc. There is nothing to be stressed about. He literally has to get on the flight and sit down and eat his god awful peanuts. This is when I start worrying that perhaps he is the pilot. Luckily, he wasn't. Maybe he was stressed out to fly or maybe he was just a little psychotic or maybe both. Either way, he wasn't helping my vacation vibe.
The flight was pretty seamless and actually landed 20 minutes early. The pilot made a hilarious joke as we were exiting about how we should tell our friends and family about the early arrival since we always bitch about the late arrivals. I would have maybe taken him seriously if not for the whole peanut thing. Also, now I had to wait 20 minutes. No one arrives 20 minutes early to the airport "just in case" their friend's flight might arrive early. Personally, when I'm picking someone up from the airport, I add a solid five minutes to the arrival time and then maybe another five to allow them some extra time to poop. I don't know, it seems normal.
So, Nicole picked me up from the airport in her Mini Cooper and we were off to Trader Joe's. She really knows the way to my heart. We got a bunch of food for the weekend and the BBQ she was having at her house on Saturday. That night we went out to dinner, just the two of us, and it was great catching up. Nicole is one of my most favorite people, for so many different reasons, and I really miss having her closer sometimes. After dinner, Amy, Tamara, and Susan arrived, and then it was full on slumber party mode. Everyone slept over Nicole's. Pillow fights! Not really.
Friday was the Newport Folk Festival which was super fun. We took a ferry from Jamestown to Ft. Adams, and there were three stages with different bands playing at different times. I really liked Lake Street Dive, Phox, and Band of Horses. The only thing that kind of sucked is you couldn't drink alcohol while watching the performances. You had to drink in these little partitioned areas which meant everyone was just chugging their booze as fast as possible and then heading back to the stage. Oh, another thing that sucked was their one variety of "white wine" kind of tasted like urine. That was not my favorite. Friday night we all went out to dinner and celebrated Nicole's birthday.
Saturday morning Don-Yell arrived. Now you'd think since we are best friends and talk literally every day either via gchat, text or by phone, she'd give me some type of warm greeting upon arriving at Nicole's house. Nope. She breezily says hi, blows past me like she's queen Elizabeth, and gives NICOLE a hug first. Alas, she's a bad egg. After we exchanged our usual pleasantries like me calling her a bad egg, her telling me I'm a skinny bitch, me telling her she has a lot of freckles, her telling me I'm unusually dumb, me examining her eyebrows and telling her to keep up with plucking them, etc. etc. etc. we had to go buy some alcohol. It was like 11am, but Don-Yell had proclaimed she wanted to do some "day drinking" (sorry everyone if you had anything else in mind) and then do stand up paddle boarding. This seemed like a pretty good plan to me; at least the alcohol portion of it. Stand up paddle boarding on a chilly 70 degree summer day (I kind of say that with sarcasm) in cold water seemed kind of, well, cold. I get goose bumps nowadays just thinking about cold weather. Florida is no joke. Perfect for Don-Yell though since she actively sweats while sitting still in 40 degree weather.
Anywayyyy, Saturday night was the BBQ and Nicole had some more people come over to her house. We finished the night off by playing Taboo. Ya know, that game where someone said "hey, let's take "Catch Phrase", which is a pretty fucking fun game in its own right and just piss people off by adding a shit ton more infuriating rules." It might be good to note here that there was a 5 year old in attendance. So, if it didn't already seem inappropriate for Don-Yell to be dropping the F Bomb during her every turn, it certainly was now. And, even though Nicole fed us all with lots of delicious food, I guess the alcohol was still making Don-Yell hungry because in between cursing, she kept asking if I had any beef. Yeah, I brought some beef with me from Florida...I just totally forgot about it until you asked me ten times. Good one. When that didn't go over well, she asked if I could order her some General Tso's chicken. I couldn't.
Earlier in the weekend, Nicole was imparting some of her wisdom on us about tampons. About how they are laced with bad things because of the cotton crops getting sprayed with pesticides. And about how plastic applicators are bad because they never disintegrate, etc. Now I'm all about buying organic as much as I can and stuff being natural, but certain things are a little too natural. A good example would be brushing my teeth with fennel flavored toothpaste. Not gonna do it. Tried a few natural deodorants, and I might as well have sprinkled fairy dust on my underarms. It would have been exactly as effective. So, I was skeptical about these so-called organic, no applicator tampons that cost $5 for like four of them.
As luck would have it, I got my period on vacation. Yes, that's right, it's what every girl dreams about! I wasn't prepared for it. You'd think that after getting my period super regularly for like 20 years now, I'd have a clue, but nope. It's always like "oooooh, so that's why I have
I pulled the tampon out and right away felt like it looked like a tampon you'd use on a baby. It was so small without the applicator. I couldn't imagine this tiny thing doing much of anything. But, I gave it a try..........................................for about 10 minutes. Because that's precisely the amount of time it was effective for. It was about as useful and probably pretty damn similar to shoving a wildflower up there. Not impressed. I told Nicole her tampons are for the birds, and then she had to take me to a dark alley so I could buy the good stuff.
^ Dad, you told me I should add the tampon thing to my blog. What do you think? Good stuff, eh?
Sunday I saw some of my old Keiler peeps! Cosmo, Laura, and Shannon. It was pouring rain, but we toughed it out by sitting on a covered deck overlooking the ocean. It was really fun to catch up on everyone's lives in real life vs. email. Shan and I ordered some mimosas before we made the disastrous and earth shattering realization that they were $11 mimosas.
Monday I flew home after having brunch with Nicole. It's pretty funny flying into Tampa when you live there because most people on the flight are just starting their vacation. But, I'm on vacation all year long betches!!
Ok, wow, this is long enough. Sorry about the tampon tangent.
Here are some pics:
(Not pictured: Don-Yell doing squats with Kellie on her back)
Monday, May 19, 2014
Real Mail
I received real mail today (which is to say I received mail 1-4 days ago, as I only check my mail once or twice a week)!
None of that circular crap (does anyone else use this word besides for me and grandmothers? The word "circular" I mean, obviously, not "crap"), bills, credit card offers, or an over abundance of offers to buy my car back. A real postcard! Oh boy!
Here it is in all its papery/ink glory:
.JPG)
What a little gem! This was sent to me by my lovely friend Danielle Andrews. Yes, almost all my friends are named Danielle.
I met Danielle A. while lifeguarding at Woodridge Lake in Goshen, CT (yep, same as how I met the other Danielle - who we will call Danielle C. - if you're keeping track). I was 21 and Danielle A. was 24. I was in college and she was two years out. All the other lifeguards had pretty much known each other since the age of 16 (or for even longer) when we became lifeguards. I was one of the older lifeguards and so was Danielle C.
Therefore, when this even older stranger showed up to start lifeguarding for the summer, we were like "whoa, who is this and why is she 37 and lifeguarding?" Three years is a big difference and things are a little skewed back at that age, I guess. We quickly side stepped those important 'fears' when we realized Danielle A. was living alone in her parent's "weekend" house that they barely even used on the weekends. Hello new best friend!
Doesn't really sound like the nicest beginning on my end, ha, but I can honestly say Danielle A. has become a great friend and is one of the most hilarious people I've ever met! I'm sure you can tell that by the postcard. I mean, seriously, what?! She is wonderfully unique and has the best/weirdest sense of humor, that aligns so nicely with mine.
We've done tons of fun stuff since our lifeguarding days, and the strangest things always seem to happen when we are together.
Like:
None of that circular crap (does anyone else use this word besides for me and grandmothers? The word "circular" I mean, obviously, not "crap"), bills, credit card offers, or an over abundance of offers to buy my car back. A real postcard! Oh boy!
Here it is in all its papery/ink glory:
What a little gem! This was sent to me by my lovely friend Danielle Andrews. Yes, almost all my friends are named Danielle.
I met Danielle A. while lifeguarding at Woodridge Lake in Goshen, CT (yep, same as how I met the other Danielle - who we will call Danielle C. - if you're keeping track). I was 21 and Danielle A. was 24. I was in college and she was two years out. All the other lifeguards had pretty much known each other since the age of 16 (or for even longer) when we became lifeguards. I was one of the older lifeguards and so was Danielle C.
Therefore, when this even older stranger showed up to start lifeguarding for the summer, we were like "whoa, who is this and why is she 37 and lifeguarding?" Three years is a big difference and things are a little skewed back at that age, I guess. We quickly side stepped those important 'fears' when we realized Danielle A. was living alone in her parent's "weekend" house that they barely even used on the weekends. Hello new best friend!
Doesn't really sound like the nicest beginning on my end, ha, but I can honestly say Danielle A. has become a great friend and is one of the most hilarious people I've ever met! I'm sure you can tell that by the postcard. I mean, seriously, what?! She is wonderfully unique and has the best/weirdest sense of humor, that aligns so nicely with mine.
We've done tons of fun stuff since our lifeguarding days, and the strangest things always seem to happen when we are together.
Like:
Random road-side photography on dingy, dirty chairs in abandoned barns. We were late to pick up our other friends at the train station because, you know.........priorities.
Natural, domesticated woman poses
Scenes from "The Titanic"
Visiting scary convenience stores that embody the "luxury of Brooklyn" in the middle of St. Pete
A bird sitting on Danielle's shoulder during a shopping excursion - totally normal
An actual normal photo
Not pictured:
- Danielle A. in downtown St. Pete walking side-by-side (I'm pretty sure hand-in-hand, too) with a homeless man to a pizza place to buy him a piece of pizza while I sit alone, abandoned, drinking beer.
- Danielle A. and I at a museum looking at abstract art while I say "I could do that", and Danielle A. yelling at me loudly "Why don't you then Emily?!?"
- Me telling Danielle to dress up a little bit and Danielle putting on her "nice" hiking boots.
- Danielle coming in my parent's house yelling "Missy, where are you Missy?!? I've come for you!!!" (Missy is our deceased family dog who was scared of a lot of people, especially Danielle. Wonder why)
There are so many more I can't think of right now. Danielle, don't worry, I'll wear these earrings that I already own and think of you. Disappointing, but it will have to do ;-)
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
The Most Annoying Person Ever
Recently, when my friend Louise visited me for the weekend, we went out for dinner and drinks in this section of Tampa referred to as SoHo <---- that's a cool name for South Howard Ave., the street that all the bars are on in that particular area of town.
Some tell-tale signs for knowing you're in SoHo are:
1) You're surrounded by douchebags.
That's really about it.
If we're getting technical, there are maybe a few more:
2) The guys seem to have all just stepped out of a frat house. See #1.
3) You're wondering why no one is out by 8-9pm, and then you remember it's one of those areas where people (a.k.a. douchebags. See #1.) don't go out til about 11pm.
4) You can literally see girls' vaginas due to their choice in "clothing".
5) You have to pay at least $5 to park in a CVS parking lot or some other similar parking lot where parking is normally free in 99% of the United States.
6) You feel really unattractive, old, and like you graduated from college a bazillion years ago when in actuality, you are still pretty young.
So yeah, we went there for a "change". Change is not always good.
After dinner, we headed down the street to one of the bars where we hung out with the other approximately 4-5 people that were also at the bar by like 7:30pm. All in their 30s, like us, I'm assuming. They probably all had just enjoyed a nice dinner, like us, rather than pre-gaming back at their place. #totallyuncool
We each got a drink, sat at a table, chatted, and kept our vajays concealed. As people started to fill in, a couple douchebag-ish guys came over to talk to us. The opening line had something to do with needing Ibuprofen or Tylenol for his bad sinuses. Does Ibuprofen or Tylenol even help sinuses? After I extracted some Ibuprofen from my huge, satchel bag and definitely not my super tiny, cute clutch, the guy sat down and called his friend over. Now that we had exchanged drugs, I guess we were besties. They actually weren't too horrible, so we talked to them for a while until they went up to the bar to get some more drinks.
This is when the most annoying person in the entire bar decided it was his perfect opportunity to come over and be the most annoying person in the entire bar.
Now picture for me if you will a 44 year old hick with Wrangler-ish jeans on, worn in white Reebok-ish sneakers, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Got it? Excited? Excellent.
So yeah, HE came over and said quite the assortment of things:
1) We are very attractive girls, but he wanted us to know he would NEVER have sex with us. Like, ever.
2) He asked where our boyfriends were, and we told him they were at home (hey, my future boyfriend might have been at home somewhere, right? In Louise's case, it was actually true) and that it was a girl's night out. He told us our boyfriends must not really be in love with us because if they were, they wouldn't want us going out alone for a girl's night. He said they would be right by our side at all times. We said that sounds kind of like scary talk, and it's important for girls to have their independence. He thought this was a bunch of malarkey.
3) He told us he used to be by his wife's side at all times until she died in a car crash. We felt momentarily sad for him until he started speaking again.
4) He offered to buy us shots a few times, and we turned him down because Louise didn't want one, and I told him I was being a responsible driver. He did not think responsible driving was important I guess because on the final time I turned him down, he told me I was a "pretentious bitch".
The guys we were originally talking to glanced over after getting drinks, saw we were preoccupied with a mental patient and never came back. We then went to the bathroom and headed to a different bar to get away from the most annoying person ever.
Oh, but guess who was already there too when we went up to the bar to order a drink? YEPPPPPPP!
Some tell-tale signs for knowing you're in SoHo are:
1) You're surrounded by douchebags.
That's really about it.
If we're getting technical, there are maybe a few more:
2) The guys seem to have all just stepped out of a frat house. See #1.
3) You're wondering why no one is out by 8-9pm, and then you remember it's one of those areas where people (a.k.a. douchebags. See #1.) don't go out til about 11pm.
4) You can literally see girls' vaginas due to their choice in "clothing".
5) You have to pay at least $5 to park in a CVS parking lot or some other similar parking lot where parking is normally free in 99% of the United States.
6) You feel really unattractive, old, and like you graduated from college a bazillion years ago when in actuality, you are still pretty young.
So yeah, we went there for a "change". Change is not always good.
After dinner, we headed down the street to one of the bars where we hung out with the other approximately 4-5 people that were also at the bar by like 7:30pm. All in their 30s, like us, I'm assuming. They probably all had just enjoyed a nice dinner, like us, rather than pre-gaming back at their place. #totallyuncool
We each got a drink, sat at a table, chatted, and kept our vajays concealed. As people started to fill in, a couple douchebag-ish guys came over to talk to us. The opening line had something to do with needing Ibuprofen or Tylenol for his bad sinuses. Does Ibuprofen or Tylenol even help sinuses? After I extracted some Ibuprofen from my huge, satchel bag and definitely not my super tiny, cute clutch, the guy sat down and called his friend over. Now that we had exchanged drugs, I guess we were besties. They actually weren't too horrible, so we talked to them for a while until they went up to the bar to get some more drinks.
This is when the most annoying person in the entire bar decided it was his perfect opportunity to come over and be the most annoying person in the entire bar.
Now picture for me if you will a 44 year old hick with Wrangler-ish jeans on, worn in white Reebok-ish sneakers, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Got it? Excited? Excellent.
So yeah, HE came over and said quite the assortment of things:
1) We are very attractive girls, but he wanted us to know he would NEVER have sex with us. Like, ever.
2) He asked where our boyfriends were, and we told him they were at home (hey, my future boyfriend might have been at home somewhere, right? In Louise's case, it was actually true) and that it was a girl's night out. He told us our boyfriends must not really be in love with us because if they were, they wouldn't want us going out alone for a girl's night. He said they would be right by our side at all times. We said that sounds kind of like scary talk, and it's important for girls to have their independence. He thought this was a bunch of malarkey.
3) He told us he used to be by his wife's side at all times until she died in a car crash. We felt momentarily sad for him until he started speaking again.
4) He offered to buy us shots a few times, and we turned him down because Louise didn't want one, and I told him I was being a responsible driver. He did not think responsible driving was important I guess because on the final time I turned him down, he told me I was a "pretentious bitch".
The guys we were originally talking to glanced over after getting drinks, saw we were preoccupied with a mental patient and never came back. We then went to the bathroom and headed to a different bar to get away from the most annoying person ever.
Oh, but guess who was already there too when we went up to the bar to order a drink? YEPPPPPPP!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)