Tag Archives: travel

The Welcome Back Party

Herrooo old friends!!! I’m going to be totally honest and tell you that I have no good excuse for going AWOL for a hot minute. Lucky and I have been talking for a few months about resurrecting the blog because we’re both kind of in the same place in our lives and we’ve got some things planned in the next few months that will probably be semi-entertaining to read about, so we thought better now than never! I just know I really haven’t been up to much the last couple of years and my life would have been SO boring to read about, unless you’d love to read about me trotting around the country drinking with my friends or recaps of Teen Mom and The Bachelor, in which case – I’m your girl!

After the whole Nutter Butter breakup and my failed attempt at dating a super-hot guy fresh out of college 2 years ago, I decided that I was tired of guys treating me like I was disposable and dating needed to be my last priority, so I stopped dating. It wasn’t long before it became really apparent to me that when you’re in your late 20s and you stop dating, that also means you stop having sex (side note: that doesn’t mean I didn’t TRY to have sex. I did try, with a really hot guy in the Navy that I met while I was out celebrating my 29th birthday. It is surprisingly hard to get a guy to just hook up with you and promise to never call you again.) When I came up with this plan I was about to turn 28 and hadn’t been without a guy since I was 14. I was serial dating all the wrong guys, knowing they were the wrong guys, but continuing to date them because I didn’t know how to be alone. And, what girl in her 20s doesn’t think she can rid a guy of all his bad habits? The stuff that I let those douchers get away with doing to me is so shameful, and I finally realized that if I didn’t take the time I needed to figure out who I was without a boyfriend, I would continue to date these awful guys and would probably end up married to and then divorced from one of them. If this is the part where you expect me to tell you that I finally met Prince Charming (See: Neal Bledsoe), then look away now, because that didn’t happen. I’m still single, but more stable and [I would hope] able to make better decisions. And when I say “better decisions,” I mean in the long run, I’m totally not opposed to bad decisions that are short term/one night stands with hot guys because… 2 years.

Also, this isn’t a post about self-discovery. I mean, come on, look who you’re talking to here: I’m still totally inappropriate and get way too drunk with my friends, albeit a lot less frequently now that we’re maturing. I’m still not really sure what I want to do with my life, but I finally realized that I’m not going to figure it out by dating assholes that cheat on me and have the audacity to manipulate me into thinking I deserved it. LOLZ – the fact that those things ever happened is so stupid, but it makes me pretty happy to know it’s all documented on this blog.

The whole “I’m not dating at all” concept is perplexing to basically everyone I tell. All my friends and family have tried to set me up so many times, like SO many times, these last 2 years and would then get super offended when I turned down the offer because they don’t understand why I would choose to be alone while I’m in my prime baby making years. Uh, maybe because guys are man whores and I don’t feel like being emotionally drained and worrying about STDs all the time? I don’t know! I’ve ruined a few friendships with guy friends who thought this stint of singledom would be the best time to finally ask me out. I know telling someone not to take it personal is almost always bullshit, and it is still total bullshit in my case because of course if the perfect guy came along (See: Neal Bledsoe above) I wouldn’t have turned him down, but I wasn’t about to waste my time or theirs when I already knew I wouldn’t be that into it. I’m pretty sure my family thinks I’m a lesbian (as long as Neal is still out there that’ll never happen) since I’m not married and don’t have a bunch of babies, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re from a small town. My Grandma sat me down for a serious conversation a few months ago about getting artificially inseminated so I could have a family, there’s a cute guy at her church she thinks would do it – and by do it she meant jizz in a cup, not actually fuck me. My guy friends that are married have been pushing me to stay single for as long as possible and live the good life, because once you get married it’s a long road of misery, or at least that’s what they tell me. I overheard my Stepdad telling some other family members that it (my love life) will all be okay because I’ll be able to start catching guys on the next round. What’s the next round? Oh it’s just all the guys that got married and popped out a bunch of babies when they were 22 who are now 30 and getting divorced. Exactly what I want, a divorcee with a bunch of babies. Real talk, it’s kind of fun watching everyone squirm because they can’t figure me out. But, I’m almost ready to start dating again, like seeing one more Nicholas Sparks movie alone and then I’ll date anyone with a pulse almost ready.

P.s. As of today, Neal Bledsoe still has not approved my facebook friend request, but I’m okay with it. A few months ago, after 4 ½ years of persistence, he finally acknowledged my existence on twitter. Small victories.

P.p.s. We just got Instagram: Instagram.com/cocktailsattiffanys

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In need of purpose.

I don’t really know why I’ve been under a rock lately, but I have been, and as any snail or earthworm would have you know—once you’ve been under a rock, getting out of it and actually living life is sort of hard and is definitely a pain in the ass.

There is an episode of Sex and The City when Charlotte leaves her job at the gallery because she thinks her and Trey are going to be parents, but when she can’t get pregnant, she tells the other women and Trey that she’s “trying to get her day planner together.”

I’ve never really seen that statement as a dilemma until now.

I still go to work, physically. But once I get here, I usually just drink coffee, eat peanut butter right out of the jar, and play Candy Crush. Seriously. That’s what I do for 8 hours, 5 days a week.

Occasionally, I will think about all of the productive things I could be doing with my workday, like:

  • Improving my many other blogs
  • Reading a book
  • Googling things to blog about
  • Pitching to new venues about hiring me for more blog classes
  • Improving my blog class
  • Cleaning my office
  • Cleaning out my email inboxes
  • Replying to emails

But no. I play Candy Crush and watch old episodes of World of Jenks (I love Chad).

The thing is, it’s such a struggle for me to get up and out of bed in the mornings and arrive on time wearing makeup, that once I get here I am a total zombie. But! I am trying to change that. I am setting GOALS for myself.

Like… clean off the desk at the end of the day, write AN blog entry, go to a meeting. LOOK busy!

It’s kind of working.

I am fairly certain I recall going through similar feelings around this time of year, every year. It’s nice outside, and I want to be at the pool and not in my office, so I take to chair-spinning contests with myself. It’s only logical.

Anyone else in my boat (with a pina colada in hand?)?

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And puppy makes 2

This past weekend I adopted a puppy.  I’ve been wanting to get one for the past few years and until I started living alone it didn’t seem like the right time.  So I’ve been looking for the past few months, and even sent a few emails out about some I liked but they never panned out.  Just when I was giving up hope, I saw this little guy on petfinder:

bruin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I mean how can you not love that face? Much to my surprise the rescue place that had him replied to my emails and we set up a time to meet.  I went to the meeting equipped with a leash, harness, and kennel for him to ride home in.  My mom and sister went with me to look at him and they ended up adopting his brother:

sooner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will say, it’s nice to not have to go through the “new puppy phase” alone.  The first couple of days were ROUGH.  He peed everywhere, like every 10 seconds.  He peed so much in fact that we (my mom and I) started calling him Whizzer. He cries every time I put him in the kennel, which is to be expected, but he never goes in without a yummy treat so if I were him I’d be looking forward to it.  He doesn’t like to go on walks, like whines and cries throughout the WHOLE thing, he’s a lazy bum.  He’s doing really well on the potty training though, since I got him to my apartment (the first night, Saturday night, we stayed at my parents so he could play with his brother) there have only been a few accidents. 

 The first night I had him alone (Sunday) I was ready to give up and ship him back to the rescue place, he’s cute and cuddly and I had no doubt he’d get swooped up in a second.  When it was bedtime and I put him in his cage he cried and barked for a solid half hour, when he finally did go to sleep he didn’t stay asleep long and got me back up at 3:45am.  I took him out and put him back in the cage.  Where he started barking again.   I live in an apartment and while dogs are allowed, I didn’t tell them about him because I’m planning to move in 3 months when my lease it up and didn’t feel like paying a $400 security deposit and $50 extra a month for pet rent.  So I’m a little worried that if he is constantly barking a neighbor will complain and I’ll get fined.  A few people at work gave me some pointers on how to get him to sleep through the night and go to bed without crying: put a hot water bottle and a ticking clock in his cage so he thinks a sibling or mom is in there with him, give him herbal calming treats before bed, don’t feed/water him 3 hours before bed, don’t let him nap from the time you get home from work until he goes to bed and cover the kennel with a blanket or towel.  I did all of these the last 2 nights and it worked! Monday night he slept from 10:30 to 6:15 and last night he slept from 10:30 until I woke him up to eat at 7 and only barked a couple of times when I first put him in his cage.  However, we’re still working on the no barking when I put him in the cage to just leave to go somewhere throughout the day. 

 I’m adjusting and things are getting better, I feel pretty tied down and like I have no life because I’m constantly on puppy duty.  I knew it would be a lot of work, but it is way more than I imagined.  None the less, I’m keeping him.  I know it will get better with time.

 The funny thing is that people at work are seriously acting like I had a child. They asked if I wanted a puppy shower, and ask me every day how he’s doing.  They’re making comments in meetings about how I’m a new mother, etc.  I just laugh and tell them that for about an hour each night I have postpartum depression and don’t want him.  Then I learned, this is a real thing. I just… have no words.

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I’M A DOER!

I figured out today that I am the Regina George of my friends (Lucky excluded because she’s special and also a doer), the Queen Bee, El Presidente, the leader. Why? Because I’m the only doer, and the rest of them are dummies.

Example 1: Betty and I are trying to plan this Florida trip that is happening in exactly 3 weeks and of course it’s drama.  Now when I say Betty and I, I mean Betty, because remember I am a doer so my trip is already planned, booked, and paid for.  She’s just dragging me into her unnecessary drama and I’m tired of it.  We found out about our friend’s wedding 8 months ago, and  knew that it was in Florida 8 months ago.  Which automatically means you have to buy a flight and book a hotel.  I bought a flight, booked a hotel, and rented a car already, literally all Betty has to do is book her own flight and that. is. it.  But I’ve gotten numerous texts and calls from her about how the flights are too expensive and can I look them up for her to see if I can find her a cheaper one? Um no. No I cannot.  Sorry I have a life and don’t care if you go to the wedding or not. On the sidelines Betty is also trying to back out of going to the wedding in general, which would mean less drama for me so I’m hoping that’s what she does.  Then I can enjoy a relaxing weekend in Florida by myself, or if I can get the all clear from the Bride – invite Lucky along for a weekend of drinking and debauchery at the beach. 

Example 2: A few months ago Gigi, Jules, and I came up with the bright idea to go to a baseball game in Gigi’s city.  I found a weekend when the home team for her city was playing the team from The Big City, so we decided we should get tickets to that.  Gigi volunteered to get the tickets a few weeks ago and has yet to do so because first she didn’t know what website to get them off of, so I directed her to stubhub.  Then she had some big blow out with her landlord that left her crying for days.  Etc, etc, etc.  Inside it is hurting me to not just go online and get them myself because it would literally take 15 seconds, but like the above example I am learning the hard way (the hard way being me missing out on a fun drunken baseball game when she doesn’t do it) that I need to let loose on the reins and try to turn my friends into doers too before I kill them all for being lazy sloths. 

So I’m not going to get the tickets, I’m not going to help Betty find a flight, or talk to her about the trip again for that mater.  I’m going to sit back and let them figure it out on their own.  I have examples for days just like this of events where I have had to do all the work because everyone else sucks. With that being said, I don’t know how they all get themselves dressed in the morning. 

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Meet the parents II.

During the quick drive from the church to their home, D calls his parents asking if they need anything.

“We are going to stop at Walmart because Lucky needs a case of beer…” he told them (Baptists are anti-alcohol).

I gave him the evil stare.

He laughed, hanging up the phone, telling me to lighten up, that his family knew he was kidding and that they were big jokesters. Still.

D kept warning me that he “doesn’t come from money” and that his parents lived in the ghetto. Upon reaching their driveway, it wasn’t what I would consider the ghetto. It was an old house that needed some work, but I’m no one to judge—it was the house they raised three boys in, and now took care of several grandchildren.

Inside the house, dinner (a large pork roast) was cooking. There were Easter treats piled onto the kitchen table for all 5 grandkids. I found a spot on the counter to put my purse and parked myself there, answering questions as they were fired my direction.

“Lucky, you okay?” D asked me.

“Yeah, why?” I said.

“It’s going to be okay if you move from that spot,” he said.

It was awkward. It wasn’t my house, and everyone kept telling me not to be so quiet.

“But I am quiet!” I said.

“Ha! Yeah right, if you are dating my son there is no way you’re quiet,” his dad said.

When the kids asked if grandma would hide eggs for them, I said I would help. I jumped at the chance to get outside for a minute. So I took a bag of eggs (filled with Jolly Ranchers) and ventured into a leafy yard in my 4-inch gold high heels.

“Did you hide them really good?” D asked.

“Meh, some,” I said.

“You know if they can’t find them, you’ll have ruined Easter,” he said.

Did I mention he’s a little wise ass?

After lunch, D proceeded to fall asleep, the kids left, and there I was just mom and dad and me…

While I was worried at first, this actually poised a great opportunity for me to talk to them without the chatter of the others. We talked about my family, my job, and they told me how they met, how they got their house, and just how much they love D’s daughter.

While I didn’t walk away feeling like it was a home run, I felt I did a good job considering it was Easter and I was thrown into quite a mix, and just a month (yesterday marked one month) into our relationship.

We drove back to my apartment and it started to rain. We made it inside, opened the windows, and sat in the dark drinking wine and watching a marathon of “Extreme Couponers”…it was quite perfect.

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Meet the parents.

It’s Monday… a Monday after a long, relaxing weekend and work is pretty much the LAST place I want to be (not that there’s ever a day I’m looking forward to being here…).

I didn’t say it last week, but yesterday, I met D’s mom and dad. I was fretting over it all week long. Let me tell you how this went down.

D mentioned meeting his parents weeks ago when he met my friends. I was shocked, to which he said, “Well you don’t have to meet them.” I absolutely wanted to meet them, it was just that I’ve never had a boyfriend want me to meet his family. When I dated BEX, I had to present him with an ultimatum to meet his parents. I finally did, but never saw them again.

The two boyfriends I had before that, I didn’t meet their families. The guy I dated before that, my first love, I met his parents but I think it was by default since we had been friends for years before we dated. To make it even better, his parents hated me, and I think that weighed heavily on him.

So, I was shocked.

Our original plan for Easter was casual, join a friend of D’s for dinner. I was happy and a little nervous just to meet this friend, but looking forward to it. Then on Tuesday, D texts me this:

D: Church on Sunday.

ME: What about it?

D: You are going.

ME: Alright.

D: Well you don’t have to…

ME: I am happy to go, just tell me when and where.

D: We need to be there at 9:45, I was thinking I’ll stay at your place Saturday night and we can go together.

ME: Sounds good.

D: good, they are excited.

ME: Who is “they”?

D: Parents.

ME: GAH.

D: What?

ME: Nervous.

When we hung out later that night, I asked D what kind of church it was. Baptist.

Yeah, just sit on that for a moment. Considering I’m a (barely) functioning alcoholic, have committed adultery, and have had an abortion, I was picturing this lovely church going up in flames upon my entrance on Easter Sunday. Hmph.

Then, I asked him, “Is it just church, or…” and he quickly told me no, we would be going to his parents’ for lunch afterward. Then, he dropped one final bomb on me—I’d be meeting his brothers, too, and their families.

YIKES.

After picking out a dress for church, I was ready to roll come Sunday morning (I didn’t drink much Saturday night and went to bed early so I’d be bright-eyed).

We drove to church, which was packed of course, and met his parents and one of his brothers. I’ll just say it so it’s out there… his dad is pretty hot.

Anyway, we go into the church and it’s a concert. No, seriously. There was a singer and a microphone and the lights were off, minus colorful spotlights on the stage. There was a drum set and guitar players and flat screens with the words on them, because the songs they were singing were original songs about Jesus, not the ones we all know.

While I’d never seen anything quite like this at a church, I was thankful that it wasn’t quite and awkward, complete with Bible verse readings. We were sitting in metal folding chairs in the very back row, an usher had guided us to our seats, and moved us twice already. A third time he came over, saying we needed to move one more time.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said. “It’s just that, they’re bringing a casket in, and it’s going to be a tight squeeze.”

A casket? I started to get sweaty.

They brought the casket in (it had deer antlers on it) to represent a modern-day tomb. When the pastor opened the casket, it was lined with camouflage. Ha.

After making it through the service, I had a short break from the parents during the drive to their house…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Back to reality in 2013

Well happy 2013 folks! 2013 started out the same for me as 2012 ended, awesome.  And now, a mere 4 days into the New Year, I’m sad.  Because I’m back at work – BLAH! On a brighter note, everyone is healthy in 2013 so that’s a giant load off.
 
I typically don’t make New Year’s resolutions, and if I do, they are stupid.  One year in college, Lucky and I rang in the New Year by rolling around our lay-uer (actually layer, but pronounced LAYUUEER) playing the SIMS on Playstation and eating God knows what.  I don’t even think we drank, because we are the shit. Anyway, that year as I was stuffing cheese puffs and thin mints into my pie hole, I made the resolution to “Make people want more Gizzy”.  What is that? How do you even do that? Those are the types of resolutions I make. 
 
So I didn’t make a resolution this year, but I did have fun ringing in the New Year and celebrating the fact that the World didn’t get sucked into a black hole and shattered into a gazillion pieces.  Damn Mayans.
 
On Christmas night after making my rounds to all my family member’s houses and spending exactly 2 hours at each (the perfect amount of time), I hopped in my car and headed toward the mountains for a week at Nutter Butter’s family’s cabin, where the temperature was at a high of 15 on most days and the snowfall was up to my knees.  In the almost 3 years that we’ve had this blog, I can count zero times that I’ve talked about how much I love frolicking in the snow. That’s because I don’t love it, I like warm sandy beaches where I can tan my face off and drink margaritas by the pool. Typically when it snows I take that as an opportunity to put on my ugliest sweats so I can sit around and watch rom com’s and eat food until the ground thaws in the Spring.
 
On day 1 as soon as the sun rose, NB and I suited up for my first ever snowmobile ride – where I was the passenger and he was the driver.  I don’t know if any of you have ever riden on the back of a snowmobile, but I’m pretty sure that’s the closest I’ve ever come to dying.  Riding on the back is terrifying, driving your own, however, one of the most fun things I’ve ever done.  Sure I didn’t fall off at all when he was driving, and I fell off at least half a dozen times when I was driving myself, but you know how it is.
 
So along with snowmobiling, we also did some ice fishing, ice skating, hiking, skiing, sledding, sightseeing and shopping.  The best part was that there was no one around, so with the exception of the day we went shopping and the night we went to the local watering hole, I didn’t see another person for a week, or watch tv, and had no cell phone reception, and it was amazeballs.  I came back feeling all refreshed and relaxed and about 4 hours into work on Wednesday it felt like I had never left.  At this point, I would sell all of my belongings and live in a trailor at the top of a mountain for the rest of my life with a billygoat as my only companion just to go back to the solitude.
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