I had cocktails with My Girls tonight. A pre-holiday mixer, if you will. I'd missed the last two and Tk was determined she was going to have a martini with myself & Lo Lo, and she wasn't takin' No for an answer!
(She's so bossy sometimes.....!)
Lo had the day off so she was at the bar early to get us "our table" in the back. Tk arrived about a minute before me, and I found her staring at a gift bag shakin' her head. There was only seat left at the table for three (see why it's our table?) and that seat had a gift bag on it as well.
What the hell is this shit?, I say as I eighty-six the bag to the floor with my purse, and haul my fat ass up and into the bar stool type seat.
That's what I'm sayin'!, quips Tk, still shakin her head.
I got you guys a little something....that's all. It's Christmas!, squeaks Lo with a big smile on her face.
Well, I didn't know "we" were doing this...... says Trace, clearly disgusted that she didn't think of it first cuz she's the Social Coordinator and this be her domain!
I didn't know "we" were doing this either.........I say all dejected....... So it's a good thing I came prepared!, I yell as I whip out two lip gloss tubes from my purse.
Tk is now really displeased and shoots me her: I'M SO NOT PLEASED WITH YOU! look.
I turn over the lip gloss so I can read their labels and say........ "Pink Lady" for my pink lady, Sister!, and hand Leah her gloss. She squeals and instantly applies the gloss to her lips. Is it sparkle-y?, she asks. FROSTY and sparkle-y, Babe!, I say. And she smiles so wide her eyes crinkle.
I turn to Trace, hand over her gloss and say, "Life Preserver"......for my life preserver. Really?, she asks. Really, Trace. I chose the gloss for the names. It's a fkn bonus that the colors happen to match the both of you! Tk shines her lips with her new gloss; turns to Leah so they both can admire one anothers mouths and then she turns back to me and says in her "you are still in trouble tone": You and me....we're picking up the tab.
Yeah..... your look established that a few paces back!
90 minutes with My Girls....bitchin' about work; hypothesizing over the latest gossip (so juicy!); lamenting Christmas gifts (when is enough?), and just enjoying each other's company.
Classic Moments. I can always count on these two having at least one during any period of time we are together.
Leah's came at the beginning of cocktail hour, after Tk & I had ordered our martinis. The waiter apparently thought he was excused and tried to walk away when Lo Lo piped up and said she'd like to order a few appetizers. We all agree that's a good idea and Lo says she'd like the Spinach Artichoke Dip. Tk & I concur that's a great choice and Trace looks to me for another option, and I wave her off because we tend to gravitate towards the same thing so she says, And an order of the Pom Freets.
I'm guessing I gave her a quizzical look, cuz in my head I was thinking "Pomme Frites"......"pretty sure the tes is silent.... more like free" to which Trace says aloud, Pom Free?; to which the waiter says, "Pom Free? Yes...." ; to which Lo Lo snaps: THE FRENCH FRIES! We'll take the french fries!
To which the waiter says: Exactly......, and scoots along. We all bust out laughing as Leah snarks, For fks sake...... I go hungry while you two try to figure out how to pronounce it!
Tk wrapped our evening with her moment. She & I are splitting the tab and I ask her how much she's tipping cuz I ain't gonna be the cheap one at the table, and she tosses out her number which was the number I was thinking was fair, so I nod I agree and go back to signing my credit card slip. I can't recall how the topic of our waiter came up; perhaps I said I thought he was a good server....but whatever was said prompted Tk to gripe in a voice that was dripping with both sarcasm and entitlement: Yeah...about that. We come here for the upscale atmosphere and high priced cocktails which can all be justified when we are SERVED by a 23 year old hottie! Which, I might add, was sorely lacking at this table. Present company excluded, I feel totally gyped by our experience and I'm pretty sure I'm speaking to a manager about it. I want to be SERVED by a boy I can imagine tying me to a chair and making me do and say bad, bad things......not by a someone who looks likely to be studying podiatry!
Insert all of us erupting into a fit of laughter, Tk so hard she's got a few tears in her eyes.....because as she & I prove to the world on a daily basis: we are our best audience!
And here's where I make my point:
It's such a small gesture, making time for your friends; but the rewards are monumental. I always walk away from time with my girlfriends feeling invigorated. Like being near their energy somehow re- inflates my spirit. I feel like this after a stolen Sunday with Lyndie; or an hour with Kristin during our IM dates. Our personalities are unique and yet there are enough similarities that we just gel. This inner circle of mine.....these girls whom I let in; who know the real me.....and still love me. They are a gift.
Merry Christmas to ME!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
(Orange and) Black & Blue
Today was PAINFUL.
And I'm not just talking about my back!
My family left me at 7:30 a.m. to head to Beaver Nation, leaving me standing in the big window of my living room, crying as I waved goodbye. I was born and raised in Beaver Nation. I bleed orange and black. And to miss this game with my family was hard.
Oh who am I kidding? I hate going to football games! I spent my entire high school career warming up under the bleachers during the first half of games;performing at half time on the field and cheering for our team the second half. I've spent enough time at Parker Stadium (No. I will not call it Reeser Stadium. I have been known to call it "Potato Salad Bowl"; but I refuse to call it Reeser!); this chubby girl doesn't need to watch a live game. I much prefer to head to Beaver Nation with the fam; enjoy breakfast at my Mom's house and then drop off Mark & the kids at the field.
Where do I go?
I GO TO TK'S!
She hosts an annual Civil War Party that kicks ass! Tv's in every room, including the garage (because everyone needs to be able to watch the game while getting beer from the keg!); a table that is covered in food of every size, shape and color; and jello shots.
J-E-L-L-O SHOTS!
But I had to miss it all courtesy of my sacrum situation.
So there I was, in the throws of a really big pity party; wearing my I HATE YOUR DUCKS tee shirt; clapping and yelling at the tv all by myself today. I jarred my back yelling SUCK IT! and doing a fist pump after Quizz scored the first touchdown; I'd lost my voice by half time; and by the third quarter, after I screamed at Katz (OSU's quarterback): YOU ARE FIRED!, I texted Kristin and said: That's it. I'm done. Fkn Ducks and their stupid, fkn fairy feathers!!!!! KB's response: It's painful.
No shit. And I'd had enough.
(And, No. I will not say "OS". The OSU beavers play at Parker Stadium!)
So I came upstairs and decided I was going to tackle the Christmas tree......that has fallen over twice! It might be a perfect tree, but it refuses to stay perfectly erect! Marky put the lights on last night for me....a job I usually do myself......you know, on account of me being a control freak! But I couldn't reach above my head, so he did it. I thought for a fleeting moment about fixing all the spots that are driving me completely bat shit crazy!, but ultimately thought better of it. I have to learn to let people help me. Baby steps.
Baby steps straight to the liquor cabinet where I poured myself a stiff cocktail and downed it immediately! Now that I'm circling the tree and drinking my second cocktail, the fact that the lights aren't perfect is bothering me less. I can do this.
Music. That's what the Snarky Brunette needs! Get me in the mood. I chose a Christmas mix my sister gave me last year. I got through 1/4 of Sheryl Crow's rendition of There is a Star that Shines Tonight and said to Benelli: Hello? You failed to remind me I can't stand Sheryl! Benelli lifted her head from her doggie bed, rolled away from me and farted.
Exactly.
Flipping through my box of Christmas cds, I found it. The perfect cd for my perfect tree: Andrea~ Boccelli's My Christmas. Classic Christmas songs sung by an angel himself!
I've gone through the cd once and just re-started it. I did have to skip his duet with Reba McIntyre as the sound of her voice makes me throw up in my mouth. And while it is a tough call, I've decided that "Santa Claus is coming to Town" is my favorite song on the cd. It's bouncy and he's accompanied by a children's choir and this song alone brings a big, fat smile to my face!
My back still hurts; my Beav's still lost & I'm still wearing my I HATE YOUR DUCKS shirt; but my mood has improved remarkably! So much so that I'm off to pour my third cocktail, slather my lips in Zumba Kiss and pummel this Christmas business like the Beavs should have pummeled the Ducks.
And their fkn fairy feathers!
And I'm not just talking about my back!
My family left me at 7:30 a.m. to head to Beaver Nation, leaving me standing in the big window of my living room, crying as I waved goodbye. I was born and raised in Beaver Nation. I bleed orange and black. And to miss this game with my family was hard.
Oh who am I kidding? I hate going to football games! I spent my entire high school career warming up under the bleachers during the first half of games;performing at half time on the field and cheering for our team the second half. I've spent enough time at Parker Stadium (No. I will not call it Reeser Stadium. I have been known to call it "Potato Salad Bowl"; but I refuse to call it Reeser!); this chubby girl doesn't need to watch a live game. I much prefer to head to Beaver Nation with the fam; enjoy breakfast at my Mom's house and then drop off Mark & the kids at the field.
Where do I go?
I GO TO TK'S!
She hosts an annual Civil War Party that kicks ass! Tv's in every room, including the garage (because everyone needs to be able to watch the game while getting beer from the keg!); a table that is covered in food of every size, shape and color; and jello shots.
J-E-L-L-O SHOTS!
But I had to miss it all courtesy of my sacrum situation.
So there I was, in the throws of a really big pity party; wearing my I HATE YOUR DUCKS tee shirt; clapping and yelling at the tv all by myself today. I jarred my back yelling SUCK IT! and doing a fist pump after Quizz scored the first touchdown; I'd lost my voice by half time; and by the third quarter, after I screamed at Katz (OSU's quarterback): YOU ARE FIRED!, I texted Kristin and said: That's it. I'm done. Fkn Ducks and their stupid, fkn fairy feathers!!!!! KB's response: It's painful.
No shit. And I'd had enough.
(And, No. I will not say "OS". The OSU beavers play at Parker Stadium!)
So I came upstairs and decided I was going to tackle the Christmas tree......that has fallen over twice! It might be a perfect tree, but it refuses to stay perfectly erect! Marky put the lights on last night for me....a job I usually do myself......you know, on account of me being a control freak! But I couldn't reach above my head, so he did it. I thought for a fleeting moment about fixing all the spots that are driving me completely bat shit crazy!, but ultimately thought better of it. I have to learn to let people help me. Baby steps.
Baby steps straight to the liquor cabinet where I poured myself a stiff cocktail and downed it immediately! Now that I'm circling the tree and drinking my second cocktail, the fact that the lights aren't perfect is bothering me less. I can do this.
Music. That's what the Snarky Brunette needs! Get me in the mood. I chose a Christmas mix my sister gave me last year. I got through 1/4 of Sheryl Crow's rendition of There is a Star that Shines Tonight and said to Benelli: Hello? You failed to remind me I can't stand Sheryl! Benelli lifted her head from her doggie bed, rolled away from me and farted.
Exactly.
Flipping through my box of Christmas cds, I found it. The perfect cd for my perfect tree: Andrea~ Boccelli's My Christmas. Classic Christmas songs sung by an angel himself!
I've gone through the cd once and just re-started it. I did have to skip his duet with Reba McIntyre as the sound of her voice makes me throw up in my mouth. And while it is a tough call, I've decided that "Santa Claus is coming to Town" is my favorite song on the cd. It's bouncy and he's accompanied by a children's choir and this song alone brings a big, fat smile to my face!
My back still hurts; my Beav's still lost & I'm still wearing my I HATE YOUR DUCKS shirt; but my mood has improved remarkably! So much so that I'm off to pour my third cocktail, slather my lips in Zumba Kiss and pummel this Christmas business like the Beavs should have pummeled the Ducks.
And their fkn fairy feathers!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Squeeze Play
Guess who went to her dentist appointment this morning and threw out her back?
That'd be me.
Naturally, I take absolutely no responsibility for this debacle! I blame the hygienist; who had me tipped so far backwards in that goddamn chair, I was practically standing my head! I felt fine the entire time, until she began to raise the chair back. I got about half way up and felt the pressure building in my sacrum. This would be when I turned to Rebecca, my waif of a hygienist, and said: You're going to need at least three more of you to haul me out of this chair, Sister.
Perhaps I should have mentioned my recent back injury in July when Rebecca asked me if I'd recently suffered any physical ailments and/or injuries?
Yes? I should have?
Oh.
My bad.
I made it to work but the 20 minute ride in the car; followed by hauling my fat ass up three flights of stairs apparently did nothing to alleviate my sacrum situation. By the time I got to my desk and signed onto my computer, I was in tears from the pain. It literally takes your breath away.......and because I can't hold myself upright, I find myself holding my breath.......an apparent attempt to "puff myself up"-right.
I made it to noon and then called it quits. My 30 minute commute home was torture, what with the not breathing and all. At one point, a semi truck threw a HUGE rock into my windshield. The sound was unbelievably loud and not expecting it, I jumped in my seat....which jarred my back. Which made me start to cry......which left me yelling Goddamnit! aloud. Once home, I shuffled myself into the house much like Tim Conway's character "The Old Man" from the Carol Burnett Show.
(Seriously, one of the greatest television shows of all time.....Coo coo, pigeon!)
Thursdays are Mark's short days. He walked through the front door about 45 minutes after I shuffled in and found me on the couch. Sitting ramrod straight and icing my back.
(And swilling vodka whilst downing Advil.)
Mark: How's My Girl?
Me: Broken.
Mark: Whatcha doin?
Me: Becoming the poster child for alcohol and drug dependency.
Mark: I'll join you!
Me: Before you do, I called Soapy Paws and if you take Benelli right now, she can have her usual wash & blow dry......... (insert me clasping my hands in front of my face whilst giving Mark the doe-eyed look)
Without batting an eyelash, Mark says "C'mon Bitch", to which Benelli JUMPS up from the floor and heads for the door.
Upon his return and after Mark settles in next to me, I broach the subject of Perhaps you'd like to go pick out a Christmas tree before you pick up the kids since I just happened to have found what looks like a really nice, local tree farm not 5 miles from us.....?
After some minor discussion as to the pros and cons of this idea; directions to the tree farm; and me taking an oath that I would not be pissed if he picks out a tree I end up hating; Mark sets off to find the perfect Xmas tree.
And comes back 10 minutes later without said tree but with our kids. Whom he decided should help in the tree picking process (thus spreading out the blame should they all fail in picking out a Christmas tree!). Insert kids changing clothes and shoes and promises of finding the best tree ever!
I retire to the bedroom with my cocktail where it takes me 10 minutes to get on the bed and into a comfortable position. I have no idea where the remote is and there is no fkn way I'm going to move in order to find it, so I proceed to stare at the wall.
And feel sorry for myself.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember the room was dark and I can hear my kids stomping up the stairs screaming: WE FOUND IT! WE FOUND THE PERFECT TREE!!!!
I'm told to "wait until Daddy gets it in the stand, and then come down to see." Considering it took me 10 minutes to get IN the bed, I'm confident it will take twice as long to get OUT of it, so against my children's orders I begin my struggle to stand upright.
When I get the signal from my Monsters, I make my way down the stairs where I come face to face with the prettiest Noble tree, ever. It's exactly how I like them: not symmetrical, but thinner at the top and gradually becoming thicker at the bottom. Sturdy branches to hold my heavy ornaments, with clearly tiered spacing throughout the tree. It was, indeed, perfect.
Somewhere in the middle of me admiring the tree and the kids carrying in my many, many boxes of Christmas decorations, their Dad slipped out to run another errand for me. Only this time, his errand wasn't my idea. Or suggestion.
Marky came home with a Frank Sinatra Christmas cd & a half gallon of Rum. Said he was pretty sure His Girl could use a little of both.
So here I am......on my second round of Advil; sitting ramrod straight while icing my back; with Frank singing to me whilst I swill Hot Butter Rum and stare at my perfect tree.
And here's what I know:
The fact that I am one big control freak-pain in the ass most of time is not lost on me. Thankfully, I've got a husband who can appreciate my need to organize, delegate and plan......even when I'm on the injured reserve list.
The fact that I've managed to injure myself while sitting......(twice now!), just adds insult to my injury. But look at how productive the day turned out to be!
My Sister gave me major props for relinquishing my need to control everything and handing over the Christmas tree task. It's amazing the rewards one can reap when you aren't squeezing the life out of......well.......Life.
That'd be me.
Naturally, I take absolutely no responsibility for this debacle! I blame the hygienist; who had me tipped so far backwards in that goddamn chair, I was practically standing my head! I felt fine the entire time, until she began to raise the chair back. I got about half way up and felt the pressure building in my sacrum. This would be when I turned to Rebecca, my waif of a hygienist, and said: You're going to need at least three more of you to haul me out of this chair, Sister.
Perhaps I should have mentioned my recent back injury in July when Rebecca asked me if I'd recently suffered any physical ailments and/or injuries?
Yes? I should have?
Oh.
My bad.
I made it to work but the 20 minute ride in the car; followed by hauling my fat ass up three flights of stairs apparently did nothing to alleviate my sacrum situation. By the time I got to my desk and signed onto my computer, I was in tears from the pain. It literally takes your breath away.......and because I can't hold myself upright, I find myself holding my breath.......an apparent attempt to "puff myself up"-right.
I made it to noon and then called it quits. My 30 minute commute home was torture, what with the not breathing and all. At one point, a semi truck threw a HUGE rock into my windshield. The sound was unbelievably loud and not expecting it, I jumped in my seat....which jarred my back. Which made me start to cry......which left me yelling Goddamnit! aloud. Once home, I shuffled myself into the house much like Tim Conway's character "The Old Man" from the Carol Burnett Show.
(Seriously, one of the greatest television shows of all time.....Coo coo, pigeon!)
Thursdays are Mark's short days. He walked through the front door about 45 minutes after I shuffled in and found me on the couch. Sitting ramrod straight and icing my back.
(And swilling vodka whilst downing Advil.)
Mark: How's My Girl?
Me: Broken.
Mark: Whatcha doin?
Me: Becoming the poster child for alcohol and drug dependency.
Mark: I'll join you!
Me: Before you do, I called Soapy Paws and if you take Benelli right now, she can have her usual wash & blow dry......... (insert me clasping my hands in front of my face whilst giving Mark the doe-eyed look)
Without batting an eyelash, Mark says "C'mon Bitch", to which Benelli JUMPS up from the floor and heads for the door.
Upon his return and after Mark settles in next to me, I broach the subject of Perhaps you'd like to go pick out a Christmas tree before you pick up the kids since I just happened to have found what looks like a really nice, local tree farm not 5 miles from us.....?
After some minor discussion as to the pros and cons of this idea; directions to the tree farm; and me taking an oath that I would not be pissed if he picks out a tree I end up hating; Mark sets off to find the perfect Xmas tree.
And comes back 10 minutes later without said tree but with our kids. Whom he decided should help in the tree picking process (thus spreading out the blame should they all fail in picking out a Christmas tree!). Insert kids changing clothes and shoes and promises of finding the best tree ever!
I retire to the bedroom with my cocktail where it takes me 10 minutes to get on the bed and into a comfortable position. I have no idea where the remote is and there is no fkn way I'm going to move in order to find it, so I proceed to stare at the wall.
And feel sorry for myself.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember the room was dark and I can hear my kids stomping up the stairs screaming: WE FOUND IT! WE FOUND THE PERFECT TREE!!!!
I'm told to "wait until Daddy gets it in the stand, and then come down to see." Considering it took me 10 minutes to get IN the bed, I'm confident it will take twice as long to get OUT of it, so against my children's orders I begin my struggle to stand upright.
When I get the signal from my Monsters, I make my way down the stairs where I come face to face with the prettiest Noble tree, ever. It's exactly how I like them: not symmetrical, but thinner at the top and gradually becoming thicker at the bottom. Sturdy branches to hold my heavy ornaments, with clearly tiered spacing throughout the tree. It was, indeed, perfect.
Somewhere in the middle of me admiring the tree and the kids carrying in my many, many boxes of Christmas decorations, their Dad slipped out to run another errand for me. Only this time, his errand wasn't my idea. Or suggestion.
Marky came home with a Frank Sinatra Christmas cd & a half gallon of Rum. Said he was pretty sure His Girl could use a little of both.
So here I am......on my second round of Advil; sitting ramrod straight while icing my back; with Frank singing to me whilst I swill Hot Butter Rum and stare at my perfect tree.
And here's what I know:
The fact that I am one big control freak-pain in the ass most of time is not lost on me. Thankfully, I've got a husband who can appreciate my need to organize, delegate and plan......even when I'm on the injured reserve list.
The fact that I've managed to injure myself while sitting......(twice now!), just adds insult to my injury. But look at how productive the day turned out to be!
My Sister gave me major props for relinquishing my need to control everything and handing over the Christmas tree task. It's amazing the rewards one can reap when you aren't squeezing the life out of......well.......Life.
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