Monday, January 31, 2011

Do you remember the 90s?

Plea for your creative suggestions please!

I'm going to a fancy dress party this weekend, the theme is: The 90s. I thought it would be easy to think of something because I remember the 90s, however, it's proving a little difficult. I'm not a huge fan of fancy dress because you end up spending money on things that you won't wear again, and that annoys me.

I did get a brainwave when watching an episode of Glee: the schoolgirl costume from Britney Spears 'Baby One More Time' video. I have a white shirt and I'd wear a black skirt and grey cardigan again. But I fear it may be a bit too slutty. And cold.

So ladies, please get those thinking caps on and creative juices flowing!

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Breakin' up is hard enough

I read/heard/made up the fact that January is the most common month for breakups. If you think about it, it makes sense. People wait until after the holidays but well before Febuary 14th. It's also the time of year that one starts thinking about their life and the changes they need to make. In honor of the suckiness that is January, I've compiled the best ways to break it off. And by best, I do mean worst.
  • The Voicemail. Ballsy enough to call, douchey enough to leave it in a message. Pro: Can pretend you never got it "Ugh, I swear this stupid phone eats my voicemails!" Con: You can replay, forward, and store it for 30 days while you wallow in a tub of ice cream.
  • The Post-it note, a la Berger to Carrie Bradshaw. Pro: Short, sweet, and stickie. You can put it anywhere! Con: It's a fucking post-it note.
  • The Facebook message. Facebook: the true homewrecker. Pro: Immature actions validate immature reactions.  Respond by writing on his wall: "By the way, your micropenis and mediocrity were NOT worth the herpes. Thanks a lot asshole." Even when he deletes it, rest assured at least 1-100 people saw it. Con: It's a fucking Facebook message that you'll be reminded of every time you get on Facebook.
  • The text. For those with the maturity of a 13-year-old. Pro: Can have a real time conversation about it (via text), assuming he doesn't purposely send it during a time when he knows you can't answer, which let's face it, he will.  Con: You have to have a conversation via text (Not all of us have fancy phones/know how to use T9 Word/have normal size thumbs, ok?).  You can save it in your phone forever.
  • The Disappearance. If you haven't heard from your boyfriend for a week (and he's not in the military/CIA), it's over. Pro: You never have to see his face again. Con: You'll never have closure. Ever.  Partly because you're worried he might be dead. 
  • The Key Return. You come home to find the spare key you gave him on your coffee table and his toothbrush is missing. Pro: You don't have to worry about changing your locks. Con: No closure. It will leave you in a WTF? daze for days.
  • The Bed and Break-up.  Because what better time to tell a girl how you really don't like her than when she's naked and sweaty?  Pro:  He actually told you to your face.  What a grown-up.  Con: You're naked.  No one deserves to be dumped naked.   

Friday, January 28, 2011

SAD Dilemma

So here's the thing. I am not a fan of Valentine's Day. I think that it is over- hyped, over-commercialised and over-red. Red is not my colour. I can't even benefit from the boxes of chocolates that go on sale on February 15th because I tend to only like one or two in the box. Apparently I'm a bit of a picky eater.

I am a fan of SAD. It suites me much better.

However, for the first time, I actually have a boyfriend on this auspicious occasion. (I was with Fergus a couple of years ago but on the day itself he was in Scotland. I wasn't). So, and I'm not really ashamed to admit it because I am only human, but I'm not going to be all smug married about it, I want to acknowledge the day in some way.

Here's the dilemma. What? I refuse to go to the ridiculously over priced set menus that restaurants put on. Where they squeeze as many people in as possible and the portions are even too small for me. I don't want to give the greeting card conglomerates even more money and I certainly don't want to buy any ridiculous 'I love you presents.' So to solve the restaurant dilemma the White Horse and I will just stay in and he'll cook. He always cooks so no change there. My dilemma remains what present to get him. If I baked or was remotely artistic I could get creative. But I'm not.

So I think there remains one solution: sock bunnies!!* And maybe I could try and make a card. Or Vi could make one of my behalf? She's very creative.

I still fully agree with SAD. I still hate the commericalism of Valentine's Day.

I just really want to make a sock bunny.


* A 'Friends' reference. But we all knew that right?

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Things are looking up

Yeah, I'd say we all hate January. It just NEVER ENDS. Every time I think it's over, I realize there is still ANOTHER week left in this god-forsaken month. As Grayer pointed out, February doesn't get much better, but I am here to tell you that it does. February is not nearly as bad as it seems. Take into consideration:
  • It's the shortest month of the year. I mean, it's only a measly 28 days long (this year anyway). That's a full 3 days shorter than January. It may not seem significant, but it is. March will be here before you know it!
  • The Superbowl. I know this doesn't apply to Fen, but the first Sunday of the month is the Holiest of all Sundays. And in every city except Green Bay (who lives there?!) and Pittsburgh, people will be more interested in socializing than in watching the game. Sports bars will be packed with disappointed Patriots/Falcons/Ravens/Bears fans just looking for a sympathetic ear. You can be that sympathetic ear.
  • S.A.D. The Official Holiday of WWBD?, of course! (Don't think for a second that because two of us are "off the market" that we have gone the route of Smug Marrieds for this one!) Again, bars will be packed with people who are single and ready to mingle. Take advantage.
  • Spring Training. Ok, this one doesn't necessarily apply to our less sports-inclined readers, but pitchers and catchers report Feb. 13! WAHOOO!
  • The Oscars. The stars, the fashions! You can even host an Oscar party! (Formal attire required) In the meantime, you can get yourself caught up on all the Oscar nominated films. I highly recommend The King's Speech. It is simply fantastic. AND it's Colin Firth! Oh, Mr. Darcy. However, I still can't figure out Black Swan. Please explain it to me if you can.

See? The days are getting longer, and it's March already! Ah, spring...

Thursday, January 20, 2011

January Blues

I very much dislike January.

It's cold. It's wet. It gets dark at around 4pm and it is the month of blah. It is also the month when all the Christmas and festive cheer disappears as quickly as it appeared and my credit card bill suddenly appears to be HUGE. Ugh.

So I have decided that I am officially suffering from the January Blues. It's a scientifically proved illness. Fact. On Tuesday I was having a Bad Day. Then it turned out that Vi was also having a Bad Day. So was Vi's roommate. Therefore, January 18th is now officially: The Bad Day. Fact.

That really is the whole point of this post. I was going to write all about bridesmaid dress shopping but I was feeling blah and couldn't be bothered. Because it's January.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The replacement

This weekend, one of my roommates officially moved out!  No, not that roommate, but the other one.   Sure, she was my favorite of the two but I'm glad to see her go.  I'm sick of her waking me up at 7 am with her unnaturally loud voice. I'm sick of her boyfriend basically living with us.  He can't even pronounce his R's.  How do you trust a guy that can't pronounce his R's?  I'm sick of hearing them having sex, or even worse, I'm sick of hearing them fight (the fighting lasts longer than the sex). 

It took me all of 2 days to find a replacement.  This time I went with a guy.   I thought it would bring a nice balance our estrogen heavy household.  This guy is the exact opposite of my hyper high strung loud mouthed former roommate.  His name is Bernard.  He's an architect.  He's low key.  He's a nerd.  

Bernard has actually been living on our sofa for the past week.  (This is why you should never move in with a girlfriend, it leaves you homeless when you break up).  In that week, I've spent a lot of time with Bernard.  In fact, I've spent so much time with him that I feel like I'm dating him.  We've gone out for drinks with his friends.  We've shared relationship history.  We've drunkenly played Jenga at 2 am.  We've gone out for breakfast.  We've gone out for dinner.  We've watched movies all day.  We've played boardgames.   We've rearranged the living room furniture.

Turns out the guy is pretty fun.  He goes along with all my antics (like when I helped him move his stuff out of storage, he let me pretend I was surfing while he pushed me on the flat bed car).  I have to say, it's nice to have someone to hang out with at home (I avoid the other roommate like the HIV, which she just might have), and it's also nice to make him shovel out my car by beating him at Skip-Bo. 

It seems as though not only have I found myself a replacement boyfriend, I've found myself a replacement live-in boyfriend. And underneath all the nerdiness and the side-parted hair, he has a surprisingly nice body...  Not that I was looking or anything.  What could possibly go wrong?

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Winter Wondershit


Monday morning, I'm going to get up at 7am and go to work. For the first time since Friday, January 7. Yes, it's been more than a week. No, I haven't been sick. I haven't been fired. The cause of my unexpected winter vacation (merely a week after my scheduled Christmas vacation) was simply Snowpocalypse 2011.

A whopping 4 inches of snow fell on the city of Atlanta last Sunday night. It was then followed by freezing rain, and several days worth of sub-freezing temperatures. Since Atlanta is generally considered to be a warm weather city and is not used to such things, it lacks the equipment-like snowplows and salt- essential to dealing with such an event. Thus the roads and sidewalks were completely iced over and undriveable until Friday afternoon. (To compare, Boston received 16 inches of snow on Wednesday. Grayer went to work on Thursday.) How on earth does one keep oneself occupied and warm during a snow week? Let's take a look:

Sunday night: WHOOPEEEEE! Tomorrow is a snow day! We can sleep in! The cute neighbor, my roommate, and I all learn that we will not be going to work Monday morning. We are like children who have learned they don't have to go to school the next day. We stay up later than normal. The cute neighbor and I take pictures of the winter wonderland on the short walk across the street to his house. We have celebratory "Tomorrow is a Snow Day" sex. (Although that part is definitely NOT like my childhood snow days. Grown-up snow days are sooo much better.)

Monday: Sleep in. The cute neighbor and I make a fantastic brunch, complete with freshly squeezed orange juice. (No, really. We used a juicer and a bag of oranges to make it.) We bundle up as much as possible and take a walk through the snow and ice to the park, where there are loads of people (mostly grown-ups) using whatever they've been able to find in their house as sleds. There are plastic lids, laundry baskets, boogie boards, kayaks, and even an air mattress whizzing down the hill (or at least trying to. Many are flipping over early on, as they were not meant to fly down an icy hill.) We are sad we haven't got anything to sled on, but it sure is entertaining. We continue to walk through the park and take pictures, and occasionally throw each other down in the snow, just like all those annoying couples you've seen when you're single. In the evening, we watch football and learn that Tuesday is also a Snow Day. Cool, another day to sleep in. Repeat Sunday night's bedroom activities.

Tuesday: Sleep in. I don't really remember what I do Tuesday afternoon, but I do something while the cute neighbor tries to work from home a bit. He's not that successful. We go for another walk. This time to a bar. We each have a beer. Wednesday is going to be ANOTHER Snow Day. Huh. What am I going to do all day?

Wednesday: Sleep in. The cute neighbor decides he's going to walk to work. I watch Gone With the Wind in the morning. My roommate is also home for the 3rd day in the row. We are both very bored.
12:00pm-We decide to do a bit of cleaning.
1:00- I decide to walk to the grocery store and make chili and cornbread for dinner, because that is a perfect Snow Day meal. I skate to the grocery store, nearly slipping and cracking my head open at least 3 times.
1:30-I arrive at the grocery store to find that it does not have much food left. The produce section is completely cleared out. I can't find a single onion. There is not a single onion in the grocery store! I have to buy jarred onions. There is no ground meat of any kind. What kind of chili doesn't have ground meat? Shit chili, that's what! I end up buying stew meat. I have no idea what this chili is going to taste like with jarred onions and stew meat, but this is the snowpocalypse. I must make adjustments and persevere.
2:30- My roommate and I smell something funky. After eliminating all possibilities, we realize that we have not showered regularly, and neither of us has washed our hair since The Snow. Come to the conclusion that The Funk is us.
4:30- Tomorrow is going to be ANOTHER Snow Day! Seriously?! This is getting old.
7:30- The chili and cornbread are absolutely delicious. Really hits the spot.
8:00- The cute neighbor convinces me to watch Silence of the Lambs.
10:30- I am scared shitless and will never, ever eat fava beans or chianti again. Have actually never had fava beans, but I definitely won't be. Am also afraid to go to the bathroom.
10:45- Force the cute neighbor to watch Two Weeks Notice. I need to cleanse and Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant in a delightful romantic comedy is the only way to do that.

Thursday: Sleep in.
9:00Eat breakfast. Watch tv. This is the first day all week both the cute neighbor and my roommate have gone to work, leaving me all alone. I... am... so... bored...
11:00- Watch The View. That chick from Survivor is still annoying. I really want to get out of the fucking house.
1:00- Decide I am going to scrapbook. Go across the street to have photos developed. Then decide to go for a brief walk to stretch out my legs.
3:00- Scrapbook, while watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy on Lifetime.
5:30- Fenella calls! Yeah! Skyping with Fen is the perfect cure for Snow Day IV!
8:00- Go out for a drink with the cute neighbor.

Friday: Sleep in. I am going to job #2 today. I am very, very nervous about it. What if my car doesn't start? What if I get stuck? What if I run out of gas?
11:30 am- I manage to make it to job #2. When I park my car, my hands are shaking from having had to drive over a solid sheet of ice that they call a road. I take a deep breath. I am happy to be alive.
7:00 pm- Leave work. Traffic is awful, what with all the ice patches.
9:00pm- Go bowling with the cute neighbor and friends. The perfect end to such a stressful week.

Tomorrow is a holiday and a scheduled day off. It is now a Make-up Day. I'm happy to have it. It's going to be tough to get up in the morning, but I really, REALLY need the money. Snowpocalypse has hurt my bank account. I should send a bill to the City of Atlanta. But they've got enough problems.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The Good Doctor

My apologies for my extended absence from this blog. I have finally acquired a second job (Nanny take 2), so I went from having most of the afternoon for goofing off to having limited time in the evenings for goofing off, and normally I don't even turn on my home computer. Luckily, a massive snowstorm of Biblical proportions (a whole 4 inches!) has paralyzed the south, giving me several snow days to get you all caught up.

Phoebe: Are you lying? Is this like that time you tried to convince us you were a doctor?
Ross: I am a doctor!

The Cute Neighbor is a doctor. Not a medical doctor, but a doctor like Ross Gellar is a doctor. He has a PhD. From a really good school, in a challenging subject (i.e., not English). He's a smart guy. Obviously this means that technically the title "Dr." goes in front of his name. He, however, thinks this is pretentious and never uses the title. I don't think of him as a doctor. Hell, in warm weather he wears shorts and flip-flops to work.

You know who does think of him as a doctor? My parents. They seem to be thrilled that one of their daughters is dating "a doctor." They refer to his "doctor" status far more than is normal. Odd, considering my dad has the same educational status. It's not like they should be in awe of him.

When they came down to visit and we were all playing cards, at one point my mom announced that it was "Dr. Neighbor's turn." I was really hoping he didn't notice. When I told my dad I was thinking about asking the cute neighbor to take my GREs for me because of my fear of them (joking, obviously) he said that yes, I could just have my "boyfriend, who already has a Ph.D. take them for me." Thanks dad for reminding me that my boyfriend has a Ph.D. And last week, while I was getting ready for our New Year's Eve party, my dad asked me what "the good doctor" was making to bring to the party. It took me a moment to realize who he was talking about. And you know what? That's not the first time he's referred to the cute neighbor as the good doctor! Or just "The Doctor." He's not even a real doctor! In the medical sense anyway! (Although one of his favorite jokes is to use that stupid line, "Trust me, I'm a doctor." Followed by an evil laugh.) I can just picture my parents playing cards with their friends, and saying something along the lines of "You know, Violet's boyfriend. The Doctor..." "Violet spent Thanksgiving with her boyfriend, you know, the doctor?"

Yeah, I really hope they're not doing that. Because if I ever do decide to take him home with me and unexplicably introduce him to the locals, I really don't want them saying to him, "Oh, you're the doctor!" after which he gives me a befuddled look and I make up a story about Grayer dating a doctor or something and they must have them confused. Silly old people.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Muhaha

The internet that we've been stealing in our apartment has suddenly disappeared, leaving me offline and bored, but I'm blogging from work to tell you this one thing.  I was out on Saturday night drinking a whole lot of beers with some boys, and guess who drunk texts me.  Jonny Fucking Damon.  That's right he texted me! 

The content of the text was of no consequence, but this tells us something.  You see, there is only one reason why a boy who ended things a month ago, who has barely contacted me since, would text me while drunk at 1:30 am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, and that reason is this:

He's not getting any.

And this makes me happy.  Oh, oh so happy.  Cue: evil satisfied laugh.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

The case of the crazy cat lady

“Grayer, can I ask you a question?” says The Roommate, as we climb into bed the other night.

We had just changed my sheets because for the first time ever, Mr. Kitty Meowington threw up on my bed.  This is what I get for bringing a boy home on a week night.

“Are you making a cat Christmas stocking?”

He also had to pick up Mr. Meowington from his cat condo to hand him to me.  Mr. Meowington is not permitted to sleep in my room when I have guests.

“What? No. What do you think I’m some sort crazy cat lady?”

I was starting to regret wearing the black cat winter hat, that Violet got me for Christmas, on our walk to my house.

“Well, I saw a cat stocking and your desk looks like you’ve been...crafting..”

He had to step over the hot glue gun that I had left on the floor, right next to my staple gun and fabric, to get to my bed.

“Oh, that cat stocking.  My mom got me that because I left my real stocking here.  And yeah, I was crafting the other night.”

I totally drunkenly bragged about my brand new sewing machine that I had gotten for Christmas when I saw him on New Year’s.

“What’d you make?”

Not a cat Christmas stocking, because Mr. Meowington already has a Christmas stocking, duh.  I made it for him years ago.

“I was revamping Mr. Meowington’s scratching post, I made it for him when I was in college, it needed a makeover...........I sound really lame, don’t I?”

Despite my lameness, he moved in to kiss me as Mr. Meowington meowed outside my door.

“Yep.”

And then we stopped talking. 

I had run into him that night at a show.  Some of my friends and I were out to see a couple bands play, I knew one of the bassists.  The reason why I knew one of the bassists is because he’s the third roommate of The Roommate and the Karaoke Kid.  Luckily, KK had stayed home and after my (superlame) friends left, I stayed to hang out with The Roommate and the band.  Apparently, after our New Year’s Eve shenanigans, the Karaoke Kid never said anything about it.  This indicated to The Roommate that KK was ok with it, which apparently made it ok for him to come home with me.  So yeah, I guess we're a thing again (assuming my cat craziness hasn't scared him away).  It's January, I need a thing.

Out of the mouths of mothers

Earlier in the week I was taken ill at work which of course concerned my parents. On Wednesday night I was getting almost hourly phone calls from my mum to check on my progress. At one point during one of our many conversations she asked if any of my housemates were in as she didn't want me to be on my own. I said that they were in but also that the White Horse was round so not to worry. This was at about 8pm.

At 10.30pm, our last phone call of the evening, I was updating her once more when she asked what time the White Horse went home. "About half and hour ago" I replied, not missing a beat. Obviously I was lying, he was sitting right next to me.

Now, my mum is a very intelligent person. Yet she seems to lack the common sense to realise that my boyfriend isn't just going to come round for the evening and leave at a reasonable hour. It then got me thinking to New Year's Eve. My parents were driving me back to London and they knew I was spending the evening round the White Horse's. My mum said that she hoped that he was going to walk me home after midnight as there would probably be a lot of drunk people around. I laughed it off because I thought she was joking. Now I'm not so sure.

I think my mum and I are going to have to have 'the talk'.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Should old aquaintance be forgot...

Ugh.  That is my exact sentiment on the whole New Years Eve thing. It is also my sentiment on the whole New Year day thing, when I can't stop eating junk to ease the hangover and I'm starting to worry that the multiple rat nests in my hair just might be permanent.  Just, ugh. 

I have a love hate relationship with the whole holiday.  Sure, it's usually a good time and I get to wear something fancy, but does that make up for all the stress I have trying to make plans for the night.  Not really.  Oh, the pressure!

After much debate of my limited options, I finally decided to go out with the Karaoke Kid and friends. (Quick refresher: I briefly dated KK in the spring until one night, I secretly started seeing his roommate instead.  KK never found out about that short-lived affair and we're still friends). I hadn't seen him in a long time but those guys are always a good drunken time and they were planning on wearing suits and top hats.  Drankin' and fancy dressin' are the two things I want on my New Years Eve.  I was sold.

After much primping (a slammin' little black dress, curls, hair flair, and red lipstick) I make it over to KK's apartment.  The last time I was at that apartment I was there with The Roommate, but that was six months ago.  The last time I had seen the both of them, KK was awkward and The Roommate tried hard to give me the cold shoulder, but that was five months ago. Things would be fine I was sure, and they were.  Even when their other friends went to a house party, leaving me with the Karaoke Kid and The Roommate, alone.  Let the heavy drinking begin, because really, how did I not see this coming?

The three of us made it out to a bar and I desperately hoped that we'd be able to meet up with one of my friends from work (her and her friends were one of my other options) but they unfortunately weren't in our area.  So there we were, the three of us ringing in the New Year, toasting with a huge shot that completely kicked my ass.  I immediately followed this by dancing to Lady Gaga, while still sitting on my bar stool.  I actually did have quite a good time, just like we used to have good drunken times.  KK was his normal self and The Roommate was back to his usual flirtatious meanness that got me into trouble with him in the first place.  Cue the "uh oh".  At the end of the night, while the Karaoke Kid went outside to smoke, I became adamant on finishing my water and also very adamant on making out with The Roommate.  I'm not really sure how that happened, I'd like to blame him, but let's be honest, I probably instigated it (if there is one thing I can pride myself in, it's instigating poor drunken decisions).  Making out in a bar is classy, don't even try to tell me it's not. 

I, of course, meant to go home alone that night to avoid any weird situations.  But the Roommate was secretly holding my hand when the Karaoke Kid wasn't looking, as we stumbled back to their place.  We were waiting for KK to pass out, but he had an odd amount of energy going, and was basically dancing and playing music in his room.  The Roommate went to his own room.  I sat down on his bed.  He still had the same surfboard sheets.  I asked him if he's washed them since, he said he had.  Then he closed his door.  The music stopped shortly thereafter. 

This morning I bid The Roommate adieu, wished him luck with the Karaoke Kid, and told him he could call me if he wanted though I suspected he wouldn't.  I don't know what KK thought happened, maybe he told him I just passed out.  Maybe he didn't. Wow, I'm good at fucking things up with them.  I'm also good at sneaking out of their apartment.  I did my very long walk of shame in last night's dress and very scary hair.  An old man I passed shook his head at me.  Even his dog gave me a disapproving look.  2011 is looking surprisingly similar to 2010.  Maybe one of my resolutions should have been to stop doing stupid shit when I'm drunk.  But if I did that, what would I blog about??

Happy 2011!