Big News!!

Hi, Everybody! I know I've been MIA lately, but there's a good reason for it!!!!

No, I'm not engaged.

I know, that's what you were hoping for, right? Don't hold your breath. I know I'm not! My eggs will be shriveled into mummified remains before CN ever pops the question. Argh.

No, I have big news! Good news!! I can tell you what my big secret is now!!

I am moving to Savannah, GA in three weeks.

I am really excited, because that's where I want to live. But I'm really stressed because it's all happening REALLY fast and I am not super-prepared for all of this.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been busy with interviews and job applications and shopping for interview suits for more interviews...and then yesterday, I was offered the position. I'll be working at the library for a well-known Savannah art school.

And I'm scared shitless.

This job will expect a LOT more from me. I will be someone's boss for the first time--2 people, actually. I will be able to work a lot more independently. I am expected to travel more and do more overall. The working environment is (not to dis my current job!) a lot less laid-back and a lot more fast-paced than what I'm used to, so I will have to bring my "A game".

These are all good things, though. I'm just freaking out. I can do it. I'm excited for the challenge. It's just scary to give up all this stability: my house, my friends, my stable job, my boyfriend being right across the street....

So, in addition to that stress, I have the following problems:

1. I am broke as a joke. Moving costs money. And no, they aren't paying any moving expenses. I asked. I will need to get my tax refund ASAP.

2. I have to find someone to rent my house. NOW. (Trying to sell it in this economy is probably a waste of time. Besides, I just started getting equity. I wouldn't even profit if I sold it now.)

3. I can't rent a place in Savannah until I rent mine out, because that will determine if I can get a nice apartment or if I will have to live in my car. (Or in a van down by the river! LOL)

4. I do not know what CN is going to do. He is going to request a transfer from his job, but we don't know if he will get it. If not, we are looking at a long distance relationship until further notice. Which will stink, but it won't be the end of the world. It's only two and a half hours distance.

5. If he does get the job transfer, it will rock because they will pay for the movers.

6. But that also means we would probably end up living together, which is something I really don't want to do because I am old-fashioned, even though financially it makes a LOT of sense.

7. CN's dad took a turn for the worse and it's REALLY bad, so CN and I are stressed out about that, too. (I really think his dad might be pretty much near the end at this point. It's bad, y'all. It's so sad, because he's in a lot of pain. It seriously sucks right now.) And CN is not going to want to move anywhere if his dad stays like this for any length of time. (Which is fine and I totally understand and wouldn't expect him to move under those circumstances anyway. It's just another piece to the puzzle -- if he is planning on moving later, should I get a bigger apartment in anticipation??)

8. I can't tell my boss I am quitting until they finish my background check (no, I have nothing to hide, but it's just a good idea to make sure I'm cleared before I go blabbing about it). Hopefully they will finish it before I would need to give my 2 weeks' notice. *crosses fingers*

9. And did I mention that I am not really getting a raise? On paper, I am. But because of the higher cost-of-living for Savannah, my quality of life will stay pretty much the same.

I have 21 days to figure all this crap out. So if you don't hear from me a whole lot over the next month or so, that's why. But I'm sure I'll be stressed and will need to vent, so stay tuned.

I am a giant ball of anxiety right now. I am not sleeping and food disgusts me. I could totally barf on command, thanks to all the butterflies and stress knots in my tummy. The upside to all of this is that it's the best diet ever. I have zero interest in eating!

I will turn 30 in the town I want to live in. Cool. My first day will be the Monday before my birthday. :)

Red & Green

Today, they are not only Christmas colors, but also relevant to my life.

Red -- the color of my left eye. No, I do not have pinkeye. I think I have burst some blood vessels, because I have no change in vision, pain, itching, swelling or eye crusties. And it's not getting worse or spreading. Just one half of one eye, red. Just hanging out. Every time I look in the mirror, it says to me, "Hi! Yup. Still here. Making you look like you're sick, tired, high or otherwise not a good person to stand next to! Enjoy wearing your glasses!" I'm pretty sure it's just some irritated/burst blood vessels. Which, according to my casual internet research, can happen from something as simple as a sneeze, violent coughing or vomiting. It probably happened on Tuesday night, after I barfed on the way home from the gym.

Math moment:

Lazy attitude towards exercise
random, intense trainer workout at gym
+ genetic predisposition for sensitive stomach
---------------------------------------
barfing in a parking lot.

Luckily, I picked a vacant office building parking lot, so no one had to stumble upon my barf upon arriving at work the next morning. WHEW.

Anyway, WebMD says that it should get better on its own, gradually, over the next 2 weeks. If not, it's time to see a doctor. I'm not wearing my contacts as a precaution. I'm now wearing my glasses until further notice. Which I hate doing. Oh well.

Trivia fact for you: Despite my fairly frequent and unpredictable barfing spells, CN has yet to witness me barf. He didn't know that I barfed throughout our first date until weeks later when I told him. Yeah, I'm a pro. Don't hate.

Green -- As in, the color of money. Luckily, it's not my money I am referring to.

CN has a company car, which is great. He doesn't have to pay a dime out of pocket for anything car-related, including gas. Don't you just hate him? I know, me too. Because it's not his car, he has to take it to company-approved mechanics, because they have special agreements worked out with them. One of these companies is Jiffy Lube. Or, as I like to call it, Stiffy Rube. Because they are full of idiots who rip you off. Or idiots who make you take it up the ass. I will let you choose your own definition, depending on your level of pervertedness.

Hopefully, I am not offending any of you by saying this, but in my experience, Jiffy Lube hires only the most supreme morons of America. Their last straw with me was when I got an oil change, and they forgot to put the cap back on. During my drive from NC to Virginia, I started noticing something leaking from the engine up to my windshield. When my wipers failed to remove it, I pulled over to find a coating of motor oil all over my car. It was also all over my engine, and it was beginning to burn, which if you have never smelled, is not exactly anything close to Chanel No. 5. I still had about 3 hours of travel time left, and had to just deal with it until I got to The Czarina's and pay $100 to have my engine power washed. Grrrrr...

Anyway, despite my Tales of Horror and Warning Concerning Jiffy Lube, CN always gets his oil changed there -- it's one of the company approved places. It's right by our house and one of his favorite dive bars. He usually goes to the bar for a beer and pizza or to watch a game while he waits. This is what he did on Friday afternoon.

While he was enjoying his beer and pizza, the friggin idiots over at Jiffy Lube were getting a lesson in car lifts: DO NOT lift a car by anything other than pre-approved, sturdy areas of the under carriage. This is because the other areas are not meant to bear the weight of a vehicle, you frigging numb nuts who apparently flunked out of mechanic school.

When CN picked up his car, they inform him that they "had some difficulty" in removing the tires (I think he got a tire rotation, too) and didn't rotate them because of that. CN was like, "Ok, whatever," and proceeded to get into the car to get it back home. One the way home, he realizes that something is very wrong. Despite normal steering activity and decision-making skills on the part of the driver, the car wants to turn sideways, especially when the brake is applied. You can imagine how fun this is when you approach a stoplight, or say, oncoming traffic. It gives bumper cars a whole new meaning. At worst, you could die in a T-Bone collision. At best, you look like you're doing some pretty cool 180s. In traffic.

So, to sum up, Jiffy Lube is full of dipshits who are taking *no* responsibility for this, CN's car is now at a better mechanic, getting worked on. But it's so jacked up that he may actually end up getting a new company car. THAT is how much they jacked up his car. (His car is only a year old.)

While it's no skin off his nose, because he doesn't have to pay for it, CN is finally hating JackAss Lube as much as I am. File this under: "I Told You So".

Ok, I will share The Czarina's latest exploit with you in the next post. Promise. It's time to go home, and that is a post which will take some careful wording.

One Day at a Time

Today is my ten year anniversary. For the last decade, I have maintained my sobriety 100%. My life has remained totally alcohol-free since the late 90s.

If you are doing the math, you are realizing that I did not drink on my 21st birthday. And that I quit drinking after my freshman year of college. I will add that I do not even sip champagne at New Year's or drink the wine at church.

A lot of people ask me how on earth I could have been an alcoholic at such a young age. The answer to this is that many alcoholics are born that way. In my family, it seems to be genetic: two grandparents, one parent, three siblings and several extended family members have all been afflicted with this disease. At least 2 have died in alcohol-related deaths. So whether I began drinking at age 16 or age 43, the results would have been the same: I have and will always have a problem controlling my drinking.

When I tell people that I really only drank for two years, they are even more confused. How did I realize I had a problem after only 2 years? After all, the majority of college freshmen are binge drinkers, especially on the weekends, and especially at large state universities. But by the time I was about 12, I had seen the effects of alcoholism on my family. Thanks to my mother's lectures and descriptions, I could rattle off the signs of an alcohol problem as easily as my multiplication tables.

By the time I was a senior in high school, alcohol was readily available to me, and like most young people, I was all about experimenting. Gradually, I began to see some bad signs...

Blackouts were my first sign that I may not have a normal and healthy relationship with alcohol. Yes, many novice alcohol drinkers have blackouts. But I was having them about once a month. And it wasn't like certain parts of the evening were hazy. I'm talking about the WHOLE NIGHT. Once, I woke up in my dorm room, dressed in party clothes, with a trashcan next to my bed and a concerned note from my friends. To this day, I do not even remember going out AT ALL. I have no idea what I did or where I was. Think about that. It's kind of scary to be that out of control.

If I wasn't blacking out entirely, I was drunk to the point that I had to be carried out of the party. At every party. Having "just two" didn't compute in my brain. Where's the fun in that? The whole goal of the evening is to reach the if-I-have-one-more-I-will-barf buzz and keep it as long as possible. Duh. But of course, I am an alcoholic, so the stopping point for me was always "just one more and I'll stop." Remember the girl at the frat party who was always found sitting on a step, slurring and crying and asking everyone for a cigarette? The one with barf all over her tank top and mascara smeared all over her face? Who had to be baby-sat by her girlfriends? That was me. Every weekend. And by weekend, I mean Wednesday thru Saturday nights. Alcoholics are always up for a party.

My ability to increase my tolerance for alcohol was frightening. By the end of my first semester in college, I could put down 10-12 beers. They were like soda pop to me. I weighed about 130 pounds. I was drinking this amount of beer in less than 2 hours. I'm no good at math, but it's pretty safe to say that I was far over the legal driving limit. I remember strategizing on Friday and Saturday nights, using complicated formulas to ensure maximum alcohol consumption: "Ok, if I don't eat anything between noon and six, and then eat as many breadsticks as I can an hour and a half before I leave to go out, I should be able to drink 2 extra beers before I barf." -- Who does that??? That is not normal!

It wasn't just the urge to drink as much as I possibly could, as quickly as I could. Just like any other alcoholic, I didn't give a rat's ass what the beverage was, I just wanted as much of it as possible, as quickly as possible. If you are a normal person, and you despise tequila, when you go to a party that serves nothing but tequila, you are probably going to drink water or soda pop all night. Not the alcoholic. They will think, "Crap. I hate tequila. This is going to suck." -- and then they will line up the shots and down ten of them before you can blink an eye! That makes absolutely no sense. It's like someone who hates broccoli eating 2 pounds of it, just because it's there.

One of the worst signs of an alcohol problem is a change in personality. When I was drunk, I became hostile and angry. I tried to pick fist fights with my friends. I literally wanted to punch the snot out of anyone and everyone. If you know me in person, this concept is laughable. I am such a wuss that I won't even do wheelies on a bicycle. I have some friends who have never even seen me lose my temper. But when I drank, I turned into a psychotic bitch with the shortest fuse you've ever seen. It would take nothing to set me off.

As you can probably guess, denial plays a huge role in an alcoholic's life. Example thoughts:
"I am totally ok to drive." (Um, no, you're not!)
"That guy is HOT." (Riiiight)
"She's not that pissed at me. (Um, you just made out with her boyfriend.)
I look smokin' hot right now. "(Is that why your hair is plastered to your skull and you can't walk?)
"My skirt is totally covering my butt." (You just flashed an entire room of total strangers.)
"This party is awesome!" (...if by "awesome" you mean that you are the only person on the dance floor because it's 4am and the party is over.)
"I don't know. I guess someone stole my keys." (Actually, drunk ass, you dropped them somewhere.)

I did something else that my just seem like strange behavior, unless you too are someone familiar with alcoholism: I became extremely possessive with my alcohol. If I brought my own alcohol to a party, I would label it with my name, patrol the fridge to make sure no one stole it, and refuse to share so much as a sip with anyone. You see, I have the brain of an alcoholic, and the thought of running out of alcohol was terrifying to me, especially when I was under 21. This is why you hear of alcoholics hiding bottles everywhere. It's because they don't ever want to run out. Of course, I knew that hiding alcohol was a sign of alcoholism, so I fought the urge to do this. If I didn't hide it, I must not be an alcoholic, right?

I used to (and strangely enough, still do) pressure my friends to drink as much as I did. To an alcoholic's brain, as long as everyone else is drinking like you do, that means your relationship with alcohol is normal. If everyone's jumping off a bridge, then it must be an OK thing to do. This is why it's common to see an alcoholic hang out with other alcoholics. Now that I am sober, I have watched other alcoholics grow visibly uncomfortable around me, especially when I tell them that I am sober because of my alcoholic tendencies. Other alcoholics will often stop talking to me or pressure me to drink, even when I have said, "No, thank you" several times.

And I can spot an alcoholic ten miles away. Some people have gay-dar, I have alcoholic-dar. Now, I'm not as adamant about it as my mother, who honestly believes every third person on the planet is a raging alcoholic, but there are a lot of them out there. Some are like me, and become alcoholics from day one. Others cultivate their addiction over a period of decades. A few, like my grandmother, wait until a life-changing event (in her case, the death of her husband) happens. They turn to the bottle to soothe themselves. But I can always spot them, sometimes within minutes. Their actions are so familiar to me, it's like looking in a mirror.

Ten years ago today, my family came home from vacation to find me blitzed out of my mind. I had remained at home, claiming I had to work at my waitressing job, when really what I wanted to do was throw a huge keg party and spend the majority of the week finding my next drink. (Lying to loved ones takes a back seat to booze when you're an alcoholic.) After the parties were over, I had to clean up the house before they got home. Part of this cleaning involved disposing of the leftover alcohol. So I decided to have "just one" margarita while I cleaned up the house. It would be such a shame to pour the tequila down the drain. By the time my family got home, I was slurring my speech as I mopped the kitchen floor. My mother, a recovering alcoholic herself, knew instantly what was going on. To this day, the look on her face -- a mix of fear, anger and guilt -- haunts me. At that moment, I knew that I could not keep drinking and have a good relationship with my mother. I could not bear the thought of making her feel that way ever again.

That was the last time I ever drank. I quit in a very unusual way -- cold turkey, and without the assistance of Alcoholics Anonymous. This is VERY unusual, actually. I have never even been to an AA meeting, although I'm not saying I will never go to one. There is no cure for this disease.

I would be lying if I said that I never want to drink alcohol. I never tried gin or Midori before I quit, and I think melontinis and gin & tonics smell wonderful. I know I would have loved them. And yes, there are certain times when I miss the stress-relieving and social lubrication benefits of a drink. Luckily, I have found that Xanax and cigarettes are excellent substitutes. And (non-alcoholic) beer is now what I crave when I've had a long day. I guess you can take the alcohol out of the alcoholic, but not the alcoholic out of the alcohol aisle. The worst times are when I'm out with my girlfriends, because I do miss getting a little buzzy (ok, a LOT buzzy) with my girlfriends. I never did like looking sloppy drunk around guys. Not that it ever stopped me, back then. And I still fight the urge to escape reality, boredom and difficult emotions with substances. (Hello, Vicodin!)

But somehow, I have managed to say "No, thank you" to alcohol for the last ten years.

Go me.

If you recognize yourself or a loved one in any of my descriptions above, you might want to look at this quiz. A score of 8 or more indicates a possible problem with alcohol. My score was 19.

Sick Puppy

Note to readers: This is one of those posts where you should not eat and read. So put down your lunch.

This is a photo of my dog, Sammy. Yesterday, Sammy went to the vet to have some teeth pulled. Yes, I know I should brush my dog's teeth and yadda yadda yadda. Trust me, I have a pretty hefty guilt trip about it and I have sworn on all things holy to start brushing his teeth ASAP. But it was too late to save a couple of them, so he had to be put under so they could be removed. Just like humans, dogs must have empty tummies before being put under anesthesia. So poor Sammy didn't get to eat that morning.

After I got off work, I picked him up. The combination of anesthesia, pain killers and antibiotics left him looking pretty ill. He was lethargic and wobbly. The vet said that he will be like that for maybe a day, because the anesthesia had to wear off.

I took him home, and waited an hour to feed him, like the vet told me. I fed him half of what I normally fed him, and added water to the food so it would be soft, just like the vet told me. I also gave him one of the painkillers the vet had given me. Since Sammy was sick and I had a headache, we vegged out on the couch together all night. He was really not himself, poor little thing.

This morning, everything seemed to be fine -- Sammy was a littler perkier and seemed more like himself. So I gave him one of his antibiotic capsules before I forgot. Which was stupid of me, because I am Barf Queen, and I should have remembered one of the Laws of Barf:

Empty tummy + antibiotics = barf

So the medicine came back up. Realizing what I had done wrong, I decided to give Sammy some canned dog food and then tried again to give him his medicine.

He was starved, so he pretty much wolfed it down as usual. I followed it up with the antibiotic. Everything was fine for about an hour.

Then I went to go get ready for work. I came out of the bathroom a little later to find....

Tons of barf. It was everywhere. And not just in one spot, either -- it was like Sammy had made a lap around the room, barfing as he went. There was a giant circle of chunky, pinkish-reddish barf in my living room.

And of course, true to my level of luck, it was all on the carpet, rather than the easy-to-clean linoleum. I sighed and looked at my dog.

Sammy had that look on his face that he has when he does something wrong. Aw. My poor baby. He thought he was in trouble! So I reassured him that everything was ok, and began cleaning it up.

"Well, his tummy just needs to calm down still. I will try feeding him tonight when I get home," I thought. Worried, I decided to call the vet anyway. She said that it is just taking him longer to recover than usual, and just to give it time, and don't let him eat any more food for a while.

I went back to getting ready for work.

Sammy barfed again.

And again.

And again.

Seven pools of dog barf later, I was totally out of paper towels and rags. I was now running late for work, and my house smelled like carpet cleaner. Aw, man! I wish Sammy could just barf once and get it all over with, you know?

Hurrying around to get ready and clean up, I suddenly remembered that I had some leftover dog medicine for vomiting, from a while back. So I gave one of the pills to Sammy before I left for work today. CN is going to check on him in a little bit, but hopefully he will be ok now.

Poor little guy. He hasn't eaten in two days. :( And he looks so pathetic!!!



In other news, I went to my Big Brothers Big Sisters orientation. I am so excited about volunteering for them!! But first, I have to have a 2 hour interview, where they will ask me all kinds of stuff, including, but not limited to:

- my use of drugs, alcohol and tobacco
- whether or not I own firearms/have them in the house
- my living situation (ie, roommates, pets, etc.)
- my sexual orientation (I'm sure they will have questions about CN, since he lives so close to me)
- any abuse/neglect I have experienced in my life
- what my childhood was like and what my relationships with my family members are like
- why I want to volunteer for them

I figured these would be the sort of things they'd ask me about. And it's fine -- I totally understand, and I'm glad they ask the important questions. But I am afraid I'm going to cry during the interview!!! There's no way I can answer these questions without talking about my brother's death, my father's death, all the alcoholism in my family, my own alcoholism and the sexual assault I had in college. (No, I was not raped, but it was an act that I was forced into and I was physically restrained during it. So it's not exactly the highlight of my college experience. It's not a huge deal for me to talk about it, but it's not a picnic, either.)

It is about 4 weeks until my interview. So I have time to mentally prepare myself to talk about pretty much all the crap in my life in one go. Ugh. Anyway, after that, if my references check out and they like who I am and what I say during the interview (ie, I am not a danger to any child), they will start to look for a Little Sister for me. I was disappointed to hear that this process might take about 6 months. :( But it's just that they want to make sure they pair you up with someone who you can hang out with over the long term. So I understand.

They have encouraged us to think about what kind of a Little we are looking for. We have to think about what sorts of issues we are willing to deal with: behavioral, abuse, domestic violence, physical disability, etc. It's kind of a weird feeling, to sit here and think "yes" or "no" about some kid's life experience. A kid who has been having a rough go of things. And here I am, deciding what I can tolerate. But I understand why they want us to do this. Not everyone can handle every type of situation. And sometimes, if you have been in the same situation as the kid, you are a better match for them. So in the long run, I think it's good, the way they do this. You don't want to go through the whole process, only to back out of it 4 months later. These kids have enough problems, without you getting their hopes up.

Another thing they encouraged us to do was to do free or low-cost activities with the kids. Not only do you not want to feel resentment towards the kid about the money you spend, you don't want to spoil the kid or cause a rift between you and the parent. Most of the parents in this program don't have a lot of money, and you don't want to swoop down with your credit card and "save the day". Splitting the cost with the parents and doing something special for the kid's birthday are fine, but you don't want to be a walking wallet. It's just not a good idea. This is fine with me, because as we all know, I am trying to budget, anyway!

So I guess that is all I have for right now. The ball won't really get rolling until I go to my interview and cry when the lady brings up all my personal stuff! :P

Cruise News, Part 1

It's good to know that so many of my readers can relate to my vision problems! Wow, did I get a lot of sympathy on my last post! I did end up going back to the eye doctor before I left, and she put me in stronger contacts. Apparently, I am "in-between" lens strengths, and the weaker one isn't enough. Don't ask me why it wasn't enough when I left the first time, because I can't figure it out, either. I guess my eyes just don't fully adjust as quickly as they should. I can see pretty well with the new ones, so I'm going to just go with these.

I think the thing is, since I don't know what it's like to really be able to see perfectly, it is hard to gauge what is "perfect vision". I feel like I should be able to see China when I put my contacts in, so anything less seems too weak to me. But I did a check with CN on the way to Jacksonville. For the first hour of our trip, he had to listen to me asking: "Can you read that green sign yet? Or is it still fuzzy? What about that license plate in front of us? Can you read that?" -- I wanted to know if I was seeing what he was seeing. Since he has 20/20 vision, I figured that is a good test. We were seeing the same things at the same time, so I must be good.

I know you will be disappointed to hear this, but I don't have any cruise pictures yet. I will post some as soon as I can. We took a lot of them on CN's camera, so he has to learn how to upload them before I can share with you. For now, I will give you the first part of the trip.

CN and I had so much fun driving to/from Jacksonville together. We talked and laughed and teased each other. He has a Sirius radio, and I played dj on the trip, which was great for me, but not always great for him--he hates rap. He liked all my serenading, though. I had fun making him guess what song was playing. He knows an incredible amount of music trivia. So we had a blast on our way to meet up with everyone.

CN and I went on the cruise with two other couples: Larva & Sandra and Roger & Grace (yes, these names are totally made-up or nicknames). We had met Larva & Sandra before, as Larva and CN are old college buddies. We were meeting Roger & Grace for the first time.

CN and I met up with the two other couples about halfway between Columbia and Jacksonville, at a Burger King off the highway. The first thing they say to us is this: "Ok, before we head down to Jacksonville, we have to make a pit-stop in Savannah."

CN & I: "Um, ok. Why?"

Sandra: "Well, because Larva didn't get his birth certificate stamped with the official seal, so if we don't get it, they won't let him on the boat."

[Insert VB & CN irritation here.]

It turns out that Larva, who has had WEEKS to get his paperwork in order, thought that he could bullshit his way through security with just a photocopied birth certificate. He had even gone with Sandra to the health department just 2 days beforehand, when she went to get hers. "You're sure you don't need one?" she had asked. He told her "no".

When he announces this little tidbit of information that morning to Roger & Grace on the way to meet us, they told him he was an idiot and that his little plan would not work. CN and I agreed.

I still can't figure out why Sandra was not furious with Larva about this. "If you had pulled this stunt," I said to CN, "You would be dead meat right now. I would get on the boat without your ass."

"Trust me, I would never do something that stupid," he replied. "I practically gave myself a heart attack double checking all that stuff!"

So our plan was to take a detour to Savannah to hunt down a health department, pray they were open and cross our fingers that it would not take too long to get a proper birth certificate. Thank goodness Larva was born in Georgia, rather than somewhere far away, like Utah. After some exasperated sighs on my part, we all get into our cars and drive into Savannah.

CN and I begin to follow everyone through Savannah. We seemed to be going nowhere. When our motorcade did yet another u-turn, CN calls Larva to ask him what the hell is going on. It turns out that no one has a CLUE as to where the Health Department is in Savannah, and they were trying to find it through sheer luck.

More exasperated sighs on my behalf. This is not a good way to start a vacation.

Luckily, CN saved the day and found the Health Department with his GPS system. (Thank you, Garmin company.) A few minutes later, we were at the Health Department and were glad to see that there was no line or waiting period needed to get a proper birth certificate.

Fifteen minutes later, we are on our way to get on the boat. We are about 2 hours behind schedule, but it's no big deal. We still got on the boat in a short amount of time. Getting on the boat was very easy.

While we had been waiting on Larva at the Health Department, I told Sandra how I was worried about getting seasick. She told me to take a half a Dramamine the first day, and I should be fine for the rest of the trip. She's a nurse and an experienced cruiser, so that's what I did. Aside from the first night, when I was feeling a tiny bit woozy, I was totally fine for the rest of the trip. I was very relieved, because that was a big worry on my part.

CN and I got to our cabin. The bed was AMAZING -- seriously, y'all, it is a miracle I ever got out of that bed. It was big, soft and clean, and the thread count on the sheets must have been 500. The pillows were the perfect mix of squishy/firm. Our steward changed the sheets every day...ahhh. It was bliss.

Too bad I can't say the same thing for the bathroom. Now, I was on an old ship (built in 1987), so I knew not to get too excited about the bathroom. But the shower was totally gross: it was tiny, moldy, dark and felt "germy". It didn't have the most effective drain, either. I think it was the rubber mat on the floor of the shower that really bothered me. All I could think was, "Ew, athlete's foot!!!" So I took very quick showers. And I know I'm probably being a little harsh/germo-phobic, but I have a thing about bathrooms. I am picky.

We unpacked and freshened up and went up to the pool deck to meet everyone else for lunch.

All of my hopes about the kick-ass cruise food were quickly destroyed. The cafeteria on the pool deck smelled like a mixture of fried food, mold and body odor. It was so bad that I had to cover my nose every time I went in there. It literally made me nauseous. I grabbed a burger, some fries, some pasta salad and a couple other things. I did not eat a lot of food from this cafeteria again, instead opting for the dining rooms, which at least didn't make me want to barf. That smell was seriously unbearable.

This first meal was no different from all the other meals on this trip: average to bad. Half the food on the boat was totally disgusting, to the point that it was inedible. (Example: the caesar salad tasted like fish. Now, I know that caesar dressing has anchovy paste in it. But this tasted like it was 100% anchovy paste. Ew.). A lot of dishes were overcooked or flavorless. The rest was ok. I didn't eat any veggies the whole time I was on board, because everything from the salads to the steamed veggies were just awful. A lot of the seafood was overcooked and rubbery. The fruit was not ripe. The pizza was soggy and tasted funny. The escargot was cold. The mashed potatoes were stiff as a board. The desserts were average at best. The cakes, cookies and brownies were all dry and bland. The sandwiches, eggs and pancakes were so-so. The French toast was not very good. The cheesecake was gross. The only things that waere pretty good were the beef and the pancakes. So I ate beef almost every night for dinner, and pancakes for breakfast.

How do you mess up cheesecake and pizza???!! This completely blew my mind. CN agreed with me about all the food. Everyone else thought I was nuts as they chowed down. Maybe I am nuts. *shrugs*

I can't tell you about the chocolate buffet, because it was held at midnight that night, and I missed it. But I doubt I missed much, based on the forgettable desserts I had the rest of the time. By midnight most nights, I was enjoying the heavenly bed in my cabin. I'm not much of a night owl.

The only thing that really impressed me was the coffee -- it was perfect. Oh, and there was this chocolate lava cake that was really good, too. But that was it as far as food excitement was concerned.

Overall, the food was average/bad at best. I can cook better food myself. The food I get in restaurants here in Columbia beats anything they had on their ship hands down. So if you are going on a cruise, don't get excited about the food if you are used to yummy Southern cuisine.

The good news is, I only gained two pounds--and I think that was more from not exercising than anything else! :)

After we ate lunch, the ship left the dock. We all agreed that you can feel a lot of motion in such a small cruise ship. CN and I went to the front of the boat to watch the huge bridge go over us. It was pretty cool.

We hung out by the pool with the rest of our group after that. Everyone proceeded to start drinking heavily! We had a good time just people-watching, hanging out and dancing to the music played by a dj. I really liked Roger & Grace right away. They are super fun and friendly, plus, they are hilarious. After a bit, we went to our cabins to change into dinner attire.

Dinner was apparently forgettable, since I don't remember anything I ate. :P

After dinner, CN and I were pooped. We had been up since 6am, so we were exhausted. I think we went to bed by 9:30. I slept like a rock!

Ok, I will write more tomorrow!

Mr. Comedian & The Cruise

A conversation with my boyfriend, via text message:

Me: I just saw your twin! [On a side note, this guy looked so much like CN, I did a double-triple take!]

CN: You saw Brad Pitt?

Me: *playing along* Yes! He's on campus for some reason.

CN: Tell him he owes me 8 bucks for that Meet Joe Black movie.

And earlier today on myspace:

Me: Babe! Did you know there might be a chocolate buffet on our cruise???!!

CN: Well, I guess if we get separated, I will know where to find you.

Ha. Ha. Mr. Comedian.

I haven't told you about the dream I had, have I? I had a dream the other night that CN and I were getting married. I was arguing with the lady at the dress store about the design of my wedding dress. It was (oddly enough) strapless and blue and white striped. The fabric was silky, and the stripes were small and even-width. There was embellishment at the bust. The dress looked very strange, actually. Ugly, even. No offense to you if you like striped wedding dresses., but this one did not look good. Obviously, if you are reading this and you know CN in real life, you are NOT allowed to inform him of this dream. On penalty of death. Dude, I'm not kidding. Zip it.

I know I said I would talk about the cruise today. Here's some stuff I want to share:

1. Our ship, the Celebration, is the second-oldest ship in the Carnival fleet. Its maiden voyage was in 1987, and the decor reflects this. (Hell-o neon signs and super-bright colors! Ugh.) But word on the streets is, they make up for this with their fantastic service. The maitre d is supposed to be hilarious. The Broadway-themed show is supposed to be great, one of the comedians is a riot and the waiters remember what drink you like to drink at dinner. The room service is super-quick and the cabin attendants are thoughtful. I know all of this because I have been reading all the passenger reviews on Cruise Critic.

2. This will be kind of a special cruise, because the Celebration has recently been sold to a Spanish tourism company, and this summer it will be re-fitted for that cruise line, which does not sail in North America. We will be on the next-to-last sailing of this ship for Carnival. And since we will be sailing out of Jacksonville, we get to go under this huge bridge when we leave port. It's supposed to be really cool. I will try to take pics so I can share.

3. The showers in the cabins are difficult to control. The water will run from icy cold to blistering hot, and then back again, with no warning. This will piss me off, I can already tell you. But if this is the biggest complaint, I think I will be ok. :)

4. I am living in fear of getting sea sick, since we all know I am Barf Queen. I am coming prepared with the following: dramamine, ginger snaps, ginger altoids and those magnetic bracelet things. I should be fine -- I was on a small boat cruise around Lake Michigan once, and I was fine. But I'm still freaking out. If I do get sea sick, at least I will not be able to eat anything and I will lose weight, right??? But dude, if there's a chocolate buffet, I am eating it, even if I am sick. I don't care.

5. A month or two ago, right after embarkation, the captain of the ship was notified by the U.S. Marshals and the FBI that he must not go into International Waters quite yet. Why? Because there was a convicted murderer on board, running from the law, and they needed to arrest him before they hit International Waters. Yeah. Wowza. How did I know about this interesting little factoid? There's a website that keeps track of all the reports of insanity and zaniness aboard cruise ships. You can also look up the safety record of all the ships.

I encourage you to browse around it if you're bored -- some of the stories are hilarious, like the drunk guy who climbed into the life boat. He grabbed an ax (don't ask me where he got an ax) and began chopping away at the rope holding the life boat. Security approached him and told him to stop and climb down. He did. But he was so drunk, he jumped the wrong way -- into the ocean. What a dumbass.

Other people submit their rants about being on the "cruise from hell". One family, which included two small children, found themselves on board a cruise that consisted mainly of swingers. LOL now THAT is funny. How would you handle that as a parent, you know? LOL I imagine it's something like this:

Little Bobby: Hey, Daddy, that man over there said that he wanted to come to our room tonight to party with you and Mommy. I told him that would be fun, because you said I don't have a bedtime while we are on the boat!
Daddy: *gulp!* Uh...ok, we will have to see about that.
Little Bobby: Daddy, what's a rubber?

6. Of course, we all know what I'm really excited about: the food. Duh. Between the burgers, ice cream, pizza, chocolate buffet, Mexican buffet, pancakes, waffles, bacon, filet mignon, salmon, lobster, shrimp, chocolate hot lava cake, free room service and all the Diet Coke I can drink for $20, I am really looking forward to it! I can order as many dinners and desserts as I want! This truly sounds like heaven to me. *Realization about the reason for my weight loss problems set in* Crap. I am going to gain 10 pounds. Crap. Crap. Crap. Ok, I will pack my work out clothes in the hopes that I will want to go for an on-deck run. Which sounds like a blast, actually.

7. There is a penny slot machine in the casino. I am not much of a gambler, but I do have a penny jar I am not using....WOOT. There's also trivia contests (CN and I love to do those), bingo, karaoke, chess, putt-putt golf, game show-type things and a hairy chest contest by the pool.

"You should enter that!" I said to CN.

"That's not funny," he replied. CN has approximately 4 hairs on his skinny little chest. LOL

"But that's why you will win! Don't you see? It will be hilarious!" I exclaimed.

He did not agree. But I'll try and talk him into it. Perhaps I can bargain with him by participating in karaoke. (I am NOT a karaoke person. I can't sing for squat, and I don't like being in the spotlight, literally or figuratively.)

8. The locals in The Bahamas are nice, but very pushy when it comes to selling you things. I am hoping there will be a plethora of fake designer hand bags, prices negotiable. And some cute jewelry.

Ok, that's all I can think of right now. I'm sure there will be more to share after this weekend. I have so much to do before I go:

find a beach cover-up
stock up on self-tanner and sunblock
find a wide-brimmed hat
possibly buy a new bikini
dye my roots (I can't take it anymore! I do not want yucky roots in my photos!)
weed my backyard
get Sammy ready for his trip to MJ's house while I'm gone
clean my house
burn a CD to commemorate the trip
give myself a manicure and pedicure
clean out my fridge
learn how to operate CN's new camera (he won't take the time to learn, he said)
start packing!!!

I leave on Thursday morning, so I will probably post again before I go. WOO HOO!!! Have a great weekend, everyone!

Happy Overwhelmed Birthday!!

My birthday isn't until tomorrow, and I am feeling extremely overwhelmed. I have been for quite some time. I feel like I'm in the deep end and I'm drowning. I need a life preserver. I can handle it all, I just wish the ride would slow down a little bit, you know? I really need to catch up. Or a 28-hour day.

Between the dieting, exercising and budgeting (or, as I like to call it, "Fiscal Responsibility Awareness") alone, I have plenty to do. It's a shame I'm not getting paid to be at the gym, because I friggin live there. (The cool thing is, I am starting to see some changes in my body and my physical stamina! YAY!!!)

Add to that a normal list of errands I have to run and bills I have to pay. To make it really interesting, I changed insurance companies this week, so I have to cancel the old one, send the check for the new one...and something else I'm forgetting. (The upside? I saved about $300 on my car insurance! WOOT!!!) Going to the gym all the times means I have to do twice the laundry, too. I need to go to the bank....crap. Who knows what else I'm not even remembering!

Oh yeah! I should mail my Valentine's Day cards out. (Yes, you read that correctly. They are 2 weeks late.) [Insert guilt here.]

I need to buy a birthday present for KT. Preferably before her birthday.

Thanks to all the exercise, I need about 9 hours of sleep to feel rested now. This only cramps my schedule even further.

Also, when the termite guy came the other day, he found some 2x4s under my front porch that were supposed to be removed when they built my house. Until my builder comes to remove them, not only am I vulnerable to termite infestation, my termite bond is invalid. Commence nagging of builder. (Argh.)

And the fact that my house is filthy and I haven't spent any time with my dog in 2 weeks. [Insert guilt here.]

And the fact that a big project at work is due this week, and I have hardly any time to finish it. (And yes, I will confess, there MAY have been some procrastinating going on, which MAY have something to do with it!) [Insert more guilt here.]

And the fact that I was just notified first thing this morning that I am in charge of coordinating one of the biggest projects of the decade (literally) here at work. I will oversee the work of about 20 people. And I have no earthly idea how this project works, let alone how to oversee everything. Did I mention this was a nice big surprise at a crowded 8am meeting this morning? Yeah. No heads up on my massive new responsibility. But it certainly woke me up!

And the fact that I charged $934.26 to my American Express yesterday, which is great for my rewards points, but terrifying to think about for too long. (The cruise is official -- CN and I booked it yesterday!!!)

And I just realized that fat free vanilla yogurt mixed with chocolate protein powder only sounds good in theory.

So is it any wonder that when my friends all ask me, "So what do you want to do for your birthday???? Aren't you excited??!! It's tomorrow!! Let's go out! What do you want to do? Where do you want to eat? When do you want me to pick you up? What do you want me to get you for your birthday??? Huh? Huh?"

...all I want to reply is, "I want to sit on my couch and watch all the stuff I've taped over the past 2 weeks. Can you bring me some food, and then leave? Because I want to be alone, in my jammies and go to bed at 8:30. Or better yet, can we celebrate my birthday next month? I think I can pencil you in around....oh, March 22nd....and how do you feel about planning the whole thing, to the point where all I have to do is show up?"

I feel like saying, "Hi, Mr. Carnie. Can you stop the ride? I'd like to get off before I barf. Thanks."

Oh well. At least I'm not bored, right?

Cruisin' Along

Unlike the last couple of posts, this one is actually interesting. I promise.

Ok, story time.

CN came over the other day while I was home for lunch. This was kind of unusual, so I knew something was up.

"Hey, babe. This is a pleasant surprise. What's up?" I said, greeting him with a quick peck.

"Ok, I was going to talk to you about this last night, but someone didn't answer their phone," he teased.

"Yeah, I fell asleep on the couch. I didn't hear it ring," I replied.

"Well, I was calling to see if you wanted to go on a cruise with me."

[Insert squeals of excitement and the Happy Dance here.]

It turns out that CN's friend L called the night before. L and his wife, C, are going on a cruise in April to the Bahamas, and they wanted to know if we would like to join them. CN wanted to check with me first before committing. (He received a lot of smack-talk from L about this. I believe the phrase "pussy-whipped" was used. LOL) Anyway, CN was worried that I might not be able to afford it ($400 is the cost) because I've been kind of broke lately. So he wanted to check first. But my squeals of excitement proved otherwise.

"OMG, I can totally do this! I know I can! It will totally motivate me to work on budgeting my money, because I really want to go and so I will save up for it!!!" I explained, excitedly.

"Ok, because if you don't have the $400, I am going without you," he replied.

"Ok, that's fine! But I'll get the money together. I promise. Besides, I know I am getting a nice tax refund this year, so I should be fine, anyway. EEK!!"

So, as of right now, I need to come up with at least $400 by April 10th. I am working on a savings budget right now. Yay!!

It will also motivate me to lose more weight before we go, so that I look better in a bikini.

WOO HOO!! I cannot wait! I have never been on a cruise before. Neither has CN. I have never been to the Caribbean, either. Neither has CN. So we are really looking forward to it. The ship will be in Jacksonville, FL and we will drive down to get to it. But so far, this is all I know. I don't know what cruise line it is, or what ship, or anything like that. All I know are the dates, the cost and the destination.

So if any of my readers have been on cruises or have been to the Bahamas, please tell me what to expect and any advice you can think of. I would really appreciate it!!! Does anyone know if we need to get passports?? Can anyone explain duty-free shopping to me? If I don't get motion-sick or air-sick, will I get seasick? How much spending money should I bring? It's a 4 day cruise.

Oh, I would also like to ask my female readers: I am thinking about getting a spray-on tan and a bikini wax for this trip. Are they worth it? Or should I pass? (Sorry if this is TMI!)

I will share more about the cruise as I learn more about it. In case you cannot tell, I am wholly obsessed with this news, so I doubt I will talk about anything else for a while! Bear with me. I'm easily entertained. LOL

Gym-Nauseum

Ugh. Going to the gym now makes me want to barf.

Not because working out really hard makes me barf, although that is true.

Not because I'm hating the whole process of getting back in shape -- on the contrary, I am excited about it.

What makes me want to barf when I go to the gym is the fact that every time I cross the threshold, I now risk running into any or ALL of the following former romantic interests*:

Dr. Seuss (a guy I used to date who ended up being a total wack job)
Fed Sucksy (a guy I used to date who stood me up, only to refuse to apologize or explain later-- asshole!)
Small World Guy (a guy I sorta dated for a bit, but there was no spark)

and the two newest additions--

Hot Neighbor (who has moved, btw) and.....

Repo.

Hoo-fuckin'-ray. It's official -- every guy I have dated or liked in this town now goes to my gym. I saw HN there 3 days ago and then ran into Repo last night. Oh. The. Joy.

Look, I know Columbia isn't that big of a city, but DAMMIT does everyone have to join my gym? There are several other gyms they can go to!!!! The true irony is that the only guy I want to see at the gym, CN, goes to a different gym than I do.

What used to be my aerobic oasis, my sanctuary of sweat, has now become a place of dread and awkwardness. It is only a matter of time until I do something to embarrass myself in front of one of them. I have never been known for my athletic abilities, let alone my coordination. I work out with dirty hair, little makeup and old t-shirts! This is not the way I want to look in front of former flames! AAARRRGH.

Oh well. I guess this should motivate me to work out extra-hard, right?

Maybe they are all stalking me. Ha ha!

Ok, yeah, that's probably not the case. I just have bad luck.

My membership runs out in a year. I am counting down the days.

* If you want the back story on these guys, just search this blog for their names. Or click on the tags below.

The Big Easy?

More like The Big Stress.

Wow, I haven't posted in a while. Sorry. I am really busy, getting all ready for some traveling. I am going to a conference in New Orleans. So my brain is a little preoccupied. My hotel reservations got all messed up, and I've been emailing and on the phone non-stop. It's stressful, because everything is all set, except for my hotel. And I have a lot of stuff to do before I'm ready to leave in 2 days. Plus, you know, it's December.

Argh. The older I get, the more stressful December gets for me. I miss being a kid, and only having to worry about writing down my Christmas list for Santa and then just counting down the days via the Advent calendar. Now, as an adult, I have to find good presents, spend the money to get them, work on travel arrangements, attend boring parties, stress about the weather, figure out when to wrap the presents, worry about mailing and delivery dates, deal with mall insanity for those last-minute gifts, donate to the right charities, coordinate with siblings to see who is getting Mom what.......*sigh*

I'm not complaining -- I like the holiday season. It puts me in a good mood, and I have generosity and love for all mankind oozing from my pores. Yeah, it's kind of disgusting. Almost makes me barf. But it's the good kind of barfing.

So yeah, I like this time of year, I just don't like the stress and the crowds. I woke up this morning and thought, "OMG! Only 20 days left? How will I get it all done, especially when I'm going to be out of town for 5 days?!"

And I'm sorry, but going to a work conference this weekend is really bad timing. Why would any organization set up an annual conference in December?? What, people don't have things do do during December?? Like we are all sitting around on our asses or something? This was obviously a man's idea. A boring, friendless man without children. That is the only type of person who would think it's a good idea. He was oblivious to baking, shopping, decorating, parties, travel and other holiday-related stress. Perhaps he was angry at the world for making him spend the holidays alone every year? I don't know. But 3,000 of us have to put our holiday planning on hold for a few days while we soak up the flavor of The Big Easy. Too bad we will be stuck in ultra-boring meetings most of the time.

Oh well. At least this year, I get to go to New Orleans, which is WAY cooler than last year's Orlando. The Crescent City has history, culture, good food and is easily explored on foot -- the only thing Orlando has going for it is....um....Disney World. And I'm not 7 years old.

I am leaving on Friday and won't be back until Tuesday. Now, now, stop crying. I'll be back before you know it. As long as I make it out alive from the airports. Ugh. I can feel my stomach cramping up, just thinking about airports. I love love love to fly, once I get on the plane. But airports? They stress me the f**k out. Anyone want to donate a Xanax? I'd be much obliged.

CN was sweet enough to offer to take care of Sammy & Toby for me. Aw. And he's taking me to/from the airport. He's such a good boyfriend, huh? *cheers for CN*

Oh, speaking of CN, I need to post about this past weekend. *makes note to self* Perhaps I will write a second post later today.

Have you been to New Orleans? How is it safety-wise? Is everything back open now that Katrina is over? Do you have any restaurant recommendations for me? Any shops? Interesting tours? I am interested in the following activities while I'm down there:

eating Cajun food (except raw oysters and crayfish)
eating Creole food (except raw oysters and crayfish)
eating Po Boys (especially if they have fried oysters or shrimp)
learning the difference between Creole and Cajun (I have tried!!)
buying pralines
buying Cajun/Creole food/spices I can take home with me
learning how to pronounce "pralines" correctly (apparently, it's "PRAW-leens")
historic home tours
history tours
ghost tours
voodoo tours
having my fortune read by a voodoo witch doctor, unless it's bad juju
buying magic potions from the witch doctors, unless it's bad juju
avoiding bad juju in general
local art/artists
Mardi Gras stuff
good souvenirs (masks, especially)

You are probably wondering why I'm not listing "Jazz music" on here. That is because I am not a jazz fan. *ducks to avoid being hit by readers' tomatoes and shoes* I know, I know. I am the anti-Christ because I don't like jazz. Sorry. But if you promise not to make me listen to jazz, I promise not to make you listen to my gangsta rap. Deal?

So if you know anything about any of the things I've listed, please give me a heads up or make some recommendations for me. I'd appreciate it! Because so far, all I've heard is that the French Quarter smells like pee. And don't go out after dark. So I'm a little apprehensive, at this point.

I just looked at the weather. It will be in the mid-70s. WOO HOO!!!

New Orleans, here I come! Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Barf Queen on a Date

"I took 5 of them," she slurred.

Oh boy. When I got home from work on Friday, I opened my front door to find E in the midst of a Vicodin-induced stupor. She had surgery recently, and was in some pain.

"Well, I don't have any plans tonight. You wanna stay in and have a Roomie Bonding Night? We can watch movies and eat popcorn. I could pop a Vicodin and join you!" I said, excitedly.

E nodded enthusiastically. "Yeahyeahyeah."

15 minutes later, we were in our jammies, watching Dirty Love, eating jelly beans and I had downed a Vicodin. A few minutes later, I decided it wasn't working, so I took another one.

[Note: This directly violates Rule #1 of VB's Vicodin Enjoyment: Never take more than one Vicodin. I would soon rue this rule violation.]

So I'm just starting to enjoy myself when there's a knock on the door. It's Cute Neighbor. And I'm buzzed on painkillers. Uh-Oh. Act natural.

He had some friends (a married couple) coming into town for the night and wanted to know if I would care to join them for dinner and pool.

"Sure, I'd love to!" I replied, trying to sound sober, secretly wondering how in the hell I'm going to pull this off.

He said ok, and told me to be ready by 8. Cool. That gave me an hour and a half to get ready. In other words, I would be totally juiced by the time the date started. I shut the door.

"Shitshitshitshitshit!!!" I whispered.

"What? Wassss that CN?" asked E, stumbling over to the front door.

"Dude, I have a date with CN and I'm fucked up. I can't do this," I said, walking past her, to my room.

Have you ever tried to get ready when you're drunk? Because that's what it was like. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that this was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Hot rollers? Seemed to require a PhD. Coordinating shoes with my outfit? Required an extremely serious debate between myself and E, lasting about 15 minutes. Zipping up and tying my top, without getting the dreaded white deodorant marks all over the front? Took every ounce of concentration and focus I had in my body. I dropped everything twice. I almost poked my eye out with the eyeliner. And I thought the SATs were hard. I think I asked E about 6 times if my outfit looked ok. Which was stupid, because she was more wacked out than I was.

Oh boy. This was going to be an interesting night.

"E!" I shouted. "I don't know if this is a good idea.....it's still kicking in!"

"No, you should totally go. You have to," she slurred, leaning against the door frame of my room.

"Well, the good thing is, I'm not nervous at all. I feel gooooooooood," I replied.

"See? So you shhhhhould go...." E mumbled before collapsing on the couch. I think she passed out at this point. I don't really know. I was more concerned with remembering how to walk in a straight line.

After double and triple-checking myself in the mirror, I headed over to CN's house across the street. "Don't tell him you're on Vicodin. Don't tell him you're on Vicodin," I mentally repeated to myself.

[Note: When we went tailgating together last weekend, I mentioned how much I loved Vicodin, but emphasized that I do not do it all the time by any wild stretch of the imagination. So I did not want to give the impression that I am addicted to pain killers or something. Because less than a week later, here I am, weaving all over the street, teetering in high heels. Yeesh.]

We drove downtown to meet up with the couple. I think I acted pretty normally. I think....I hope...

By the time we walked to the restaurant, sat down and opened our menus, I was blitzed. I could feel my eyes crossing and my mind wandering.

I ordered a ginger ale in the hopes that it would settle my stomach. No such luck. Before I took a sip of it, I excused myself from the table. Luckily, our table was not too far from the bathroom.

By some miracle, the bathroom was empty. I hurriedly locked the stall door behind me and proceeded to barf. "Shit! I am never taking Vicodin again! I am a total idiot! I can't believe I did this!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I thought as I doubled over, hurling.

Double checking myself, my hair and my clothes in the mirror, I swished my mouth out and popped some gum. I have no idea how long this took, because at this point, I was in Lala Land.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice when I got back to the table. We ordered our food, and I drank my ginger ale and began to feel a little better. Whew, I am in the clear. I attempted to join in on the conversation, and managed to hold my own. I have no earthly clue what we talked about. I don't remember a word of it. I do remember CN flirting with me, and smiling at him, and thinking he was definitely out of TFZ. But that's about it. Most of my thoughts were focused on not falling out of my chair. As if reminding myself to keep my eyelids from shutting halfway wasn't hard enough, the stress and paranoia of being discovered was making me sweat profusely. Oh man. This was not fun. Not fun at all.

Then, the food was served. CN and his buddy had ordered sushi. Which wasn't the best thing for me to see/smell at that point. Feeling woozy, I took a deep breath and focused on eating my own meal. I swallowed the first bite when..........uh oh. Guess what. The ginger ale didn't work. Back to the bathroom I go.

This time, I didn't say anything, but got up and made a beeline to the ladies' room. I almost had to run. Which would have been funny to see, because at this point, my stomach was controlling the rest of my body. I had lost control over my brain, not to mention my appendages. I almost fell on the way. As I barged into the bathroom, throwing the door wide open and staggering around to see if anyone else was in there, I was overjoyed to find that I again had the bathroom all to myself. Yesssss! But I didn't have a lot of time to enjoy this moment: Must. Barf. Now. Unluckily, I didn't make it all the way to the toilet, and managed to barf all over the stall. At least this time, it was just ginger ale and one piece of pasta, so it wasn't very messy. I cleaned it up as best I could and felt a LOT better. I washed up and swished again.

"I am the biggest effing idiot on Earth and possibly throughout all of history. I can't believe I am doing this," I thought. "Oh, gawd, what if I keep barfing every 15 minutes???" I looked in the mirror: no harm done to clothes, makeup or hair. "SCORE! This is the best barf luck I've ever had!" I thought, as I popped another piece of gum.

I rejoined the group, but knew better than to drink or eat anything. Feeling the buzz start to wear off, I began to relax. That is, until I realized: they were on to me. "Um, are you ok? Does your food taste ok? You're not eating," the wife asked me.

I told everyone that I hadn't felt well since lunch, when I had ordered a salad from a local restaurant. I apologized for not feeling so well or eating. "But I'm starting to feel a little better. I just can't eat or drink anything right now," I explained. I received much sympathy. Whew. Big sigh of relief.

After dinner, we crossed the street to go play pool. Who do we run into? Why, MJ and her new guy, VW! I ran up to her.

"Oh thank God you're here! Help me! I'm on a date with CN and I'm fucked up on Vicodin and I can't stop barfing! Do I look ok? Can you tell I'm fucked up? Do I smell like barf? Omg, I barfed at the restaurant -- twice!" I shouted frantically.

"Please tell me you didn't barf at the table," she said, hesitantly.

"Oh, thank goodness, no. I even got the bathroom all to myself!" I replied with glee.

She laughed and reassured me I looked fine and that I appeared normal. Never in my life have I been so happy to run into someone I knew.

The rest of the evening went really, really well. MJ and VW joined our group, and we all had fun playing pool. Towards the end of the night, we all grabbed a table outside and talked. That's when CN and VW began to hit it off -- they were inseparable! "Dude, your date hijacked my date!" I told MJ.

"I know! They are like BFFs!" she answered. We laughed and began to tease the guys about it.

Soon after, CN's friends went back to their hotel and MJ and VW left. This left me and CN alone to talk. And boy, did we talk. We went for at least an hour, solid. Talked for a while at the bar, all the way back to the car (with much teasing from CN about how I am Barf Queen) and all the way home. Then, we sat in his driveway and talked some more. We exchanged phone numbers and myspace URLs. There was mucho chemistry and CN is most definitely out of TFZ. Yay!

And no, nothing happened, Noseypants.

We made plans to hang out the next day and watch a movie. But by the time I was done with everything I had to do on Saturday, it was almost time for the USC game to start, so we watched the first half of that instead.

Nothing happened on Saturday, either. But it was his fault -- he sat on the easy chair, while I sat on the couch all by myself. So much for couch snuggling.

He was probably afraid I would barf on him...

Ok, People...

I know it would be uber-exciting for all of you to read this blog on Monday morning and see that I boldly walked over to Hot Neighbor's house on Saturday, knocked on his door and balls-out asked him over for dinner.

But I am not living my life for your entertainment. (Surprise!!)

While I may have moments of frustration, desperation and temptation, we all know I'm never going to do that. Yeah. Hate to be the bucket of cold water to your nice, relaxing hot shower, but let's get real, people. I just don't do that. Why?

1. In the past, all of my experiences where I have been the bold, assertive person have blown up in my face. Sure, the guys were nice enough about it, and flattered. They may have gotten my number or taken me out a couple of times, or even dated me for 6 months. But in the end, every one of them has ended up being either totally forgettable or a major dating regret (ie, The Cop). So if this was a baseball game, I'd be batting about 0 for 5. Not much of a batting average. What is that quote? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results? I think pretty much sums it up.

2. I am not comfortable with doing it in the first place, nevermind how it always seems to end up. I have been groomed my whole life to be an old-fashioned dater, and I am comfortable with it. It feels natural to me. I enjoy being wooed and pursued. Maybe it's because I was raised in the South, maybe it's because I'm definitely not a feminist, maybe it's because my parents' courtship was so charming and old-fashioned that I've been spoiled by their romantic tales from the mid-1970s, and now will never settle for less. Maybe it's just because I'm a girly girl. Who knows. But I feel confident when I am pursued. Not so much when I am being the aggressor. It's just not me. I think part of happiness is knowing yourself.

3. I am not one to play with fate. I think if something is meant to happen, it will happen in its own time. Since when does my life have to conform to the schedule my overly-daydreaming mind has laid out? Good grief, if I did that, I'd have 2 kids and a time share by now. Pursuing guys makes me feel like I'm forcing a relationship to happen. This doesn't sit well with me, kind of like how you have indigestion after eating too much, too fast: I can continue on with the experience, but I feel very uncomfortable. I like to allow things to happen naturally and slowly. There's no rush. I have the rest of my life to meet men.

4. He's been living next door to me for 5 months, people. Think about how often you are home in a 5 month period. Think about how many times he and I have spoken. How many different ways he could have gotten in touch with me. We are talking about numerous opportunities, all of which he has chosen to miss. This is a classic case of He's Just Not That Into Me. Which is fine. I can live with that. It happens all the time. And it's far better than forcing him to go out with me on a flattery date, only to be directly and bluntly rejected by him down the road. This is far less painful. If he were all about me, he would have been willing to risk rejection and would have asked me out already. Oh, and let's not forget my awesome timing in the looks department -- he looooves to see me when I look like total crap. This does not help my cause. So please, guys, no excuses for him. Don't give me the whole, "he's new to dating again! ease up!" or "divorcees have no self-esteem, you're going to have to meet him halfway!" or whatever. Excuses for not asking me out are bullshit, if I do say so myself. I'm a fun girl, who is easy to hang out with. Plus, I have nice boobs. I think that pretty much covers most 1st date requirements....right? Ok then.

5. I like balls. I like men with balls who ask out women fearlessly. I'm starting to think he's not that kind of guy. I'm starting to think he might be a ninny. A pushover. A doormat. Someone who waits for a domineering woman to take over and run his life for him. I can't respect people like that. Why would I settle for dating one? So can someone please explain to me why I would make a whole lasagna from scratch (about $25 and 3 hours of time, btw) for someone who can't even be bothered to take a deep breath and ask me what I'm doing this weekend? Because the more I think about it, the less interested I am in the idea. He's not lasagna-worthy at this point. (Elaine had sponges, I have lasagna.)

That being said, I'm obviously going to have to kick it up a notch in the flirting department. I've got serious competition now--he DID find his balls long enough to ask Wednesday Skank out, obviously. (I will suspend my theory that she asked him out, for the time being.) So although I'm not going to make lasagna (what, you think he'll take one bite and instantly fall madly in love with me? Come on, look who has an overactive imagination now! I mean, I know I make good lasagna, but come on!), I am going to start gardening in low-cut tops and insert some winking into my conversations with Hot Neighbor. I don't mess with fate, but I'm not against giving her a little nudge from time to time.

P.S. Don't bother calling me a wuss. I've already labeled the post appropriately. Aw, did I take the wind out of your sails?

So...I have some pics to share with you. It's Toby.



Um, I didn't realize it when I took it, but Toby is looking right at Sammy's butt in this picture...


And in this one, he wouldn't hold still, which is why he's not centered in the frame. Don't you love my awesomely landscaped backyard lawn? It's coming along perfectly...NOT.
This morning, I got to start my day at 5:30. Why was I up at 5:30, you ask? Because Toby was barfing all over my bedroom. Awesome. At first, I was just annoyed. Too sleepy to be worried, I was just wanting him to go back to bed. But he kept making noises and then I could hear some sort of splatter, which made me get up and turn on the lights.

I put two and two together in my pre-caffeinated brain: Dog is not making annoying sounds for the heck of it, dog is barfing. That is when the worry set in. I grabbed him and held him over my bathroom sink (ew) so he could barf on something that wasn't my carpeting. The dog barf had blood in it. I freaked out. So now he's at the vet, and I'm worried, because I haven't heard from the vet all day. And he hasn't had any food today, either. My poor, little pound puppy. My poor, little, expensive-as-hell pound puppy....

Ha! Not only am I Barf Queen, but my new dog is a barfer, too. Aw, he will fit in so well....

Quick Recap

I was sick all weekend. I had a migraine which still hasn't gone away--it's going on 3 days now. Well, it's mostly gone, but there are lingering throbs inside my skull. And nausea.

I also have nausea from the antibiotics I'm on. Why am I on antibiotics? I have Ass Abscess #3! Woo-hoo! Not. Did I tell you that Czarina is convinced it's an STD? Seriously, she won't let it go. I think she is saying it to make me feel bad about not being in the V Club anymore. Sort of a "See? This is what you get for giving up your virginity!" -- when, actually, she is being stubbornly ignorant of the fact that this is a staph infection that was originally contracted in the emergency room. It's not an STD at all. She refuses to believe me. Or the doctor, who told me there is no way it is an STD, but probably contracted through unwashed hands. Grrrr....mothers.

So I have felt like crap since Friday afternoon. My head hurts. My ass hurts. I want to barf. I'm going home to go to bed.

But before I do that, let me tell you a couple of cool things:

1. I am meeting with a mortgage guy today who says I have qualified for a below-market interest rate!!! I think it is a program from the State Housing Authority. Wish me luck. Pray I don't barf on him.

2. Speaking of barfing, I barfed this weekend when I was out. A bunch of my friends got together at J-Rich's house to watch the Carolina game (we beat Kentucky!) and then we went out afterwards. Even though I didn't feel good, I went out anyway. To try and ease the pain of my migraine, I popped two more Excedrins. This is a bad idea, and I thought it might be. Excedrin has aspirin in it, and if I take a 2nd dose in one day, it makes me barf. I thought I would be golden, since I had eaten, but not so much. So after that happened, I went home. [Note to self: Never, under any circumstances, is your tummy cool with a 2nd dose of Excedrin.]

3. But before I went home, I did give my number to Cop 2 (nicknamed this only to avoid confusion with my ex, The Cop). Cop 2 is the brother of JD, a guy pal of mine. Somehow, I had never met JD's brothers. Cop 2's really easy to talk to and a lot of fun. We talked on the phone last night for a while. He's taking me out on Wednesday after Sammy's dog class. Woo-hoo! Go me. I can get guys when I'm sick. Awesome. (I guess the bets are off on me not getting a date until December!)

4. So after I got sick and was leaving to go home, Cop 2's other brother (yes, there are three), the Quiet Man, was nice enough to walk me to my car--I really appreciated that, actually, because 5 Points isn't the safest part of town. Cop 2 thought I had already left, so he was actually talking to someone and didn't see me when the Quiet Man walked up to me and offered to walk me to my car. So I'm waiting to cross the street with Quiet Man, and he grabbed the tips of my fingers. Like a half-way hand holding. Weird. Awkward. Didn't know what to do.....so I just sorta squeezed back, made some quick, nervous small talk and then dropped his hand when we crossed the street. I don't know if he did it on purpose, or if he had accidentally brushed up against my hand and I misinterpreted things....we had talked for a little while, but it wasn't very flirty or anything...then again, he's the quiet one of the family. I don't think he knows I have a date with his brother this week! He did message me on myspace to see if I was feeling better, which I thought was very sweet. Interpretations, anyone? I can usually figure out male behavior, but this one is weird.

Sorry if this post is hard to understand. Like I said, I don't feel good. I'll try to be more coherent tomorrow.

P.S. JD and J-Rich also introduced me to Repo. Same crowd, different guy. Maybe I am making the rounds through their friends?? Is that bad??

Intersection

It's happened. I have been tagged by Vixen to do a meme. The same meme I just did recently on myspace. So for those of you who have already read this, you get to play hooky today. This is apparently the intersection of Blogger Avenue and myspace Street, in case anyone is lost.

This came at a good time, as I had major writer's block today. Nothing was gelling. Who wants to read another random tidbit post, anyway? *silence* I thought so.

Here goes. But if I encounter a stupid question, I will replace it with a cooler one. So actually, this would be new to everyone.

Random Questions

***FOOD***
What is your salad dressing of choice?
Ken's Steak House Light Caesar. MMM. or that Ginger dressing at Japanese restaurants.

What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
Wendy's or Chik-fil-a. (Or, as I like to call it, "Chick-to-tha-fizzle-ill-ay")

What is your favorite sit down restaurant?
Ok, I'm sure no one really cares about this, so I will instead substitute this with a random thought from my brain: The last movie I watched was Adventures in Babysitting.

On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
Again, I'm sure you don't care. How about: If you could have one superpower, what would it be? I would pick the ability to be invisible. Then I could play jokes on people. And listen in on conversations I wouldn't normally get to hear. Although, having the ability to read people's minds would be good, too.

What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
Ice cream. Candy. Fried chicken. Cheese.

I wish I could say the same for salad. I eat about 2 per year. I hate salad.

What are your pizza toppings of choice?
Anything but sausage, olives, pineapple or anchovies.

What do you like to put on your toast?
Don't really like toast.

What is your favorite type of gum?
Ok, if you really want to know this, email me. Otherwise, I will substitute a cooler bit of information: One day, I want to get into gardening.

**TECHNOLOGY**

Number of contacts in your cell phone? I have no idea. It's pretty much everyone I know, including my favorite pizza place (for those spur-of-the-moment pizza cravings when you are stuck in traffic--seriously, this has happened to me!), the kennel for my dog, my old boss, 4 ex-boyfriends, an in-case-of-emergency-booty-call-only guy*, my hairdresser, a few people I don't even talk to anymore, some people I am sure have moved by now, the movie theaters I like to go to, Repo's mom**, Lady Starfish's work number, and the emergency line for my car insurance.

*Um, yeah, he's really hot. And every time I go to call, I chicken out. Actually, I think he moved, too. He used to go to my gym. I need to start looking for him...but you see, he "doesn't date" he "only hooks up". Dang. Hence, the booty-call-only status.

**Totally forgot I had that number. I will keep it in case I need to blackmail him at some point. Hee hee hee...

Number of contacts in your email address book?
Unlike Vixen, I am sure mine is much less than 431. Apparently, she emails everyone in America. I try to stick to east of the Mississippi, with a few Californians thrown in. But I will say that I have 4 email addresses.

What is your wallpaper on your computer?
what else?-- Sammy. But, if I were brave enough to snap photos of hot guys working out at my gym, it would be that.

What is your screensaver on your computer?
I can never find one I like, so right now, none.

How many televisions are in your house?
Substitute answer: Have I told you guys that I am almost killed every day? Yeah. The road I drive on to get to work appears to be a magnet for pscyho drivers. I am not kidding. It is a life or death situation every time I drive to/from work.

What kitchen appliance do you use the least?
The toaster--see above.

What is the radio station you listen to the most?
Whatever the R&B or rap stations are. But I will pop over to the classic rock station on occassion. And the pop station. But usually, I listen to CDs. (I am the only American without an ipod. Trust me, I know.)

**BIOLOGY**

What do you consider to be your best physical attribute?
my boobs. Or my lips. I'm pretty happy in those departments.

Are you right handed or left handed?
Left. Did you know I can probably recite Office Space, Gone with the Wind and Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail?

Do you like your smile?
Yes. True to form, Czarina tells me it is "too much". But I get compliments, so...

Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Blood. Teeth. One chunk of skin. (Sorry, gross, I know.) Two moles. Splinters. Wait, does that count?

Would you like to have something removed from your body?
My ass. Yeah, pretty much all of it. Or at least the cellulite.

Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom?
Do you care? How about this instead: I have recently lost my favorite lip gloss. And this is bugging the shit out of me because I never lose things, especially items in my precious makeup collection. And it was a limited-edition color. Pisser.

Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
Uh...I would say smell, I suppose. I am actually concerned with my hearing. I think I may have damaged it somewhat and I will be deaf when I am old.

When was the last time you had a cavity?
I just had my first one the last time I went. And they didn't file the filling down properly, and so it hurts to eat on the right side of my mouth. But I've already had them adjust it twice, and I don't want to keep going in because they will think I'm insane, so now I just chew on the left side.

What is the heaviest item you lift regularly?
My boobs. Ok, I am just kidding. K would say my purse, because I am like an old lady and carry everything but the kitchen sink in it. Do not be surprised if you see me pull the following things out of my purse: an orange, nail polish, an eyelash curler, a can of diet coke, dental floss, a bottle of Excedrin, a magazine, 8 lip glosses, a copy of my resume, trash from my car, a styrofoam cup, plastic silverware or my cell charger. Lord help me if I'm ever a mother.

Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
Yeah. But you should'a seen the other girl. Kidding. No, but I am a fainter. I have the ability to faint easily. However, it is not fun, as when I wake up, I want to barf and I have a headache. So I have learned how to control it. I haven't fainted in about 5 years. Now I am more likely to barf. I am a barfer.

**A bunch of stuff-OLOGY**

If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No, because I would change how I live and act. And that is messed up. I would just be crying all the time. Who wants to live like that. However, I would like to know one thing: If I am ever getting married, have I already met him? Or not? (I actually wonder about this all the time.)

If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
Something that people would never, ever name their dogs. (My real name is a very popular dog name, and I really hate that.)

How do you express your artistic side?
When did I get one of those??? I can draw decently. Every once in a while, I have a crafty moment and I will make something. But that's it. I express myself verbally so much that I guess I'm all expressed out by the time the crayons are placed in front of me.

What color do you think you look best in?
Pink. But do you really want to know that? Wouldn't you rather know that my first celebrity crush was Mark Wahlberg, back when he was still Marky Mark of Funky Bunch claim?

How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison?
I am a complete wuss. I would be dead meat, hands down. It would be like watching Private Benjamin, only the setting would be a prison. Instead of camo, I would be wearing an orange jump suit.

Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
"Yes. On purpose. Many times."--ok, that was Vixen's answer, and it was so good, that I have to just leave it there. Like I told her, I wish I'd thought of it first.

I did swallow a bug once. I was flapping my big mouth (surprise, surprise) and it flew in. I was so surprised, I gulped instinctively. Ew.

If we werent bound by society's conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at?
Ok, who is the sick f--k who wrote this survey? No. But under these circumstances, I would make a pass at a couple of DILFs I've met....

How often do you go to church?
Um...not at all lately. I could make up a lame excuse, but I won't. Guess I have a first-class ticket to hell. Then again, if I'm going anyway, I might as well go out with a bang. Good thing I kept Mr. HookUp's number.

Have you ever saved someones life?
I don't think so....unless I was driving and I braked just in the nick of time or something. Wouldn't it be cool if saved a hot guy's life, and he had to follow me around until he got an opportunity to save mine? Like in the movies. I would immediately become this OSHA-level safe person, so he would have to live with me forever. Then he would have to go to dinner with me all the time--I could choke, you know. And, it would probably be a good idea for him to bunk in bed with me, just in case I am bit by a poisonous spider in my sleep. Right?

Has someone ever saved yours?
Not in any dramatic, memorable way, no. But I'm sure someone blocked me from walking out into oncoming traffic at some point. Czarina was good at that.

**DARE-OLOGY**

Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
Actually, I think I would do this. I don't know how many people would want to watch, though. I certainly have a lot of "wobbly bits" I don't want most people seeing.

Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
Everyone keeps nagging me to try it anyway. I guess getting paid for it would make it that much easier.

Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
Can I die from that? How much would it impede my daily living? Clearly, I need more information.

Would you never blog again for $50,000?
That would suck, but I would do it. Before this started, talking on the phone with Lady Starfish was my blogging.

Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
This might not make sense, but there is no amount of money that would ever get me to do this. It's too close to being a hooker/stripper in my book. Not exactly something I want on my resume. Plus, during the photoshoot, I would have one thought running through my head: Soon, teenage boys will be sneaking into their dads' rooms to find this under the mattress so they can jerk off to my photo. Ew.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
I'd probably do this one, too. It would pay off a lot of my Visa.

Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
I don't know about this one. I think the guilt would take all the fun out of it for me. Then, I would live my life in fear of karma's revenge....so, negative to this offer.

Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000?
No way, Jose. Unless I was doing it to support Anne. :)

Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
Yeah. I'm a librarian. I should read more. Besides, that much money would mean I would have ZERO debt. Wow. Super thought.

Now who to tag with this? I guess just do it if you want to. But if you do, tell me so I can come read it!

The Drunk Bunny, Or, Why I Hate Dark Beer

So I am here at work. In flip flops. I am retarded. When I go home at lunch to walk Sammy (yes, he is totally spoiled), I put on my flip flops. Well, inevitably, I have forgotten to put my work shoes back on before heading back to work. Nice.

Luckily, I work in a field where the dress code is pretty relaxed. And as a librarian, no one expects me to be a fashionplate, anyway. Which explains my outfit today: a mesh polo shirt with a black ruffled skirt. This outfit is dumb. Who would ever put that together? *sigh* But I didn't feel like ironing anything today and the black ruffled skirt was calling my name. Now I've paired it with flip flops. Sheesh. Could I look any stupider?

The good thing is, since I don't put any effort into what I wear to work, I can put it all into my going out/party clothes. Much more fun. People usually tell me they don't recognize me when they see me in different environments. I am like a Day-to-Night Barbie. My two looks couldn't be more opposite.

Ok, tangent over. It's storytime, kids! I was over at Anne's and she had a rather embarrassing moment earlier this month. I am telling this story to make her feel better. It's a doozy.

Setting: Halloween, 1997, Bloomington, Indiana. My freshman year @ IU.

My girlfriends and I are going party hopping for Halloween. So we are in costume. I am a bunny. I'm wearing jeans, a fuzzy white sweater, bunny ears and a bunny tail pinned to my butt. One of my cuter costumes if I do say so myself. I kept making jokes about how I was party "hopping". Har har.

The key bit of information you need to know is that my boyfriend at the time had been getting on my nerves. We had been arguing. (Looking back on it now, I wasn't being very understanding of his situation. Huh. Go figure. This is typical VB behavior.) And I could tell we were going to break up soon. So what did I do? Like many people, I decided I needed to "escape" for a few hours. (Read: get plastered).

So I am at this house party, down in the basement. Because that's where the keg is. The keg of dark beer. I'd been chugging it. As in, getting back in line when I'm halfway done with the first cup. Chugging the rest right as I'm up for a refill.

Think about that for a second. Grossed out yet? Yeah, me too.

I'm feeling pretty good. Buzzing is really not strong enough of a term to use. I'm to the point that I'm almost having an out-of-body experience. I can't even talk anymore. The only thing I can do is keep getting back in line. Although, I am slowing down a bit. So I take a seat on the couch next to my friend Jill. By now, I'm somewhere in the vicinity of Michelob Dark Solo cupful #8. I left my dorm room about an hour previously. I was on a mission to get as much alcohol into my body as fast as possible. I was having a beer drinking contest, all by myself. I turn to Jill, who is in the middle of a conversation with someone else.

"Jill..." I say.

"Yeah?" she says.

"I'm gonna barf."

Now, keep in mind that there are about 100 people here, and I know a grand total of 2 party guests. And Jill has about 5 seconds to get me upstairs and outside so I can barf in the bushes. She is pushing me up the stairs (smart girl, getting behind me!). At the top of the stairs, there is a door to the kitchen. I fling it open, which causes the 50 or so people in the kitchen to all turn at once, only to watch me pojectile vomit all over the place. Jill pushed me outside onto the porch where I continued barfing for about an hour. Soon my crush showed up to watch and ask Jill if she needed any help. Faaaaaabulous. I was so trashed, I couldn't even say hi.

Finally someone took me home (to this day I don't remember who it was). I woke up the next morning in my dorm room with someone else's shirt on me. I vaguely remember Jill helping me change out of my formerly beautiful fuzzy white sweater and into something she raided from a closet. The sweater was ruined. My shoes had barf all over them. I had a hangover for 48 hours.

And that's why I hate dark beer.