Catch You on the Flip Side

Hey, guys! Well, I have been packing my brains out all week. I tell ya, I remember the good ol' days when I was in college, and I didn't have any furniture, and all my stuff fit into 10 large boxes. I didn't even need help to move.

Now, it's an entirely different ball game! I am leaving to go pick up my U-Haul here in a few, but just wanted to post really quickly.

I have read all of your comments (they are all emailed to me), but I really don't have time to reply to all of them, other than to say thank you to all of you for your support. It's a little scary to have this much going on at once, and I'm worried I will f**k something up, but in a month or so, I think I'll be ok.

We still haven't heard when CN will get his job transferred down to Savannah so he can move in with me. Hopefully, it will be soon. We have been across the street from each other for a year and a half, so this will be a big adjustment for us.

If you remember correctly, I told him that we have to either be engaged or have a wedding date picked out before he can move in with me. Since the ring is still in Belgium, with my aunt, which makes proposing rather difficult, we went ahead and set a date: June 26, 2010. Which also happens to be my dad's birthday. I have always wanted to get married on his birthday, since he won't be there to walk me down the aisle.

So that is pretty exciting!!! It gives us time to save up and plan everything. Er, it gives my mom time to plan everything (she's already going into overdrive-control-freak mode). Once I get settled down in Savannah, I will start checking out wedding magazines, I guess. I dunno. Most of y'all are married. What do you recommend as far as how best to get started on planning? Any advice???

I don't know when I will be able to blog again. I have to see what my new job is like. Right now, at this job, I have tons of down time, so it's ok. But who knows what my new job will be like? I will try to get to the public library sometime so I can update y'all on stuff. But that might be a while. It would be great if CN could move in quickly -- he has a brand new, super-fast computer and I could blog from his all the time.

Anyway, we will see. Ok, guys. I gotta go. Wish me luck, and I'll get back to you (and catch up on your blogs!!) as soon as possible!

What's in a Name??!

If you know me in real life, you know that I always have a project. Almost like a temporary hobby. It will stick around for a few weeks, and then I move on to something else. Every time, I either become bored with it or I find something new. It's like I'm OCD, but also ADD at the same time. Now, I don't know if that means there's something wrong with me, but it's definitely not out of the question.

Some of my former projects include: cake decorating, scrapbooking, learning anything and everything about NYC, home decorating, learning about the trucking industry, foreign languages...I could go on and on, but I won't bore you. I will be the first to admit that many of my projects are on the boring/geeky side. And my friends enjoy some projects more than others -- the cake decorating one was especially popular.

My current project? Genealogy. My training as a librarian comes in very handy for this. And I have learned that you can never really finish genealogy, because there's always another relative to look up. Which is probably why this is the 2nd or 3rd time I have tackled this project. This time around, I am even helping coworkers and friends look for their families online. It is super fun!!! (And yes, if you want me to see what I can dig up for you, just email me!)

It is also a genetically inherited interest, I believe. My dad, WLF, was also bitten by the "genie" bug. He actually researched both sides of his family, all the way back to our first immigrant ancestors to America. Which is pretty amazing, considering my first ancestor came over on the Mayflower. That's a lot of work! I remember when I was a kid, WLF and his sister went up to New York state to do research. Even as a kid, I thought it was so cool and wanted to go with them.

Eventually, WLF had the family trees written out and framed. They now hang in the basement at The Czarina's house. Every time I go to visit her, I stare at them. I wonder what these long-dead ancestors were like. Do I have their nose? Their sense of humor? If I could ever talk to them, what would I want to ask them? What amazing events had they witnessed? What would they think about the world today? (I guess even as an adult, I still have a kid's imagination and inquisitiveness!)

The Czarina, on the other hand, doesn't have much interest in all of this genealogy stuff. Maybe that's because her family just arrived in the United States in the mid-to-late 1800s. Her family tree is just so short and so simple -- 3 generations on each side, mostly Irish, with a generous glob of German thrown in. She pretty much already knows everything. Her father's side -- the Irish side-- is the part of my family I'm most interested in. We are pretty sure they fled the Potato Famine of the 1850s, but we've never been positive. Most of my time working on this "genie" stuff has been spent looking up info on Irish-American immigrants, or, as I like to call them, "my people". LOL. I'm even now trying to learn more about the history of Ireland so I can understand "my people" a little better. After all, I am genetically more Irish than anything else. (My dad was a total mutt!)

Although I do know a lot about both sides of my family, it's still fun for me to look things up. I like to see if I can find any undiscovered bits of information lurking out there in the old census records and other resources. What I have found is that it must be really easy to avoid the census takers, because there are entire branches of my family that are not even listed. I can't even find one of my grandfathers! This makes researching even more challenging and fun for me. I am determined to find stuff! So that's what I've been into lately.

What I want to share with you are some of the really weird, out-of-style, old-fashioned names in my family. Here is a list, drawn from both sides of my family:

Wilbur
Harold
Ephraim
Elijah
Ebenezer
Chastity
Prudence (can you tell I have some Puritanical roots? LOL)
Eulella
Euphemia (my whole family agrees this sounds more like a disease than a name!)
Gertrude (this name is VERY popular on my dad's side, for some reason)
Elmer
Mabel
Ida
Sylvester (UGH! horrible name!)
Arabella
Florence
Agnes
Cordelia

No offense to anyone with those names. I just think they are...unusual. I actually like some of them -- Arabella and Cordelia and Elijah are all fine by me. It's just interesting to see how names fall in/out of fashion. Sometimes WAY out. LOL

Of course, in my family we have a lot of perfectly normal, common names, too. Lots of Thomases, Josephs, Benjamins, Sarahs, Catherines, Marys, Pauls, Henrys, Jessies, Jameses and Marthas.

But it's no fun to talk about normal names! Let's talk about the weird ones! Do you have any unusual or old-fashioned names in your family? Share with me! I love learning about this stuff.

WHAM

Oh, how I wish this post was about George Michael. You have no idea how much I'd love to tell you to wake me up, before you go go.

Nope. This is a crappy post. Like, maybe keep some kleenex nearby.

I went over to CN's last night to watch tv with him. He's been a little down lately, because of his dad's poor health. I wanted to see how he was doing and besides, I missed him. (Yes, I miss him after 18 hours. Shut up.)

"Hi Babe!" I said, walking in the front door.

"Hi!" he said from the couch. He was watching tv.

Then, I went over to explain to him why I was at his house, instead of making him a peach cobbler like I told him I was going to do. It's because I can't keep the fresh peaches longer than 6 hours before they rot (I have no idea what is up with that, but it's very frustrating). After three tries of using fresh, local peaches, I had given up and decided to use frozen peaches. I had originally planned on baking the cobbler on Sunday, but we had been at the hospital all day and the defrosted frozen peaches had rotted in the fridge and yadda yadda yadda...

That's when I noticed he had a Bible next to him.

Not that this is totally out of the question, because he and I have talked about God before and we both pray before we fall asleep at night, and I do want to start going to church again. But he and I don't really crack open a Bible at the end of the day, either. This was out of the ordinary.

I knew it had to do with his dad. Something was up. Which stinks, because he's the kind of guy who doesn't like to talk about crappy stuff, like sick parents. Basically, we are opposite in this way. Which leaves me not really knowing what to do. Do I ask and make him uncomfortable? Do I make him talk about it, because I know it's good to talk about this stuff, even if it isn't exactly a picnic? Or do I allow him to remain quiet and lost in his thoughts? Should I just STFU and watch tv? To be honest, I haven't exactly learned what to do when it comes to Serious Crappiness Relating to The Boyfriend. I am sort of trying to learn what to do as I go, and hoping that I don't upset him or piss him off in the process. I will be the first to admit that he and I are still learning how to communicate with each other in certain situations. [See post from earlier this week...]

I decided to just ask.

"Have you talked to your mom?" I squeaked, hesitatingly.

"Yeah."

And that's when he told me. His dad is getting radiation all week, and going home on Friday to recuperate. If the radiation doesn't work, the doctors are giving him 6 weeks to live. If it does work, they are giving him 8 months. Eight months. Best case scenario. Fuck. Actually, you know what, "fuck" doesn't even begin to express how much this sucks. For him. For CN. For their family. Stop and imagine how it would feel if you got this news. "Hey, by the way, that person you love very much? That person you have known your whole life? Yeah, they won't be here next summer. This is a good time to take that vacation you've always talked about."

Kinda puts stuff in perspective, huh?

The doctors want his parents to sign all the end-of-life paperwork. Which is not fun to fill out, because it asks questions like, "If you are unable to breathe on your own, do you want the doctors to resuscitate you or not?" and "Would you want to be on life support? Have feeding tubes? Be in a permanent vegetative state? Or do you want us to pull the plug?"

As you can probably tell, it's not looking good. And unless you've been through this type of shit with your own loved ones, you are not fully grasping it, let me tell you. I helped my mom fill out that form when my dad was really sick. He died a month to the day after we filled out that paperwork. When the doctor told CN's mom he wanted her to fill it out, I knew what it meant (oh shit, that's not good), but I could tell that CN and his mom did not fully grasp it. The look on their faces was more along the lines of, "That's just a precaution, right? Right?"

I was filled with flashbacks. If you are in the club, too, you are probably having flashbacks of your own loved one's illness right now, as you are reading this. What club am I talking about? The Grief Club. Not exactly a club I was hoping to be a part of. Anyway, until you have lost a close relative or loved one, you cannot understand what it's like. You think you do, but you don't, trust me. When I was in your shoes, I thought I could understand what grief was like, too.

Grief is like a brick wall of sadness. And you hit it, face first, at about 95mph. Again and again and again. All day long. Every 2 minutes. Until further notice. It could be a week. Or a month. Or a few months. Or the rest of your life. It's like being trapped on a scary rollercoaster, wanting to get off, but never being allowed. You can't talk. You can't think, unless you are thinking sad things. You can't look people in the eye. You want to be alone, but at the same time, you want to be surrounded by people. It feels weird to laugh, but you want someone to tell a funny story about that person so badly, even if you cry and laugh at the same time. You definitely do not feel like yourself.

And then one day, you are ok. You start to feel non-zombie again, and you start to do normal things again. Like eating. And sleeping. And not crying every second of every day. You can go to the grocery store, and actually make it home before you burst into tears. This is good!

Every day gets a little bit easier. You are thinking, "Ok, cool. I made it. It's all going to be ok." And then WHAM it hits you again out of nowhere. Like when you see something that reminds you of that person. Or when someone's dying in a movie. Or when you pick up the phone to call them, and realize that you can't. WHAM. You're back on that rollercoaster.

Right now, I have volunteered to get back on the rollercoaster. Because I can't watch CN's family go through all of this without thinking about my dad. And I can't just opt out of being there for him during all of this. Heck, at this stage in my life, I practically have a PhD in Grief. I'm exactly the person who should be with CN right now. He needs me. And as difficult as this is going to be for me, I have to be there for him. It's part of my Official Girlfriend Duties. *salutes*

As we pulled into the hospital last Sunday, I said aloud without thinking, "This is the first time I've been in a hospital since my dad died." WHAM. CN doesn't know this, and I hate to admit it, but part of the reason I didn't go with him on Saturday was because I knew this would happen. I knew all the grief feelings would well up inside me again. And it's a sickening feeling. A helpless feeling. A sad feeling. And I know it's selfish of me, but who wants to sign up for feeling like that? I knew that if I went with him, I'd have to go there. To that painful place, full of tears and emotions and memories. I hate going there.

As we walked up to the room where CN's dad is, all I could think was, "Please don't let there be tubes coming out of his face. Please, no tubes. I can't handle tubes." Thankfully, there where no tubes. And the hospital didn't have that "hospital" smell. Which was a big relief, too. I hate that smell. It smells like sterile cotton pads, mixed with body fluids, cafeteria food and stale air. Seriously, if you work in a hospital, and you are reading this, can y'all buy some damn febreeze or something? Cuz you are just used to it, trust me. It smells like ass where you work.

I did ok during most of the visit, but it definitely had its WHAM moments. The beeping machines. The bags of fluids. It was a lot to take in, without much mental preparation. I did ok on Sunday, but ever since then, it's been a long descent. Back on the rollercoaster. I have been carefully repairing myself these last three years, putting all the grief feelings behind me. It's like I have been building a brick wall, one brick at a time, very slowly. Not that I would ever fully brick it up and close it up. That's impossible. It's with you always. But I had built a wall high enough that it didn't hurt anymore. It was starting to be ok to talk about it. Even feel happy about the time I did have with my dad. I felt ok putting it away. Way back in the long term storage area of my brain. Like a cherished toy from childhood. Not that it's not important to you anymore, but somehow, in a way, you have moved on. Enough time had passed. Life goes on. He's still there, with me, inside my heart. Death is part of life. It has taken me 3 years to get here.

And now, all the wounds are split open again. I get to experience it all, from the beginning stages to the end. Only this time, I am on the outside, mostly. It's like having an out-of-body experience. I am experiencing the same feelings, but in a different way. I know what's going to happen. I know there will be urgent phone calls and moments of hope that will be dashed to pieces. I know there will be lots of crying and exhaustion. I could probably predict every moment right now. But this time, there is a new element. I get to see someone I love very much deal with a whole lot of pain, and there's nothing I can do or say to prepare him for it. I can't stop it. I can't do a whole lot to make him feel better. This time, in addition to feeling my own grief well up inside of me, I have to watch someone I love feel grief for the first time, which is almost as painful, because I can't fully feel what he's feeling. I can only feel a ghost of my own grief. It's like sympathy pains. Kinda.

I know what is coming down the pipe for him and his family. It's like going to the doctor, knowing you are going to have to have a shot. You know it's going to suck, and there's no way out of it. Only with grief, it's like, 1,000 times worse. And I can try to describe it and warn him about it all I want, but I will never be able to. It's something he will have to experience with his family. The most I can do is be by his side. We will ride the roller coaster together.

Father Knows Best?

My only non-Czarina day off for the month of June was Father's Day. Which meant that I had to go with CN to spend it with his family. Which was fine. I guess. I usually spend Father's Day trying to forget that it's Father's Day. Every year, I feel pangs of grief, because I miss my dad so much. And Father's Day is always near what would have been his birthday, too. So June is kind of hard for me. But I wanted to hang out with CN, since it was my day off.

I like his family, and his dad is sick, so you know, it wasn't the end of the world. Even though I didn't have to go, it's almost a familial obligation at this point. His parents love me and he and I have been dating too long for me to skip out on family gatherings. But it was my ONLY day off. *sigh* So I sucked it up and went to church with them and then back to their house for some of his mother's yummy food. (Best macaroni & cheese EVER)

I was afraid I would get antsy to get home, but I ended up having a really good time. CN and his sisters told me stories about their childhood, and they were all hilarious. CN's whole family is extremely funny. My favorite story was about a cat that CN had when he was very young. One day, the cat disappeared. When CN asked his dad where his cat went, his father told him that the cat had to go. You see, it worked for a logging company, and it had to go drive the logging truck.

Maybe you had to be there, but this mental image left me crying laughing. I was picturing this little cat, driving a big rig, paws outstretched to steer the huge wheel. It reached up to grab its CB radio, only to meow into the speaker. After I stopped laughing, CN pointed out that this mental image is eerily similar to an old SNL skit, which I had forgotten all about -- Toonces, the Driving Cat.



Right before we left to go back to Columbia, I was in the living room, alone with CN's dad. He was showing me old photographs of his ancestors and telling me stories about them. The photographs were in double frames -- the ones where you have one person on the left and one person on the right. Each double frame showed a husband/wife duo, and these frames were lined up along a desk, in chronological order. Based on the clothing worn in the photographs, I would say that some of these photos went all the way back to pre-Civil War times. (Which I think is SO COOL, because I'm such a history buff.)

He tells me a story about each person -- the Civil War veteran, the adopted daughter, the preacher, etc. One great-great grandfather drowned in a logging accident (I guess logging was the theme of the day), and since the Edisto River was full of logs when he fell in, and it was in the middle of the winter, they couldn't retrieve his body for THREE weeks. Ugh. Gross.

So we are working our way through the generations, and I'm asking him questions, and it's all very interesting. We started to get to more modern times, and we got to CN's parents. We talked about those photos, and finally, we are on the last double frame. It's a photo of CN, from the day he graduated high school. He told me to pick it up.

"You know who that is, of course," CN's dad said.

"Yeah. It's CN," I replied.

"And you see what's next to his photo?" he continued.

"There's nothing there. There is no photo," I said.

"I know. You'd better talk to that boy about that!" he exclaimed.

WOW. I didn't know what to say, other than, "Um, I think that needs to be his idea. I can't talk to him about that."

CN's dad kept repeating that I need to talk to CN about it. I was starting to get a little self-conscious, when CN came back in the room.

"What are you two talking about? Talk to me about what?" CN asked.

"NOTHING!" I said loudly, putting the picture frame back on the desk.

Smooth, VB. Real smooth.

"You ready to go, honey?" I asked.

It may have been my imagination, but I think CN's dad winked at me.

Quiz Answers

Alright, people. Let's go over the quiz answers before I announce the winner.

1. I have never been to California. I have never been west of Kansas, actually.
2. I have a seriously difficult time avoiding shoe sales or the makeup counters.
3. I have never been a telemarketer, because I hate telemarketers. If you answered this one incorrectly, perhaps you need to read this post.
4. My dogs are Boston Terriers. In case you don't know what that kind of dog looks like, here is a pic of my Sammy. And my boobs:
Now that you have seen my boobs, I don't want any whining about the lack of boobage on this blog.
5. I drive a piece-of-shit Pontiac. True to form, it is currently in the shop. As soon as I find a ride to the mechanic's after work, I can have my stupid car back (oh, the joy) for a measly $160. It's still cheaper than a car payment, I guess...
6. Not very many people got this one -- The name "Virginia Belle" is one of the nicknames my dad used to call me. That's where I got the name. NOT from the nudie girl. Major props to peeps who got this -- it has been mentioned a whopping ONE time in this blog's history. Gold stars for you!
7. Ok, ok, this was kind of a trick question. Do I like camping? Do I like the beach? No, and yes, respectively. But I would rather go to NYC than anywhere in the whole world. Yes, even Italy, which is something I never thought I'd say. Very few people got this one, either. So don't feel badly if you missed it.
8. I spent my undergrads at Indiana (Go Hoosiers!!) and then went to South Carolina for library school (so, yes, if you are a librarian, that means you did indeed go to grad school).
9. I eat the same thing for breakfast pretty much every morning. I am weird. I can play Tetris, Scattergories and Taboo for days on end. I am obsessive. I break out into a cold sweat when presented with brown crickets, diving or heights. I am a wuss. So that leaves A) I am a librarian and I love it. I cannot imagine doing anything else. NOT!!!!
10. And yes, I have dated a guy with three balls, a jerk who ate half my dinner and a guy who ended up being gay. Please, hold your applause. *takes a bow* And this may/may not have been a flawed question, as I cannot find any evidence in previous posts about the gay guy I dated in college. So if you were scratching your head on that one, my bad. I don't think I mentioned it. If you want the whole story, remind me to post it. My friends IRL (in real life) probably all know it, because they like to laugh at me, and this is a good factoid for that purpose.

So if you took the quiz (there were 27 of you, which makes me happy, because that is my favorite number), I am saying "Thank you! You are cool!" But I'm sure you are thinking, "Shut up and tell us who won!"

To which I reply: MJ cheated and signed up her dog to take the quiz, so that she could take it a second time, because she didn't get 100% the first time around. So actually, the winner of the quiz, with a perfect score of 100 is: Tater.


Don't let that face fool you -- he has an amazing ability to listen and remember things. And although he has never seen me naked, I'm sure he is rather ambivalent about the opportunity. He has already seen what I look like, although probably not well, since he has an eye condition. Naked pics or PG-rated pics would probably be the same to him. So unfortunately for my readers, my fractionally-anonymous clothed and/or nekkid body will remain internet-proofed. Um, as far as I know, anyway.

I had a good weekend, aside from my car acting up. The dashboard light lit up again. It says "Service Engine Soon" but it might as well say "You Drive a Piece of Shit". Anyway, it's fixed now, and waiting on me to go shell out $160 to pay for the "stuck open thermostat" which may be mechanic-speak for "my kid's braces". Ugh. How the hell can replacing one dinky thermostat cost so damn much?? I can buy a thermometer from the drugstore for about $5.00 -- cant' they just use that? I guess I should stop complaining. Normally, my repairs are about $300.

Let's move on, shall we? Ok. I'm trying to focus on the upside: CN is picking me up after work today to take me to go get my car. Aw, what a good boyfriend!! +500 points.

Speaking of him, he is involved in the highlight of my weekend. Without this highlight, my weekend would have been nothing but lazy slothdom: watching movies, eating candy, baking, cooking, board games, shopping, napping.....*yawn!*

Where was I? Oh yes. On Saturday, I went with CN to go meet up with his parents for lunch. We met each other halfway in-between Columbia (where CN and I are) and Barnwell (where CN's parents are). I am referring to the metropolis that is Neeses, SC. (Nudie pic for anyone reading this who has actually been to Neeses, SC -- pending evidentiary proof, of course.)

So we meet up in Neeses for lunch. Which is difficult to do, considering Neeses (pop. 407) is so small that there AREN'T any restaurants. Not even fast food ones. At first look, this might seem to be a stumbling block in our plans, but we do have a solitary dining choice: the grocery store.

Oh yes, you read that correctly. The Piggly-Wiggly in Neeses, SC has a built-in restaurant. They have fantastic soft serve ice cream! They serve breakfast, even! They have nightly specials! And senior citizen discounts! And greasy, laminated menus! And tables that are 25% smaller than they should be! As if this isn't enough, here is the kicker:

If you go to the meat department, and pick out something you want to eat (whether it's a steak or 20 chicken wings or 1 lb of ground beef), you can take it into the restaurant, and they will cook it for you AND give you a choice of baked potato or french fries for only an additional charge of...........drumroll, please...........$1.88!!!

This is, according to CN's dad, THE. COOLEST.THING. EVER. Which cracks me up, because my dad would have thought it was the coolest thing ever.

So we go to the meat department, and everyone selects a steak except me.

"Um, I'm kind of in the mood for a burger. They have burgers, right?" I mumbled sheepishly.

All three of them stopped dead, holding packages of raw meat in their hands. They turned to look at me in unison, shocked and awed that I am not rummaging through the steaks.

"But you can pick anything you want! Anything! And they will cook it!" said CN's dad, astonished.
"Oh, come on now, getcha a steak," said CN's mom.
"It's only $1.88, what's wrong with you?" said CN, teasingly.

"I'm just.....in the mood for a burger....is that ok?" I asked.

"Oh, but getcha a steak, now, come on," said his mom.
"You don't want a steak?" continued his dad, still amazed that I would want to eat something other than a steak. The man was seriously shocked, y'all. It was almost as if I'd told him I honestly believed the world was flat.

"But I don't want a steak. Am I allowed to get something other than a steak?" I whispered to CN.
"Of course you are. We just always get steaks. You can get a burger, too. But just pick up a steak. It will make my dad feel better," CN explained.
"You can take it home with you, it's no big deal. Just get both," his mother explained, under her breath.

As soon as I grabbed a steak, CN's dad seemed to feel a lot better. So when we ordered, I got a cheeseburger in addition to my steak.

Now, you might be thinking this is a really strange interaction. Why are three people telling a 28 year old woman what she should eat for lunch? That's absurd. And you would be correct in your beliefs. But I was strangely comforted by their insistence. Why? Because my father used to do the SAME THING to all of us when we were growing up. From the time I was in diapers, I would have to listen to his comments every time I ate:

"You're eating that? When we have leftover turkey? Oh, you should go get some of that turkey."
"Don't you want to put some pepper on that? You really should put some pepper on it."
"You're eating that all wrong. You can't put maple syrup on that. No one puts maple syrup on that. What's wrong with you? You are ruining it by putting maple syrup on it."

So I am used to having people tell me what I should eat/not eat and how to eat it "properly". I am also used to ignoring them and eating what I damn well please. :)

My dad died almost three years ago. I miss his food criticism. It was nice to hear it from someone. I like CN's parents. They are a lot like mine.

Out of the Blue

This post is 100% mush free. Absolutely NO mention of you-know-who. So no barfing, ok? Ok.

I forgot to share this really random dream with y'all.

The other night, I dreamt that I got a third dog -- a black cocker spaniel. Which is weird, because I don't want a third dog and I don't like cocker spaniels. But anyway, it was running away from me along the side of a busy road, and I got into my minivan (LOL! Why am I driving a minivan???) to chase it down.

So I am chasing down my dog, and I'm using my car to do so. Very strange.

Some random lady, also in a minivan, but going the opposite direction, pulls over and catches my dog for me. She motions for me to follow her. She leads me to an elementary school. But it's not just any elementary school. It's an animal shelter/elementary school.

Hold on, it gets weirder.

I go out back, where there is a very large, fenced-in grassy yard. It's full of stray dogs. I go in and start playing with the stray dogs. They are all cute and wonderful. Apparently, this is when I forget all about my cocker spaniel, because the next thing I know, I'm running to the desk (where you go to adopt a dog) with two Boston Terrier puppies--one under each arm--and as I'm running, I'm shouting, "WOW!!! I can't believe they're only $1.99!!!!"

What a wack job I am! 4 Boston Terriers, two of whom are puppies??? My subconscious has lost its mind. Although, they are pretty cute when they're puppies......


But I could never have 3 or more dogs in my tiny little house. It's already hard to keep it clean from all the dog hair.

In other news, I had a crazy thing happen to me this morning. Anyone reading this who has lost someone very close to them will probably be able to relate. I was making my coffee this morning when I had a HUGE wave of grief hit me, and suddenly, I missed my dad terribly.

So there I was, making coffee, and sobbing, for (seemingly) no reason at all! It came out of nowhere! It honestly feels just like getting smacked on the back from a big wave when you're standing in water up to your waist in the ocean. It feels JUST like that.

If you can't relate, all I can tell you is that sometimes, without any warning, these moments will hit you where you remember (not like you ever forgot, but it's just not always in the front of your mind) that you can't just call them on the phone and hear their voice. That it's probably going to be a very VERY long time until you ever talk to them again. You won't get hugs from them, you won't get that reassuring pat on the hand that tells you everything is going to be ok. All you have are memories. Which is tough when you miss someone and just want to hear their voice. Right now, even just hearing his voice would be all I need. I would not even need to see him in person. I wish I hadn't taken all those phone calls home for granted.

Sometimes, it just really gets to me that my dad has never seen my house, has no idea how successful I've been in my career, will never attend my wedding, will never meet my kids, will never meet any of his in-laws....and I get really sad.

It's not that I walk around in a daydream all the time, forgetting that my dad is gone. It's just that I don't really stop to think about it all very much. I know that if I do, I will just get upset and start to cry. So I don't think about it a lot. But unfortunately, that's now how grief works. You can't pick and choose when you get to think about people who are gone. You can repress all you want, but eventually, the grief has to get out, kind of like a boiler that is going to blow if you don't let out some of the steam pressure that has been building up.

I think this morning, I just had to let it out. I'm ok now. I don't know what made me think about him suddenly this morning. Maybe I had another dream about him, and I just forgot it when I woke up. Have I blogged about all the weird dreams I've had about my dad since he died? They are pretty weird. I will tell them, unless I already have. Someone remind me.

Ok, now I'm crying at work! Gotta stop!!!! I'm ok, I promise. This is normal. Once you experience grief, it just sort of becomes like a tattoo, a new haircut or a piercing. It's always there, it becomes part of who you are, and you aren't always aware of it. At first, you are very very aware of it and it's all you can talk/think about. But then, you only think about it in certain instances. Eventually, it just seems everyday to you, and you aren't emotional or reactive to it any more. I guess that unless you've experienced it, it's hard to explain.

Sorry about the sad post today, guys. Guess I can't be funny all the time. I'll try to be more upbeat tomorrow, I promise! Today was just weird for some reason.

South Africa Loves Me

One of my lurkers recently emailed me to ask for an invite to read this blog, and she mentioned that she heard about my blog through the South African version of Cosmopolitan magazine.

What?!

I was not aware of this, so I asked for more details. She told me the issue it appeared in, and so I sent an email to its editor asking for a copy of the article. I was so glad to open my email today and find that the editor sent me a PDF of the article! I guess they have a "Hot Stuff" section in each issue, and for the month of August, my blog was the "Hot Blog". WOOT!!

I have been wondering why my statcounter shows so many hits from South Africa. And now I know. I'm famous there!

I tried to figure out how to post a copy of the article here for you, but it's in PDF, which Blogger does not support. I also looked into putting it on Google Docs, and then linking to it from here. Again, no such luck--the little blurb about my blog disappeared when I converted it into txt format. So you are going to have to take my word for it. But here's what it said:

"We love it because she gives us insight into the naive yet neurotic world of a 20-something American country girl. She’s a complete pink-packaged anomaly, confessing that her
musical taste goes from hip-hop to rock and country music –and her musings range from the arb to the occasionally substantial. But a weird thing happens to you when you’re reading – you start to see patterns in her life that also exist in yours, almost 14, 000 km away."

Hmmm. It sounds like they haven't read too much of my blog. I rarely talk about music on here. And I'm not quite sure why they think of me as a "country" girl. I also do not know what they mean by "pink-packaged anomaly", but I like that they describe me as a naive yet neurotic girl! LOL , that's pretty accurate. Not a glowing review, but a good one, at least.

Maybe I need to get one of those tshirts that say: "I'm kind of a big deal."

Ha Ha!

Talking about South Africa reminds me of a story about my dad, actually. My parents met at work in Washington, DC. But right before they met, WLF had to take a business trip to South Africa, which as you know is home to many diamond mines.

Since they were so cheap, WLF decided to buy some while he was there. Although he was divorced at the time, he hoped he'd get married again one day and could give a diamond to a new wife in an engagement ring. The back-up plan was that he'd just end up giving them to his sister or his oldest daughter (my older half-sister, Banana). So he bought two or three of them.

Due to customs regulations, he was not allowed to bring back the biggest one with him on the plane. It had to be shipped to him. He said that would be fine, and so he left his address with the diamond salesman.

He arrived back in the States and meets the new mail girl, who also happened to be my mother. It's love at first sight, and he begins to pursue her relentlessly (remember, he asked her out to lunch every day for a YEAR before she said yes!). Meanwhile, the diamond is getting shipped to him.

One day, he goes to get his mail out of the mailbox. Inside is a plain white envelope, with a hand-written address. The return address read: Capetown, South Africa. He opened it easily, because it was just licked like any regular envelope would be. Inside was the diamond. No wrapping, no insurance, no letter, nada. Just a plain envelope with a 3 carat diamond inside. It had been mailed halfway across the world without being lost or stolen. It was pretty incredible, actually, if you think about how many hands must have handled that envelope.

About 2 years later, it was put into The Czarina's engagement ring.

Cool story, huh?

Shirley Temples

"You know what? I'd actually like a Shirley Temple, please," I said to our favorite bartender (OFB).

Surprised at the change from my usual Diet Coke, he threw in some extra maraschino cherries for me. I thanked him.

It was nice to have something different to drink. I stirred it with my straw, watching the Sprite and the grenadine swirl together. I had fun digging the cherries out from the bottom of my tall glass. I sipped away, enjoying the old familiar taste. It made me remember one of my favorite childhood memories.

When I was very young, there was a bar/restaurant near our house. They made great pizza, and when my dad wanted a late night snack, he would go there and get carry-out pizza. Knowing my mom hated bars and was not a night owl, he would wake me up instead and take me with him to wait on the pizza. I would sit next to him at the bar, in my red footie pajamas. He would drink a beer. I would drink a Shirley Temple, footie feet swinging in the air. I loved the feeling of being a kid, hanging out with the grown-ups. It felt like a secret we were keeping from The Czarina -- me out way past my bedtime, drinking sugary drinks and eating pizza. I don't remember how the pizza tasted, or if the bartender would talk to us. But I do remember how special Dad managed to make me feel, even from a young age.

I smiled, recalling the vague memories, and missing my dad. Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized I'd been sitting there, undisturbed, for quite some time. Unfortunately, Wild Wings was pretty dead. Not nearly as fun and crowded as the night before. This time, it was just me, two girlfriends and OFB.

Normally, the three of us can carry the whole bar, laughing, flirting and carrying on with anyone and everyone. But tonight, I was on my own. My girls were otherwise occupied with their respective boyfriends. Both of them sat on their cell phones, arguing with their men for most of the evening. And when they weren't on the phone, arguing, they were bitching about their men to me.

One couple has been dealing with jealousy/family issues. The other couple has been together since they were teenagers and have never really dated anyone else. Their relationship expired about a year ago, yet they have been hanging on for dear life, out of convenience, comfort or terror. Or maybe all three.

"Wow, I sure am glad I'm single right now. I definitely don't miss any of this crap!" I thought. In the middle of their venting, I looked at OFB and just rolled my eyes. He laughed.

Later, when the girls were both in the bathroom, I said to him, "They fight all the time. I wish they'd just break up already! It's so ridiculous!" He laughed again.

After another Shirley Temple, I called it a night and escaped to my stable, calm and wonderfully boring Single Girl life.

Last night, I went out with another group of friends. We went to dinner, despite the obvious absence of one of our core group members. I almost asked why she wasn't with us, when I remembered: she has a boyfriend.

Do you have a friend who disappears on you once they start dating someone? Yeah, that's her. She does this every time she's got a new man.

Her name was brought up, and we began to discuss this new guy she's dating. I met him briefly a few months ago, and I was not impressed-- I thought he was boring and drank too much. But that was really all I had to go on. It turns out that my instincts were right. One of us, through mutual friends, found out the scoop on this guy:

1. He is about 35, and is still smoking pot.

2. He got a DUI a few months ago. This has not curtailed his drinking at all, just his driving. So now our friend is driving his drunk ass around everywhere.

3. Because she's hanging out with an alcoholic, her already slightly elevated alcohol intake has doubled. So now she is driving around like this. If she gets a DUI, it would seriously affect her career. Like, permanently.

4. She is so hung over nowadays, she has stopped going to the gym. (How much drinking do you have to be doing to be hungover that often???) And I'm sure she's been hungover at work, if not calling in sick entirely.

5. This boyfriend of hers doesn't have a job. Oh, he kinda "helps out" with his friend's home business. Whatever that means. He has no benefits at all from this "job".

6. She has been saving up money to buy a house. He is going to move in with her when she does this. And apparently, continue mooching.

7. He has a child that he he doesn't support or see. We do not know if he has informed our friend that he has a child. We happen to know about it through a random coincidence. As far as we know, he is hiding this fact from her. (We wouldn't know, because we don't see her anymore.)

8. The mother of the child, described as a "psycho drug addict", told him she doesn't want to have anything to do with him until he "gets his act cleaned up". WOW.

9. If they do get married (as I'm sure my friend wants to do -- she has marriage on the brain, to a fault), I am worried that the Baby Mama will hear about it and suddenly want some child support money. And since he's a freeloader, it will have to come out of my friend's paycheck. Not to mention, I know she would also add him on to her health care benefits.

What a winner, huh? I think he's got every single red flag a guy can have, short of physical abuse.

The worst part about it is, my friend is the kind of girl who doesn't respond to concerned friends. If we approached her to express our concerns, she would become defensive, make excuses and justify everything. So we are helpless. All we can do is sit back and watch her screw up her life.

I just hope she's using protection, because he is not the kind of guy you want fathering your children. But knowing her, she would use an unplanned pregnancy as an excuse to get married.

Ugh.

Maybe being single isn't that bad. I can enjoy my Shirley Temples in peace.

Guess What!

I'm moving to NYC.

Ok, not really. But I did dream about that last night. A super cool dream, actually.

I pulled up to the curb, with my car packed full of stuff. (I probably should have sold my car, now that I think about it...guess I'm not too bright in my dreams.) I was hungry, so I decided to leave it all in the car and go find some food. I also wanted to see my new apartment. For some reason, I was carrying a huge, red backpack that was crammed full of who-knows-what.

I locked my car door and proceeded up the steps, across the front yard (right, like buildings have yards in NYC!) and began to walk around the complex. This apartment buildings looked sort of like a cheap hotel -- this gives you a good idea of what it looked like from the outside. And I love how there were only 2 floors to the apartment building -- again, not what real NYC buildings are like. There were several buildings, sprawled out across the block, connected by breezeways. (Am I describing this clearly??? I hope so.)

As I go up the steps, I realize that someone had written something in the cement a long time ago, before it dried: "SPANISH HARLEM" it said. And in my dream, I remember thinking, "Oh, I don't think I moved to the safest neighborhood in town. Eh. I'll be fine."

So I'm carrying my big, red backpack and I begin to walk around, looking for my apartment. Of course, since I'm dreaming, I have no idea what the apartment number is, I just know I need to find it. My plan is to find the apartment, put down my extremely heavy backpack, and go find some food. Along the way, I encounter the apartment complex's janitor: Joe Dirt.

"Huh. My janitor is Joe Dirt. How 'bout that!" I thought.

So I'm walking around and I open a door to find this huge cafeteria. Apparently, this is not an apartment complex so much as it is a college dorm. From what I gathered as I wandered around the cafeteria, the apartment complex serves food there every day. I guess it was included in my rent??? Very interesting. I began to walk around the cafeteria, soaking it all in. It was packed full of people! (And of course, I kept slamming my huge backpack into everyone. Oops. Not the best first impression. I am klutzy, even in my dreams.)

But here's the cool part: Everyone in the cafeteria was young and single. And 75% of them were cute guys. Who were checking me out. (In my dream, apparently, I was very full of myself!) Observing this, I thought to myself, "Holy cow. I have hit the jackpot. I will have dates for weeks! This is like heaven! This is the best idea I've ever had!"

To boot, there were people in the crowd I already knew: The Rat Pack was there. How funny that they all coincidentally lived in the same complex where I was now living! Sweet!

I don't remember what happened after that, but it sure was a cool dream!

Updates: I am going to knock on Cute Neighbor's door today. So wish me luck, because I know I will want to wuss out again. I'm also going to see if he would be willing to get my mail for me while I'm out of town.

I will be leaving to go visit The Czarina and the rest of my fam tomorrow. I will be gone for about a week, and I don't know how much posting I will do. It should be a good trip. This weekend, a bunch of my friends from elementary school will be in town (their high school reunion is this weekend). Next weekend is The Czarina's big annual party in memory of WLF, my dad. Lots of BBQ and family friends. I will get to see the P family. Yay!

So I will try to post, but I can't make any promises. I probably won't be doing too much that is blog-worthy, anyway. I will spend a lot of time reading, watching movies with Smurf, going to the bar in my hometown (yes, there is a grand total of ONE bar there) to see people, and napping. If I'm lucky, I might be able to talk The Czarina into taking me shopping in Richmond one day.

Before I go, I do have a fun thing to share with you. Want to see some pics of my fam? Here you go!

This is The Czarina's house. This is actually taken from behind the house (on the left) and from the far side of the pond (foreground). So you are seeing the backside of the house, rather than the front. There are two buildings on the right side. One is where a friend of the family rents out a small house from The Czarina. The one on the far right is The Barn, where we store extra furniture and stuff like WLF's extra books and his old bottle collection. This is also where the Controversial Family Furniture is secretly hidden. (Shh, don't tell my mom's relatives. Remind me to tell you about that little family issue sometime.) Anyway, as you can probably gather, this is a very VERY rural and relaxing place to be. I think it would be impossible to feel stressed out here. I will probably see some wildlife when I'm there: deer, beavers, that sort of thing. I know this is kind of a crappy pic, but it's all I've got. I will take some better pics and share later.


This is WLF and Fat Dog from a few years ago. I miss WLF very much, especially this time of year. Not only is it Father's Day, but it's also his birthday.

......and here she is, in the flesh: The Czarina. It's hard to see, but she's wearing this super-cool black & white cameo ring which I'm hoping I will get to have one day. She looks really cute in this pic. I think she was going out to dinner with her girlfriends or something.


Have super weekends everyone! Sammy, Toby and I will be on I-95 tomorrow morning while y'all are snoozing away! I'll have some good pics to share when I get back.

WLF Goes to the Beach

Let's see....not the most eventful week of my life, in case you can't tell from my lack of posting.

I could tell you about having to sit next to a guy from Romania who had B.O.

Or I could tell you about seeing a great local band the other night (Villanova).

I could tell you that I saw Hoochie McSkankerton (aka Wednesday Skank) sucking face with Hot Neighbor this weekend. In his driveway. In daylight. In front of his kids. (Is it just me, or is 2 months kind of soon to be making out in front of the kiddies???)

I could tell you that Shrek the Third was decent. But perhaps you should wait for the DVD.

I could tell you that the portrayal of librarians in Party Girl and Tomcats were....interesting. And although not great movies, they did have their funny moments. Librarians are very wild girls, according to Hollywood. Woot!

I could mention that I am officially up to running 3 miles now. With a small break in-between miles 2 and 3. Go me.

Or I could tell you that I left my doggie bag behind at a restaurant this weekend and I was SO MAD, because I always do that. Which sucks even more when you are broke and were hoping to have the leftovers for dinner tonight. GAH I am still pissed at myself, just thinking about it.

I could tell you how my brother Fungus got to eat dinner with this guy recently. No, I am not kidding. A friend of the family got an extra ticket to a gala dinner where he spoke, and he gave the ticket to Fungus. So I'm sure he didn't get to meet him, just share a meal with him. Kinda. Neat, huh?

I could tell you about hanging out with all my girls this weeekend: Friday's dinner with the Happy Hour Peeps. Saturday's BBQ lunch w/MJ & KT (and MJ's brother & sis-in-law) and Sunday's dinner at a Chinese/Japanese/Sushi restaurant with the Nurses and Healthy Girl. But it was just good times, not much to report.

Really, I pretty much just summed everything up for you. This leaves me with a problem: what should I post today? Hmmm...sounds like it's time for a story! WOOT!

Have I told you about the time WLF went to the beach? No? Ok, this is a good one.

At some point in his youth, I think when he was in college, WLF (aka My Dad) went to the beach with his buddies one summer. (So this is probably somewhere in Virginia or Maryland, in the 1950s, for those of you who want a setting.)

They were there for about a week. Aside from getting up one morning (to find they were out of milk) and putting beer on his breakfast cereal --- EWWWWW --- he just had a good time partying it up on the surf and sand.

But one night was unforgettable.....

Apparently, there was some all-girl's school at this beach-front town. WLF and his buddies found out where the girls' dormitory was. It was directly across the street from the beach. Enjoying the wonderful beach breezes, the girls kept their windows open at night as they slept.

Big. Mistake.

You see, nighttime is when the crabs come out. Hundreds of little crabs, all over the beach. And you really don't want to combine that wonder of nature with a group of college-aged young men who are on vacation with not much to do. Besides drink beer.

See where this is going? Yeah.

So WLF and his buddies grab buckets and start collecting crabs. Tons of them. They completely fill the buckets with live crabs. They wait until the lights in the dormitory had been out for about a half hour. Then they climb up the fire escape to the 2nd floor, walk over to the open window...........and begin to dump the buckets. Hundreds of crabs scurry all over the hardwood floors, making for a very creepy cacophony of little crustacean legs. But the sleeping women do not notice.

At first.

Giggling, WLF and his buddies ran back down the fire escape to sit on the curb across the street from the dormitory. They each pop a can of beer......and wait.

About 5 minutes later, the screaming starts. In between shrieks, WLF and his buddies can hear the crabs freaking out and scurrying around everywhere in packs, from one side of the room to the other. Soon they can tell all the girls are up, screaming bloody murder. The crabs are making even more noise than before, sliding all over the slick, hardwood floors. Someone switched on the lights, and then they really started screaming.

Meanwhile, WLF and his friends are laughing their asses off.

That is, until they hear the police sirens. One of the girls had called the cops.

WLF and his buddies start to run away. But WLF trips and falls. The cops are right up on them at this point, his friends are long gone, and WLF knew he had to think fast if he was going to avoid trouble. A pickup truck was parked down the street. WLF opened the door (unbelievably, it was unlocked) and quickly laid down on the seat as though he were sleeping.

Not even 15 seconds later, a cop raps at the window, looking for answers.

"Oh, no, officer. I have no idea what you're talking about. I've been asleep the whole time, here in my truck. I didn't see anything," he said drowsily.

"Hmph. Ok, well, thanks anyway," the cop said suspiciously.

My dad could never believe he didn't get busted on that one. But he was pretty proud of himself at the same time for his quick thinking. He never could tell that story without laughing so hard, he had tears running down his face.

By the way, this is only one of many stories involving my father and practical jokes. You could say it was a hobby of his.

WLF & His In-Laws

Not much is going on right now, aside from the upcoming party at my house this weekend, and the fact that Lady Starfish is currently in town. (She and I are having a blast, by the way.)

So today, I thought of a random, small-world story to tell you about my dad, WLF.

Since The Czarina lost both her parents at age 21 and did not meet WLF until she was about 27 or 28, my dad always assumed he never met his in-laws.

Or did he?

When I was in middle school, my parents went into Richmond for the day. They returned home to tell me and my siblings a fairly incredible story. At some point in the day, they had some time to kill between errands. The Czarina decided to show WLF all the houses in Richmond where she lived when she was growing up. They pulled into this one neighborhood.

"Oh. I know this neighborhood!" WLF exclaimed.

"You do?" said Czarina.

"Yeah! One summer, when I was in college, I had a summer job as a Fuller Brush salesman. I went door-to-door, selling stuff to housewives. This was one of my neighborhoods," he explained.

"You know," replied Czarina, "my mom used to buy all kinds of stuff from the Fuller Brush man. Which summer was this?"

It turns out that the summer my dad spent as a door-to-door salesman was one of the summers that my mom lived in that neighborhood. They thought, "Hmm. That's interesting."

Then they turned the corner. "There it is!" said Czarina. "That's where I used to live!"

WLF said, "I remember selling stuff to that house. They were one of my best customers."

I wonder what they thought of my dad. I wonder what he thought of them. You never know who you meet sometimes, I guess. Little did they know...

Weird, huh?

Men, Mom and Mechanics, Part 2

You have to read Part 1 (below) first or this will make no sense. Where was I?

Random Drunk Guy had been at his friend T's apartment, but T had a girl in the apartment, and he felt weird hanging around. So Random Drunk Guy left T's apartment and was waiting for his ride to pick him up. That's when I found him. We talked for about a half hour. He was pretty entertaining and an easy target, so I began to tease him and give him a hard time. I can't remember how we got to the subject, but I made a joke about how he should take me out to breakfast. And he took me up on the offer.

(Sometimes I have my crazy, spontaneous moments. This was one of them. What can I say? It was a cute guy and I had no plans and couldn't go anywhere, thanks to my stupid car. I'm good with picking up on creepy vibes, and I wasn't getting any bad gut feelings. And Sammy liked him. So I went with it. I don't normally do this, I swear. But sometimes you gotta live a little. I am not in any way condoning this type of irresponsible behavior. Don't try this at home. Now that I am typing out this story, I can't believe I did this. The Czarina would shoot me.)

I said, "But how do I know you aren't some crazy psycho guy?" and he assured me he wasn't. T came outside at one point to get something out of his car and talked to us for a minute and also assured me I was in no danger. No creepy vibes from T, either. T encouraged me to go to breakfast. I mentally noted the apartment location and license plate of T, just in case. Then I realized RDG was too drunk and half-asleep to do anything anyway. "Yeah, I don't think you could do too much damage right now," I ribbed. To make me feel better, he gave me his driver's license as collateral.

I got ready really quickly and his roommate picked us up and took us to their house so we could drive his car. His roommate, Coffee Guy, was a real sweetheart. They gave me the tour, which included a backyard pool and two adorable doggies. His house is really really cool-- early 20th century, big windows, hardwood floors, high ceilings, old neighborhood. They invited me and K to hang out at their pool that afternoon. Since I hung out there for about an hour, RDG had sobered up a little, and we hit the road.

So I went to breakfast with him. And we had a great time! Well, as good of a time as you can have with a guy who reeked of alcohol and was still kinda drunk at 10am on a Sunday morning. Definitely some flirting going on! He told me about his ex, who was trying to get back together with him, yet was causing all this drama because she was upset about the girl he rebounded with. Apparently the two girls ran into each other the night before, and there was a scene. That's when he left and started drinking at T's place.

I can't believe I am admitting this story. I'm sure I will get a lot of "OMG, VB, you could've been killed!" comments. Even if I were you, I'd be lecturing me: "VB, this is how girls end up dead in ditches!" But it's a great story, I promise! When I get this vibe, it is always a good thing! My spontaneous ideas are all great! (Well, except that one time in Charlotte...remind me to tell you that story...)

He really wanted me and K to hang out with him at his pool that afternoon. I called K and explained what was going on and gave her the RDG's real name and address--see? I am sorta safe. K thought I was nuts, until I informed her that RDG was hot, and then she got it. K was busy with friends, so I told him it would be just me. He waited in my living room while I got ready. When I came back out, he was passed out on my couch. He slept there all afternoon. Which was fine with me. I didn't have anything to do, and I couldn't go anywhere, so I popped in a movie and then watched some TV while Sammy and I also napped.

Around 5pm he woke up and left. But not before he got my number. Yessss!

I don't know if he will call, but we will see. At the very least, I got a free breakfast.

A couple hours later, K came home and I filled her in on the details. She was excited for me. Then we went out with some of her friends for dinner at Yesterday's. (Extremely yummy food, btw.) Who do we see when we are there???

RDG and his roommate, Coffee Guy.

Crazy. I grabbed K and we went over to say hi. Everyone was introduced. After the obligatory "Stop stalking me!" jokes, they invited us to join them, but instead she and I said goodbye and sat back down with our group. We didn't want to be rude.

Yesterday morning I had my car jumped and took it in to be fixed. It turns out it was the battery. So they replaced that. For $150! It sounds high, I know, but I didn't really have a choice--it's not like I could take my car somewhere else--it was dead. It is a factory part, so it's going to be more expensive, but has a better guarantee than regular batteries. Oh well. Then they found a problem with my car--my plenum gasket needed to be replaced. Or else I would be stranded on the highway soon. It was leaking coolant (I had noticed it was kind of low), which could seep into my pistons, essentially locking my engine. Replacing it costs $400. So, with taxes included, I paid $602 when it was all said and done. Ouch. I hate my stupid car. But thank God for credit cards, right? I guess it's still cheaper than having a car payment.

So I'm driving away, and I'm thinking, "Gosh, someone working on my car must have gotten gasoline on their coveralls because it reeks of gas in here!" And the next thing I know, there are all these people running out of the office, yelling at me, telling me to stop my car and turn it off immediatly. Eeek!

My car was gushing gas everywhere. I had no idea! I could have been blown to smithereens! What a brush with Death! I just thought it was some stinky mechanic, but apparently, the part they replaced was a faulty part and it had broken, which allowed the gas to gush out. So they needed my car back to fix that part, free of charge. Finally I picked up my car after work.

As expensive as it was, I'm glad they found the coolant leak, because I am going to Virginia Beach this weekend to visit Fat Dog, and now I know my car will make it there! Sammy, K and I won't be on the side of I-95 on Friday. I can sleep well knowing this.

So I was talking to The Czarina about all my car issues yesterday. She was sympathetic and relieved they found the coolant leak. Then, since she had me on the phone, she took the opportunity to nag me about switching careers and/or going back to school. It's not that I don't want to switch or go back to school, I just haven't decided what direction I want to take. And everything I'm looking at would be a pay cut, so I am dragging my feet a little.

This conversation segued into her complaining that none of her children are following in WLF's footsteps career-wise and how we are all big disappointments. You see, my dad was a writer and a professor, and he was somewhat nationally recognized. He has all these books in our basement--about a 20,000 volume library. No, I am not exaggerating. And none of us are interested in the same career path that WLF had. So none of us want his books or papers, let alone his Rolodex of connections. This has been a point of contention over the years between the parents and the kids in our family. And it always leaves me with a big guilt trip, because my father really made a name for himself and we all have the potential to advance the work he has already done, and all his collegues are looking at us, wondering who will be next, yet none of us are choosing to do it.

As the oldest child, I have a tendency to feel the most guilt for not doing everything my parents want me to do. My brothers can blow it off, but I get really upset about it. So I got off the phone feeling like a huge disappointment, and I was crying because I really miss my dad, and I always hated letting him down. Now that he's not around any more, the only thing I can do for him is to make him proud, so why can't I just suck it up and follow in his footsteps to make him happy? He would have wanted one of us to do it. Why not me? And why aren't my brothers stepping up to the plate?? I feel like I am the only one dealing with any of this guilt. I know they aren't upset about this at all.

The thing is, Fungus is the most interested in WLF's field and up until recently, he was being primed to carry on the family legacy. I say "primed" but really I mean "pressured". You see, this is part of the problem. My parents only encouraged us to follow in WLF's footsteps--every other career was deemed pathetic, stupid or beneath us. So we all grew up feeling this immense pressure to be Poli Sci professors. And this strategy basically blew up in our parents' faces, because none of us are into this idea--we are stubborn and don't like being told what to be when we grow up. (So please, take it from me, don't pressure your kids into any one career path.)

At the time I called to talk about my car, Czarina was upset that her plan isn't panning out. Lately, Fungus is showing signs that he isn't going to ever be like Dad. Apparently he has been partying like a rock star, behaving immaturely and hasn't been the best son to Czarina, and she was upset and venting to me. And of course, I felt responsible and guilty because I am the oldest child who is supposed to be the "good" kid.

I just wanted to talk about my car problems, but we ended up discussing what terrible children we all are. So in addition to the burden of my $602 car bill, I also got a big fat guilt trip from Mom.

Thank goodness I am leaving early on Friday! Fat Dog will make me feel better. He is a good shoulder to cry on about Czarina.

Bombs Away!

I have been totally MIA this week. Work is crazy and I'm going to the beach on Thursday, so I have been super duper busy. Sorry to all--promise I will try to catch up on reading blogs soon. I tried to put up some accompanying photos to this post, but Blogger won't let me post pics right now.

I told this story to MJ this past weekend, and realized it would make a great blog post. Just like I told her, this story is so weird that I will not be surprised if you don't believe me. But I swear to God this happened.

When I was around 8 years old, I was coming home from the grocery store with The Czarina and my siblings. At the time, we were living in the middle of nowhere in rural Virginia. It was an old farmhouse, complete with big porch, livestock fields and a barn.

When we turned into our long driveway, we realized the National Guard had paid us a visit. There were NG people all over our property. They had their uniforms and machinery and big trucks. There were NG people running around and talking.

Of course, Czarina was thinking, "Great, what did WLF do now?"

All of us kids were shouting, "Cool!"

So why were we invaded? Get this: While we were at the store, WLF and our neighbor, One Leg*, were behind the barn, clearing out some weeds and underbrush. I guess WLF wanted to use that area for something. As they are clearing away the area, One Leg shouts out, "Man, I think this is a bomb! Why do you have this in your yard?"

So WLF goes over there. How about there are 4 friggin BOMBS in our backyard!!! They had been buried a few inches into the ground and then the weeds and stuff had grown over them, so we never knew they were there. My dad looks at the bombs and recognized them. "Hey! I know what these are! These are the kind of bombs they dropped off of planes in WWII!" (In addition to being a taxidermy enthusiast, my father was also a WWII buff.)

Then they are freaking out because--duh--they could get blown to smithereens. So the jump out of there and call the National Guard. They laugh at my dad. WLF insists there are bombs buried behind his house. They laugh some more, but send a guy over to check it out. The guy nearly craps his pants because my dad is not joking. He calls for backup. They all come over, thinking that these are just old shells and they should just get them out of there and throw them away properly. Right after that is when we got home. WLF filled Mom in on the story. She sent us to the house, much to our dismay.

As the National Guard is looking at them and loading them onto their trucks, they realize the bombs are live. Czarina about lost it. We played back behind the barn sometimes. And we could have been blown to pieces all these years. And the NG people had just been tossing the bombs into the backs of the trucks. Holy. Freaking. Cow.

So what's the story? We don't really know. All we can figure is that someone stole them from a nearby military base after WWII, perhaps as a souvenir. They thought they had old empty shells, then realized they had stolen real bombs, freaked out, and buried them in the backyard. They had probably been there for like 40 years. (This was WLF's theory.)

This is the story we were going with. We never did find out why there were bombs buried behind our house. Crazy, huh?

*Yes, he really did have one wooden leg. Farming accident.

Thursday 13

Thirteen Stuffed Animals in The Czarina's Basement

My dad had a rather unusual hobby. He collected stuffed animals. And I don't mean the plush toy kind. I'm referring to formerly-alive stuffed animals. The taxidermy kind. They are on display in my mom's house, if you ever stop by.

1. A pirahna that looks JUST like this one.




2. An albino squirrel (His name is Nutsy. If you saw his...uh, junk, you would know why. This albino squirrel pictured here is not nearly as blessed.)





3. A snapping turtle (he has a cigar in his mouth)



4. A black bear (standing on his hind legs, so he's at least 6-7 feet tall. He scares everyone who sees it. His outfit changes periodically. Last time I saw him, he had on a Winnie-the-Pooh tie.).


5. A screech owl, which was extracted from the front grill of his truck after he accidentally hit it when driving one night. The taxidermist had to re-assemble it. Apparently the reddish-colored feathers were seasonal, and therefore, rare. Dad thought this was really cool. We thought it was disgusting. These are the owls that sound like they are screaming, "Help!" -- I bet that was this owl's last word.


6. A mole. Ours is standing on his hind legs, holding a shovel. He's also wearing a mining helmet. My dad had a sense of humor. It was a gift for Czarina, if you can believe that. "Mole" is actually one of her nicknames. Long story.



7. A mongoose, entwined with a cobra, kind of like in this picture. (If I remember, Dad had to fly from Taiwan to the U.S. with this thing on his lap the whole time. Aren't you glad you didn't have to sit next to this guy for that 20-plus hour flight?)


8. A woodpecker.

9. A crow.

10. A gazelle. Or is it an antelope? (head only.)

11. A red fox (head only. But we put a red ribbon on its ear every year at Christmas.)

12. Some other antelope-looking animal (again, head only)

13. A warthog (My dad discovered eBay late in life. Soon after this purchase arrived, he was immediatly and permanently banned from using the site.)




I'm thinking I will use these as centerpieces on the tables at my wedding reception one day. Cool idea, huh?

Kidding.

Embarrassing Story #2

(See my last post for the first story. You don't have to read these in order.)

This story would be best entitled: The Only Time I Ever Hated My Father.

Setting: 1993, I'm in Middle School, we had just moved to Indiana, so I was "The New Girl". This town was like Beverly Hills. Mercedes and Rolls Royces abound. I kid you not. Ritzy titzy city.

It was a Saturday, and all the kids in my grade were at school for a standardized test. When we are done around noon, all 400 (or so) of us are standing outside near the parking lot, waiting for our parents to pick us up.

Keep in mind that this is 8th grade, probably the most insecure of ages for kids across the nation. We are all SO incredibly self-conscious at this time, are we not? I mean, all I wanted to do was to fit in. Or better yet, be accepted by the "Cool" crowd. But, since I was new, I hadn't even determined exactly who was cool. I was still trying to get used to the freezing weather and fashion differences. (There were no Abercrombie & Fitches or Bebes in my teeny tiny rural Virginia hometown. Actually, there still aren't.)

So I am standing alone, which is ok. I was used to being the new girl by this point in my life. To be honest, my brain was fried from filling in bubbles with a #2 pencil for 4 hours straight. I just wanted to go home.

But where is Mom??? She's taking forever! I mean, most of the kids are already gone, which makes me look like a total loser! So I wait and wait and wait.

Out of nowhere, the hottest guy in our class, Joel, comes up to me and starts talking to me. I think I did one of those double takes, where you are sure the guy is talkingto someone standing behind you, so you turn around, only to realize no one is there. Once I realized he was actually talking to me, I almost fell over. I was so flabbergasted, I couldn't even listen to anything he was saying. I think he said something about going to McDonald's. Just as I was starting to shake myself out of it and say something, my ride showed up.

It was my Dad, not my Mom, picking me up.

Oh.

No.

He was driving his truck. His big, beat up, dirty, old Ford truck. Which smells like a combination of wet dog and cigars. (Keep in mind, this is back in the day before cigars were cool.) This vehicle is in stark contrast against all the pristine Lexuses already in the parking lot.

He comes in the exit, and was the only parent to do so. Everyone was looking, wondering who this guy is and why he can't read signs. "Oh. That's my ride," I mumbled.

"Is that your dad?" Hot Joel asked.

"Yeah," I replied. (I could be wrong, but this may have been the last conversation I ever had with Hot Joel.)

Did I mention that Dad's windows are down? And it's about 40 degrees outside? It is important that his windows are down so that he can not only smoke his stogie, but also so that our big, stinky dog can stick her slobbery head out the window and so that Dad can blare his bluegrass music at an adequate volume.

Other parents have lap dogs and Top 40 stations in their cars. With the windows up, since they are both non-smokers and cold.

It looks like Pa Clampett is here to pick me up.

Now, I love my big stinky, slobbery dog. I even like bluegrass music. But not when I'm 13. At that age, I don't admit to liking any of this. I cannot believe this is happening. And in front of about 150 of my school mates. One of whom is standing right next to me, looking quite yummy. The same one who will never speak to me again.

Instead of taking the time to look for me and pull up discreetly by the curb, Pa parks his truck in the smack dab middle of this huge parking lot. He gets out of the truck. He hasn't showered or shaved yet. He is wearing the same clothes he wore the two previous days. And probably the same underwear. He is holding a big, fat stogie in one hand and a beer in the other. Then, he starts yelling.

"VB! VB?!"

"Yeah..." I reply, forced to yell my response.

"Hey! Get in! You're gonna have to sit in the middle, though, so the dog can stick her head out!"

I walked out into the dead center of the parking lot, in front of everyone. If I'm not mistaken, there were some stares and snickering going on. I think you could have heard a pin drop amongst the Gap and Limited-clad audience. I didn't wave or look at anyone. I just wanted to disappear. The fastest way to do that was to get in the truck so he would get in and shut up.

"Hurry up! It's time for lunch!" he yelled, still standing in the middle of the parking lot.

I climbed into the center of the bench seat, with stinky Mingo on one side and Jed Clampett on the other. He asked if I wanted to listen to his music or mine. I told him I didn't care, because my social life was over anyway. He shrugged, took a sip of his beer and turned his bluegrass back up. Mingo kept stepping on my lap and wagging her tail in my face. Mingo weighed about 50 pounds. And there was no place for her to go. I reeked of cigars and dog by the time I got home.

Once I got there, I told Czarina everything. She chewed him a new one and he was never allowed to pick any of us up again.

For those 30 or so minutes, I hated my father. But that is the only time. Ever. And who cares what stupid Hot Joel thought anyway? He got busted for pot or underage drinking before graduation. I can't remember which. I bet he was embarrassed.

The Trip

I'm back. I've just been busy with work stuff. Yes, I realize I'm behind on reading people's blogs. I'm working on it. But in order to do so, I have to skim and lurk a lot because it's faster. Trust me, I'm out there.

Um...highlights. First off, I took no pictures. Please don't shoot me. As you will soon realize, there isn't much to see. Other than the pond behind the house, it's pretty boring. Peaceful and rural, but boring.

I had tried to warn K about The Czarina, her parties and staying at her house. It would be more work than play. And K would know no one other than me. I tried to tell her it wouldn't be much fun, but she still said she wanted to go. I was grateful for the company, so I didn't dissuade her as much as I probably should have. So we packed up, grabbed Sammy and picked up the 20 lbs. of BBQ, as requested by Czarina.

Since I had to pick up RP from Charleston before heading to Czarina's, four hours were added to my trip. So what was normally a 6 hour trip became a 10 hour trip. Not fun. But not terrible. For the first time, I had company with me in the car. It made it much more bearable. I had people to talk to and people to hand me stuff, which was nice.

Sammy slept and farted during the entire car ride.

We get to Czarina's, where she and my little sister, Smurf, greet us. We unpacked and were all sitting and relaxing in the living room. Czarina was telling us about my brother's dog, who peed on the rug a couple of weeks previously. She was still pretty pissed off about it. Right as she is telling us about this, Sammy proceeds to walk up to the chair I'm sitting in and lift his leg. He peed on her chair. Oops.

Aside from this bad first impression, she eventually grew to like Sammy.

I had forgotten that Czarina is a major cheapskate when it comes to air conditioning. The thermostat was set at 76 or higher, so I basically sweated like a buffalo the entire time. I think I took 7 cold showers in three days. Luckily, this didn't seem to bother anyone but me.

We were all pretty exhausted from driving all day, so we didn't do much the first night. The Czarina was in a pretty bad mood, due to the pre-party planning stress. K said she felt very intimidated, which was understandable. Czarina was at her frostiest. I told K she would calm down when her best friend arrived. (RP's mom is her best friend.)

The next day, I gave K a grand tour of my hometown (pop. 17,000). The main retail outlet in my hometown is a huge furniture warehouse. There are also a couple of cutesy preppy clothing stores-- not really our style. We did some window shopping, but since neither one of us has the space or money for major furniture purchases or a love affair with Izod, we were pretty much bored after an hour. We were hot, so we decided to hit DQ. We ordered two medium sized milkshakes, which surprisingly cost us almost $8! After getting over our sticker shock, we went to Wally World. Czarina needed some party supplies. Then we went home. Later on, RP's mom arrived, so Czarina's mood improved greatly.

K and I took Smurf to go see Click that night. It was ok. Not Adam Sandler's best. The morality issue was really beaten like a dead horse. But it does beg the question: What would you pause, FF, rewind, skip or stop in your life? Hmmm...food for thought.

The next morning was spent helping Czarina clean and get ready for the party. Not fun, but necessary. I tried to warn K that we would probably be doing some cleaning on this trip, but she said that was fine. I also tried to warn her that this was not going to be a fun family get-together kind of party. 99% of the guests were going to be more interested in discussing politics than pop culture. Again, K said this would be ok. (Czarina and I don't think she had much fun. We are both harboring guilt trips about it.)

The rest of the P family arrived, along with my brothers, Fat Dog and Fungus. Fat Dog brought his dog, Newton. He and Sammy were instant best friends and proceeded to take turns humping each other for the next 13 hours straight. This was very entertaining for all of us. They also explored the woods together, gathering ticks and chasing critters. If it weren't for Sammy's squeaky toy, he probably would have run away! I had a hard time finding him a couple of times during the weekend. But he had a good time.

People started arriving around 2pm. All in all, about 55 of my parents' closest friends came. Notice I said parents' friends. As the oldest kid there, I knew or at least remembered most of them, but even I struggled with some names and faces. And they all wanted to ask me about politics, law or my dad's career. I don't know much about any of these topics, but I do know enough to get by. Kinda. So I faked my way through every conversation. This is very stressful, because I'm sure they were all thinking, "His own daughter doesn't know about that?" I felt like a fraud.

If it wasn't the third degree about politics, then it was the old men who would corner me, talking about really really boring stuff. I would get stuck listening to them bitch about politics or academia for 45 minutes before I could mumble an excuse and make my escape.

For the first time in my life, I prayed that someone would ask me why I was still single.

Wasn't this supposed to be a party? Can't they all just get drunk and leave me alone? Isn't there someone here who just wants to talk about college football or Hogan Knows Best?

At one point, about two hours into these intellectual conversations, my brain started to hurt. So I escaped and went downstairs where K, my siblings and RP's siblings were. It didn't seem fair--I had to play co-hostess, and they were down in the basement, having fun. They had beers and cigarettes, they were playing pool and laughing. There was no conversation about anything requiring a PhD. But unfortunately, I was the oldest "kid", and somehow, age 27 left me straddling the "kiddie" room and the adult cocktail party going on upstairs. I felt I had a duty, but longed to have some fun.

"I swear, if I have to have one more boring conversation or answer another question about Dad's books, I'm going to scream," I said as I grabbed GP's cigarette and took two long drags. (GP is RP's sister.) They laughed. I told them they didn't know what I was going through up there. Then I went back up. At the very least, by being upstairs I could make sure we would be eating on time--I was starved!

Finally, at 6:30 we ate. BBQ, baked beans, coleslaw, potato chips and iced tea. And cake for dessert. Yum! (Except for the coleslaw and tea, that is.) Sammy was apparently fed lots of BBQ at some point during the evening. Don't ask how I know this. After dinner, most of the guests left. It was mostly just the P family and a couple of old family friends who hung around, drinking and lighting fireworks.

By 9pm, K and I were bushed. Plus, we knew we would be driving back the next morning. So we went to bed early, much to the dismay of the other "kids". After trying to sleep through the fireworks show, we were awakened by Fungus. 5 times. He kept opening up the door to our room and turning on the light and saying, "Y'all don't want to hang out?" We would have gotten up to strangle him if we had had any energy. We settled for locking the door.

In the morning, I went downstairs for my morning cup of coffee. One of my favorite things about my mom is that she understands the importance of having lots of coffee, ready to drink, every morning without fail. She didn't let me down. As I was sipping and studying the disaster zone that was formerly the kitchen, I realized something gritty was under my feet. And all over the countertop. And all in the sink. It was pretty much everywhere. Using some rudimentary investigative skills, I determined that some drunk person had tried to open a bottle of pepper blend and had somehow managed to sprinkle its entire contents everywhere. It was like a pepper parade had been thrown. I chuckled to myself as I figured it looked like a Fungus job.

Czarina knew I had to hit the road. She packed up the leftover BBQ and cake for us (YESSS!) as she explained that there would have been more leftovers if my drunken brothers hadn't had a late night feast. "That's ok," I replied. "They have to clean up all this mess!"

K and I showered and packed. I took Sammy out to potty before we got in the car. He went straight for the pile of vomit in the yard and began to try and lick it. Great. Another Fungus job, I am sure. After stopping Sammy, we grabbed RP and hit the road. It was another 10 hour trip, complete with diet coke and Combos. Only this time, it was raining, so we had no relief from Sammy's farts.

Meme Stolen from K

Got this from K's Myspace page. She is the best roommate ever. I love her. Because she lets me gank stuff from her blog.

Have You Ever...

Taken a picture naked?
No, but a nippled slipped out once. Semi-intentionally. (I was sending the photos to my boyfriend at the time).

Danced in front of your mirror naked?
Yes, but only until my boobs started hurting.

Told a lie?
Yes. But not very well. So I don't do it anymore. Now I'm like George Washington.

Had a one night stand?
Uh...no comment.

Been in a fist fight?
OMG, no way. I am the biggest wuss ever.

Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back?
Hasn't everyone? It is the worst pain ever.

Been arrested?
No, unfortunately I am somewhat of a goody-goody.

Fooled around in your parents house?
In their house, in their car, in their bed....(it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it grosses me out. A lot.)

Ditched school to have sex?
Never. Goody goody.

Slept in a bed with a member of the same sex..
Yes, but only for sleepover purposes. All very G-rated. Except for that one time when we had a pillow fight in our underwear and made out afterwards. Kidding.

Seen someone die?
Yes, my dad. Very surreal and scary.

Kissed a picture?
Yes. But not since like 7th grade.

Slept in until 3pm?
Only if I were very sick or hungover (back in the day)

Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by?
Not since I was a kid. I used to do it with my brothers and we would argue about what the clouds looked like.

Played dress up?
Every time I go out!

Fallen asleep at work/school?
Never at work, often at school.

Touched a snake?
Yes. Once is enough.

Ran a red light? Yes even though I am a big hypocrite. It is very dangerous and causes lots of accidents.

Had detention? again, Goody Goody-ish.

Been in a car accident?
At least 4 times.

Pole danced?
Ooh! No, but good idea!

Been lost?
Yes, but only when people give me bad directions. Then I look at the map and figure it out on my own. Some people can't give directions.

Sang karaoke?
Yes. Usually Al Green or B-52s. Or Madonna.

Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
Um, all the time. Life would be pretty boring if I didn't. Then I'd be hard-core Goody Goody. That's no fun.

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?
Yes. Ouch.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue?
Yes. Again, once is enough. I love hot weather.

Kissed in the rain?
Actually, I don't think I've ever done this. Another good idea.

Sang in the shower?
All the time!

Ever gone to school without underwear?
Once I went to school without a bra on. Seventh grade. Don't ask me how I forgot. I'm a dumbass.

Sat on a roof top?
Yes. Probably to chuck stuff at people below.

Played chicken?
I play it in every relationship I've ever been in. Relationships are a series of Chicken Competitions, I think.

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?
No, which is ironic because I'm one of the few people who wouldn't care all that much. I'd probably laugh and then get the instigator wet!

Broken a bone?
Yes, my left metatarsal. (foot) It's funny, because it aches right before it starts raining. No joke.

Mooned/flashed someone?
I can't believe I have never done this. Well, not to a stranger. Just a boyfriend once.

Had sex with your socks on?
There is nothing sexy about socks. They are totally "verboten" in the bedroom. I will stop the show to make the guy take them off.

Slept naked?
Yes. I would do it every night, but now I have a roommate, so it doesn't seem appropriate. Plus, I worry that if the house were to catch fire, I'd be running out onto the parking lot naked. In front of firemen. Actually....now that I think about it, that wouldn't be too bad...

Played a prank on someone?
This is something I need to do more often. I'm sure I have, but I don't recall the last time.

Felt like killing someone?
Yes. It was probably a man. Or The Czarina.

Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry?
No, apparently I am incapable of encouraging any sort of emotional outpouring from anyone with a Y chromosome.

Cried over someone?
Hello, I do this all the time. If I'm tired or hormonal, I will be cranky and over-analyze everything. I will invent all these ideas in my head where Repo actually hates me. And I start the waterworks. This is, obviously, annoying and frustrating for him. So Repo has set up "No Crying Zones" to get me to stop. He'll say, "This is a No Crying Zone! You can't cry here!" It makes me laugh. Then I stop crying. So it works. He's awesome.

Had sex more than 10 times in one day?
Yup! I think we made it to 12 actually...and no, it wasn't Repo.

Had/Have a dog?
YES!!! Sammy Baby!!!

Been in a band or played an instrument?
Violin. 10 years. I was in the orchestra. Even the Band Geeks were cool to us.

Taken more than 10 shots of alcohol?
If I ever did, I don't remember...

Shot a gun?
Yes. And everyone in my family is a decent shot, so don't piss us off! Note: just because I know how to shoot a gun doesn't mean I am comfortable being around them. They make me nervous.

Played strip poker?
I don't think so. But I probably should....