delivering you the crisp, refreshing taste you can’t find anywhere else

My To Do list.  Not nearly complete.  I just felt like I needed to jot these things down immediately,  in my office today between clients, so as not to forget them.  Because I would.  Forget them. 

The razor I have sucks the big one.  I used to use the Venus Divine.  No issue there, but I thought I’d switch it up since I needed some new blades, and decided to go for a whole new razor.  Wicked sucks.  Not good at all.  Blah.

I’ve been wanting to make a hair appointment for weeks.  Luckily, my highlights are the type that you can’t really tell when they grow out much… they all just kind of blend in together.  But I know that if I get my hair did, I’ll feel better.  You know how a good hair cut/highlight does the trick.  And a mani.

Oh, and tomorrow, my dad will be coming in, visiting for the weekend with his lady friend slash new fiance!  And he’s one of those December birthdays, this Saturday in fact.  Which means, I need go buy some gifts, and frankly I just don’t know what to get him this year.  When he wants something, he goes out and buys it.  I was thinking of an Amazon giftcard or something.  I know it’s sorta lame, but at least then he can pick out what he wants, right?  Who knows.  Suggestions?

Notice how “buy wine” is on the list twice?  Unintentional, which might be a surprise.  Apparently I just wanted to make sure the wine purchase happened.  Another sucks situation, because, I still forgot to pick up a bottle (or three) on the way home tonight.  But there are beers.  And after the day I had, beers will be consumed.  Oh hell yeah.

Speaking of, today my friend told me that last night he “accidentally got drunk.”  Whatever that means, I just thought it was kind of amusing.  Tonight I plan to accidentally, sort of on purpose get drunk.  Not so much drunk, drunk, but at least a little booze buzz that will help me fall asleep easier.

(Wow, that last sentence really makes me sound like the one who should be seeking out substance abuse counseling rather than being the counselor referring clients to said types of programs.)

Last night I went to Mama Mia with three of my girlfriends.  Abba!  Do you ever feel like it’s colder in the city?  I live not far from Boston, but holy hell, the 15 minute difference made it feel about 20 degrees cooler, and good God, WINDY-er, big time.  We ate at Ivy, this really great Italian/American tapas restaurant near Downtown Crossing.  The waiter spilled some wine on me.  We split a really yummy bottle of Shiraz to warm us up, some delicious little tapas including a three cheese macaroni with truffle oil dish that was to die for.  It’s one of my new favorite gems in the city.

Oh, I’m working on the questions you’ve all began to ask me!  Thank you for contributing, and thank you all again for your suggestions with the laptop stuff.  And shit, I just remembered, tomorrow I need a new HOH! 

Okay.  I’m getting sleepy (mission: beer buzz accomplished).  Goodnight!

 

 

It’s like rain on your wedding day

Even if you are coupled up, you can imagine this. I know you can get this scene. Because even when you’re coupled, you remember your single times. Nights spent in bars surrounded by your friends and/or random couples all over each other, ohsohappily in love. RSVPing as a single to a wedding because you certainly aren’t going to bring the person you’re just casually dating (or doing whatever with), to your Uncle’s wedding. You remember these times. They were big parts of your single years, so I know you’ll get this.

Tonight I was all around couples and love and engagements and happiness. First it was dinner with a college friend who has apparently found happiness with Mr. Long Distance Man. Sure long distance isn’t ideal, but for them it is working because it has to, for now. And she seems happy, and they’re cute in their posted pictures online, and all seems really so good.

Later in the evening it was at one of my dearest friend’s new condo. With her fiance. I’m in this wedding one year from now, and really, I couldn’t be happier for them. He’s just about one of the greatest guys ever, and she deserves that, truly. I just love this girl to pieces and she deserves this happiness.

So in I walk with my 18 pack of Coors Light, bust right into that and they’re going down like water on this humid night, and I begin chatting with my dear friend’s sister. Who I’m also friends with. Who, what do you know, is also engaged. And she seems happy, and they’re giggly as he’s tickling her and she’s showing me her gorgeous ring and that’s really fine as I reach for more Sunchips.

Oh and now I’m hearing wedding bells actually ringing as happy in love couple number three comes in. Also engaged. On to the next beer I realize, as I hear, “do you have a date” tossed among happily coupled up partners, that I am the only single in a group of 7. This doesn’t totally phase me, I even chuckle a bit to the thought of this scenario as chug another sip. Truth be told, I’m neither ecstatic or depressed about it all. It’s the facts and I’m having a good time and so it goes. I am that friend that can mix well in these situations and damn it I’m happy for these people.

And for single to slap me in the face just a few more times, let’s discuss the ride home. First it was getting lost, and ending up in the exact neighborhood, pretty spot on to the guy who ever so casually blew me off a few weeks ago. And that’s as fine as can be, because it’s a breezy night and Van Morrison is blaring and really what bad mood comes from Van Morrison? None I tell you. Things are fine.

And then it’s the truck that pulls up right next to me. The same exact truck that an ex from years, long long time ago years, drove to a wedding that we once attended. And left to get freaky yo’, in the back of that beast. And so my friends now joke, “when the truck’s a rockin…”

Still fine, and when three men pull right up next to me now in motorcycles, the same one that a certain far off friend took me for a ride on this summer, I’m really pulled together and feeling great and loving life, like totally.

And I make it home, pull in the driveway, and now I’m just feeling like bed is screaming my name. And it’s hot and it’s humid and fuck I dropped my keys. Where’s the damn hallway light? My contacts need out. I need in, my bed. Right now. I feel like my drive home soundtrack should have been Alanis Moorisette’s Ironic even though I don’t even like her music, it’s just fitting right? Instead it’s more of the Coldplay variety which is fine, swell really, but perhaps a little too mellow. And when I accidentally hit 96.1 and get Delilah I just about throw up in my mouth a little.

So I get inside, slip into this new ditty I got to wear to bed. And I never, I mean pretty freakin rarely, do I sign online anymore. And the clincher of all of this, after months of time to move on, even more than a year really, is getting an IM from that ex. Really because why not wrap it all up with a conversation with him, right? Because on a night like this, it all seems to just have that way of not surprising me in the freaking least.

 

It’s like rain on your wedding day

Even if you are coupled up, you can imagine this. I know you can get this scene. Because even when you’re coupled, you remember your single times. Nights spent in bars surrounded by your friends and/or random couples all over each other, ohsohappily in love. RSVPing as a single to a wedding because you certainly aren’t going to bring the person you’re just casually dating (or doing whatever with), to your Uncle’s wedding. You remember these times. They were big parts of your single years, so I know you’ll get this.

Tonight I was all around couples and love and engagements and happiness. First it was dinner with a college friend who has apparently found happiness with Mr. Long Distance Man. Sure long distance isn’t ideal, but for them it is working because it has to, for now. And she seems happy, and they’re cute in their posted pictures online, and all seems really so good.

Later in the evening it was at one of my dearest friend’s new condo. With her fiance. I’m in this wedding one year from now, and really, I couldn’t be happier for them. He’s just about one of the greatest guys ever, and she deserves that, truly. I just love this girl to pieces and she deserves this happiness.

So in I walk with my 18 pack of Coors Light, bust right into that and they’re going down like water on this humid night, and I begin chatting with my dear friend’s sister. Who I’m also friends with. Who, what do you know, is also engaged. And she seems happy, and they’re giggly as he’s tickling her and she’s showing me her gorgeous ring and that’s really fine as I reach for more Sunchips.

Oh and now I’m hearing wedding bells actually ringing as happy in love couple number three comes in. Also engaged. On to the next beer I realize, as I hear, “do you have a date” tossed among happily coupled up partners, that I am the only single in a group of 7. This doesn’t totally phase me, I even chuckle a bit to the thought of this scenario as chug another sip. Truth be told, I’m neither ecstatic or depressed about it all. It’s the facts and I’m having a good time and so it goes. I am that friend that can mix well in these situations and damn it I’m happy for these people.

And for single to slap me in the face just a few more times, let’s discuss the ride home. First it was getting lost, and ending up in the exact neighborhood, pretty spot on to the guy who ever so casually blew me off a few weeks ago. And that’s as fine as can be, because it’s a breezy night and Van Morrison is blaring and really what bad mood comes from Van Morrison? None I tell you. Things are fine.

And then it’s the truck that pulls up right next to me. The same exact truck that an ex from years, long long time ago years, drove to a wedding that we once attended. And left to get freaky yo’, in the back of that beast. And so my friends now joke, “when the truck’s a rockin…”

Still fine, and when three men pull right up next to me now in motorcycles, the same one that a certain far off friend took me for a ride on this summer, I’m really pulled together and feeling great and loving life, like totally.

And I make it home, pull in the driveway, and now I’m just feeling like bed is screaming my name. And it’s hot and it’s humid and fuck I dropped my keys. Where’s the damn hallway light? My contacts need out. I need in, my bed. Right now. I feel like my drive home soundtrack should have been Alanis Moorisette’s Ironic even though I don’t even like her music, it’s just fitting right? Instead it’s more of the Coldplay variety which is fine, swell really, but perhaps a little too mellow. And when I accidentally hit 96.1 and get Delilah I just about throw up in my mouth a little.

So I get inside, slip into this new ditty I got to wear to bed. And I never, I mean pretty freakin rarely, do I sign online anymore. And the clincher of all of this, after months of time to move on, even more than a year really, is getting an IM from that ex. Really because why not wrap it all up with a conversation with him, right? Because on a night like this, it all seems to just have that way of not surprising me in the freaking least.

 

"Caution, the moving walkway is empty."

I’m sitting in an airport bar, in Chicago. Do you think it counts as visiting Chicago if I’m just in an airport bar? In that case, I could say I’ve been to Vegas, Atlanta, and a few other places only by airport association. Hmm. I’m drinking Bud Light drafts. I just started a tab. Why not? I have three hours until my flight. I just checked- it’s on time. Snow delays are around me, sucks. People seeming irked that their flight is delayed. I’m starting to get a buzz. Hell, I only had some scraps of a nutrigrain bar hours ago. I’m at Miller’s Pub. In front of me is the menu, which after more beer actually looks appealing. Chicken fingers. For $8.50? That’s a lot, right? For me it is. Four travelers to my right, mother in law is coming in for the weekend, I curled my hair to fly for the day, group of delayed flight passengers are chatting, loud. About American Idol. They think the judges should have some sort of veto over who is voted off. In Sanjaya’s case especially, they say. Who curls their hair to fly for the day? Really? I specifically plan comfy. Hair up, glasses, comfy shoes. Maybe she has a shorter flight. When I fly to NY I dress it up a little more. But still, curl my hair? Shit. The two next to me, they’re a couple, are comfy. In clothes and in their way. He just leaned over to her, and wrestle hugged her. Cute. And I’m writing about them. Write now.

It doesn’t feel like 11:35am. Shit. I woke up at 5:10 today. To my body, my Massachusetts body, it’s 12:35pm. It doesn’t feel like that either. It feels like it should be dark. Night. I’m several beers in, and this is what happens when you drink during the day. I remember college Saturdays, or Fridays after class getting out, starting drinking. A beer waiting for me by one of my roommates. Our neighbors already being half bombed. That seems so long ago now.

I want to call people. But all of my contact list are working. I just texted the new guy friend of mine. Yeah, I texted, and we all know my thoughts on that. But, I think what I sent, “I’m drinking a beer right now, sucks you’re working,” was text appropriate.

Oh wow. A really cute old man just ordered a Bloody Mary and a Gin and Tonic. His wife is over in the corner and she’s adorable. I need to look away. This will induce tears.

Oh, oh no. The bartender’s boyfriend broke his jaw playing hockey. She just said “snaggle tooth.” He can’t make out. It’s been five weeks. I just saw a picture of his zoomed in grill on her Motorola camera phone. Oh, now she wants me to see a video. Wow.

I guess I should wrap this up. Order some app, or something.

And another beer.

 

"Caution, the moving walkway is empty."

I’m sitting in an airport bar, in Chicago. Do you think it counts as visiting Chicago if I’m just in an airport bar? In that case, I could say I’ve been to Vegas, Atlanta, and a few other places only by airport association. Hmm. I’m drinking Bud Light drafts. I just started a tab. Why not? I have three hours until my flight. I just checked- it’s on time. Snow delays are around me, sucks. People seeming irked that their flight is delayed. I’m starting to get a buzz. Hell, I only had some scraps of a nutrigrain bar hours ago. I’m at Miller’s Pub. In front of me is the menu, which after more beer actually looks appealing. Chicken fingers. For $8.50? That’s a lot, right? For me it is. Four travelers to my right, mother in law is coming in for the weekend, I curled my hair to fly for the day, group of delayed flight passengers are chatting, loud. About American Idol. They think the judges should have some sort of veto over who is voted off. In Sanjaya’s case especially, they say. Who curls their hair to fly for the day? Really? I specifically plan comfy. Hair up, glasses, comfy shoes. Maybe she has a shorter flight. When I fly to NY I dress it up a little more. But still, curl my hair? Shit. The two next to me, they’re a couple, are comfy. In clothes and in their way. He just leaned over to her, and wrestle hugged her. Cute. And I’m writing about them. Write now.

It doesn’t feel like 11:35am. Shit. I woke up at 5:10 today. To my body, my Massachusetts body, it’s 12:35pm. It doesn’t feel like that either. It feels like it should be dark. Night. I’m several beers in, and this is what happens when you drink during the day. I remember college Saturdays, or Fridays after class getting out, starting drinking. A beer waiting for me by one of my roommates. Our neighbors already being half bombed. That seems so long ago now.

I want to call people. But all of my contact list are working. I just texted the new guy friend of mine. Yeah, I texted, and we all know my thoughts on that. But, I think what I sent, “I’m drinking a beer right now, sucks you’re working,” was text appropriate.

Oh wow. A really cute old man just ordered a Bloody Mary and a Gin and Tonic. His wife is over in the corner and she’s adorable. I need to look away. This will induce tears.

Oh, oh no. The bartender’s boyfriend broke his jaw playing hockey. She just said “snaggle tooth.” He can’t make out. It’s been five weeks. I just saw a picture of his zoomed in grill on her Motorola camera phone. Oh, now she wants me to see a video. Wow.

I guess I should wrap this up. Order some app, or something.

And another beer.

 

I need to stop this

I’m an idiot. I do this every time. I can’t complain, because I do it to myself. I put my damn self into this situation, and then I whine about it. I whine, and I cry, because I don’t know what to do with myself after it happens. I could prevent it though. Why don’t I? Why not avoid the calls, the freaking looking for you here, or there? Why do would I do that?? Why do I do this? I am such a stupid shit for this, and have no right to whine about it because it’s preventable. It’s something I have control over. I have been told, before, that in life, there are some things that you just have no control over. I have control over this. Worry about things which you have control over. I have control over me whining about feeling like THIS.

Alone. Lonely. Without YOU. And it’s not even the YOU that I’m missing it’s the THING that we had. The relationship and the GOOD of it. None of the bad. And when this happens? I think of the good, not the bad. Why is it just the good I think of? How is that fair? Why would my mind do that to me, filter out the bad? As a defense mechanism type thing? F that. I need the bad. I NEED the bad. To remind me. To remember. To confirm. To assure me that I did make the decision based on the bad. The bad outweighed the good. The bad outweighed the good. (repition will make me believe)…

At times like these, shit, the good is all over the place. Why? Why can’t the bad the here, all of the time? Must the good be in my face all the time? It doesn’t help. It doesn’t help for us to talk, for me to initiate, to call, to send this or that and pretend. It’s pretending. That’s what it is. I think I’m ready for it; I over and over convince myself that now, I am ready. That you’ve moved on so I should be too. And I have. In so many ways. But here it is, one year later and so much has changed…
Yet….
God.

 

I need to stop this

I’m an idiot. I do this every time. I can’t complain, because I do it to myself. I put my damn self into this situation, and then I whine about it. I whine, and I cry, because I don’t know what to do with myself after it happens. I could prevent it though. Why don’t I? Why not avoid the calls, the freaking looking for you here, or there? Why do would I do that?? Why do I do this? I am such a stupid shit for this, and have no right to whine about it because it’s preventable. It’s something I have control over. I have been told, before, that in life, there are some things that you just have no control over. I have control over this. Worry about things which you have control over. I have control over me whining about feeling like THIS.

Alone. Lonely. Without YOU. And it’s not even the YOU that I’m missing it’s the THING that we had. The relationship and the GOOD of it. None of the bad. And when this happens? I think of the good, not the bad. Why is it just the good I think of? How is that fair? Why would my mind do that to me, filter out the bad? As a defense mechanism type thing? F that. I need the bad. I NEED the bad. To remind me. To remember. To confirm. To assure me that I did make the decision based on the bad. The bad outweighed the good. The bad outweighed the good. (repition will make me believe)…

At times like these, shit, the good is all over the place. Why? Why can’t the bad the here, all of the time? Must the good be in my face all the time? It doesn’t help. It doesn’t help for us to talk, for me to initiate, to call, to send this or that and pretend. It’s pretending. That’s what it is. I think I’m ready for it; I over and over convince myself that now, I am ready. That you’ve moved on so I should be too. And I have. In so many ways. But here it is, one year later and so much has changed…
Yet….
God.