In a Flash like That, Recognize I’m back

I am sorry to all 54 or so of my followers for my absence the last 28 days and the fact that all of the posts prior to that were just blogging about how I really needed to blog. As the wise rapper T.I. once said, “I’m back.”  Life has finally settled down and my thoughts have cleared out well enough that I can put them into words again.  Or at least in some capacity.  Let’s see how far we get.

Over the course of the last month, I left my gym job and have become a full time waitress.  And it has been great.  I’ve finally gotten the knack of knowing what I need to do and when to do it, I’ve made some nice new work friends, I’ve gotten on the good side of the kitchen so I get free food, and I’ve sweet talked at least 10 people into starting a fantasy football league.  I’m in.

It’s exciting to start to feel like ‘me’ again, as cliche as that may sound.  Misery drains your energy and your feeling of self worth and your desire to live your life, and no one should live that way.  I’m no expert on happiness, but I know the difference between being happy and wanting to hide in your closet every day of the week to avoid the rest of the world and I now know that the former is preferred.  I’m not 100% recovered yet, but at least I’m on the way.

I’m having a wonderfully relaxed couple of days and someone just walked by me and said “I like the way you work!”  Let’s set the stage:  I’m in a hotel lobby which is full of players from my favorite football team.  I’m wearing leggings and a sweatshirt.  I’m drinking a Blue Moon and listening to country music.  My feet are up on the chair next to me and I’m blogging.  I love that this was just deemed “work.”  Because I do have a job where I get paid which I very much enjoy and I love to keep up with my blog when I have time.  And it’s obviously going to be a book deal one day, right?  What’s that silly quote?  Something like, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life?”  Well if that’s the case right now, I love working.

Enough with the sappy emo nonsense.  Let’s jot down what else has happened over my blog-less 28 days:

One: Darcy turned two years old!! Can you believe it?!  Despite her insistence on running into traffic or massive treat consumption, she has managed to survive for two whole years!  Clearly there was a celebration…

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Two: I met my favorite baseball player of all time, Darren Daulton.  I couldn’t speak to him for a long time.  Eventually I did, but mainly I just stared and waved like the biggest nerd ever.  But he was really nice and took a picture with my brother and me, with which I have wallpapered my room.

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Three: I had a fabulous weekend in our Nation’s capital with my college friends.  An imperative member was missing (that’s you Bailey!) but there’s nothing like getting together with people you have such a strong history with.  It was so much fun.

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Four: I went to the Kenny Chesney concert.  I thought it was good but not great.  He needs to get some tips from Taylor Swift.

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Five: My parents celebrated their 30 year wedding anniversary by spending it with my brothers and me and one of the best meals we have ever had.  Clearly the night was topped off with celebratory baby Guinness shots… I mean, how else would the Irish celebrate?

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Five: I stopped drinking whiskey!  That doesn’t help a ton but does make things a little better.  It didn’t help me learn to count any better apparently

Six: I cleaned my room, messed it up again, cleaned it again… it’s all been a vicious cycle

Seven: I have lost three shoes from three different pairs.  So there were once six shoes – there are now three shoes, one of each.

Eight: I re-watched the first season of True Detective rather than trying to force myself into the second season.  Fact – it’s even better the second time.  I love Louisiana

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I think those are the most earth shattering things to mention.  I hope everyone else has had as great a 28 days as I have!! And don’t worry, I’m really back – get ready, the rest of the summer is going to be blog worthy!

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Not the Girl I Used to Be

I prided myself in college for my deep connection with my Irish roots and the way I could hold my alcohol. Whether or not I was fun to hang out with, I’ll let my college friends attest to, but I had no problem closing down a bar and waking up relatively hang-over free. I’m guessing they had a pretty good time too. 

  

   

I’ve often heard the age old saying “I’m no spring chicken” or “I just can’t party like I used to” and felt terrible for whomever made such an admittance. I would never be that person. At least not until I was gainfully employed with a dreamy doctor husband and perfect children and didn’t have time to over indulge in tequila shots because of my successful Doggie Daycare side business and fabulous dinner parties. 

And I was wrong.

I hate being wrong. Especially in situations like this. I didn’t open my eyes until noon yesterday because I said ‘yes’ to Fireball shots on Wednesday night. At one time- Fireball only whispered temptations in my ears and introduced me to one of my best friends, Digornio Rising Crust. Now, it comes through like a Mac truck and I’m the pavement. 

  

The only thing worse than a vicious hangover is checking your phone the next morning. When you’re in the early stages of dating is when it’s the worst. Incoherent text messages. Outgoing calls. Outgoing calls long enough to imply you left a voicemail. Ouch. You can only use the excuse ‘oh I meant to call (insert name that begins with the same initial- ideally another guy to make them jealous- even though they’re probably just freaked out- here) and must have hit the wrong name!’ So many times. 

 
Pictures can also be dangerous. Especially if you take photos with your girlfriends in the bathroom of the bar and your drunk eyes see the most gorgeous woman in the world so you decide you should send it to any and all potential suitors out there. Like the following. To my knowledge this wasn’t sent out, due to all of our lack of potential suitors- but I hate bathroom selfies in real life. I hate selfies in general. And taking a picture in the bathroom is just stupid. But apparently, my drunk alter ego deemed this the ideal way to celebrate a triple crown win- notice It was so exciting that I’m still holding soap- TAKE IT RIGHT NOW WE ARE EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL BEFORE WE WASH OUR HANDS!!   

I guess I’m just sad because I thought I would at least carry my strong tolerance through my 20s. And it isn’t going to happen. But maybe it’s for the best. I’ll cut back on drunk dials and silly selfies and harsh hangovers. I guess I’m just not the girl I used to be. I blame you entirely, Fireball. 

  

Happy Birthday, Roommate!!

Good roommates are hard to come by.  My biggest nightmare is a dirty roommate who doesn’t drink and has anger issues.  Fortunately, I live with the opposite of that.   Here are a couple of things about my Roommate that you should know:

– When we met, I had had it with roommates.  I wanted to live alone or with a guy.  A mutual friend introduced us and told me she was the closest I would get to living with a guy.  And it’s true.  Especially now that I don’t have a job.  Roommate wakes up and goes to work every day and I sit around and sometimes cook, rarely but sometimes clean and wait for her to get home to tell me what the outside world is like.  It’s a great balance that I think I enjoy a lot more than she does.

Hooray!!

Hooray!!

– She’s super organized.  I don’t really believe in organization because I think it’s easier to find your clothes when they’re already on your floor.  Once, she sneaked (again – snuck, not a word) into my room and put together a shelf and organized my shoes.  When I load the dishwasher she waits until I leave the room and does it again – and never even complains.  It’s great because she would prefer I didn’t unload the dishwasher so she doesn’t have to re-do the Tupperware drawer.  This is the difference between our rooms when we pack:

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– She loves to drink.  She’s not the type to come home at night and open a bottle of wine because she had a rough Tuesday.  But I am.  I’m the type to come home and open a bottle of wine no matter what kind of Tuesday it is.  But I never have to worry about drinking alone because she will ALWAYS drink with you.  We’ve hit the point after all of these years when I say “do you want a glass” and she laughs and rolls her eyes.  Which means yes.  On the slim chance that she says no, I pour it anyway.  We live by the firm belief of no wine left behind.

See those empty bottles... They were full before my Roommate got to them

See those empty bottles… They were full before my Roommate got to them

– She’s really creative.  Whenever I need to cut something in a straight line, she does it for me.

– She’s a great listener.  When you put a glass of wine in front of her and start venting – she’ll sit there for hours.  Between listening to me complain about my job or dating, she deserves an award.


There are some things wrong with my roommate that you should know too:

– Her clothes are better than mine.  She’s been fashion forward since she was a baby…

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Just a demonstration of her fantastic fashion sense

Fantastic fashion sense

– She eats the most random meals so there is never food to steal

– She’s obsessed with reality television to the point that she’s winning her Bachelor Fantasy League (yes- that is a thing)

Always drinking...

Always drinking…

– She’s a natural athlete.  She runs faster than me.  Once I accidentally missed a mile of a 5K and beat her but other than that she would win in a race.

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Yes, she hydrates after exercising with wine…

– Darcy likes her more than me.  She thinks Roommate is the cool-aunt and I’m the un-fun mom.  It brings out a jealous side of me that I’m not proud of.

Sometimes they get matching manis

Sometimes they get matching manis

What I’m trying to say is , it’s hard to find an organized-handicapped animal accepting-semi alcoholic who needs a place to live at the same time that you do.  I guess I just lucked out.  Happy Birthday Roommate!  I can’t wait to celebrate you being two years older than me for the next 25 days!

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Happy Memorial Day, Y’all

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Memorial Day weekend for me is filled with family members, cases upon cases of Corona, reading, country music and massive amounts of College Boys.  My parents rent a house down the shore and it’s over taken by my youngest brother’s college friends, high school friends, baseball friends, illegal friends, underaged friends, hungry friends, alcoholic friends, cute friends, vagabond friends, etc…

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My mother spends the majority of her vacation cooking for a revolving door of young men, half of whom are introduced to her as they enter the kitchen.  “Mom – you know (insert name here) from (insert the time in my brother’s life when he was last relevant.)  Can he have breakfast too?”

My father has assumed the vital role of beer supplier.  He brings down a car full of cases when they arrive and still spends each morning traveling to the nearest beer distributor to replenish the depleted supply.  Keeping a refrigerator stocked with beer in a house full of boys is like trying to keep your gas tank full during a road trip.  Literally impossible.

My parents do a decent job of staying out of the boy’s line of fire.  The master bedroom is usually upstairs along with the kitchen and the downstairs is transformed into a smelly, empty beer can filled, tank top infested frat house.  You’ll find plenty of empty Wawa bags, askew towels, sand, Bose speakers, etc.  What you won’t find is someone’s cell phone, someone else’s license, someone’s wallet, or someone’s keys – because every one of them has lost at least one item that is imperative to their trip.

If you make the silly decision to venture down, you’ll hear rumblings of stories that start with “Dude I was so blacked out last night” or “Uh, no, she is not good looking” or “Did I get tan today?” When they come upstairs it’s more like “Is there any food?”  or “Yo Dad, can I get the (insert something valuable that was lost here – keys, money, phone charger.)”

One thing is for sure – these kids are fun.  They are a lot of fun.  And they don’t judge me for always having a beer in my hand.  I may be retired but that doesn’t mean I can’t use “I’m on vacation” as a reasonable excuse to drink all day on the beach. My 21 year old brother lost his license almost immediately upon the arrival of Memorial Day weekend.  As a result, the college boys came out to the bar with my other brother and friend and me last night since we figured that by banding together we could sweet talk him into the bar.  Power in numbers.  Numbers of alcoholic beverages that had boosted our confidence.  But it worked.  And once inside it was great.  The College Boys knew everyone who walked by. The bar tender was someone’s little league basketball coach.  The shady guy at the end of the bar was someone’s sister’s high school boyfriend, the girl on the patio was someone’s prom date. The more you know the more drinks that are handed to you.  Well done, College Boys.

We made it in!

We made it in!

Maybe I give them a hard time for being lazy and smelly because I’m jealous.  I don’t have a revolving door of friends taking over my parents vacation home over the course of the weekend.  But that’s okay.  It’s great to watch and makes you feel so clean and pulled together.  Thank you College Boys – you sure know how to make a day off to salute our military awfully entertaining.

Everyone is a Witness

I am super tired this morning because I stayed up way too late watching Baltimore rioting coverage and Scandal on Netflix.  Another beauty of Netflix – you can watch it on your laptop/iPad/iPhone – so you can watch the news on the television at the same time.  Geez Louise…

Anyway – as a result there’s a curfew in Baltimore and a ban on Scandal in my house for today.  We’re calling it ‘No Netflix Tuesday.’

There is something that comes with the territory of binge-watching shows.  You feel like you’re a star player.  You’re so invested that you forget it isn’t your life.  It isn’t real.  The impact is different depending on the genre of show and how you’re feeling that day.  When I binge-watch Friends, I get discouraged when I make a joke later and there isn’t generated laughter that fills the room.  I want my friends to know what I’m thinking with a look.  And I want to be able to storm into the apartment across the hall and tell them to quiet the chick and the duck!  But a lot of times my Roommate just thinks I’m crazy and we do not have enough of a relationship with our crazy French neighbors that I could just go into their apartment – nor would I want to.  Regardless – I still like to pretend that I wake up in the morning with the life of Rachel Green.  We are a lot alike; she didn’t have a job at one point – and I’m pretty positive that if it had been 20 years later she would have spent her time writing a blog.  And we pretty much look exactly the same – especially when complaining.

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All of the Blue Bloods and Law and Order: SVU episodes that I’ve watched while drinking wine and laying on my couch have brought me to the conclusion that I would be a great detective.  I think I’d be a solid “good cop” and always be able to relate to my victims but have the knack of being ruthless and scrappy with my suspects.

There we are.  Just three detectives.  Solving crime and saving lives.

There we are. Just three detectives. Solving crime and saving lives.

Anytime I binge-watch detective shows everyone around me becomes a witness.  Like the construction worker who I passed when walking to my car one day.  If I went missing – Benson and Stabler are definitely going to come across him and if they don’t have a picture of me they’ll show him a picture of Jennifer Aniston (because of the resemblance) and he’ll say “Yea I saw her – it was two days and six hours ago – she was walkin’ her dog.  Seemed scared.  She had a look on her face – something musta’ spooked her!” And he’ll tell them this all while he’s digging up the road and going about his day job.

Once, a couple of years ago, I was alone at my parents house and spent a full Sunday watching 8 hours of Law and Order: SVU.  I was sort of uncomfortable when I went to bed but didn’t think much of it.  All of the sudden, at 2:00 AM, my car alarm started going off.  And I panicked!  I was definitely about to become the next victim – the next news story that the show loosely depicts in a new episode.  I locked myself in my closet and called the police.  I was practically in tears and I told them that my car alarm went off and I was scared and I might need a detective and someone was going to break in and you can find me in the back of my closet.

Imagine being on the other end of that call.  I remember them asking me if I was home alone and I said yes so they said they would send someone over.  But when I opened the door the (SUPER cute) cop looked at me like I was crazy.  They definitely thought I was a child.  They probably had the forms ready to arrest my parents for leaving their little girl home alone and had a car seat in the back ready to take me to foster care.  Most people would go downstairs, click their car keys, turn off the alarm and go back to sleep.  But I had a mental breakdown and called the police all because I had watched too much SVU that day.  Super cute cop told me I should probably just put my car in the garage and go back to sleep.

Live and learn.

Currently, I’m dealing with living in Scandal. I feel like the eerie background music should be following me around.  Without it – things seem eerily silent… I’ve felt irrationally stressed out that the key players keep so many things from each other.  If they would just communicate their thoughts and feelings better half of their victims would be alive right now!  I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth last night and was waiting for a trained assassin to be hiding in my shower – waiting to kill me – or waiting to protect me.  It’s so hard to trust the people in your shower anymore.

I think this probably proves why it’s important to impose No Netflix Tuesday.  I already feel more productive and I think it’s just because I don’t think Olivia Pope is following me around.

Good luck binge watchers – may all of your days be as productive as those detectives who solve the most complex crimes in one hour.