Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

What I Have Learned from August

I just changed my calendar to the month of September, and I thought to myself, what better way to sum up the month than to do a little retrospect on my blog? I think that this will be a regular feature each end-of-the-month. So, here is what August has taught me...

A* and I learned this the hard way, when we came out in the morning to go to work and discovered that someone had broken into our car and taken the entire collection (over 150) of our CD's. They had also somehow messed with the window, in order to get in, and it shattered into a million pieces. Some, I migh add, landed on my arm and I very nearly got sliced. The shattered window leads to the second thing that I learned.

Poor A*, he tries so hard. He decided that it would be cheaper to get a window and put it in himself, rather than pay someone to do it. So he got a really good deal, and was very excited. He spent all morning putting it in, and was so cute and proud when he picked me up and could show off his handywork. However, on the way home from dinner last night, I made the mistake of rolling down the window a crack, and it got stuck that way. A* managed to get it to go back up, but he told me not to roll down the window anymore, "just to be safe". He is going to find the right size window this weekend, and try it again.

In fact, they make a very big wrong, as I discovered on A*'s birthday, as I was leaning over a bridge by the side of the road throwing up stuff that I ate in the third grade. You would think by this time I would know my limit, but no, I just go sailing right past it. I race past tipsy, quickly meet up with buzzed, wave a hello to drunk, and settle down into inebriated, every single time.

I know, I know, I've said this before, but yesterday I was written up for~ A.) Talking. B.) Personal phone calls and C.) Using the Internet for non-work related things. Okay, first of all I don't sit out here talking to myself, I am obviously talking to other people, and I am the only one who ever gets in trouble. Second of all, my mom HAD to call me yesterday and tell me the latest family gossip. So what if it took up 25 minutes of my time? I was still working. Third, well, sometimes I need a break from the same exact thing over and over, and I have to distract myself with internet breaks. I mean, how else would I be able to keep up with my blogging? I think if they read some, they would understand.

I am the first to admit that I am no chef. But for A*, I was willing to make an exception, and tried to make him a fantastic marble cake. First time baking a cake. No one told me that you have to wait before you frost. I took the cake out of the oven and immeditely frosted it. I don't have time to wait for things to cool. So all the icing ran down into the cake. But hey, it still tasted good.

And finally...

I am ready for crisp, cool nights and pleasant days, when you can safetly wear jeans and a sweater and be perfectly comfortable. I know that many will not agree with me, since it means the end of summer, but I don't handle the heat very well, and I am ready for the fall.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

A*'s Birthday Celebration

Well, this past weekend was my A*'s 25th birthday. We partied pretty hard! Let me tell you about it...
On Friday we decided to take the day off of work because after all, who can work when it is almost their birthday, or almost their boyfriend's birthday? I took him to the Hard Rock Cafe in our city, because he has never been to one and I thought that everyone should at least experience sky high prices and ear splitting music at least once in their lifetime. We got a dish called "Twisted Mac And Cheese" and it was $11. WTF?? I can make Kraft mac and cheese for 99 cents. But, whatever. I think that he enjoyed it.
Saturday we went out with some friends. We started off at home, with A*'s sister, and drank a couple of Smirnoff's. We call this "pregaming" and the idea behind it is so that you don't spend as much money at the bar. This method doesn't usually work for us, though. So then we went to a little neighborhood bar, and commenced doing shots. I think that I had a couple of vodka and cranberries and a couple shots, but one can only guess. I know that at one point A* came up to me and my friend and asked me if I realized that I had just told her every detail of the sex that we had earlier that day. I did realize, and even if I hadn't been drinking, I would have still told her about it, because she is my best friend. Guys just don't understand this, why we need to tell all. Then we decided that we would have more fun at a little livlier bar, so we went downtown. The first bar that we hit, I got a drink, pranced onto the dance floor, and promptly fell off of it. In my defense, I probably would have fallen anyway, because it wasn't a clear drop. I mean, you couldn't see where the floor was uneven. But at this point I was feeling very little pain, so I just laughed it off and pretended that I didn't just fall on my face in front of lots of people. Then we went to another bar, where I sat on a stage and drunkenly swayed back and forth. I don't even know if I was hanging out with A*, I have no idea where he was. A large man came up behind me and started grinding into my behind, without my knowledge. A*'s sister, who is very tough and who I am very glad is on my side, went over to the big man and stuck her hand in his face. "Oh no!!" she yelled at him, and steered me away. I thought it was funny, but shortly after this happened I got the feeling. You all know that feeling. I told A* that I needed some fresh air. As soon as said fresh air hit me, I vomitted all over the side of a bridge. Then I leaned in it, and vomitted again. A* led me to a new spot, and I vomitted again. Then A*, who wasn't thinking very clearly himself, left me sitting on a curb in between two SUV's while he went to find his siter, who was our ride. He did, however, hand me his pocket knife and very seriously told me that if anyone messed with me, I should "cut them." He even opened it for me. So I am sitting on the curb, vomit on my chin and shirt, swaying back and forth, with an open knife pointing skyward. A*'s sister said that when she came outside, I had both arms bracing myself against the SUV's, and it took two people to get me to stand up. We went home, and I passed out on the couch.
The next day, I woke up with, as you can imagine, a hangover from hell. I got out of bed, threw up again, and had to immediately get into the shower because the sour smell of throw up was in my hair and I could smell it every time that I moved. Then I took 3 asprin, and then I went back to bed. When I got up the second time, I felt much better, and commenced to cooking my very first real meal. I am not a cook. I have never claimed to be. Therefore, it was to be expected that I put icing on the cake immediately after I took it out of the oven. I didn't know that you had to have decorating tips to write stuff on the cake, so A* got a big white blob on his melting icing. Oops. It still tasted great, though, and that is all that matters. A*'s family came over and all were very impressed with my domesticity. I was too. A* fell asleep on the couch at 7 that night, and that was the end of the birthday celebration.
Thank God it only comes once a year.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Attack of the Giant Cricket/Beetle

Last night A* and I were sitting together on the couch watching TV, like any normal Wednesday night. I had my feet up in his lap. He grinned suddenly, and I asked him what he was smiling about.
"I think that Belle (one of our cats) just rubbed against my leg and it tickled."
Not one to ever pass up an opportunity to pet my cats and tell them how adorable they are, I leaned over and looked on the floor to see her. Much to my shock and disbelief, there was no cat down there. No, there was the biggest bug that I have ever seen in my whole life casually making its way across the carpet. I immediately screamed at the top of my lungs and pointed, and then, like a scratched CD, I started repeating "EW, EW, EW..." over and over.
I have never seen A* move that fast in my life. He leaped from the couch to a bug-free area. At this point, he didn't even know what was going on, but he knew from the look on my face that this was a matter of life or death.
"What is it?" he gasped, putting a hand over his heart.
"A bug! Right there! Get it, get it, get it, get it!!" I yelled at him. I am prisoner on the couch as of this time, because I couldn't put my feet down on the floor in case of bug attack.
A* goes in the bathroom and gets a tiny piece of toilet paper. I don't think that he realized the magnitude of the bug. I mean, this was a giant, probably man-eating bug. Toilet paper is not going to stop it. I was ready for bombs and missles, followed by an immediate evacuation of the house. But A* gets toilet paper.
THEN he stands at the edge of the couch and calls the cats. Meanwhile, the bug could be God knows where and I am still stuck on the couch. A* is talking to the cats, telling them that they should get the bug, c'mon, get the bug, it's a snack for you! Not being stupid, the cats knew better than to mess with this kind of creature. They took one look and took off for another room. In my personal opinion, A* was just trying to get someone else to do his dirty work for him. I think that he wanted them to kill the bug so that he wouldn't have to. But obviously, this plan wasn't working. Also, by this time the bug has been on the loose for way too long and I am getting very agitated.
"JUST KILL THE F***ING BUG!!!!" I screamed with all my might. And he did.

I made him take it outside to throw it away, because I was terrified that it might come back to life and try to crawl up from the bowels of the toilet or get out of the trash and come and find me. I also made him do a thourough check of our room before we went to bed. And folks, this is why I love A*. Most men would pretend that they did a thourough check, when really all they did was walk into the bedroom, scratch themselves, and come out pronouncing the room bug-free. But not my A*, who is a closet wuss when it comes to bugs. When I came into our room ready for bed after brushing my teeth, he had all the sheets off the bed and was shaking them out with all of his might. He took the pillows out of their cases and shook those out too. Then, hold your breath ladies, he put all the covers back on NEATLY and perfectly. He assured me that there were no bugs, and I believed him. That is why I love A*.