Jan 142015

It’s Wednesday, and it all at once feels like “HOW DID WE GET HERE SO SOON?!” and also “WHEN WILL THIS WEEK END?!” Not doing very well as far as “sentence structure” and “cognizant thoughts” go, so let’s bullet point the shit out of today, shall we?

  • I’m still on my P.Eugene kick. Last night, I did a Gospel Celebration workout that involved some light salsa moves and I was doing fine until Paul cried, “NOW GRAB YOUR PARTNER!” and I didn’t HAVE a partner because ASSHOLE HENRY wouldn’t get the FUCK off the couch and be a fucking PARTNER for once in his life, so I had to goddamn shadow dance and I was so pissed. Then there was a step that required me to “pivot” and that is how I learned that I’m not capable of pivoting.
    • This morning, I told Glenn that I salsa’d with Paul last night and for a split second, he looked concerned. “WHERE?!” he asked, like he thought I had tracked down Paul and whipped him until he finally did a one-on-one workout with me.”In my living room,” I answered and then he looked relieved. LIKE PAUL COULDN’T HAVE BEEN IN MY LIVING ROOM I GUESS?
    • Obviously.
  • Also last night, I made Henry watch the premier of Eye Candy on MTV and he is so hooked, you guys. I CAN’T BELIEVE BEN DIED ALREADY IN THE FIRST EPISODE! Oh shit, I spoiled it.
  • Speaking of MTV shows, here is a picture of Henry watching The Challenge last week. It always starts out like, “I DON’T WANT TO WATCH, I HATE THESE SHOWS” and then a few minutes in, he’s making casual observations, like, “I wonder where Evan has been?” and “HOW DOES JORDAN DO THAT WHEN HE HAS A DEFORMED HAND!?” But seriously, this season of the Challenge is painful for my heart. Seeing Diem and Knight on TV was really upsetting, knowing that soon after this season was filmed, they died. Diem says at one point that she wants to win because she needs the money for a surrogate, since her ovarian cancer was preventing her from having children. OW MY HEART.


  • I was really excited to do nothing over the weekend. Nothing as in: no painting, etc. Kristy and Janna came over Saturday night and it was RELAXING! We laughed a lot and made Henry bring us drinks and then the house almost burnt down because I lit a super ambitious candle in the bathroom and thank god Henry bought new smoke detectors right before Thanksgiving after 15 years of living in a house without them (when I lived alone I thought they were stupid because they were always beeping so I ripped them off the ceiling) because there was enough smoke to set one of those sumbitches off! Henry and I looked at each and then I immediately shouted, “CANDLE! I LIT A CANDLE IN THE BATHROOM!” One of the soap holders on the sink was completely blackened but everything else seemed OK. It was exciting! Come hang out at my house, where it’s always loud and the possibility of getting charred is a real thing.
  • Apparently, we’re doing a Biggest Loser thing in our department and it starts tomorrow. At first I was like, “No” because I don’t want to get weighed in front of anyone (#foreverfat) but then I actually finished reading an email for once in my life and realized that we can keep our weight to ourselves and just use percentages.
    • Whatever that means.
      • There were instructions but I didn’t click the link, so I guess technically I didn’t really read the whole email.
    • I feel bad for the other competitors. Now that I’ve got Paul to the Eug in my life, they don’t stand a chance. Jesus is going to carry me over that finish line. (And probably Henry, too, because I’m sure I’m going to injure myself on the path to the victory.)



  • I don’t stay with Chooch anymore for his piano lesson (I think I told you this already, Blog) because I apparently was too much of a distraction, so now Henry and I get to run around town for a full hour and do whatever the fuck we want! Except for basically anything I suggest, because Henry is an asshole. But it was OK for us to swing by East End Brewery last Saturday, because it was HIS idea. God forbid a growler sit empty in our house. He tried to sweeten the pot  by reminding me that Commonplace Coffee shares a space with East End Brewery and now that I’m officially Keurig-free, I’m always in need of more hipster coffee to make Henry’s eyes roll. First though, we went to the East End side of the building and while Henry slurped various beer samples into his mustachioed lips, I must have looked pretty bored because one of the guys behind the counter slid a sample of some dark brown, probably-disgusting beer-stuff over to me. “Here, you need this” he said with confidence, and then walked away. At first, I was like, “Oh really? He’s that sure I’m going to love this that he doesn’t even need to watch?” Ugh, beer experts are their own breed. I took a tentative dip with my tongue and when it didn’t melt off, I went off for a second slightly larger sip. “Oh my god,” I side-whispered to Henry, who was busy pretending like he definitely detected the hidden note of Ethiopian warrior sweat in whatever dumb beer he was sampling. “I like this!” I said with bewilderment. “No you don’t,” Henry argued, turning back to his lame sample and pretending like he has some refined palate and didn’t just eat a package of Slim Jims and Moonpies in the car that morning. But I did, and I told the beer guys this, explaining that I HATE BEER USUALLY. The one guy said he was shocked that I liked it then, but apparently it gestated in some wine cask somewhere, so I guess that did the trick for me. Henry, seeing that I had charmed the guys and wanting to turn the attention back on himself, told them that he would take a mini growler of the beer that I liked, which is appropriately named SKETCHY.
    • I felt really guilty about this, though. Like, almost as guilty as the time I mistakenly made fun of Paul Eugene (before I realized that he is actually awesome and I would follow him into the desert, if you know what I’m saying, and if you do please explain it to me because I just lost myself). You see, this one time…years and years ago (it was 2007, so whatever year-count that would be) Janna, Kara, and I went to a vegetarian dinner at the Bigelow Grill, and there was also a beer-pairing presented by the owner of the East End Brewery himself, Scott. Back then, I had even less tolerance for beer as I do now. I didn’t even like wheat beers or shandies then (YES I KNOW THAT’S NOT REAL BEER), so naturally, when it was time for me to write about the experience, I pulled out all of the meanest, nastiest analogies I could muster. Because you know what jerks do when we don’t understand something. We mock it.  Scott ended up finding my blog post and rather than sue me for defamation, he actually said my XXX-rated review amused him and asked if he could post the link in his newsletter. (God, why couldn’t the Catholic school moms have reacted the same?) So I contacted him through the brewery’s website and ate crow. All these years later! He replied and asked if he could put my apology on the website and I’m like, sure why not?! I can think of worse ways to make an ass of myself.
      • The moral of this story is that sometimes it’s OK to gives things another chance and then OMG admit that you were wrong. Scott and I are basically BBFs now.
        • He doesn’t know yet, but he’ll find out when he gets the other half of the best friend pendant in the mail.
    • Speaking of beer and Kristy, when she came over on Saturday, she brought one of those Rogue beers that I always wish I liked because the bottles are so wonderful (I actually bought one years ago at Jungle Jim’s in Cincinnati because the guy on the front looked like Henry). This one was supposed to taste like some kind of lemon donut, but I couldn’t stop feeling like I was swishing a mouthful of Lysol. Two hours later, Henry was like, “JUST GIVE ME THAT GLASS, I KNOW YOU’RE NOT GOING TO FINISH IT” and I was like, “YES I AM BECAUSE I THINK I LIKE IT NOW.” Sometimes it just takes me a long time to like something, OK? Look, it took me 10 years to like Henry.
  • I found this tracklist for a mixtape I made in….1999 or 2000? I haven’t listened to 90% of those songs probably since then. (Totally unapologetic about that Fuel song. That was my JAM. I’m going to put it on right now and I guarantee that I will get choked up. It reminds me of bartending school!)
    • A shocking amount of things remind me of bartending school, which is odd considering it was literally only a 2 week course.
    • Yep. I’m choked up. AND IF I CAN’T FIND MY WAY BACK TO ME…


  • Chooch has been such a little fucking brat all week and then it dawned on me last night that it’s because he needs a haircut. When his hair gets all shaggy-like, he turns into a FUCKING MONSTER OMG HELP ME (he and Henry are currently arguing as I type this). So tomorrow he’s going to get his hair cut and I’m super stoked about this. TIME TO GOOGLE PICTURES OF DAVID BECKHAM.
    • That’s my go-to hair model for Chooch’s head.
  • In the same tin I found that mixtape tracklist, I also found these old Penguins tickets and it made me feel so warm and fuzzy. My family had season tickets back in the day but then my mom stupidly got rid of them about 10 years ago. BECAUSE SHE HATES ME.
    • There were also a shitload of concert tickets in there, and one was from a White Stripes show we went to in 2002 at Metropol, which I’ll never forget because I was like, “WE HAVE TO GO SEE THIS BAND THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SO GREAT.” (Clearly this was before they became MTV darlings.) I was bored out of my mind. They didn’t impress me then, and they don’t impress me now.
    • Speaking of the Penguins and Fuel, I can’t listen to “Hemorrhage” without thinking of them losing in the Stanley Cup finals of 2008. We usually keep the X (Pittsburgh’s alternative station and the official station for the Pens broadcast) on in our room during hockey season, and I remember waking up the day after they lost the Cup and “Hemorrhage” was on. I started crying so hard, like I had just broken up with a guy. (Or, you know, Henry.) Jesus, I was WRECKED!
      • You would think I’m a huge Fuel fan after all  this but I swear I’m not. I saw them live once ever, at one of the X Fests, and the singer (Brett) was so awful and obnoxious. Once was enough for this broad.


  • I want to have some kind of monthly thing at my house, like a book club but not a book club because I don’t have the downtime to read one book a month (this makes me sad, too). Maybe like…a QUILTING BEE? I don’t know. Local friends, wanna come hang out at my house once a month under the pretense of “doing a thing”? Even if we just gossip about Henry. That could be OK fun. No OMG wait I’m so dumb, the answer was right in front of me—LET’S HAVE A PAUL EUGENE WORKOUT NIGHT!!
  • Hey look, Henry actually framed some of my posters and hung them! But they’re slightly uneven and he still hasn’t fixed that yet.


Well guys, the Law Firm Biggest Loser challenge starts tomorrow, and PE can’t work my ass out if I’m sitting on it. SO SAY GOODBYE.

  6 Responses to “Wednesday What-Fors”

  1. I loled at the beer part. what a great guy. if someone had found a post I wrote about them, I would probably delete my blog and burn the computer just to be safe. also I am jealous of your handwriting. also also if you have room in your quilting bee for another, I would love to join. trying to be more social this year instead of sitting on my couch and ignoring the existence of an outside world.

  2. What the fuck is a quilting bee? Do you actually make quilts? Or is that just a thing that it’s called?

    I hate beer. When I did drink, if beer was the only option, I’d end up getting plowed out of my mind because I hated the taste of it so bad that I’d chug a whole can at one time. This made complete sense in my dumb head.

  3. I started to write down the parts that made me cry, but I had to stop because I was quoting the entire post.

    A quilting bee, FUCK YEAH! Just like in the Little House on the Prairie books! They had all kinds of bees in there, and fun Socials. What a cool way to beat the winter blahs–I fully endorse your bid on having Socials at your house. I would SO come over and go Paul Eugene workouts with you.

    I’ll bet you’re burning so many calories with Paul Eugene. Sending those calories STRAIGHT TO HELL, PRAISE THE LORD.

    Erin Ingalls Wilder. THINK of the bees you could have. Spelling bees and painting bees, and Henry could give simulated flight lessons and boat steering lectures and serve appetizers to everybody. And no beer would be served.

    Poo on blah January.

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