29 June 2007

So very sore.

I took the day off work yesterday to help my sister and nephew move into their new pad. We were at it for nearly eight hours. My arms are so sore today that I very nearly couldn't get my arms around behind me to fasten my bra. I'm amazed I can type.

At least we had a lovely day for it. We moved them into the apartment they are vacating the day Korey Stringer died. That day was not so lovely.

Still, there was something immensely satisfying about finally coming home and taking a shower after a day of physical labor. It was better than the best post-workout shower I've ever taken. And some of those post-workout showers are pretty awesome.

It's so gorgeous outside right now. It's fucking criminal that I have to be inside. I should be at home working on the deck. But no, I have to be in the office. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. It's not exactly criminal. Still, I hate wasting a beautiful day like this.

*sigh* Maybe someday I'll be a kept woman.

27 June 2007

Oh, come on. I know I'd do better than that.

You have a 55% chance of surviving a zombie outbreak
 

You would do pretty well, maybe killing a zombie or two along the way, but you would end up doing something retarded and be a part of the living dead

Zombie Survival Test
Quiz Created on GoToQuiz



Seriously. I'm pretty sure I'd do okay if there was a zombie outbreak. I know the signs. I know what to do.

I've been trying to formulate a post for the past couple of days on how distraught I am at the idea of Kevin Garnett being traded. But I've wanted to wait to see what's going to happen and I've not really known exactly what I wanted to say or how I wanted to say it.

I shit you not, I was nearly in tears on Monday when I read about the trade talks that would send him to the Lakers. I mean, I'm starting to accept the idea that he won't be in a Wolves uniform at the start of the next season. And if his departure gets him a ring, I guess it'll be worth it.

But to see him go to play alongside the basketball player -- no, the athlete -- I hate most in the world is just too fucking much. Kevin Garnett is obviously my favorite member of the Wolves ever. He's also my favorite basketball player in general and I'd go so far as to say he's my favorite athlete. I was head-over-heels smitten with him from the moment the Wolves drafted him. I feel much the same about Johan Santana, except that's more along the lines of the first time I saw him pitch I was smitten.

I could deal with KG going to say, the Suns. I would probably buy the NBA League Pass so I could see him play with Steve Nash. Quite frankly, I think it would be an absolutely beautiful thing to watch. I like the Suns as it is. Boston? Atlanta? Meh. I've not read the details of all the proposed deals floating around out there, so I'm not even sure the scenario involving Atlanta would have The Big Ticket heading there.

The Lakers deal, though ... that one would be devastating. There's no way in hell I could change my allegiance. I'm not even sure I could bear to watch a single minute of a game. And what would happen to my franchise-long fandom of the Wolves? Um, if Kwame fucking Brown is on the team, it's gone. I can maybe get a little excited about watching Randy Foye and Craig Smith, but it's really tough to say how much I'd pay attention once there's no KG to watch.

I guess it's good that I've become a Bulls fan over the last couple of years, due to the thing I have for Kirk Hinrich. Don't judge! I have a thing in general for tall, goofy-looking, white guys who play basketball. I can't help it. Anyway, I hated the Bulls in the Jordan era, but I find myself really enjoying their scrappy play under Scott Skiles. So, at the very least, I'll have a fall-back team and may not wander the NBA wasteland as a fan without a team, like I am when it comes to the NFL.

Hmmmm ... it would seem I did create my KG trade blog entry after all.

25 June 2007

What a difference a year makes.

As of today, it has been one year since Whatshisfuckingface left for South Africa. I've not spoken to him or heard from him since he walked out my door the morning before he left. He didn't even thank me for the book I gave him as a going away present. Asshole. I'm honestly a little surprised by this, if only because guys I've dated almost always seem to pop up in my life once I think they're really, truly gone for good. Of course, these are always very inopportune times for me. I guess I've been lucky with this one.

It's so ridiculous to look back on how absolutely crushed I was back then. I feel like a complete moron. Obviously, it wasn't the end of the world. Oh, but it always seems like it is. The truth is, I wasn't happy and hadn't been for much of the time I was with him. It needed to end. I knew it then and it's pretty damn obvious when I go back and read the things I was writing then.

At the very least, I have Whatshisfuckingface to thank for being a major catalyst behind my start in blogging. For that, I really am grateful to him. But that's about it.

My life in the intervening months hasn't exactly been a dating whirlwind. Besides Detlef, there was only one other guy that lasted past the first date. I even had something post-Detlef that was over before it started. Awesome! Granted, I needed time to get over Whatshisfuckingface, so that cut down on the dating time. Still, I can't say I'm not happy with my life as it is. Dating is a lot of work for usually very little reward. I'd much rather skip all of that crap.

If only you could just jump into a fully-formed relationship. I suppose that's the idea behind the "friends first" theory of dating.

I would have written this yesterday, but I was too busy capping off a Pride weekend that I spent having an absolutely fantastic time with some of the people I love most in this world. Bands, beer, barhopping, sushi, drinks on a rooftop crowded with tools, Guitar Hero, beer gardens, gay bars ... it was pretty kick ass. A much better weekend than last year's Pride for me, anyway.

22 June 2007

It's gonna be a gay old time.

It's Pride weekend in the Minneapple. I'm currently just pissing away the afternoon until it's time to head to the Bryant Lake Bowl block party.

In a way, it'll be just like my Saturday night last week at home. Except there will be more gays. Better fashion. More hipsters. And the music will be much, much better (Bob Mould!) Oh, and the beer will be better. The food! The food will be much better, too. Last year, there was this cucumber salad in a white balsamic vinaigrette. Oh dear sweet Jebus, it was divine. Plus, it's like, five blocks from my apartment. So, yeah, it's drinking outdoors with music on a blocked-off street. The essential elements are the same.

When I spend so much time hanging out with my gay friends (and I have a lot of them), is it any wonder I don't meet guys? Not so much, I suppose. Do I care? Again, not so much. My friends mean the world to me and I'd rather spend time with them doing whatever than going out somewhere on a mission to meet boys. Blech. Besides, I know that my straight guy friends can't be the only ones in this city so secure in their sexuality that they'll spend time at gay bars or at Pride events. At least I hope that's the case.

Anyway, go out and get your Pride on this weekend.

21 June 2007

Let's get physical.

I know I will regret using the name of that Olivia Newton-John song as the title for this post later this afternoon when I'm STILL SINGING IT IN MY HEAD. But such is life.

I haven't been to the gym for a WEEK and it's making me crazy. Oddly enough, I'm terribly happy that it is making me nuts. It means that I've gotten into enough of a groove with working out that I feel gross and stressed out if I don't go. Okay, I did get a bit of time on the treadmill on Saturday and given the amount of sweat I produced while cleaning my car right before that, it almost seems I could count that as a workout. It doesn't feel right, though.

Because I went home last weekend, I missed my yoga class on Saturday. Now that wouldn't have been such a big deal if I'd been able to make the Tuesday or Wednesday class this week. But I had to babysit my nephew and then see Feist and Grizzly Bear last night (really, I had to). So not only do I feel gross and stressed out, my whole body feels tight. I can't wait for class on Saturday. I will not stay out too late or drink too much tomorrow night because I will get there. My knees were killing me this morning, as well. That may or may not be related to the break from the gym. It could also be this weather.

Now, you may be asking, "Why don't you get your lazy ass up and go to the gym in the morning?" I did try once to be a morning workout person. The experiment lasted a month or so and involved me being at the gym around 5:30. Keep in mind, I was staying with my boyfriend at the time who lived on the other side of town. This meant I was up before 5:00 to make sure I was awake enough to be able to drive across town to my gym.

I would feel great and full of energy when I was done. The feeling would last until roughly 9:30 or 10:00 in the morning; then I'd crash and be left to face the remainder of the work day plus another five hours or so of my part-time job with zero energy. I can barely function in the morning as it is and I'm amazed the experiment lasted as long as it did, quite frankly. Plus, Carrie said last night that if I became a morning workout person, she'd have to break up with me.

Naturally, my time away from the gym coincided with several crappy meals. Deep fried pickles? Why yes, thanks! God they were good, though. I've managed to mostly keep up with good breakfasts and lunches. And the food I ate at home wasn't totally terrible. Mom always makes sure we get our vegetables. But I notice how much better I feel when I eat decent food. It makes eating healthier easy, which is pretty awesome.

So it's back to the gym tonight and a full day of eating good-for-me food. I'll be back on track in no time. Sweet!

20 June 2007

Fun while it lasted.

I told you that writing about it would jinx me. When will I ever learn? Probably never. Of course, I don't really believe that I can jinx something by simply talking about it. I'm not that dumb/superstitious.

No, it's that there is something seriously wrong with me. But after all these years, I just can't figure out what it is. I'm not that crazy. And I think I hide my crazy fairly well. I'm not clingy -- in fact, I'm so concerned about appearing clingy/smothery that I make a very concerted effort to be the anti-clingy. I'm the Bounce sheet of dating, if you will. It's always outdoor fresh up in this bitch.

I have awesome platonic relationships with guys and can do the booty call thing without getting the least bit attached. I just can't seem to put the two halves together into a whole. But you know what? I'd rather have the life I have now than be celibate and friendless. Or you know, have only female friends where all we did was sit around and bitch about men and how much it sucks to be single and how so-and-so is getting married and SHE'S YOUNGER THAN US. I'd be a cutter for sure, y'all.

It's for the best, anyway, because Detlef was not a stellar smoocher.

19 June 2007

Ow.

I feel like life has pushed me down a flight of stairs and is standing at the top, laughing uproariously at me as I lay in a crumpled heap.

18 June 2007

Is it time for happy hour yet?

I feel like I'm on this disappointment roller coaster and have been for the last several days. There were the good dates with Detlef with a non-disclosed disappointment in between. It was actually more than a disappointment. It was fairly (and oddly) gut-wrenching, but I think everything will turn out okay in the end. Then Carrie's dad took a turn for the worse. Then Detlef and I had conflicting schedules and couldn't have a third date, good or otherwise.

What was next? Oh, my Oldest Friend (not in age, but in the amount of time we've been friends ... could we really be friends back when we were mere months old? If you can knock over plants and eat dirt together while your moms had a couple drinks and dished the dirt on God knows who, yeah, you can be friends that long) decided to skip Hay Daze kind of at the last minute. For whatever reason, I spent Friday morning and most of my drive down south figuring that was just the beginning of the end. That I would end up wasting a weekend at home. There was a point where I thought maybe I'd just drive back to Minneapolis so I could go to yoga and to see some friend's bands play at an art festival. But The Stylist didn't cancel on me until it was far too late to do that.

Then, Saturday night after I'd decided I was indeed staying in with the 'rents (who were actually okay to be around all weekend and not the least bit annoying) I got a call from my BFF. I had no idea she'd be coming home for the weekend. She apparently didn't know until that morning. My weekend was salvaged for the most part. I drank crappy beer and saw people I'd not seen in a while. Random dudes asked if I wanted to have sex. A guy who may or may not have been one of my brother's summer basketball coaches hit on me. Some girl who probably wouldn't have given me the time of day 10 years ago was all about my pigtails, shirt and tattoos. I didn't eat any cheese curds and I only stayed out until 3:00 (thanks for picking us up, Dad! Oh, happy Father's Day. It is after midnight, you know) and wasn't terribly hung over.

But it was a momentary upswing. Carrie's dad died this morning. And making me feel worse is that I feel selfish for semi-dwelling on my stupid boy issues. There may not even be any stupid boy issues. It might be my completely overactive imagination reading things into absolutely nothing because I've not even talked to Detlef because we were both busy all weekend. I feel like a crazy asshole at the moment.

Thankfully, there is a happy hour birthday celebration this evening for my friend. Every birthday is a cause for celebration, but given the fact that a few years ago she was battling leukemia, her birthdays are extra celebratory. This entry feels like some sort of rambling trainwreck. If that is indeed the case, I apologize and vow to do better next time.

15 June 2007

On tap for the weekend.





It's fair season in Minnesota, y'all. Cover bands in beer tents, mullets, mall bangs and poor fashion choices abound. It's gonna be awesome.

14 June 2007

Oh no! I've been tagged!

By the bee-spot.

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) FeistyMnGirl
2) What Greg Likes
3) A Blog of a Good Time
4) bee-spot
5) I was told there would be bacon.

Select five people to tag: If you want to be tagged, let me know in the comments. First come, first served suckers. I'll edit this post accordingly.
1. Sarah

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Stuff. I was a year out of undergrad, so I believe my best friend from UNCW was moving up here to start law school. That year we lived in the 'burbs -- the one and only year I lived in the 'burbs -- in a big apartment complex where other friends lived. There was lots of going out to clubs. I was dating a cheating asshole and yet stayed with him for three more years. God, I was a fucking moron.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Putting my air conditioner in the window. Being heartily depressed about Whatshisfuckingface's impending departure. God, I was a fucking moron.

Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Pirate's Booty
2. Hummus and pita chips, or baby carrots or un-chipped pitas.
3. Toast with peanut butter
4. Baked tortilla chips and guacamole
5. Peanut butter filled pretzels from Trader Joe's

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:
1. "NYC," Interpol
2. "Sound of Sounds," Gomez
3. "Hold On Hold On," Neko Case
4. "Shiver," Coldplay
5. "Newborn," Elbow

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Pay off my student loans.
2. Buy a new car.
3. Take my family and friends on a vacation.
4. Start a foundation.
5. Blow it all on CDs, booze and make up. (This is the most likely scenario.)

Five bad habits:
1. Drinking.
2. Interrupting people.
3. Blowing money on CDs, booze and make up.
4. Correcting the grammar and spelling of others.
5. Booty Call Matt.

Five things you like doing:
1. Drinking.
2. Seeing bands.
3. Watching the Twins.
4. Silently judging people.
5. Drinking.

Five things you would never wear again:
1. Jelly shoes
2. Pegged/rolled jeans
3. Legwarmers
4. Vikings jersey
5. The last pair of gym shoes I bought that felt like they fit, but in reality totally fucked up my knees and hips.

Five favorite toys:
1. Barbie Dream House (which was more like a semi-ghetto condo)
2. Blueberry Tart (one of Strawberry Shortcake's crew)
3. iPod Nano
4. Homer and Cletus action figures
5. All those damn Star Wars toys my mom sold on a garage sale years ago.

13 June 2007

Vintage Silva.

Hot motherfucking damn! Carlos Silva just pitched a complete game shutout! Is it just me, or did this totally remind you of the complete game shutout he pitched against the Angels back in 2004? Yes, I know Bert mentioned it during the broadcast, but I remember it on my own, thankyouverymuch.

Okay, so I didn't even get home from the gym until 8:00. And when I saw the Twins were up 6-0 I decided it would be lovely to sit out on the deck and have a beer. Then of course, I had to shower. But I totally watched from probably the middle of the sixth on through the end. But still, it really did look like the 2004-vintage Silva, what with all the double plays turned behind him (Little Nicky Punto had a particularly lovely one).

OH! Was that a tear rolling down his face just now in the post-game interview with the always-fantastic and completely adorable Marney Gellner? Upon further review, it was not. Thanks to the miracle of the DVR, I tracked the sweat from his forehead and into his eyebrow, where it tracked down to look like a tear. I'd totally love to get hammered with Marney sometime, by the way.

Earlier today, I was disinclined to agree with the esteemed Jerious Norwood about the Twins getting hot, but after this game I've changed my tune.

11 June 2007

Boy crazy, Part Deux.

My boy-crazy, work-avoiding state last week led me to post a short, vague ad on Craigslist on Monday. Surprisingly enough, I received at least one response from a guy who seemed entirely too cool not call on Tuesday (and talk to for an hour) and then meet for drinks on Wednesday. And then meet again at the Slats show on Saturday.

I always hesitate about telling my friends when I meet someone because I always think talking about a guy will jinx things. Yeah, it's ridiculous. But I can't help it because IT ALWAYS SEEMS TO HAPPEN. Seriously. Though, I did tell a couple friends on Thursday. Then he met a those friends and a couple more on Saturday and Malina has put the over/under on when the rest of The Committee for Jess's Social Life will hear about him at 2.3 days. And we're taking the under on that one. Especially for those who are regular readers of this here blog.

When everyone met Macho Man at my Super Bowl party, they all talked to each other about whether or not there was something going on between us (not on my side) and then asked me what was up. I was amazed that a) they all thought he liked me and b) they were so inefficient about their discussions. I'm hoping that this time they take my advice and have a meeting or a conference call.

I do so love my friends.

So, yeah. I have to try not to get too far ahead of myself, which is a struggle for me. Usually my wild imagination takes off on worst-case scenarios when things are bad. I remember when I started looking for the apartment in which I currently live when the writing was on the wall about the condo conversions at my old place. Once I found my awesome apartment, Whatshisfuckingface mocked me a little. Apparently, my worryings during the search (to him, anyway) were something along the lines of, "Oh my God, what if I don't find a place in time? What do I do then? I'll have nowhere to go and I'll end up living in a box on the streets and being raped by a homeless guy." Sadly, he probably wasn't exaggerating much.

I'm not nearly as bad when it comes to getting ahead of myself about good things. I can barely envision a third date, much less be one of those girls planning marriage and kids within days of meeting a guy.

Hopefully I'll get to see him this week since I'm heading home on Friday to get my hair done and partake in the Hay Daze festivities. These festivities include drinking horrible cheap beer with my brother, his friends, our cousins, my friends and people I only see once a year on Hay Daze Saturday up at the beer tent. Small town festivals are a thing of beauty.

My fear of jinxing things is so strong that I'm having trouble hitting the "publish post" button. *deep breath*

08 June 2007

The 1990s called -- they want their mosh pit back.

Last night, Carrie and I went to Station 4 in lovely St. Paul to see Albert Hammond Jr. Wow. What a great show. It's up there with The Roots and BRMC as the best shows I've seen this year or in recent memory, really. Save for one thing, of course. A douchebag in a pink polo shirt who tried to start moshing.

Really?

Moshing?

The last time I was at a show where people were moshing was Queens of the Stone Age probably four years ago. That's a bit more understandable because, well, they're Queens of the Stone Age. The kid (dubbed Carmine Gotti by a girl we were hanging out with and now that I see the picture, she was spot on) had been chatting up Carrie earlier. He was telling her about the ghost of Homer Simpson haunting the shack where he worked doing security or something. Her response? "Are you high?" He insisted he was not. Riiiiiiiiiiight.

It would seem though, that nothing could dampen my mood yesterday. Not the mosh dork. Not getting up at 5:30 a.m. to go hang out with my nephew (after all, I wasn't at work). Not my mom calling minutes after I fell asleep for my much-needed nap. Not even the bus fiasco that had me taking more than an hour and a half to get to St. Paul.

My good mood was not to be fucked with. Awesome!

Update: After 33 years of being me, I should really have learned by now not to tempt fate, lest I jinx something. Because of course I would post about how my good mood can't be fucked with and mere hours later I would find out something shitty happened to someone I love. Guess you showed me, fate.

06 June 2007

I hate Lolcats.

I hate internet-speak with the white-hot intensity of a thousand burning suns. I'm not at all fond of cats. Put the two together and you have Lolcats, which make me want to do many things, including but not limited to: slit my wrists, punch someone in the throat, gouge my eyes out and scream.

Why the sudden explosion of them and other Lolwhatevers? Even you, Kissing Suzy Kolber?

If you need me, I'll be WSTS.

05 June 2007

Boy crazy.

Ach! I'm totally boy crazy and it's driving me nuts. This is totally different than being horny. Well, kinda. I'm always horny when I start a new pack of pills, but that either passes or is taken care in a reasonable amount of time.

Being boy crazy ... I don't even know how to describe it. It's definitely about more than sex. It's more about the butterflies of meeting someone new and going out on dates and all that. I hope it passes. It's kind of annoying.

In a completely unrelated note, am I the only person who periodically thinks her body has forgotten what it's supposed to do when you walk? I normally have this thing where I can't walk in a straight line (my left leg is longer than my right, my left boob is bigger than my right ... I'm lopsided), but today it was ridiculous. I just felt so damn awkward. And it wasn't when I was walking to and from the bus. It was just when I was heading over to Lake Calhoun and then it took until I was about halfway around before I felt like my body remembered what the hell it was supposed to be doing.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Maybe it had something to do with the wide ass who decided to squeeze in to the empty space in the bench seat in back, but instead of sitting on the seat, SHE SAT ON ME. This isn't the first time this has happened to me, either. Though, it was a different woman this time. Seriously, keep your ass to yourself, please.

01 June 2007

Ah beer, my one weakness.


"My Achilles heel if you will."

I'd been kind of mopey this week because for the first time in five years, it looked as if I wouldn't be going to the City Pages Beer Festival tomorrow. Carrie didn't want to go and everyone else was either out of town or going to see Kiss of the Spider Woman.

But by yesterday I'd kind of gotten over it. I was content with the idea of staying home and watching the Twins take on Oaktown and trying my hand at the retro cocktails (Old Fashioned, Tom Collins, Manhattan) I've been wanting to make.

I mean, the beer festival has gotten so crowded. It can be hard to get beer and all that. And I did just go to Arborfest a month ago. Still ...

Lucky for me, Carrie changed her mind and so I will be attending for the sixth consecutive year. I will sample many beers and get very drunk, I'm sure. Possibly flirt with some boys. Even though there are a ton of people, they're usually polite and happy because, well, there's so much BEER! Hopefully it won't rain, but if it does, such is life.

See you there, suckers!