Easily excited

Annually, my company works with Junior Acheivement and sponsors a bowl-a-thon. You gather a team, raise some money, and enjoy what is, technically, free food and drink.

Most of you have heard me describe myself as a puppy, so excited to meet new people I walk up to all of them, get in their face and start blabbering on and on, "Be my friend, by my friend, I'm so fun, let's have fun, come play with me!"

I'm a lot. Short and sweet.

Combine me + social event at work + bowling & beer = yeah, it was awesome and very ridiculous.

Please check the following if they apply for absurd social behavior to ensue:
1) I was on a team with my friend, Jess, who also does not care who is around and what she's doing but is merely concerned with enjoying herself. (check)

2) Two new friends who behave the same as us. (check)

3) Contests requiring running around the alley. (check)

4) And a karaoke contest. (double check, no I didn’t win)

This kid was on fire. The beer was flowing, the (bowling) balls were flying (and dragging, considering Jess and new friend #2 decided to see who could bowl the slowest...she won), the music was entertaining and so were the conversations.

Oh, and I think I broke the radar gun measuring our speed because I launched a 9lb (or was it 6lb) ball down the lane and before the screen went black, it registered 21.39mph. Who knew I was such a hoss?

Wait...haha, I did!

The bestest team in the wildest west!

Representation and Misconception

My good friend, Carriecake, is probably my most emotionally inuitive friends that I have, not that I don't love you all the same. She's someone I seek out when I need intense emotional advice since I usually act more like a robot than a human. I have my friend Kim for no-nonsense approaches to life that most mirror my own. There's Amy, whose calming demeanor and approach at work are exactly what I need most days to keep me sane. Not to mention Rosa when I need a bit of crazy, Dahnya when I need a bit whimsy (and a good book chat), Catherine when boys are dumb, there's coffee to be had and Scrabble to be played, and Chrissie when I want to expound upon the wonders (and ridiculousness) of societal norms and activities.

First excursion to RenFest with Carriecake and it was glorious.



So young...no clue we'd become such ne'er-do-wells. Love ya, KimBoodram!



Best birthday'splosion ever, Ames!



Nice rack, Rosa. Oooooh, Amy's ice cream, we do love you!



The most stunning bride ever...who wouldn't want to marry that face? You're the best, D!



Bitter beer face for the old lady, Catherine.



Why does this feel so long ago?

All my faithful blog readers, all my good friends, all befriended for their own unique reason.

Carrie put it so succinctly the other night when I finally coralled her onto the phone. Imagine herding cats, if you will...

"If only men could see us as our best girlfriends do."

What a sublime statement. So astute. So cut and dry. If a man could see me as all these ladies (and many more) do, he would see loyalty, kindness, hilarity, insanity, cleverness and a huge heart. He would also see neurosies unbeknownst to most men and would know far too much about a woman's body. But in all, he'd know exactly what he could be spending his time with and what he would be buying whenever he decided to put a ring on it.

He'd also know when the words coming out of my mouth are meant to be ignored and when to be taken seriously. He'd know that not everything I say has something hidden behind it though, let's be honest, sometimes it slips out. "What's wrong?"..."Nothing," I reply, petulantly, when in fact, I'm really annoyed that you didn't do, say or claim X, Y or Z.

Our girlfriends see us at our best and our worst and love us all the same. We can open up to them and be accepted, not rejected. They know us. I realize that to have a strong relationship with a counterpart, eventually they will also see and know you as your girlfriends do. It's just the getting there that's tough...

Life just can't be that easy, now can it? Shucks.

All-American Pasttime

Baseball season has arrived! I have impatiently waited for this day to come for months!

Not only do I associate baseball with complaining in the field, a coach with an awful lisp that I was confused as to how he had a daughter (this was waaaaaay before thinking something like this was common or even spoken about), and running around the bleachers while my brother roamed the field in uniform. I remember hot dogs, nachos, candycandycandy and best of all the juice and snack post-game that a different team mom brought each week. It was always so much more fun when it wasn't your own mom because then it was a complete surprise! Quelle bonne surprise!

I remember field lights and bugs, blazing sunshine and sweat. I was given the motto, "Drop and drive", by the aforementioned brother and I remember playing an exhilerating short-stop and a frightened first base. Heaven forbid you put me in the outfield though, and the coach learned that real quick. I was a real danger with the bat...no catcher escaped my wrath when I hit the ball. I send out the sincerest of apologies to all those girls I smacked in the face mask with my very excited bat as I jetted off to first base without a second thought.

Baseball is in my blood. I love having it on in the background on a lazy Sunday and I love sitting in the stands and cheering with the fans around me. It's a leisurely sport that you can sit and enjoy a conversation without having to worry about jumping up and spilling your beer over that jumpshot, or that wide pass, or that scripted fight where the guys just end up hugging each other for a few seconds before going to the penalty box.

Here's to a new and hopefully great season, L'Astros!

Abundant use

A few months back, I hosted a fantastic housewarming/birthday party and with it came a lovely gift from my friend, Dahnya (who has a most adorable blog you should be reading).

How fitting is this cup?

That string right there was tied securely around the gift and I saved it. Why? I don't know. I guess it's my father's mentality. He still lives, to this day, as if he has no money. We always tell him he has ones and ones of dollars, he can afford shirts without air-conditioning (i.e. holes) and Yaga-man went out of style two decades past. I love my dad.

But I digress. I kept this string. It was muted in color, rough in texture and long in length; whatever could I find to do with it?

A week ago, I didn't feel like pinning my hair back with bobbypins.

Hipster alert.

A few days later, I wore a dress that needed a defining waistline.

What more can I use it for now? I am so in love with this random treat that has proven quite handy!

Oh, how about a neck adornment? What about around the wrist?


I think I need to buy more string.