Dizzy Day

No specific topic tonight. I think I'll just relay the quirky or interesting tidbits of my day. Starting with the night...

It was weird. As I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom before bed last night I started to feel a tad woozy. Not like I was going to pass out, but just like I was in the Tilt-a-Whirl a few too many times. I didn't really think much of it until I tried to go to sleep. I laid on my back staring into my ceiling as if in a trance. I looked over to my window and it felt like I couldn't really focus on it. That ever happen to you? It reminded me alot of when you've had that one too many and you get "the spins". I HATE the spins because then your last chance for relief is taken from you and you have to sit up like a zombie waiting for the alcohol to finally move along.

Anyway, eventually I fell asleep only to be abruptly woken up to the blaring sound of ACDC on my clock radio. Somehow it was set for 12 midnight so Joe and I both popped up out of a sound sleep. I stumbled over to hit it off and fell back into bed. THEN I was pried awake by Georgia's nails on my leg and wet nose on my arm. At some point she had snuck into bed with us and burrowed into my sheets. I was a little miffed, and then when we heard a sharp bark come from the comforter I was even more so. But I couldn't stay mad then...

Finally as I was driving to work I realized we have now turned another corner in our quest for stupid diagnoses. I was listening to the news and they reported how the newest disorder affecting Americans is "Selective Food Disorder", or the "umm can I have that on the side?-disorder" I am a picky eater, but I'm not about to start labeling myself with a fancy disorder. Now finicky eaters have their very own illness they can parade around with. I swear, if anorexia is Catholicism, selective food disorder must be Episcopalian.

Anyway, work was pretty uneventful so I rushed home to beat the rain and darkness to take the dog for a jog when I get the text from Joe that reads, "U r gona b mad at pupy- she ate one of ur boots." I've come home a few times and discovered Georgia had gnawed on one of my boots (usually my rain boots for some reason) but never has she been THIS destructive. She had chewed off the top seam of my rain boots and had then proceeded to chew off the lining inside my leather boots. GRRR.

Luckily by the time I got home Joe had already done a good job of letting her know she did wrong, and she knew. We only had to both walk outside to where she was playing, stand with our arms at our sides or folded, and she knew she had done wrong. Worse, I'm still such a sucker for her cute face that when I try to be serious she knows exactly how to get me to soften. Those big dumb ears flatten, she makes her eyes as big as saucers, and she even quivers. I'm a goner and while I let her know I'm mad it's not long before I start cuddling. Which is exactly what happened.

But anyway sorry this wasn't a set topic. We'll see what tomorrow brings...

Catch Phrase

Happy belated Thanksgiving! I still can't believe the amount of food I put away. You know, normally I try to avoid eating potatoes, stuffing, and macaroni and cheese all at once but Thanksgiving is like a glutton's free pass. And was I a glutton, with double helpings of everything and a sliver of pumpkin pie as well. Jeeze, maybe I should've walked home from New York. And speaking of which..

Yes, I had a wonderful time visiting Joe's family upstate, and no, unfortunately I have no specific embarrasing tales to relay. I didn't spill hot gravy on Grandma, I didn't fall on Joe's mom's hurt knee, I didn't break one of his sister's brand new wedding gifts, I didn't even get a chance to screw up directions...damn you GPS. I got a chance to visit with everyone and the ploy to get them to like me continues.

In fact, whenever I'm in the presence of people that are not my closest friends or family but whom I want to like me I find I become a bit of a Teddy Ruxpin. I seem to have a few prerecorded responses that I deploy depending on the conversation. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, congratulations- you have entered into my "You're not going anywhere so I can be my lousy normal self around you," category. If you do, allow me to explain my certain catch phrases and why they bubble up...

1.) "Wow". You have just said something that elicits a positive yet amazed response. I will say "wow" for anything, usually being preceded by an "oh", from the fact you informed me you got an A on a massive paper i.e. "oh wow!" to the news you are pregnant, i.e. "oh WOW!"

*DISCLAIMER- The "wow" can also sometimes be used when responding to amazingly bad news. The tone here is quieter and deeper, i.e. "You broke your leg? Oh wooow"

2.) "That's awesome." You have just said something funny and when I feel laughing is not enough I will toss in a "that's awesome," i.e. "You showed up in your underwear? Hahhahaha......that's awsome."

3.) "That's great." You have just told me good news. I usually play with the timbre and length of this phrase, i.e. "But you're doin ok? Well, that's great!", or "You made the playoffs? That's greeaat!"

4.) "Really?" You have just told me something incredible. I don't know how else to show my impressiveness. But I AM impressed. It is usually followed by a "that's great," or "oh wow," i.e. "You were prom queen? Really?? Oh wow! That's great!"

5.) "Awww" Can be both for positive or negative connotation. You have just either said something cute about someone or something, or you have poked fun at yourself. "Little Darla's first words were 'pillowcase'? Awww" or, "He said you had chubby ankles? awwww."

I am trying to get off using these words, but they kind of act like my conversation crutches. When I am in fear of not being accepted I tend to lean on these phrases for support to limp through social interactions. But it's not because I don't care; it's more I worry I won't give the correct response so I simply jiggle the Magic 8 Ball and hope the right one sifts through the blue. I think I'm starting to get better about being comfortable around Joe's family. At least I'm not saying things like, "Oh, your flower bed was torn up by wolverines...hmm, 'please try again later'..?"

Fateful Food

Holy hell, is anyone else freaking out that it's almost Thanksgiving? I feel like I was JUST looking at my calendar and thinking, "Oh, we still have a few weeks till Halloween". But it never fails...this time of year is truly a roller coaster. You feel the click, click, click as you roll up towards Columbus Day, pass that and before you know it you feel the first drop of Halloween. From there the twists and turns come faster and faster- Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day...whew, it hurts my head and wallet when I think about it.

Still, I manage to have spare a weekend here and there, especially when it comes to friends visiting. Thanks again to Ken and Jay for spending the weekend, it was such a blast. And speaking of which...

You know how I say that it seems that fate likes to keep me from being on time? I think, in addition to that, fate likes to mess with my eating. No matter how much I try to be "lady-like" when I'm eating, I always get screwed. Example...

My friends and I were walking around Federal Hill when one brought our attention to a "cupcakery" shoppe as we walked by. Jay asked if we wanted to go in, and we decided to check it out. It was a tiny little place with delicate and enticing cupcakes, however they were shown individually in a small case each, like little frosted gems. I spied some chocolate confection and Jay purchased it for me. As we were walking I tried my damnedest to not make a mess: I carefully mouthed small bites, licking a little bit of frosting with each bite. However, as is the innate engineering problem with cupcakes, I found myself running out of cake and facing a small tower of frosting. I first encountered the faulty physics of cupcakes back in elementary school. There is no easy or clean way to eat a cupcake with your hands, unless u have an exceptionally big mouth. Finally I just had to go for it and smush the rest in my mouth, and hope for the best. There was, of course, collateral damage, and for the rest of the day was constantly wiping my mouth for any phantom chocolate.

But it doesn't stop with cupcakes. My fellow fremps and I decided to grab lunch out once and we opted for Chipotle. I ordered my usual, two soft and one hard tacos, and immediately realized I was putting myself in the middle of a messy meal minefield. It's one thing to be in the privacy of my own home, shoving a taco in my face, picking up whatever scraps have fallen out and dropping them back in my mouth. It's a bit different in public, and especially around work colleagues.

I ran over to grab a plastic knife and fork and tried to elegantly slice my taco with it. Now, I don't know what that thick slab of plastic is meant to cut but it did squat. I barely managed to cut through anything and the fork must've been coated in Pam, cuz every bite slid back in my red basket. Finally, I figured I could either starve or just pick it up and eat carefully-which is what I did. What I hadn't counted on was that my first bite was going to be smack-dab in the middle of the biggest chunk of beef. The rest of the taco fell out as I tried to quickly shovel the big piece of flesh and everything along with it in my mouth, so as to hasten any gross scene I was causing. Unfortunately it was also still hot, so it was scalding my mouth so bad my mouth fell open more. I finally swallowed what I could and quickly hid my mouth behind a napkin.

See? I try to be careful. I try to take my time and eat small bites. Somewhere out there is getting a good laugh at my eating expense. Hopefully you will join in with them. Anyway, thought this topic was especially fitting given the upcoming holiday. Tomorrow's a travel day for me, so if I don't get the chance, Happy Thanksgiving kids!

No Rest for the Bleary

I hate drunk-sleep. Drunk-sleep is in fact not sleep at all. It's more like your body just instantly shuts down. You aren't performing any normal internal body functions, you aren't resting. You are just unplugged. And man was I feeling it today.

I went out last night (hence the missing post) to lift a friend's spirit. Now, I realize it was in the middle of the week, but I normally tell myself it's ok, provided I keep it easy and keep chugging water. I did neither of these things, therefore I was paying for it all day today, including right now.

And this was really the day I wanted to be on my A game. Today was the day I was going back to the Broadcast Institute of Maryland to give them my first check and sign some preliminary papers. But I'll get to that.

I woke up with the feeling of hammers being chucked inside my head. I tried to pull myself out of bed, threw some breakfast down my throat and set off for work. My commute is usually about 15-20 minutes. For some reason today my mind wandered so far and so wide that at moments when I came back around to consciousness I realized I was STILL in my car. It felt like I had been sitting and driving for hours. Plus, it didn't help that there was freaking accident on a major side-road, causing a huge back-up.

I finally get in and all I want to do is lay my head down some more but anytime I found some peace I'd be scared away by someone. In one instance I had my head in my hand leaning it on a pipe in the stairwell when I suddenly heard someone open the door loudly, causing me to jump and continue walking. Even in the bathroom, as I was washing my hands I drifted over to the wall only to hear the door's security buttons beep, reawakening me and sending me on my way. I couldn't catch a break.

Then it looked like my boss was going to skip the day, allowing me to sneak out a little early to go home for a nap before my meeting. It was 11:12 and still no sign of him. Then suddenly, just as I had talked myself into the plan, he came strolling in. F word.

So I waited till the end of the day and realized I had to go home anyway to get my checkbook. I sit in the drive-home traffic, get home to put on some more makeup, and then get back in the car. According to Google Maps, the place should be 12 minutes away, but this being Baltimore, it ended up taking me over 20 minutes- causing me to be late for my appointment; and if there is anything I have been drilled about in the radio biz, it's the importance of being on time.

I finally see the place and park on a residential side road. As I'm walking in I noticed a boy of about 9 or 10 standing outside a store. I keep my eyes down and then I hear, "hello." Just like that. Not intonation otherwise. At first I play it like I didn't hear him. Again, I hear, "hello." I look up and realize his eyes are crossed but that his head is pointed towards me. Trying to be polite and not totally creeped out (btw I'm VERY sorry if this is offensive and I know he's probably a nice kid and his problems are not his fault), I say hello back.

"Watch what I can do." Again, no real intonation and again I sort of play it like I didn't hear him.

"Watch what I can do," he said again.

"Oh, I'm sorry but I really have to go," and keep walking. Now anyone who knows me should know already that I'm usually a nice person, but when it gets dark and I'm in an area I don't really know I like to be Unassuming Sally. Even though he was just a kid I still didn't really feel the desire to be playful. I am tired, nervous, and hungover. So go play somewhere else, Petey.

Anyway, things turned out about even at the Institute. I'll relay more info about it next week. Till then, I'm avoidin' the booze and hittin' the snooze.

Hear U.S.

What a miserably rainy day. I hate when it rains, especially when I have to drive. Walking to my car I try to keep my head down so that no pesky raindrops fall on my glasses, so I don't have to sit in the car and scrub them until they are somewhat clear. But taking them off doesn't help either, since then I have to be careful how I grab them out of my pocket and not end up with greasy finger smudges that take even LONGER to scrub off.

Also, I hate the sound my windshield wipers make. Hearing that screeeeching sound with every swipe sets my teeth on edge. Plus I am always afraid my car is going to hit a wet patch and send me careening into someone's house. And it must not just be me who gets frustrated driving in the rain, because there are literally thousands of Marylanders trying to maneuver every time; usually around OTHER Marylanders who are just plain petrified of any kind of accumulation on the roads, that they drive like Miss Daisy. Oh wait, she didn't drive. Well, if she DID drive, I bet she'd drive like that. But anyway.

Speaking of teeth (remember a few seconds ago?), I was brushing my teeth the other day with what said "Crest" on the tube, but I have a feeling it was mislabeled. I applied the paste to my teeth, immediately getting my old familiar pangs of sensitivity pain, and wondered if someone had replaced it with pure cane sugar. I actually had to suck on my toothbrush for a second.

I looked at the packaging. It's supposed to be that special enamel kind, a good two or three bucks MORE than I would normally spend on toothpaste. I bought it because it said it was supposed to help rebuild enamel AND help sensitivity, along with a whole bunch of other benefits. But if this was supposed to be made to help sensitivity, I'd do better to just brush with chocolate syrup.

It started to get me annoyed. Why is it so much to ask these asshole CEOs to put out a product that actually does what it says- without all the b.s. I wouldn't care about spending the extra money if it actually worked. I then got a great brainstorm for another great television show...

See, it would be like a forum where the head executives responsible for the most used home and health products sat around and are asked actual question by a big studio audience consisting of common folk. Then they'd have to listen to what we have to say, and even better, explain to us why this product works or doesn't. Hell, if two execs actually represent competing products we could pit one against the other, egging on the loser to improve his/her item. That way these people can't hide behind their lobbyists or p.r. people. They would actually have to take their own defective medicine, so to speak. I even thought of some possible titles for the show: "Hear U.S. (like "hear us") or maybe "The Consume/Hear Report". Something with the word "hear" would be good, makes it sound more positive than just "Angry Americans Bitch Out to Overpaid Businesspeople About Their Crappy Products."

Maybe I should pitch it to CNN...oh well, just a thought. And here's another one: I'm tired. And the smell of our over-ripe garbage is making me woozy so think I'll head up to bed. Night, campers.

A Vine, "How Do You Do?"

Yes, I am still here. The oceans did not dry up. The world did not end. My parents met Joe's parents and I've lived to talk about it.

I wish I had some juicy tidbits to share, like someone talking with food in their teeth all evening, or someone spilling a beer on someone else, but truthfully the weekend went by without a real hitch. Well, maybe a small one...

My parents arrived first (something that never happens) and I was able to visit with them for a while until Joe's parents got there. We all had some drinks, went out to dinner, came back for more drinks, and then pretty much everyone went to their respective bedrooms or hotel rooms for a comatose rest.

The next day, Joe's school fair was cut short so he came home much earlier than we expected, allowing us to get a good head start on the wine tour I had planned.

Now, let me explain quite bluntly, that I'm a crappy planner. Sometimes I swear it's not always my fault; I truly believe fate likes to keep it's eye out for me and throw whatever barrels it can my way to make me look like an ass, as I've mentioned before. Still, like Sisyphus hauling that huge boulder up the hill, I try and try to plan ahead, no matter how futile.

I asked my friend Leslie which wineries I ought to hit, since there were a few in her neighborhood. Armed with her suggestions and a logical map I explained the route we would take to my hapless parents and Joe's parents, and we set out on our way.

We were fortunate for a beautiful clear day and as we passed rolling hill after hill, I figured the first winery would be around there somewhere. We followed the GPS and soon found ourselves in a small country town. Ok, I thought, it must be right behind here. However, instead of pulling us out back into the countryside, we were told to make a turn right into what looked like an alleyway. Oh, hell...

My last shred of hope was dashed as I spotted the winery's hanging sign just when the GPS announced we had arrived at our destination. We looked around for the organized rows of grapes, a rustic facility for crushing them; hell, even a tractor. Instead we were met with people's back porches and trash cans.

"Where do they make the wine? In some guy's garage?" my dad pondered. Joe's parents, God love them, just smiled and went with it. I could only hope the wine itself would outweigh the atmosphere of Meth Lab Vineyards. We walked in and behind the counter was a man who looked like a roadie for ZZTop, complete with long gray beard. He barely acknowledged us, only to hand out the glasses and a few sheets of paper with the descriptions of the wines. We asked how much it would be for us to taste.

"Nothin," he muttered out. We soon realized we would get what we paid for. While we assumed at first we could choose which wines we'd like to try, he brought out six and began pouring.

"If you taste anything you don't like you can drop it in that bucket right there," he said. I don't think I hav ever made use of those buckets in any wine tasting I've done, but there, I more than made up for it. While it could just be that my pallet is for sweeter wines, something tells me these were pretty lousy, even fore dry wines. I eventually contributed to the bucket more than I finished my sample. Still, I was there for the experience and wanted to buy a bottle from each place so I chose their one dessert wine. As I was handing him my card I noticed the size of the bottle was only slightly larger than an infant's. I tried to hold back my shock and disappointment, paying full price for basically a single serving. And for a flavor I hadn't even tried yet.

Thankfully, the other two places were more charming and had better quality wine. But if I ever get a hankering for the picturesque scene of alley cats meowing on broken down microwaves and see the stunning blue of recycling bins while sipping my battery acid Cabernet, I'll know just the place.

The Fockers Meet the Griswolds

I know there are probably other things I could be writing about tonight, but really the only thing I can think about is the momentous event that is about to occur. I've scrubbed the oven, mopped all the floors, sanitized the bathroom, and washed the linens. That's right, the folks are coming for a visit. Whose folks? Why, both as a matter of fact!

My parents and Joe's parents are finally coming together to meet this weekend, and while I love seeing both sets of parents, it will be the first time they will be meeting each other.

I've asked around to other unmarried couples to find out if their parents had met each other. Surprisingly, it wasn't that uncommon; some of their parents even hang out with each other. So while I kept trying to keep myself calm, and tell myself it wasn't a big deal, my friend Ashley would read my mind and express the emotions I was trying to suppress.

"Your parents are meeting Joe's parents?? Oooh, thats such a big deal! Are you nervous?"

I don't know why I feel like it's such a big deal. My parents met my first boyfriend's parents back when I was in high school. Of course, I guess the difference is that our area is small, and they were already friends with my aunt and uncle so it wasn't a huge leap.

Plus, being a high school romance, it was a point of fact that our relationship wasn't going to last forever, so the meeting must not have carried as much weight. This, on the other hand, after 7 years, is just a touch more serious.

I know I shouldn't be paranoid or worried. Joe's parents are awesome and so are mine. I guess it's the same feeling you get when you introduce a childhood friend to your new friends. You can't pull any punches because your longtime friend can call you on it. My parents have known me my whole life, witnessing my best and brattiest moments. Joe's parents, however, I think have only seen my best behavior (well, except for those moments of drunkenness, but I think they forgive me for that, haha).

I know it will go well. I know everyone will get along and we'll have a wonderful bonding weekend. But what does happen? Find out on Monday with the Parents Weekend Wrap-Up.