RST: A Rally, Halloween, What's that noise?, Zombies, My Living Room, and No seriously, what the fuck is that noise?

                      

        

It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday! 

My randomness...

So, as I mentioned here, I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear this weekend. I really wish I had more to report on the event. But alas, the day was pretty uneventful, despite the day's event.

We got off to a late start because, well, because that's just how we roll. I enjoyed a very yummy spinach and herb bagel on the road from The Bagel Cafe. Definitely a place to visit again. After meeting up with Thing Two on M Street, The G-Man, Unfortunate One, Thing Two and I hoofed it to the Mall where we were just a measly group of four in a sea of thousands. Needless to say, trying to get a decent view of the stage was out of the question. Fortunately we were able to push our way to a section of the Mall where we could at least see one of the screens.

So my take on the whole thing? The weather was nice, the crowd was overly polite*, the comedy was decent, the signs (and costumes) were entertaining, the sound system was shitty and the music was mediocre. Ozzy was certainly the highlight of the musical lineup, followed by Tony Bennett. Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow, however? Not the right venue nor the right crowd for them. In my opinion. Especially not after hearing rumors that Bruce Springsteen and Alanis Morissette were going to make an appearance.

After wards, we ventured to H Street (seeing as how any locale within walking distance to the Mall was packed) and grabbed a couple of brews at the Biergarten Haus, and, in my opinion, the best damned Goulash that have ever crossed these lips. The sauerkraut could have used more... sauer? Or maybe kraut. The Laugenbrezels were pretty freakin' good too.

After some food and beer, we headed back to M Street where we promptly... napped? Yup. This is how you know you're old folks. Halloween Eve in DC and everyone naps for about 3 hours, and upon waking, conclude that we'd rather sit in for the evening.

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Speaking of Halloween...

Oh, Halloween...

The night where we lock the doors, draw the blinds and spend the evening in the dark, hoping no foul-minded kiddies get the notion to trick us as we are clearly not intending to treat them.

It's not that I'm anti-Halloween or anything. It's just that I'm always so busy around Halloween (like, for example, moving) that I neglect to pick up any candy. 

Maybe next year.

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What's that noise?

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Zombies are becoming mainstream. I don't like this. That is all.

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I think I mentioned previously that we were unsuccessful in our attempts to get our couch upstairs to the living room.Which is why our living room currently looks like this...

Thank god our new couch arrives on Friday. Although, that makeshift chair on the floor is far more comfortable than you would imagine. Believe you me.

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No seriously, what the fuck is that noise? It sounds like a cross between a squirrel and a bird, and it's coming from the fire place. 

There it is again! 

I better not get attacked by some freakish squird while I'm innocently sitting here minding my own business.

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* There was a report by an employee in attendance from a certain organization with the initials 'N', 'P', and 'R' who claimed that the crowd was getting riled up and inpatient with The Roots' performance about 40 minutes in. This is not true. The sound system went out about that time, so we were chanting "Louder!" and "Turn it up!". Which was pretty reasonable, in my opinion. Of course she was located near the stage, so I imagine she had no clue what was going tens of thousands of people behind her.

And there will be candy corn.

 

So, there's this thing this weekend at this place and these people will be there...

...and I guess I will be too. Will you?

(p.s. hitting up H Street after wards! Email me if you'll be out and about!)

I'm watching the Snorks. And the Smurfs. Jealous?*

* Sorry, my brain doesn't want to do clever titles this morning.

Last night was Night Ranger's birthday (25th), and he decided he wanted to have a low-key evening of bowling and beers. After last weekend's events, this was fine by me. Now, I'm not the greatest bowler in the world. Yes, my sisters and I used to bowl all the time when we were kids, but apparently it's not really acceptable for adults to bumper bowl, but whatever. My out-loud goal (the one I tell the people I'm with) when I bowl is to try and break 100, or at least not come in last place. My real goal when I bowl is to not fall flat on my ass in those slippery shoes. I have no problems making an ass of myself when I bowl, in fact I think it makes the game more fun when you throw in some theatrics, but I'd prefer to remain vertical.

Foot fungus aside, who doesn't love bowling shoes?

But I'm getting off track here. So, The G-Man, Night Ranger, Night Ranger's girlfriend, and I tied on our bowling shoes last night and, well, sucked ass, but we had a good time nonetheless. I was slightly concerned at the start of the evening whether or not I would have enough in common with Night Ranger's girl. Although I had met her once before, I was pretty sure she's eight or so years my junior. Seriously, when I asked her if she's ever watched Project Runway, she got all giddy and told me that her Fashion and Media teacher in high school used to have them watch it for class. Um, first of all, what's Fashion and Media? Second, did she just say when she was in high school? And thirdly, holy fuck, make me feel old. And then I was all sorts of jealous because who wouldn't have wanted to do Project Runway type stuff in high school art class? Awesome!

Turns out my concerns were unfounded. NR's girl and I had a fun time people watching and mocking the other bowlers at the alley (I truly believe a good time isn't necessarily dependent on the quality of the people you're with, but the quality of the people you're surrounded by. The lesser quality, the more material they provide for comic relief). On top of NR's girl being able to poke fun at others (believe it or not, some people aren't comfortable doing this. I don't like those people), she was also able to talk trashy reality shows as well. I'm not a huge reality show watcher, but I believe that if I'm going to have an informed opinion about such things (and I prefer all my opinions to be informed), then it is necessary to catch an episode or two of as many trash shows as I can (this does not, however, extend to Jersey Shore, which I refuse to watch on principle). At any rate, this is how most of our conversation with each other went that evening:

OBG: You know that one with the spoiled princesses who are taken away from their families...
NR's Girl: You're Cut Off!
OBG: Yeah that one, and there's that girl who won't change her daughter's diapers...
NR's Girl: Gia!
OBG: Is that her name? Yeah her. And then the one from NYC who everyone thought...
NR's Girl: Jaqueline! And they all think she's a call-girl because there's no way she works on Wall Street, and she's all, "but everyone does it."
OBG: Yeah, her.
OBG: And what's that one with Mel B?
NR's Girl: Dance Your Ass Off!
OBG: Right, and the one...
NR's Girl: Teen Mom!
OBG: Right, and...
NR's Girl: Celebrity Rehab!
OBG: Damn, you're good.
NR's Girl: I love reality TV.

Yeah, so conversation was good. And the evening was fairly uneventful, despite the fact that the words, "Who wants to do a shot?" were uttered. And then shots were done. Twice. Usually whenever that question is asked, my finger immediately goes to the tip of my nose and I scream, "Not it!" And then I'm all like, "Wait, what kind?" Which I said last night, and then Night Ranger (who obviously doesn't know me so well) was all, "We don't have to do straight-up liquor if that helps," and I was all, "But I'd rather do straight-up shots," and NR's girl was all, "Wait, you don't like mixed shots? Wow. OBG is hardcore." But I decided to take one for the team since it was Night Ranger's birthday and all, and I happily did a Kamikaze shot and a B-52 shot.

 Like liquor, these guys are better in small, shot-size doses.

On a side note, if you're a bartender and customers order four B-52 shots, and your first response is to ask, "What's in it?" and then your second response is to ask if it's the one with Jager and Red Bull (that's a California Car Bomb, dude), you might want to call in back-up. You definitely don't want to start asking your customers what beer they'll need to drop their shot in. (Although, in his defense, when Night Ranger first asked me if I "liked B-52s," I responded, "Yeah, the music in here does kind of suck, are you going to select something better?" and gestured towards the jukebox. His puzzled look made me realize that a- he meant the shot and b- he probably didn't even know who the B-52s were.) 

 Needless to say, our shots looked nothing like this.

So yeah, that was my weekend excitement. There was also that gun show I attended, but I'd hate to have you all super envious of my super sweet weekend, so I'll save that tale for another time, but I will mention that after attending a gun show in Virginia, I felt like I needed to bathe in Patchouli and find some hippie drum circle in a field to join in order to balance out my Karmic energy. Or something like that. How'd your weekend go?

Previously on OBG... 1.2

(the following should be read less like Dallas and more like... uh... what's a show where the main character is a loner and spends most of the weekend home, by herself, and then holds conversations with herself inside her head? Yeah, like that.)

Although inspired in part by a true incident, 

the following story is fictional 

and does not depict any actual person or event.*
        

When we last left OBG...

         

...she was recovering from Facebook humiliation and was contemplating quitting blogging for awhile, but then she got an amazing haircut that made the grey skies clear up and she was able to put on happy face once again (see sidebar profile picture for proof) despite being ruthlessly attacked by a wannabe and being extremely discouraged by the lack of job options.

      

We now join OBG in her bedroom, sitting on her futon/bed which she has wisely turned into futon/couch hoping to trick her insomnia into disappearing by making it think she isn't going to bed at night but merely watching TV on the couch, which, in the past, has been a recipe for through-the-night snoozing. We should not blame her for her innocence as her new haircut has made her look (and act?) ten years younger. But I digress. Back to the futon/couch...

In-Head OBG (playing DS, watching Transformers, drinking beer and eating popcorn): Huh. I wonder if I should be concerned that 19-year old Texas Housemate and I are doing the exact same thing on a Friday night? Nah. I bet he's not eating popcorn. And he's probably not playing DS either.

Out-Loud OBG: Fuck!
In-Head OBG: Stupid green Snood. I didn't want you there. Did that red Snood just show me fangs? Oh my God, he did! Snoods are evil. I never knew. I wonder if others know? Should I tell them?
Out-Loud OBG (crunching down on popcorn kernel): Ugh! Fuck! Stupid popcorn.
In-Head OBG: I love popcorn. I'm glad I bought it. I'm glad I bought beer too. I love beer. Yum.
Judy Witwicky (on TV, duh): Were you... masturbating?
Out-Loud OBG: Ah-ha-ha-ha!
In-Head OBG: You're funny, Mrs. Witwicky, funny. And you don't know that Megan Fox is hiding in the closet, which makes this even more funny. I need another beer.

Later...

In-Head OBG: Damn. Megan Fox runs like a man. I wonder if she has that chromosome issue supermodels have? I'm still hungry. I need more popcorn, but I probably shouldn't eat two bags in one day. I should really go to the grocery store. I need another beer.
Out-Loud OBG: No!
In-Head OBG: Ugh. Not the skeletons. I hate Snood. Ugh. I have to beat my high score. I'm totally trying again after I grab another beer.

We now join OBG as she's driving down I-87. It's Saturday night and she is on her way to meet Pooh for dinner...

(Edited for Content)
In-Head OBG: I wonder if... nah. That would just be silly. But what if... no. I'm just being ridiculous. What is wrong with me. Stupid me.
Out-Loud OBG (while being cut off by BMW driver from New Jersey): What the fuck? Asshole!
In-Head OBG: Jerk-off. Why am I daydreaming like this? What is wrong with me? Oh my God! I totally am! I'm a romantic. Holy shit, have I always been one? I guess I have. How come I never realized this? I can't let anyone know. How embarrassing! I'm suppose to be anti-love. A love-hater. I'm doomed. Shit. I'm super early. Google directions suck.

During dinner...

Pooh (rambling on): My new goal is to lose 80 lbs. Now that grad school is over I can work on that...
In-Head OBG: 80 lbs.? That sounds like a lot.
Out-Loud OBG: 80 lbs., Pooh? Really?
Pooh: Yeah. Have you ever seen a picture of what I used to look like? You haven't, huh? Here, look (pulls out license)...
In-Head OBG: I should probably update the picture on my license. I'm not 17 anymore. I bet I don't look anything like my picture on my license anymore.
Pooh: See? This was four years ago. I was 21. I'm 25 now. See how skinny I was?
In-Head OBG: Wow. He was skinny. And really good-looking too. He could have been a model. Is this really Pooh? It's amazing how 80 lbs. can transform a person.
Out-Loud OBG: Wow, Pooh. You had spiky hair.
Pooh: I'm an emotional eater. Some people lose weight when they're stressed out...
In-Head OBG: Ooh. That's me.
Pooh: ...but I gain it because I just eat and eat. Now that we graduated, I'm going to lose weight.
Out-Loud OBG: I lose weight when I'm stressed.
In-Head OBG: Is he going to think I'm bragging? Or shallow? Or insensitive?
Out-Loud OBG: I eat when I'm happy. I used to be almost 40 lbs. heavier. Obviously I haven't been happy in awhile.
In-Head OBG: Whoa. I haven't been happy in awhile. I've been losing weight for five years. Five years! I haven't been happy for five years. I can't believe this. What a revelation. This is big stuff. I'm not sure what to do with this. This has got to be significant on a momentous level. This is not good... wait. What is Pooh talking about? Damn. I need another beer.

Next time on OBG...

... did OBG beat her Snood high score? Will she ever stop eating microwave popcorn? Will OBG crush the romantic in her before she even has a chance to embrace it? What kind of person would tell someone else that there is no place in life for romantic thoughts? Is this the kind of person OBG wants to be around? Will OBG ever change the photo on her license? (Editor's Note: Probably not. That sounds like a lot of work.) Will OBG ever be cured of her insomnia? And what will be the repercussions, if any, of OBG not talking to her father on Father's Day? Does OBG even care? How could OBG forget about Roxette?** And furthermore, how come we don't hear more about Jason Statham? 

 

Stay tuned for the next episode of OBG, where all of these questions will be answered. Or none of them. It could go either way. But hopefully it will be more exciting than this episode. One can only dream.

* Except in this episode, where all persons and events were taken from real life. More or less.

** Don't judge. You know you love 'em too.

Previously on OBG... The Pilot

(for those of you a little slow on the uptake, the following should be read with Dallas-esque levels of drama and theatrics) 

Although inspired in part by a true incident, 

the following story is fictional 

and does not depict any actual person or event.*

When we last left OBG... 

...she was wallowing deep in the self-pitying depths of the deadly Swamps of Sadness, discouraged by the lack of job prospects and by life in general. Landlord Dude had just confirmed with OBG that he had, in fact, already rented her room out for July and that she would, in fact, be without a home in less than a month. OBG, dismayed by her future, or lack-thereof, was quickly drinking her way through a case of Magic Hat, suffering from a bout of insomnia, and wondering how, OH DEAR GOD, HOW would she make it to her eye appointment on time?

We now join OBG at her eye appointment, which, with the help of her iHome and the wonders of Google Maps, she made it to on time...

Doctor (scribbling on his notepad): Well, it seems your left eye is weaker than your right...and you seem to be slow to focus...

OBG: Okay...
Doctor (looking up from clipboard): It appears... you have... (dramatic pause)... astigmatism.
OBG (wringing hands): But what does it all mean, doctor?
Doctor: Basically, it means that your eyeballs are football shaped when they should be baseball shaped.
OBG: Oh. But, I don't even like sports. Doctor, (dramatically drapes hand across forehead) is it... curable, doctor?
Doctor: I'm writing you a prescription that should help and give you better than 20/20 vision.
OBG: Oh. But, doctor, what about driving at night? I'm practically BLIND at night. (throws self dramatically across the chair) Whatever can be done?
Doctor: Well, this prescription should help with that.
OBG: Oh.
Doctor (all serious and shit): But I must warn you, you should probably... avoid driving at night.
OBG (gasps): But... I'm...  a night owl! Nooooooo......

After surviving the trauma of the eye doctor and his evil tools of torture that puff air into your unsuspecting eyes, OBG began her weekend adventures with a trip through the evil state that is... New Jersey...

OBG (all sweaty and disheveled from spending five hours stuck in Jersey traffic): DAMN YOU, JERSEY! DAMN YOU! Now I'll never make it to Happy Hour on time!

After her harrowing trip through Jersey and, subsequently, Delaware, the OBG finally arrived at her destination, the dreaded NOVA, where she had plans to attend a wine festival the following day. We now join her at said wine festival...

OBG (dramatically dragging herself across the field towards the crowded ice cream stand): I must... have... ice cream...
The G-Man (heroically picking OBG up off the ground): You can't handle the ice cream! Don't you know?!? It's made with... eggs!
OBG (throwing hand across forehead): {Gasp} No! Not all of it! Soft serve isn't! I'm sure of it! And... (alternates hand dramatically thrown across forehead)... I'm... PMS-ing! And... (alternates hand dramatically thrown across forehead)... it's soooo hot here! We don't have these levels of humidity in New York (dramatically relaxes body and collapses into the G-Man's arms) I... want... ice cream... now...
The G-Man (desperately shaking OBG by the shoulders): Get a hold of yourself, woman! Look at that line! That's a 30 minute wait... at best! And with these temperatures, and with your white, white skin... (shakes head)... well, I can only imagine...
OBG (whimpering): But... but... I want it...
The G-Man: What if we get another bottle of wine?
OBG (dramatically standing): {sigh} Okay. (thinking to self) But I'm on to you. Oh yes, I am. You may have won this time, with your distracting, tempting offer of sweet, sweet wine, but I will get my ice cream. Oh yes, I will.

Next time on OBG...

... will OBG ever get her ice cream? (Editor's Note: OBG never got her ice cream, but she did get two more bottles of wine and pizza.) How did OBG end up in DC at 1905 eating ravioli that she didn't even want? And why were there peas involved? Are they following her? Will OBG ever learn her lesson? Will OBG ever stop wearing white skirts to parties in fields? Will OBG survive her drive back through New Jersey? Will she ever find employment? Will OBG take the G-Man up on his offer and move to NOVA? Or will her Prince Charming finally rescue her from the Swamps of Sadness and whisk her off to Never, Never Land where she will never have to grow up?** And whatever did happen to that earring? And furthermore, did anyone know that Courteney Cox was in Masters of the Universe?

Stay tuned for the next episode of OBG, where all of these questions will be answered. Or none of them. It could go either way.

* In other words, I embellished a little. But only a little. Real life is boring and less dramatic. But not much.

** Yeah, I know. I'm mixing fantasies and fictional characters here, but it's my story, dammit, and if I want Prince Charming to take me to Never, Never Land on the wings of Falkor, so be it. Thank you very much.

How I Lost the Tip of My Toe -or- My Weekend Roundup

                                          
The title of this post is a tad misleading. I don't mean that I didn't (almost) lose the tip of my toe, and I don't mean that this isn't about my weekend, but I mean that my weekend wasn't nearly as exciting as I'd like you to believe it was based on the fact that I (almost) lost the tip of my toe. In fact, compared to how my weekends typically go, this past one was uneventful, pretty blah, and really quite mellow.

So mellow, in fact, that I'm actually going to be able to tell you about it without the fear of revealing to you a side of myself that few are privy to.

First off, my drive on Thursday wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated. In fact, Unfortunate One* and I had so much catching up to do that it was the fastest 6 1/2-hour road trip ever (A road trip that usually takes me 5-6 hours. Incidentally, Unfortunate One drives like an old lady. Who knew?). It's been awhile since I've been able to have a real, intelligent convo with anyone (you'd be surprised, but Co-Worker and Boss Lady aren't the brightest bulbs in the box). We talked politics and other issues of the current affairs variety. We gossiped a bit too (contrary to popular belief, men are the worst gossipers). I won't bore you with the details.

We met up with Gregarious, who we were visiting for the weekend, at his humble abode. We eventually made it to Murphy's Irish Pub in Old Town Alexandria. I've been there before, and while the atmosphere was enjoyable, the service has a tendency to suck and the food was merely mediocre. The beer, however, was good. Beer usually is.

WHAT I ATE/DRANK:
* Hot Roast Beef
- Served open-face on white bread topped with Gravy, Mashed Potatoes and Vegetables on the side
* Beer. More specifically, Yuengling
MY THOUGHTS:
It was kind of tasty... and kind of cold. The mashed potatoes were, eh. The vegetables were your standard previously frozen, re-heated variety.
WOULD I ORDER IT AGAIN:
Probably not. Unless I was really drunk. Anything can happen, right?

   
    
Friday afternoon we sat around in a circle (triangle?), outside in the bright Virginia sun, eating Cheetos, drinking, reminiscing** and talking about the days we used to sit around in a circle, eating Cheetos, drinking and partaking in certain activities. I may or may not have drunk a nearly full bottle of wine on my own. I may or may not have briefly blinded a cat when I (accidentally) poured wine into the kitty's eyes***. We then proceeded to try grilling steak during a hail storm. Well, Gregarious tried. Unfortunate One and I just sat inside and watched.

At some point we ventured into DC to visit Thing 2. It was a fun and exciting evening that involved sitting on Thing 2's roof deck and drinking beer. Good times. Fun fact: Did you know it was National Police Week in DC this past weekend? Yeah, we didn't either. We made this discovery while riding the last train on the Yellow line when a (very drunk) copper from North Carolina got on, in full kilt ensemble, and proceeded to serenade us with his bagpipes+ (can you serenade with bag pipes?). Good times.

(Source)

Not our bagpiper, but you get the idea, right? Man, I have got to start bringing my camera with me on my adventures.

We had originally planned to venture into DC again Saturday morning to meet up with Thing 2 for brunch. This did not happen. Most likely due to the fact that our Metro adventures had us arriving back at Gregarious' at about 5:00am. Instead, we met up with Thing 2 around 2-3:00pm for a late lunch at the Thai food restaurant, Kanlaya. I really like Thai food, however, I have a hard time finding anything I can eat since they like to put egg in everything.

WHAT I ATE/DRANK:
19. THAI SPRING ROLLS (shared)
- A combination of cellophane noodles, cabbage, carrot, and dried mushrooms served with chef's special sauce
21. SIAM DUMPLINGS (shared)
- Steamed dumplings stuffed with a mixture of shrimp, crab meat, pork and mushroom served with a deliciously sweet Thai soy sauce
81. PAD KING TOFU
- Fried tofu sautéed with fresh ginger, onions and fresh mushrooms in bean sauce
ICED TEA
MY THOUGHTS:
19. Good. Typical of spring rolls. Nothing special.
21. Eh. Not really a fan. Can't say I enjoyed the crazy meat combo, but everyone else really liked them.
81. After re-reading the description, I'm pretty sure that while this is what I ordered, this is not what I actually ate (as I suspected at the time). What I ate had green beans and red peppers. And no onions, mushrooms, ginger or bean sauce. That being said, whatever it was that I did eat, it was very good.
WOULD I ORDER IT AGAIN:
Sure. If I knew what it was I was ordering. I suspect it was this:
82. PAD PIK KING TOFU
- Fried tofu sautéed with PIK KING Sauce and fresh string beans

   
     
Afterward, we took a nice little stroll to the Jefferson Memorial. You know, just for fun. The men decided we needed to take a cab back to Thing 2's place, so we did, where we proceeded to drink some beers on the roof deck. Again.

Some crazy bastard decided that we needed to eat again that day, so we went out the Lalibela, an Ethiopian restaurant. Little did I know, I love Ethiopian food. Why do I love Ethiopian food? Because you eat it with your fingers! Now that's my kind of meal!

Funny story: At one point in the evening, I needed to pee, and guess what? There was no toilet paper. Well, there were scraps of t.p. Just enough for me to take care of business, but not enough for the poor fools who were in line after me. They had the misfortune of having to use the men's room. Poor ladies.
UPDATE: Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't have followed a short story about a potty trip with this pic. Doesn't really make this look at all appetizing, huh? It was though, despite its resemblance to... well... you know.

WHAT I ATE/DRANK:
37. Lalibela Special One, for four Combination of #8, 12, 13, 17, 21, 30, 31 (shared, obviously)
8. Kik Alicha
- yellow split peas cooked with onions, garlic, red peppers, turmeric and vegetable oil
12. Teckl Gomen
- cabbage and carrots cooked with onions, garlic turmeric and vegetable oil
13. Gomen Wot
- caler green cooked with onions, garlic and vegetable oil
17. Laga Ribs
- tender cubed pieces of lamb marinate with special spices, onions, tomatoes, jalapeno and garlic
21. Doro Wot
- sauteed tender chicken marinate in seasoned butter and stewed in red hot peppers sauce. flavored with ginger root, cardamon, garlic and exotic spices served with hard boiled eggs
30. Yebere Lalibela Ribs
- prime beef sauteed with seasoned butter, hot peppers, garlic, onions, tomatoes and jalapeno cooked in pan
31. Keye Wot
- fresh beef marinate in red wine and cooked with red hot peppers sauce, onions, ginger roots, garlic and exotic Ethiopian spices
Water and coffee
MY THOUGHTS:
Overall, yummy. I did not try the lamb dish because I have issues with eating baby animals.
WOULD I ORDER IT AGAIN:
Definitely. Especially if I were out and about with a group of people again. And we were slightly buzzed.

   
     
After our Ethiopian adventure, we met up with Unfortunate One's cousin and her husband and proceeded to travel (walk) to the Commissary, a cafe/bar/what-have-you, for a drink. I was underwhelmed. Just for fun, here's a little riddle for you...

Four men and two women walk into a mediocre, overpriced bar in DC. They wait 15 minutes for service after waiting 5 minutes to be seated. The following drinks were ordered: Irish coffee, Thin Mint, Brooklyn Lager, Gin and Tonic, Chardonnay Woop Woop, and Allagash White. They discussed the going rate of wives in Sudan, which, at the moment, apparently averages at about 85 cows. The bill, with tip, comes to $60 and change.

What did I have to drink? (feel free to leave your guess in the comments) 

(BLOODY APPENDAGE STORY AHEAD)    

We proceeded to call it quits and headed back to Gregarious' house where I proceeded to relieve myself of one tip o' toe of the big toe variety. I somehow managed to stub my toe on a set of free weights while trying to remake a bed. I pretty impressively gouged a chunk out of the tip of my big toe the size of a dime. There was cursing. There was a surprising amount of blood shed. There were no tears because I am not a wuss.

While I haven't exactly lost the tip of my toe, yet, there is a pretty decent sized skin flap hanging on for dear life. I'm hoping it chooses to stay, but I'm prepared for it and I to part ways. I would have taken a picture for you, but I haven't been able to look at it yet without the urge to vomit all over it. (Okay, so maybe I am a wuss.)

So, yay! That was my fun and exciting weekend. Thanks for sticking through to the end of that fabulous Weekend Roundup. If you were bored, I apologize, but just think how I felt. I had to live through it. 

   

Have a fan-freakin'-tastic Monday!

* Names have been changed to protect other people's identities. Duh.
** I may or may not be using this word as an innuendo. You decide.
*** For the record, I wasn't trying to blind the kitty. I was trying to get it to drink wine. It's not my fault he moved his head at the wrong moment.
+ This is not an innuendo.

I ♥ My Grad School Friends

    

Today I took care of the last few things necessary to take care of in order to be eligible for my degree. It was a very bitter sweet day for me. While I'm super-psyched to be done, I'm also super-bummed because being done with grad school means I won't be spending the summer with all the awesome people I met over the past two years. This really breaks my heart.

Starting grad school was a very pivotal moment for me. I'd been putting it off for YEARS, unsure of where I wanted to go and really not that excited to return to school. Of course, great old NY State told me that I HAD to get my Masters or I would lose my certification to teach, so I really had no other option. 

When I started school, I was nervous, scared, and really unsure of what to expect. I had enrolled in a summer intensive program, and I was really terrified of the schedule and the work load. I have to tell you though, grad school has been the best experience of my life. It wasn't so much the classes that were so great (because they really weren't), it was all the great people I met and friends that I made. Spending 12, 13, sometimes 14 hours a day with the same people day-in and day-out, 7 days a week for 6 weeks, you really get to know one another. Sometimes more than you would prefer. Or not.

My experience in grad school as well as the friends I made have really helped me to discover who I am, and has allowed me to be really comfortable with and embrace who I am. I met so many great people, all of whom I hope to encounter again in life. I met my soul mates, SMos, Stormey, and Pooh, all of whom I can't imagine not having in my life. It's sad to think that this is the end of our time together. I know people always promise to stay in touch and get together, but you know how that goes. I'm afraid that without the bond we formed as suffering comrades trudging through grad school hell to hold us together, we'll slowly drift apart. We've already lost a few along the way.

In honor of our good times, our great collaborations and our constant support of each other, I'd like to share some pics (but not many, since apparently we were all too busy working to take pics. Or something like that) of us while at "Summer Art Camp." (because that's truly what it felt like). Enjoy.

 (left: the best looking group of ceramists EVER)

(right: Oodles, Bubba, K-Dub, The Canadian and Without Hair experiencing the pains joys of crit day)

(left: more critiquing)

(right: some of my work on crit day. Which wouldn't have been what they were if it hadn't been for Stormey)

(left: me and Oodles sitting next to more of my crappy colorful work, inspired by SMos and Bubba)

(right: at the scene of the crime where the most hilarious "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" spoof occurred)

(left: four lovely ladies)

(right: and the Three Musketeers)

(left: celebrating T's birthday on our lunch break)

(right: me, Cutter, Stormey, Pooh, SMos and Miss Gabs-a-lot)

(left: With Hair and Stormey at our Last Night get-together)

(right: Cutter, Pooh and Derby discovering that cheap plastic chairs can only hold one drunk ass, not three drunk asses)

I think I need a drink now. Otherwise I'm going to start bawling.

That is all.

100th post!

   

Well, this here post is my 100th post. I've been putting off writing it because I wanted something super-special to write about, but alas, I've got nothing. The pressure to be entertaining and monumental with this milestone is too much, therefore, I'm choosing to be boring and trivial.

First off, you may have noticed a significant change to One Blonde Girl this week. Apparently, a bored blonde girl fills her time by revamping her blog. I've been dying to do this for quite some time now, but haven't had the spare time to do so. If you're wondering why the change, I had a few reasons. 

1. the old blog design had me feeling claustrophobic. I needed to spread out. 
2. the white-on-gray text thing was bugging my eyes out. Really, it was becoming painful for me to read my own blog (not because of the content, although that has been pretty drab lately, but because I'm pretty sure I'm due for an eye exam again since things have gotten pretty fuzzy recently). 
3. the old design didn't really reflect me. When I first started blogging, I was experimenting with different layouts and different elements, and somewhere along the line I ended up with a blog design that wasn't quite me.

So that's that. Feel free to let me know what you think. 

              

Second of all, despite my lament on Friday of being friendless, I had a great weekend with some good friends, and I didn't even need to go scrounge them up. They found me! My good friend, Stormey, invited me out to a field/forest fest/party/bonfire/good time on Saturday at his brother's house. That same morning, my good friend, Pooh, told me he was considering coming into town for the day. Needless to say, I felt like I had won the friend lottery on Saturday! It was great to hang with Stormey and Pooh again. The party was tons of fun with mediocre music, beer pong (I kicked butt! My partner, Stormey, not-so-much), burgers and dogs, large-scale group painting, crazy hula-hooping chickies, one kick-ass flaming hoop dancer, a bonfire, glow sticks, bongo drums and lots and lots of stress-relieving fun. Just what the doctor ordered. 

           

Sunday, for the most part, was spent recovering from the previous evening's debauchery (it wasn't so much a need to recover from the alcohol this time so much as it was a need to recover from... other things. Like, for one, getting to bed at 3am and waking up at 6am. What the hell, body?). But, it was a nice and relaxing day because... IT WAS THESIS FREE!!! (I promise to tire of saying that real soon. I think.)

Today was interesting. I stepped back into a classroom- for the first time in a year, as a substitute teacher- for the first time in three years, in a 7th grade art class- for the first time in six years. But I'll be writing about that later over at Miss Weber's Room.

Overall, I realized this past weekend that I DO have friends, even if they aren't readily available to go grab a beer at a moment's notice. 

I realized that the rules for drinking games aren't universal, they're regional. Or maybe they're generational (yes, I was the thirty year-old partying with the early twenty year-olds. BUT, I wasn't the only one. In fact, I wasn't even the oldest one. That honor went to Stormey. Poor old man).

I also realized that if I can survive a day of 7th grade art as a substitute, I'll be fine returning to the real world of work (except for that waking up early thing. I don't know if you can really get used to that), which is good to know, 'cause I've got that interview on Wednesday. I still have my teacher voice too. Which is also good to know.

Well, so much for a fabulous 100th post.

Oh! Here's some good advice, straight from me too you. If you find yourself wearing a skirt to a field/forest party, make sure you have a good buddy around to hold the contents of your pockets when you need to use the porta-potty. Unless you want to lose your favorite chapstick and $5 in the hold of a porta-potty.

(In case you're wondering, if you Google "another name for the hole in porta-potty, you'll come across this story about a stabbing suspect hiding out in a porta-potty. Gross.)