Category: Social Life

My boyfriend is totally awesome. He is super smart and the best at doing things. For example, he is the best at guitar hero. His fingers are so fast, you don’t even know. He can hit the red, green, AND the yellow at the same time. When I come over, he plays the really hard songs for me. “Hi! Watch me play!” he’ll say, picking up his awesome wireless Guitar Hero guitar.

“Is this song dedicated to me?” I’ll ask, beaming with pride at my Guitar Hero stud.

“Sure.” He responds. He’s such a romantic.

And he just recently got Rock Band. Rock Band is like Guitar Hero, except there are percussion, vocals, and another guitar, so four people can play at the same time. He was obviously the lead guitar, because he’s just so good. He immediately jumped to Expert, while we all struggled with Easy. “Whoa, you’re doing expert?” someone asked.

“Idiot!” I thought. “Of COURSE he’s doing expert. He’s so good. You don’t even know.”

But my boyfriend, he’s just so modest, “Yeah,” he responded.

On Sunday I came over and found out that he had spent the whole day on a Rock Band Solo tour, unlocking all of the songs on Rock Band. That had to have been like 20 songs! I asked him, “How did you unlock ALL of those songs? That had to have been like 20 songs!”

He corrected me: “Actually, it was 67 songs. I spent all day doing it. I didn’t shower or anything.” I was so impressed with his stamina and will to succeed! He continued, “I even got the hardest song of all. You should watch me play it. It’s like a 10 minute song. I did it on expert.”

“We might be late to the concert…” I said worriedly about a concert we had tickets for.

“We should cancel the concert! Who needs live music when you can watch me?!” He had a good point.

He’s just so great. Mastering all the songs at expert level on a solo tour for Rock Band wasn’t the end for him. He told me about this new awesome ability to hook up the microphone to the speaker, so he can play and sing at the same time. “I’m going to be so good,” he said, confidently, like a rock star, of course.

“If you’re going to be doing the solos, will our friends still be able to play? They really loved playing Rock Band,” I said.
“They can watch me play!” he replied. I was relieved he had thought it through, always thinking of others. Not everyone can play Rock Band at the same time, but everyone can watch him play at the same time.

That’s my guy. He’s the best.

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BLOG, I have important news to share with you. Such news is of such great importance that I am shocked that I have been able to keep it from you for so long. It boggles the mind, blog, how long I have been able to withhold such valuable information. My ability to refrain from sharing a piece this significant is perhaps the eighth greatest natural wonder of the world.

Blog, I am in fact perplexed about why I was able to _not_ share that which I have not been sharing yet. I am deeply troubled, blog, by my ability to keep this morsel of noteworthy goodness from you. Are we not dear friends, blog? Do I not share everything with you? Why have I been so distant? Who knows?! Don’t take it personally, blog, it’s not you. It’s me. Maybe. Maybe it’s you, blog. Maybe you’re bad at keeping secrets. I told you about eating yogurt once, blog, and sure enough, next thing I know, a couple days later, one person asks me about yogurt. How could he have guessed I eat yogurt?! You probably blabbed, blog, you have no restraint. I can’t tell you anything.

What have you got to say for yourself?!

Whatever blog. I forgive you. I mean, technically the yogurt thing wasn’t a secret.

Anyway, like I was saying, I have some pretty big news.

I got a new cell phone. It’s sleek; it’s sophisticated; it’s sexy; it’s totally me. The ring tones that come with the phone are all inspired by rave music, so every time someone calls it’s like a party in my hand. Other people look on when my phone rings, enviously no doubt.

The phone also has a built in camera, so I am able to take pictures of a quality resolution when I feel inspired by something. For example, the other day I saw a good looking guy. I was inspired and took his picture and set it as the backdrop on my cell phone.

I also bought a kit with the phone that lets me treat it like a music player too. This way, when I am not using the phone to chat with my friends, or taking inspirational pictures, I can be listening to music.

The phone, dear blog, has also caught the eye of many of my peers and friends. I’ve heard people making admiring comments like, “Is that your new phone?” and “New phone, huh.” Sometimes I’m embarrassed by that kind of hullabaloo around the new phone.

“Yeah,” I’ll reply sheepishly. I don’t know why they make such a fuss about it. I mean I know why, because the phone is sleek, sophisticated and sexy and can take pictures and play music, but like is that stuff even important? I guess so. I mean, yeah, it’s pretty important. Who am I kidding? It’s really important. Oh blog.

It’s too bad you are not as cool as me with my new phone. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. The truth hurts.

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I gone done somethin’ stupid.  I bought me a Halloween costume last night.  Reckoned it would be a good purchase.  Now, I tell you what, I’m regrettin’ it.  Ma would be so disappointed if she knew I done went and spent mah hard earned money on a Superman costume, cape and all.  

So, basically, last night I bought a Superman costume.  Out of all the available costumes, I liked the Superman one the most. It was either that, or a sexy nurse.  But I was worried if I bought the nurse costume, and an actual emergency did arise, I would feel kind of silly in the presence of real nurses, aka real superheroes.  At least if I’m dressed like Superman, there is  very, very little chance the real Superman shows up, and I have to go through that whole conversation, you know:  “Well this is embarrassing! We’re both wearing the same thing! You have to change Superman, because I was here first.  You may be immune to bullets, but you’re not immune to party rules!” 

Now let’s move on to current events, shall we?  Today is the birth day of one of the company execs.  Do I wish him a Happy Birthday?  Do I order a bouquet of flowers and have them delivered to his cubicle? Do I compose a rap song about his merits as an exec and perform it in front of the office? Who knows? Who knows what brilliant homage I will come up with to adequately commemorate the birth of our fearless leader?  

On a more personal note, guess who is going dancing tonight? Me! Guess who listened to someone talk about the importance of dancing yesterday? Me! I’d like to tell the story: 

My co-worker and I decided to go to the ice cream shop after a fine meal at Chipotle yesterday. In the shop, a woman behind the counter with a lovely accent asked us what we would like to order. My co-worker said, “Hmm, I think I want one of those coffee smoothies. Oh! I love this song! It’s such a great song to dance to!” The song my co-worker loved was none other than Wham’s pop sensation “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.”
The woman behind the counter, who had already been swaying along to the music, lit up.  “YES! It is so important to dance!” She said excitedly.  Then she continued, with a big smile: “There are so many troubles, and the men, they think they are the kings, but they are terrible.  We have to worry about the children, cooking, keeping the house clean, the money, always the money! We are so worried! But the men, they do not care. They are kings! They go out and come home at 2am, and you ask them, ‘Where were you?’ and they yell, ‘NONE OF YOUR FU**ING BUSINESS!’ and they beat you.  And the next night they come home at 4am, and they beat you, you know?!” 

I stared.  She said all of this with a really big smile.  

My co-worker laughed heartily and said, “Yes! You know, they say there are Four F’s for relationships: Fidelity, Finance, Freedom, and French fries.” (Actually, I could only remember two of the ones she listed. I found Freedom in a google search for the words, and then made up French fries.  I didn’t want my co-workers to catch me googling things like ‘Why marriages fail.’ That would be odd.)  

So then the woman behind the counter replied, “YES! YES! It’s true! We have to always worry! Always worrying!  But we can do it, because we are strong. God made us strong. And we have to dance you know!” She threw up her hands and wiggled. “We must remember to dance!”  

And my co-worker and I laughed and nodded in agreement.  

As we went to order our desserts, the next song that came on was strangely appropriate Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”  

Alright, that’s all I have to share. Have a great weekend!

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Today’s great adventure involves a trip to the cell phone store, where I plan to renew a two year agreement with my current cell phone provider and to acquire a sleek, new phone. I’ve been looking forward to this for months. In fact, I picked out the phone I planned on purchasing on Mother’s Day, back in March, but it had only been on the market for a week then, so I decided to wait six months so that consumer reports could come out on it. That’s how seriously I take consumer reports. I do not make decisions on my own.

Coincidentally, today is also the big game!  It’s the World Series, and one of the most exciting yet as the Rockies and Red Sox face off in what could be baseball history if the Rockies win. I, for one, will be cheering for the Seibu Lions, a team in Japan full of heart. If you hit a home run for the Seibu Lions, you receive a stuffed toy lion. What does a Rockies player get if he hits a home run against Beckett? Trick question! Such a thing is impossible.

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Sh*t really hit the fan this morning. I got dressed, looked in the mirror, and yelled out in shocked anger. The exact sound coming from my room was: “AH! Yuck! Oh no!!!”To my absolute dismay, I realized that my boyfriend looks better than I do in a t-shirt that we both happen to own. Well, we don’t “both happen to own” it. We bought the t-shirts at the same time at a concert a couple weeks ago.

Anyway last Tuesday, I asked, “What are you wearing Monday?”

He said, “I was thinking about wearing this,” pointing to the t-shirt that we both own.

“Oh, but you’re wearing it today. I wanted to wear it on Monday,” I replied.

“Okay, you can wear it Monday,” he responded. I am very good at negotiation.

This morning I excitedly threw on the shirt, and then threw a fit. The shirt was not flattering at all to my phsyique or my complexion. I thought about calling the whole thing off. “I’ll just tell him he can wear the shirt today. I’ll pretend like I had a change of heart. He’ll think I’m the best girlfriend ever, letting him wear what he wants, when I allow it.”

But then I thought, “No. Surely he will soon realize there was more to my change of heart. He will know.”

There was only one thing to do – ACCESSORIZE! I promptly threw on a necklace and a headband. I also added some intellectual glasses. I thought about braiding my hair and then decided against it. Pig tails are risky and should only be used in times that require extreme cuteness. Then I thought, “You are being absolutely ridiculous. This IS one of those times. If this isn’t an ECR (Extreme Cuteness Required) moment, I don’t know what is.” I braided my hair, more fiercely than ever before in my life.

So there I was, heavily accessorized, in braids, still not looking fabulous, and rather looking borderline absurd, in the t-shirt we both happen to own. But if it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t both “happen” to own it! It _certainly_ wasn’t luck that made it so we both owned it. I rued the moment I told him, “I want that t-shirt too.” I sighed heavily, staring at the mirror. I remembered that moment like it was a couple weeks ago.

After realizing it was getting late, I threw on a jacket and then headed to work. Now here I am, sitting in my cubicle, looking not-as-good-as-he-does in the t-shirt we both, you know, happen to own.

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At work on Wednesday someone – other than me – ate my yogurt.  I sauntered over to the office refrigerator, opened the door, and noticed that my fruit bowl was not sitting on top of my yogurt. I didn’t panic right away.

First, I reviewed the contents of the rest of the fridge, thinking maybe my yogurt had been moved to some other shelf. 

However, my search soon ended in vain, and I realized that the unthinkable had occurred.  My nonfat, blueberry yogurt was sitting comfortably in someone else’s tummy!  I knew what I had to do. I took a casual stroll around the office to review the contents of everyone’s trash bin.  I soon found the culprit – the empty yogurt container was in the first bin I passed to get back to my cubicle.  Torn between confrontation and passive resistance, I sat down at my cubicle to think about how to approach such a, dare I say, awkward, situation. I imagined many scenarios.   Confrontation Scenario 1:

Me: Hello! I notice you have eaten my organic, nonfat, blueberry yogurt.
Him: Yeah, what of it?
Me: Uh, nothing, I just wanted to let you know I’m very observant. 

This scenario was awful. I promptly imagined another.  Confrontation Scenario 2:
Me: Hey, uh, I’m sorry. There seems to have been some confusion.  I probably should have labeled my yogurt, but I’ve been eating it every day for the past two years, so I thought every one here knew that was my yogurt.
Him: Wow.
Me: Yeah, so, it’s no biggie, but I’d appreciate you not eating it again.
Him: There’s other yogurt in the fridge.
Me: I can’t just eat other people’s yogurt. What is wrong with you?  

 This scenario was an improvement, but then I thought about emailing the entire office.  Confrontation Scenario 3:  

Dear Office,  Every day my mom packs me a lunch of fruit and organic, nonfat blueberry yogurt.  She puts a lot of time into picking out a fresh container of yogurt for me, and it is very important that I eat it.  It is delicious, it ensures timely bowel movement, and it provides me with my much needed doses of calcium and vitamin D.  (Insert picture of the yogurt.) So you see, when you eat my yogurt, you’re not just eating my food. You’re killing me slowly.  

This scenario was a tad extreme. I decided against it.   On Thursday, I ate my yogurt first thing in the morning, so no one could eat it before me.  Then, when a co-worker casually asked me what I was having for lunch, I said loudly, “I eat yogurt for lunch everyday!”  The co-worker stared. I continued, “Yup! Blueberry yogurt!”
The co-worker looked around: “Okay. Uh do you eat anything else?” 

I replied, still articulating loudly, “Sure sure, but the nonfat, organic, blueberry yogurt happens EVERY DAY.”

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