Monthly Archives: January 2009

A strange and quirky convergence of my past and present life

My roommate is the ex-girlfriend of my ex-boyfriend.

It’s not as strange as it sounds.

I dated Mike in highschool. He dated Roomie last year. They are very good friends still.

Mike and I reconnected this year on Facebook after roomie asked him if any of his exes were on Facebook. I had just joined said social media site a few days earlier. I hadn’t seen or spoken with Mike in seven years (when I saw him at a wedding – the same wedding during which I met my ex-husband.)

Mike and I picked up where we left off, which is to say we were always really good friends. (In fact, I’m of the opinion that our little high school brains confused an endearing friendship with romantic feelings and that we were probably better off being friends than dating.)

When I started contemplating getting a roommate, Mike suggested that Roomie would make a good roomie. So we met, hit it off and decided to go for it.

Simultaneously, Mike was looking for a place to live. It dawned on me that one of the houses that my ex-husband and I lived in is available for rent. (My father owns the house) So last night, I showed it to him and he’s moving in two weeks.

As I walked him through the house, I thought about the situation. It’s certainly not anything that I could have ever imagined.

I never thought I would:

A. Be good friends with Mike again.

B. Not be married or need a roommate again.

C. Live with Mike’s ex-girlfriend

or D. Have Mike living in that house.

But when it’s all said and done, it fits together like a perfect quirky little puzzle.

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Frankly Friday Fun Facts

  • Last night I had dinner with three of my gays. We were scoping out the beautiful people in the bar/restaurant and making up stories about their lives. It was grand.
  • Shane told me I’m frilly. Next to quirky, it’s my second favorite compliment.
  • I have a list of things to do that is a mile long and that doesn’t even include my work items.
  • I’m taking the boyfriend to dinner tonight. I’m so excited!!
  • Gertie likes having a roommate, but she’s totally taking advantage of roomie’s sweet disposition. Last night she was all over roomie whoring out for belly rubs.
  • I forgot how much the kong helps that situation. But I also forgot how annoying a kong is on hardwood floors.

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Me = Future Lady Spy

On the way into work today home from the boyfriend’s this morning,  I received my calling.

It was a rather spiritual moment, actually.

I’ve always wondered what I’d be when I grew up. And now I know.

A lady spy! 

Now, there are a few reasons why this is a very bad fit for me. But being the eternal optimist, I feel I could overcome these obstacles for the sheer cool factor of being a lady spy. (Can I get a fake lipstick container with a camera in it?!)

Obstacle #1 – I cannot walk in stilettos. A fact I proved this summer when I purchased an uber high pair of stiletto sandals. I wore them once. See, this guy I was dating REALLY liked heels. And me, trying to be the vixen that I’m clearly not, aimed to show out.  There is nothing sexy about  constantly wobbling ankles and white knuckle gripping your date’s suit coat every time you stand up.

Obstacle #2 I drive like a granny. Apparently to be a lady spy, you have to be able to race motor boats, pedal to the medal a sports car and fly in and out of expressway lanes riding a motorcycle.  I typically stick to the right lane, pass only when in front of someone who drives slower than I do (rarely) and won’t even back out of my parking space without putting on my seatbelt.

Obstacle #3 I can’t dance. I mean I REALLY can’t dance. It’s bad. No, it’s awful. I can’t even two step. It’s like  Two. Steps.  and I can’t do either one. I’ve tried. Oh, I’ve tried. Most recently, I attended a work function that had dancing at it. A 21 year-old (someone’s son) asked me to dance. It was horrendous. Not only was I uncomfortable. HE was uncomfortable. By the end of the song, we were both kind of standing there awkwardly waving to the beat (aka waiting for the stupid song to end and put us out of our misery.)

Obstacle #4 – I probably couldn’t blog anymore if I were a spy. It just seems like it might be akin to a  party foul in the spy world.

Based on #4, I think it’s best if I leave the spying to the professionals.

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Where did January go?

I can’t believe the first month of 2009 is almost over. I’ve only typed/written 2008 every OTHER time I should have written/typed 2009.

Some recent observations:

It was sucked into meetings.

It was blown away by an icy cold front.

It was a topping on the largest pizza I’ve ever seen.

It went to the movies.

It took a road trip.

It moved. Across country.

It cooked breakfast.

And then it went to the gyno.

Go figure.

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Humbled

I’m humbled after this weekend.

On all accounts.

First – the move.

Oh, the move.

But we must back up to day-before-the-move when Stephanie has a melt down. I took a half day from work to prepare myself and run around town getting msc. moving things done. Then, I decided to go ahead and move my kitchen by myself. It was going well until I realized that there was no way it was all going to get done. Ever. And what if no one showed up on Saturday? And if they do show up would  they hate me and my worldly goods for existing? And why was I doing this again? And is this place really bigger and nicer than the last?  And so on.

Then the boyfriend came over so that we could see one another for an hour or so before I took him to the airport and he tried to calm me down, but it didn’t help that there was a mysterious beeping coming from somewhere seemingly in my apartment. Turns out it wasn’t my apartment. It was the upstairs apartment. And it sounded like her carbon monoxide detector.

So we got out of there. (With Gertie)

On the way to take him to the airport (in the snow – which I hate!), I was trying to get a hold of my apartment manager and figure out what should be/could be done. She tells me it’s ok and so I return home.

But it’s really cold. And getting colder. But I decide not to worry about it so I took a Tylenol P.M. and hit the sack. A few hours later she’s standing in my living room shouting my name. I drowsily wake up and stumble out.

She tries to tell me she turned off the heat b/c she couldn’t live with herself if it was carbon monoxide. Can I check into a hotel?

Um, not really. I’m kind of drugged.

I convince her I’m ok and I put on a stocking cap and return to bed, making sure Gertie is covered up with me.

Moving day: I shiver out of bed and hit the ground running.

Is anyone going to come?

After I took Gertie to the boyfriend’s mom’s house, I recieved the first of many calls that day.

Ben. Melissa. Justin. My parents – both of them. The boyfriend’s brother. His friend.

It was unreal. I coudn’t believe all these people would come help me carry my stuff into my new place.

I purchased the two largest pizzas I have ever seen and some beer for the troops. By the time I returned from that, the move was done. My dad was still busycleaning out my fridge from the old apartment and installing my nice shower head in my new bathroom.  Aside from that, everything was done.

It was amazing. I still have things to organize, but to have all the stuff moved was such a load off my shoulders.

To all who helped, I can’t thank you enough!

A few hours later, the boyfriend called and said he had won his card tournament. As part of his prize, he was able to pick out some details that may be used on a future card. He wanted my input so that the card could reflect a little of me. Again, an honor. 

My dad came over yesterday and helped me hang pictures.

All in all, it went infinitely better than I expected. And now I’m home again.

Gertie, on the other hand, is a little confused as to what happened when she went to play with Lily for a day.

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Social Meet-Up

Last night I attended a social meet-up for members of the Social Media Club of Kansas City. See if you can find my BRIGHT red hair.

It was really great information and I was overwhelmed by the various ways people are using social media in their professional endeavors.

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Choices

I like them. I need them to function.

I’m quite like a two-year-old in that regard.

Example:

Stephanie, do you want to go for a run?

Um, not really.

Or, do you want to have thighs full of cellulite from all that cheese you ate the other night.

Um, YES! Sign me up for that run!

See how easy that is? It’s all about perceived value, folks.

Today, I opened up the work freezer. Blech. Frozen mediocrity.

Oooh, but there were multiple options! I had my choice of:

Beans and Rice, Tuna Gratin, a Lean Pocket or Baked Ziti.  I took each box and laid it out on the counter. Now we were talking  a full menu of mediocrity. I paced back and forth debating my selection carefully.

Tuna Gratin it was.

Yum num num.

All of this is to say that I have given a select group of people the choice of whether or not to help me move on Saturday…

(groan. you knew I was going there, didn’t you?)

And so when they show up , I’ll know it was because they chose to. They could be doing anything on Saturday morning: watching T.V., sleeping in, running…but on Saturday morning, they will be there with bells on to lift, push, pull and shove me into my new space.

So, dear readers, I present you a choice:

Do you want to help Stephanie move?

or,

Do you want me to…

I should have mentioned that there is a fine line between a choice and a threat. I may have to rethink this strategy.

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Tool Academy

I’m not gonna lie. I watched some pretty awful television yesterday afternoon.

I had lunch with my mom, and then felt the need to veg out on the couch/part preparation for my upcoming move this weekend/part recovery from Ging’s birthday party Saturday night/part justification for a strong need to just be really, really lazy.

The list of shows included (but were not limited to) The Real Housewives of whatever rich place featured this month (OC, I think), What Not to Wear, The Real World, some crap on TLC about pageant children, some other crap on WE about wedding planning and Arrested Development (not crap, actually really good and the only redeeming entertainment resembling intelligent dialogue that I can claim.)

And while I think I watched every sub-par reality show known to man,  I didn’t watch the show known as Tool Academy on VHI.

I figured I had seen enough toolage Saturday night.

The Scene: Ging’s dive bar birthday tour. Last stop of the night (well for some of us, anyhow. There were rumors of a dance club after-party but the boyfriend and I voted unanimously to skip said shenanigans.) Those crazy disco kids had already grabbed a cab to some club.

The boyfriend and I were finishing drinks with a crew of stragglers that included a girl who fell asleep at bar #2 and had only woken up enough to shuffle to bars 3 and 4.

The tool stumbles over to our table and proceeds to hit on a girl who was standing right next to her boyfriend. He obviously didn’t get the memo that she was with date. But whatever. She was cool. Not flirting back, but not rudely dissing him either.

A few minutes later, it becomes evident that she’s with with the guy standing next to her. And instead of kindly backing off, or even apologizing for hitting on her, he proceeds to insult her.

“Whatever. You’re not that hot anyway.”

Holy cow. Did that just happen?! Did you just blatantly flirt with this girl, only to dish out rudeness five minutes later?

It takes all kinds. It really does.

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hey- I’m down here!

The Happy New Year Happy Hour was a success -I got to see all my friends in the New Year and everyone stuck by the rules and brought a bottle of wine $10 or less.

I even managed to cram 10 friends into my apartment at once. I was impressed.

The kicker of the evening was my friend’s son. He’s four. And adorable. Not only did he love Gertie (and her toys), he cracked me up. Every time I brought in new person and started in on the round of introductions, he would get my attention and say, “hey, I’m down here.”

Too stinking cute.

Not to mention that he and Justin had matching shirts on – light pink button downs.

Other highlights included seeing Molly’s ring, sharing crazy people stories(with myself being one of the crazy people), introducing a few people, getting to know roomie a little better and Abigail’s Krabby Wraps. yum, yum!

Thanks ladies (and Justin) for coming!

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When you are here, you’re family

Another family fest with the boyfriend’s nutty brood. Can you guess where?

I told you I’m keeping a list of things overheard when I’m with them (I’ve decided most of them revolve around the youngest bro.)

  • Bro: “Ughhh…I’m going to throw up. Can’t stop eating.” (he was serious too.)
  • Me: “Bro, do you want the rest of my cake?”  Bro: “No, I can’t even finish mine.” Me: “Then stop eating.” Bro: “I can’t. I must eat everything in front of me.” Me: “Then I’m taking it away from you.”
  • Cling. Cling. Cling. (The sound of the boyfriend and bro having a butter knife fight.)
  • Plop. (The sound of an Andes Mint landing in the boyfriend’s wine glass. Guess who put it there?)

Gertie also got to play with Lily to her heart’s content yesterday. The boyfriend’s dad has figured out that Gertie’s favorite inside game is throwing the tennis ball, but you must make it bounce for her enjoyment.

I wouldn’t know much about throwing things for Gertie inside due to the spacial limitations of my closet-sized apartment. (Not for long!)

Speaking of spacial limitations, I told you about the little Happy Hour which I planned on the day of my friend Ging’s birthday and then proceeded to invite all of our mutual friends.

Well that happens to be tonight. It will be fun getting everyone together. And by together, I mean, well, it’s a good thing we are close friends.

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