Tag Archives: the boyfriend

The surprise was on me

We surprised Stephanie in Vegas, but it turns out the surprise was on me. 

After we had a few drinks at the bar at Caesar’s Palace, the boyfriend said he wanted to explore. Even though it was past midnight in Vegas, it wasn’t that late for us. I had never been to Vegas before, so I was kind  of excited to see the strip. 

He said we should go over to the Bellagio where they had a fountain show. I have to say, I couldn’t understand what was so exciting about seeing a fountain. But he said it would be pretty cool, so I went. 

But when we got to the fountain, it was too late and it had stopped running. (We did see it the next night and I can see why he was raving about it.) So, he suggested we go over to Paris, Paris to go up in the Eiffel Tower.But once again, we got there to find out that was closed. 

We played a few slots in Paris and I was getting kind of hungry (we hadn’t eaten dinner.) Typical to me, I had worn a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes. I tried to take them off, but then I realized we would have to walk outside and that wouldn’t work. 

So, there I was, tagging along beside the boyfriend, carrying my Miller Light bottle and trying to find new ways to walk that didn’t involve the heels of my feet, which is what I looked like when we found ourselves on a bridge overlooking the strip. We stopped for a minute. (Much to the happiness of my feet.) and the boyfriend started saying romantic things. Awww…we shared a kiss or two.  And all of a sudden, he pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a RING BOX.

WHAT?!

Then he was on his knees, saying more things. Something about spending the rest of his life with me.

And there were people cheering and screaming “SAY YES!”

Then I said yes like five times.

And we kissed and there was more cheering.

Then there was this beautiful sparkly ring on my finger and much like the Match.com connection between us a year ago, it fit perfectly. 

It was surreal. 

And what do you know? Well, I was engaged and hungry and my feet still hurt. So what did we do?

We found a restaurant still opened and we ordered champagne and club sammies and toasted to us. 

It was probably 3 a.m. But we didn’t care. It was perfect.

I barely slept that night because every time I so as rolled over, I’d wake up and think, “I’m engaged!” 

The next day, there was a blister the size of a quarter on my heel and a ring on my finger.

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Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

I have to apologize. I didn’t tell you the entire truth about my time off last week.  But it was for good reasons…

See, I had a little surprise up my sleeves.

The other Stephanie (see the Cast of Characters at the top to read more about her.) is turning 30 this year (youngin’!) and her husband planned a fabulous surprise for her in…

VEGAS!

She knew she was going with him, but she had no idea that her three best girlfriends would be there.

Do you know how hard it was to not tweet, blog or Facebook status post that I was freaking going to VEGAS with my boyfriend to see one of my best girlfriends?!

Luckily no one slipped up. And she was genuinely  surprised when on her first night in Vegas (Thursday) the boyfriend and I walked up and said hi to her in a bar, followed by her college roomie and her man. (She hadn’t seen Shannon in EIGHT years!)

Then, the next day at the pool, her OTHER friend Stephanie (that’s three. three Stephanies in Vegas.) and her husband showed up just in time for fruity drinks.

What a weekend! Poolin’, drinkin’, gamblin’ and eatin’. It was perfect. I can’t think of a better group to hang out with. 

[Edited to add picture of all the girls courtesy of Stephanie #3]

Vegas girls

Once everyone arrived and we convinced Stephanie that there would be no more friends popping up out of nowhere, we spent time gabbing and catching up. It was fun getting to know Shannon and catching up with Stephanie #3 I had met her once before.

Stephanie’s husband had made a reservation for all of us at Mesa Grill Friday night. It was a-mazing. We were all passing food around the table and raving about everything. 

Saturday Stephanie and I went shopping and then we hit the pool.

 

StephaniesShannon and her man had to leave early, so that left just the three Stephanies. We enjoyed sushi and a Penn & Teller show that night.

[Edited to add a picture of the Stephanies. We are counting ourselves to make sure you aren’t confused.]

I’m so happy that Stephanie was surprised in Vegas and that I could be in on it. But it turns out the surprise was on me…

(To be continued.)

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Gertie and the kid

Last night during our friendly gathering to watch Riftrax, Gertie learned a valuable lesson.

Children are a source of food.

One of my favorite little kiddos was on hand for movie night. He quickly latched on to the idea that I was going to make (eh, burn a little, make a little. It’s all good.) popcorn on the stove.

Recently the boyfriend gave me a giant popcorn ceramic bowl. I lurve it. So did the kid. He pretty much took it over, in fact.

(Ah, a child after my own heart.)

But as he was eating, he would put one in his mouth, give one to Gertie, one in his mouth, one to Gertie. You can see how this quickly endeared my dog to the kid.

I watched, holding my breath as Gertie gingerly took each piece from his hands. She hasn’t spent a lot of time with children and I was thankful that her friendly, non-aggressive manner with adult people seems to be extended to little people.

Good times, good times.

Speaking of good times, this kid I speak of and I are on a mission this weekend.

Yes, his very brave mom is entrusting me with her son for an afternoon adventure to Kansas City’s @Union Station where we will take a tour of the @Narnia Exhibit.

Thanks to Union Station for sending me some tickets. Luckily I have a good friend who will lend me her child for such an outing. Look forward to a full recap of our trip in a future blog post.

Oh, but there is one caveat. She’s sending the 13-year-old babysitter with us too.

And let’s be honest, we all know who the babysitter is really going to have to keep an eye on…

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Braggy Brag Brag

This is so lame, but I have to brag it: I ran eight miles yesterday.

It’s lame because I’m bragging. It’s lame because it was only eight miles (for serious distance runners, eight is the bottom of the barrel of long runs – the bare minimum  you need to scrape by and call it a “long run.” ) It’s lame because it was the highlight of my weekend.

I need a life.

I mean, yeah, I was in the news after witnessing a scaffolding accident and then reporting it on twitter. But that was Friday…oh so long ago.

And I did go to a kicking barbecue on Saturday afternoon and got to hang with some of the Lunch Bunch. But that took about zero effort, unless you count the trips back and forth to the fridge to fetch another beer.

And the boyfriend did take me to a very nice dinner on Sunday after we visited the parents. But I spent most of that dinner still reeling from the stress my parents were oozing over their pending move.

So, the fact that I got my  butt out of bed on Monday morning to run eight miles for no other reason than I may or may not run a marathon this fall and I kinda want to see how my body does in some long runs, kind of impressed me.  And it was the first time I’ve run that far since 2006. And it was a drizzly dreary morning.

I can get over myself about right. now.

Ok, but one more thing.

(And then I pinky swear, cross my heart and hope to die, Girl Scout promise that the next post on this blog will not be a bragolicious, self-righteous, look at me, I’m such a good runner, tale.)

The rotel cheese dip and bacon ranch pasta salad I made for the Barbecue at the boyfriends rocked the hizzouse.

That’s all.

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Cheese please

Observation: when  no one’s watching, I regress to a no holds bar, all manners and rules are off the table slob. I feel the need to share this with you, why? Eh, it’s cheaper than therapy.

Case in point: I just polished off a huge piece of buttery blueberry lemon pound cake. About 3/4 through said breakfast, I thought to myself, why am I bothering with this fork? So I abandoned the fork. Then when all that was left were a few buttery crumbly bits, I was literally scraping them off the plate and licking them from my fingers, then re- picking up the smallest bits with my sticky finger tips to lick those off. Ew. (but yum.)

Speaking of yum, I have to share with you a recipe I tried last night. This was completely plagiarized from one of the work girls who says she snagged it off a can of enchilada sauce.

I had the pleasure of trying this recipe at a surprise baby shower fiesta we threw for preggo work girl.  I begged for the recipe. And I had been dreaming of it ever since. (I know. I have issues.)

I present: The Queen of Quirky Work Girls’ Cream Cheese Surprise! – We’re Throwing You a Baby Shower Fiesta – Chicken Enchiladas (or just Cream Cheese Chicken Enchiladas if you are lazy)

Buy: A pound of chicken, a block of cream cheese, an onion, a large can of green chili enchilada sauce, a small can of diced green chilli’s, a bag of flour tortillas and a package of shredded cheddar cheese.

Also buy: a bottle of Margarita mix with tequila in it. This recipe is way too easy to bother with fussy margaritas. Pour yourself a glass while preparing and enjoy. You’ll finish in time for your second glass while they cook. (Yes, I take tips via PayPal – e-mail me at queenofquirky at the g-mail)

Editor’s note: margaritas are for the cook, not for the baby shower fiesta recipient herself. Not that I’d judge any expecting mother for having a few sips of a delicious Margarita.

Turn your oven on to 350. (Be sure to remove any pans, toys, shoes or other items you may have stored in your oven since your last usage. Again, I don’t judge.)

Dice up the chicken into small cubes. Then, chop up the onion and throw it all in a pan with some olive oil and salt and pepper.

While that’s cooking, open up the cream cheese and cut it into cubes. Grab your can opener and open the can of chili’s. Once the chicken is done, turn the heat down to low and throw in the cream cheese and chili’s.

Mix it up really well, then fill your flour tortillas with the cheesey chicken mix. Roll them up and place them seam side down in a Pyrex.

Back to your can opener and open up the green chili enchilada sauce and pour that baby all over the tortillas. Oh yeah.

Then grab your package of shredded cheese, rip it open and dump almost all of it on top of the enchiladas.  (Reach inside and grab a few bites of what’s left  for yourself, allowing some to fall to the floor for the dog. Did you not read the first part of this post? I’m a pig.)

Put your enchiladas in the oven and bake for about 20 minutes, or until you can no longer watch another second of baseball on t.v. with your boyfriend.

Serve it up instantly (and grab that remote while he’s distracted with the cheesey goodness.) Oh, and if you were planning on taking these to a baby shower fiesta, you’re going to have to make another batch . But that’s ok. More margaritas while you cook, right?

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Feet. Don’t fail me now.

Here’s how the weekend went down:

Took the boyfriend to the airport on Friday evening in his car because mine sucks right now. Following a pit stop to do a little Friday evening shopping on the route home, I returned to his car, put the key in the ignition.

Nada.

No turn; no nothing.

Truth be told, this isn’t the first time his car has demonstrated its hatred of me. Last time I was in a Costco parking lot, sweating bullets, screaming, praying and then screaming at the car. After about 15 minutes of this scene, I got out and grabbed the first sucker non-creepy citizen to help me. Well, he couldn’t get it either. (validation!) He suggested I ask one of the maintenance men inside the car section of Costco to help me.

It’s a good thing I’m not shy, folks.

So I marched right in there, batted my eyelids, pouted my sweaty-faced lips and begged one of the big strong Costco car men to come help me.

Flash forward to Friday night. There were no Costco men in sight. It was me v. car and I wasn’t about to let car win. So I got out, walked around the car, got in and presto! It worked.

Despite the fact that I was starving, and that I had very little food at home, there was no way I was stopping ANYWHERE after that. I pulled the car into the spot and that’s where it stayed until Sunday morning when I used it to pick up the boyfriend. It also liked me much better on Sunday – only sticking a little bit before turning on.

On Saturday, I didn’t need a car. First I ran six miles with Gertie -dodging the walkers in an Arthritis charity walk. “Dog and runner on your right. ” “Coming through with a dog.” “On your left.” “Scuse us.” “Sorry, coming through.”

At one point, Gertie, upon seeing a very terrifying stroller, took a sideways run, wrapping her leash around an unsuspecting gentleman. This caused me to say a choice word, and then I realized there was a child right by him.  Oopsie.

I forsee the Karma from that event haunting me in my future.

After a very eventful run, and stuffing my face with some macaroni and cheese as to not drink on an empty stomach, I joined the ranks of the young and foolish in Kansas City for the pub crawl. 

First off, I have to say that I might have walked away before even getting started had my group not been super cool.

I was standing outside bar #1 (of 5), waiting to meet up with my group and this young little blond girl was jumping up and down, “OH MY GOSH! You guys?! We get to go to Ernie Biggs. I’m sooooooooooo happy we get to go to Ernie Biggs. gush gush gush gush.”

Is this what I’m in for during the next five hours?

Yup, it was. Luckily my team took a diversion to a (gay) bar off course mid-way through our route.  Loved it. While we didn’t get to drink for free, we got away from the masses and the Coors Light. (Blech.)  And a certain bunch of our team, got to get their flirt on. I was fine and dandy just chilling out, watching the antics play out before me. Also, it was kind of awesome when our team captain asked me out on a date after seeing a picture of me in the Wonder Woman costume.

I think she was kidding?

All in all, my team made the crawl worth it, and I think we did something  good for Cancer, but I’m not really sure.

All I know is that I’m old.

I was in bed by 8, full of beer, post-crawl Mexican food and a dayof good friends and lots of laughter.

Sunday I picked up the boyfriend from the airport and we spent the day together. We even survived our first “couples” trip to the mall. (Or rather, he survived his first trip to the mall with me.)

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North Carolina Day 1 aka wake up early, drool on a plane and possibly cause an overweight Delta flight

Not to get all journal-y on you, but here’s a recap of Day 1 of my trip to NC.

Woke up at 2:30 a.m. to shower and put a suit on. Oh, and possibly the most uncomfortable  cutest shoes in the world.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I didn’t want coffee. I wanted to sleep. I was a grump.

The most amazing boyfriend in the world drove the grumpiest girlfriend in the world  to the airport.  I arrived before the Delta staff. Which didn’t help my mood. While I was waiting around, I  decided my shoes were probably a bad life choice.

My boss met me in the terminal.  I was beyond trying to form coherent sentences. And the Delta staff had finally decided to arrive. It was nap time.

We  boarded the refrigerator disguised as a plane where I fell into frozen coma only to wake  myself up with a loud snore. And yes my mouth was open and yes there was drool on my chin. Loverly.

I limped through the  Atlanta airport in my stupid shoes, crossing  three terminals and making two gate changes before we were finally on our plane to Fayetteville. Oh, but then our plane had a weight problem. Too many breakfast burritos? (yum!) I’m not sure how exactly they knew this would help but they were asking two people to get off the plane. (gulp) Despite the fact that we didn’t have time to wait for the next flight, I was terrified to raise my hand for fear they would say, oh that will do. We really just needed you to get off the plane — you and your ginormous suitcase.

(Did I mention the fact that it took five minutes to shut the suitcase Monday night?)

In Fayetteville we rented the cutest little yellow VW Beetle and I probably annoyed my boss by proclaiming my love for it in every parking lot we retrieved it in. “Look at that cutsie wootsie yellow bug! Whose a good car?!  My little yellow buggy is. Gootchie gootchie goo….”

Meanwhile Bad Betty was in rare form. For a minute she thought we were still in Kansas City. Silly Betty, we aren’t in Kansas anymore. She did pull through and found a darling tea room for lunch downtown where I pretended  a Ceasar salad with fried Parmesan chicken on top was a healthy lunch option and drank my weight in sweet tea. The latter  haunted me half way through our first customer visit.

While the visits went well (Of course. I’m awesome. I’m doing the awesome dance. In my cute little Bug.) my inflated ego got a big ole fat safety pin in it when I realized I had booked our rooms at the Fairfield Inn for LAST week. Oy. Luckily there wasn’t a rush in Fayetteville for mid-level hotel rooms and it worked out.

By dinner I was slap happy and goofy and no longer trying to hide it. And now I’m just delirious and watching 90210 in my hotel room.

I’m really not sure why I’m still up. For a while I was just trying to stay up because going to bed at 7 (or was it 8 EST…) is lame. But now it’s like a game I can’t quit. I’m such an addict.

But there is more sweet tea drinking, customer visits and hours in the Bug with Bad Betty to look forward to en route to Myrtle Beach tomorrow.

And if any of this makes sense then I need a cookie.

Mmmmmm. Cookie. With Sweet tea. yuuuuuuuummm. I’m working on a serious weight problem for the plane ride home.

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