Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Guess what I'm getting today? Give up?

A TiVo!! I've been working on this for a very long time. It took a lot of whining, complaining, begging, and nagging on my part, but I finally convinced Kevin that this is something which, without it, my life will not be complete.

It also helped that tomorrow we are joining the Community Center. As we all know, starting a regular exercise routine is easier said than done. Also, we all know that when exercising with a partner, one is less likely to skip workouts. Swimming is a sport that Kevin and I can do together without getting angry at each other. I'm going to write the workouts and we are going to put in a good hour (which should amount to one to two miles) every, or almost every, night. I believe that swimming one mile is supposed to amount to something like running 11 miles. Sounds impressive that I can do that, huh? Well, it may help if I admit that I'd be hard pressed to even speed walk a full mile! Yet I can hop in and swim a mile and hardly be winded. To each their own, right?

Anyway, I think Kevin realizes that I am disgustingly and hopelessly addicted to things like American Idol and The OC and that I simply will not be dragged away from by beloved couch on a cold winter night to go swimming if it means missing my favorite shows. However, my love for swimming, even in the worst of Missouri weather, will get me out of my comfortable house if I have the secure knowledge that TiVo is unfailingly recording The OC.

I'm getting a TiVo!!!

Phone rings:

Me: Hello?

D: (always cheerful) HEllooooooo!

Me: (skipping and bouncing around the kitchen gleefully) Deeeeeeeeee! Hiiiiiiiiii!

D: Whatcha doin'?

Me: Making Kevin's lunch for tomorrow.

D: Aww, that's cute!

Me: Yeah. How's Texas treating you?

D: It's ok. We don't really like it here, but that's ok, too. You know why? Guess why. Guess where I'm going.

Me: (Please say Kansas City! Please say Kansas City!) I give up. Where?

D: Iraq!!

Me: (sniffling) W-wh-what?

D: Iraq!!

Me: Wh-when?

D: The sixth.

Me: SEPTEMBER 6th? Like in a WEEK?

D: Yep!

Me: How long?

D: At least 6 months, probably.

Me: D, NO! NOOOO!

D: It's OK!

Me: People are dying there!

D: It's ok, really. It'll be fine!

Me: NO! D, I'm going to do something about this!

D: You can't.

But I can. I could call his who-ever-is-in-charge and out him. I could. But I won't. Not unless D wants me to. But I want me to. But I won't. But I could.

Today found me traveling to Dearborn, MO to interview some bloke's neighbor. See that? I'm so British. Bloke bloody bloke. Turns out, Dearborn is the most nothing town I have ever seen. As I am compulsively early, I was in Dearborn 35 minutes early and had nothing to do. Never fear, I tell myself, this entire street is full of various antique stores. Why are there no other cars on this street? It took me a few minutes to realize that every single antique store was closed. In fact, every visible business was closed, save for the library at the end of the road. Oh, and a self-storage facility. So I resign myself to sitting in my car, listening to my audio book, while observing Very Small Town America. I saw:
A giant calico cat taking a giant calico poop on the side of the road.
An oversized beagle prancing alone down the street, stopping in the middle of an intersection to scratch, start prancing again, stop again to wipe his doggie bottom along the pavement until reaching the other side. Eeew.
A little old lady in her little old car park in front of an antique store. She sat, looked around, and left.
A twenty-something year old man driving a very small car with most of his entire body from mid-torso and up hanging out the driver side out the window. Odd.
The giant pooping calico cat meet the wiping-his-ass-on-the-pavement beagle at the end of the street. I take time to imagine that they talk to each other and are good friends.
No fewer than 20 people come and go from the self-storage facility. What is really going on in there? Drugs? Prostitution? Underground gambling ring? Surely something more exciting than self-storage to bring so many patrons on a rainy Wednesday morning.

And on the way out of town, I noticed a truckstop restaurant called Tank 'n Tummy.

On my nightstand: Reading--Drowning in Fire by Craig Womack; waiting to be read--Bitch Goddess by Robert Rodi

On Kevin's nightstand: Sort of Reading: Reader's Digest the Complete Do it Yourself Manual

In the CD player in the family room: squirrel Nut Zippers, Beastie Boys, another Beastie Boys, Billy Joel, the Cardigans.

In the CD player in my car: The Boy Next Door--audio book

In Kevin's discman: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Movies we own that I love but Kevin won't watch: Dirty Dancing, Bread and Tulips, Amelie, (Ok, anything with subtitles and any chick flick made in the 1980s)

Movies we own that Kevin loves but I won't watch: Pollock, Memento, Indiana Jones trilogy

Movies we own that we both enjoy: Harry Potter movies, Legally Blonde, the Scream trilogy

Steak: Kevin likes it well done. I just want the center warm.

Hamburgers: I like mine well done. Kevin likes his pink in the middle.

Freshman year of college: I was in the honors dorm and studied, studied, studied. Kevin doesn't really remember his freshman year.

Speed limits: Me--they are made to be broken. Kevin--is passed by blue-hairs.

Over-indulgences: Me--candy. Kevin--beer.

What Kevin does that bothers me: chews his nails--not just the nails but the entire top of his fingers!

What I do that bothers Kevin: I tell him to stop chewing his nails. He thinks I'm controlling!

Education: Me--degree in Criminal Justice with a minor in English with an emphasis on literature. Kevin--degree in Commercial Art with an emphasis on illustration.

There's not all that much that we have in common, but I love him and he loves me and that seems to work for us! Ain't love grand?

We spent the weekend with the fam. Family, that is. And when we get together, we eat together. Really. All we do is eat, eat, eat and this is just fine with me. The highlight of the weekend was, as always, spending time with Elliott and Annie, nephew and niece. This found us, as always, on the way home discussing The Baby Timeline. After a weekend of playing with Elliott and Annie, I want to move the timeline up a bit. Like, let's have a baby NOW!! After a weekend of playing with Elliott and Annie, Kevin is very adamantly trying to move the timeline BACK! Like, let's have a baby at an unspecified date far, far in the future. Ahh, well.

There are certain songs that make me think, "Man, I wish I was the girl he was writing about."

She's Got a Way--Billy Joel
She's Always a Woman--Billy Joel
Until the Night--Bill Joel
(Ok, anytime Billy Joel is writing about a woman, I want it to be ME!)
Your Body is a Wonderland--John Mayer
Comfortable--John Mayer
Fortunate Fool--Jack Johnson
Still Remains--Stone Temple Pilots
I've Got a Crush on You--Frank Sinatra (but did he actually write that? Maybe I just want him to sing it to me?)
Deeply Dippy--Right Said Fred
I want you, I need you, I love you--Elvis Presley
Love me Tender--Elvis Presley (again, I'm not sure he wrote those, but let's pretend that he did, ok?)

On a totally separate note, KineticMe started a blog! He is a friend of my sister and her husband. I have never met him, not for lack of trying. Once we even drove by his house but he wasn't home. Don't be creeped out! I feel like he's my friend, though, because Jennifer talks about him all the time. Also, he gave her a hilarious birthday card and I'm the only other one who found it funny. Anyway, welcome to our world.

And on another totally separate note, I can't find Pudding Pops. I found some a few weeks ago. I was really excited because Jennifer was coming to stay the night at my house and she loves them. And don't we all know how great it feels to please our older siblings? Besides wanting to please her, though, I LOVE PUDDING POPS! I can't find any more Pudding Pops. I WANT PUDDING POPS!

Do you remember that Brian Fellow's Safari Planet skit on Saturday Night Live? It's our favorite.

Last night we were flipping back and forth between the Olympics and Everybody Loves Raymond. We caught a bit of the Japanese mens' gymnastics. There was a particularly shaggy Japanese man on camera and Kevin pulled out one of our all time favorite lines:

"That rat needs a haircut!"

HA!! Sometimes he just cracks me up.

We had a very uneventful weekend.

Friday night: We had dinner at the Goods. S. Good has been invited to a Pure Romance party, which, as it turns out, is like a tupperware party but instead of tupperware you buy sex toys. Women only. I want to go with her, but we are going to visit my parents that weekend. Dad's birthday or sex toy party? Seeing as how I don't want to tell my dad I'm missing his birthday celebration to attend a sex toy party, I think I'll just go to Springfield.

Saturday: Hmmm...did we do anything on Saturday? I gave Top her weekly bath, cleaned the house, same ol', same ol'. Kevin's parents came over for dinner and then took us out for ice cream. We were asleep very early. Weekends are for sleeping.

Sunday: I went to Target and bought lots and lots of toilet paper. It was on sale. Also, I bought some bbq flavor raw hide treats for Top and one of those new Clorox toilet wands. No more scrungy toilet brush! I would have bought Dirty Dancing Havana Nights, but I couldn't find it. I then went to the grocery store. I had all my groceries neatly piled on the conveyer belt thing before the stupid cow behind the register said, "Ma'am, you do realize that is the express lane?" I looked at her and said, "Shit." She stood there and watched me put my stuff up there! Did she say that's ok and ring up my purchases? No, I had to put everything back in my cart and stand in line again. How badly I wanted to make the bag-boy/man re-bag all of my purchases, after he had finished, by saying, "Sir, you do realize that I wanted paper, not plastic?" It's true, I wanted paper, but he didn't ask. Sometimes you have to be bigger than the Price Chopper associates.

Last night while we were eating dinner, I smiled a very corn-filled smile at Kevin and said, "I think my favorite part of summer is corn on the cob."

Now, though, I'm not so sure that is true. There are so many lovely things about summer:
chlorine
not stopping for school buses
strawberries, blueberries and oh the lovely peaches!
b-b-q night every night
Kevin doesn't ask me to make chili, like, every day
no pantyhose
tan lines
opening all the windows
snow cone stands
county fairs
outdoor concerts
swim meets
the smell of sunscreen
the release of bad action movies
baseball!

I spent the entire weekend being 15 again. That is how I feel when I am with my old friends. Forever Fifteen. This was the weekend of the big wedding. One of my oldest and dearest friends, Jeff, was taking the marital plunge with his perfect little love, Julie. Julie is "old money" from Rochester, NY. This fact becomes important to remember later.

A bit of history:
In high school I was the token girl in a group of boys I lovingly referred to as The Nerd Herd. Hey, we were the coolest nerds in school. This group was comprised of Jeff and Andy (identical twins), Brian, my Brad, and myself. Others came and went from the group, but we were the lifers. There were other boys from outside our school who were also part of the group--James, Scott, John, and Adam. Of these boys, now men, only John was not at the wedding. Also at the wedding were some of Jeff's friends from college--Brandon, another Brad, Chris, and another Chris (who went to high school with us but was CERTAINLY not a member of our elite group). This made the wedding party complete. Oh, and I shouldn't forget to mention that each and every one of them, except my Brad, are complete and utter bafoons.

Now, the bride being from old money, she had a self-riotous rich bitch for a mother. These were some of her complaints:
1) The wedding venue was a fancy schmancy country club that required the men to wear jackets at all times. The wedding party showed up for rehearsal in tacky vintage corduroy and plaid jackets bought at thrift stores, borrowed from grandfathers, or taken out of fathers' closets or attics. Except Brad, of course. What self-loving gay man would don unappealing apparel for the sake of a good laugh?
2) We all squished into the same table at the rehearsal dinner and proceeded to get drunk very quickly. Profanity was thrown, food was thrown, love was thrown. It was a good time.
3) Adam wore white socks with his tuxedo.
4) The boys got restless before the wedding and proceeded to play hackey sack on the grassy area where the wedding was to take place. What's the big deal?
5) Scott didn't shave his unbelievably long and scraggly mountain-man beard until after the pictures. HA!
6) As soon as we sat down at our assigned seating at the reception, the boys all at the same time lunged for the lovely fresh-flower centerpiece and put huge chunks of it in their lapels.
7) None of us ate the fancy what-ever-it-was appetizer after the first bite. Eeeeew! Oh, and we made a HUGE deal about it, at that.
8) Adam had a dance-0ff with his father. We all thought it was great, more than a little sexy, and, after all, it is tradition. Julie's mom didn't seem to think it was appropriate.

All in all, it was a great time. Brad and I spent most of the weekend in our usual constant state of giggles, I got to show the boys that I look great in a dress, dance with all of my old chums, and Brad and I stole away for a quick trip to Niagara Falls.

Yesterday I was in a hurry. I have things to do, people! I finally remembered to take my clothes to the drycleaners, seeing as how my little black dress I need this week was covered in cat hair. I don't know how that happened, seeing as how it was hanging neatly in the back of the closet, me not having many occasions to don the little black dress. (Seeing as how I keep saying, "seeing as how," I'll just say right now that I have NO IDEA why I'm doing that.)

Anyway, after finally dropping off the drycleaning on Friday, yesterday I surprised myself by actually remembering to pick it up. I was running errands and was in that rush rush sort of mode. I fast-walked up to the counter, plopped down my ticket, said "Reisenbichler," and plopped down my debit card. The girl at the counter looked at the card and said nothing. She got my clothes, made small talk, rang up the sale, and announced $21.50. I tapped the debit card impatiently. The dry cleaner girl then announced that they only accept cash or checks. Shit. Then I completely surprised myself by rolling my eyes and saying, "That's ghetto." That's ghetto? When did I start saying ghetto? Who do I think I am? Paris Hilton? Ghetto. Huh!

That same night we had Kevin's family over for dinner. I only had enough fancy corn-cob holders for four people. I looked at Kevin's brother and said, "Sorry, Tim. I had to give you the ghetto corn-cob holders." What's that? I did it again? This has to come to an end. Girls who say ghetto are so ghetto.