First Run...Almost Made It

So last night, Central Massachusetts got it's first meaningful snow for the season.  We got a dusting for Christmas and about an inch on Friday morning.  But last night, we got about 10 inches of fresh, fluffy snow.  And Dave couldn't be happier.  All night he kept running to the windows,checking the accumulation.  Actually, I'm surprised he didn't wake up and jump up and down on the bed, exclaiming about how much snow we got.  I'm very proud that he didn't.

While we wanted to take our snowmobiles out, we haven't registered them yet and today the agent office was closed.  So we went cross country skiing at Great Brook Ski Touring Center.  It was a great day for it.  The sun came out, the powder was perfect for gliding, and I only fell once (over some ice at the very beginning). 

Dave and I came back home and cleared out some snow from around the house and Dave killed the downspout with the snow blower.

The little dark chunks to the left of the downspout are more pieces of downspout.  Dave is ashamed.

Then we decided to have some real fun.  Even though our snowmobiles aren't registered, we can ride them on our own property.  Behold: Dave turning our backyard into his own private, albeit tiny, snowmobile trail. (My apologies for the sideways-ness of this video...I actually thought I was taking it correctly.)

It was actually pretty fun.  Until we went to put the sled back on the trailer and Dave came up the slight incline only to run out of gas.  We didn't have that much gas in it to begin with, and I'm sure the slight tilt didn't help, but it was pretty funny to see that after going around the yard about 8 times, he didn't have enough in the tank to bring it home.

So close, yet so far.  Dave is again ashamed.

So on Dave's agenda for tomorrow is registering the snow mobiles and stopping for gas on the way home so we can get the sled back on the trailer (and hopefully go out on a real trail later this week).

Meeting The Bloggess

Last Friday night I had the opportunity to meet the woman behind my favorite non-food blog.  Remember last year when I introduced you to The Bloggess by linking to her story on picking your battles and Beyonce the giant metal chicken?  Well, Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess herself wrote a book and visited Boston last week for a reading, Q&A and book signing.

My friend Rachel picked me up from work and we headed to the Brookline Booksmith.  Let me just say, as friendly as the staff are there, they really had no idea what they were in for.  Half of them didn't know who The Bloggess was or what her blog is about (duh, taxidermied animals, the zombie apocalypse and fighting mental illness), but they also had no idea how popular she was, the size crowd to expect, or how to spell her name.

Her name as The Bloggess is actually written on the cover of her book.  That they sell in this store.

I'd called the week before to see if tickets were needed (they weren't) and then asked when I should arrive for seating/getting in line.  The event started at 7 pm, so the clerk said they typically start seating between 6:30 and 6:45 pm.  This sounds like a bit of insanity to me, so I made a note to suggest to Rachel we try getting there around 6 pm.

Rachel and I did some window shopping, got some food (followed by some ice cream) and then met her husband John who had come from work.  We headed back to the bookstore to get seats.  There were about 25 seats set up in a small area when Rachel and I first got there around 4 pm.  When we came back at 6 pm, there were about 75 seats and the front rows were already filled.  We grabbed seats for ourselves and saved one for Dave, who was coming from work later.  We spent the next hour watching people trickle in, doing some serious people-watching in general and also being totally jealous of the woman who walked in carrying her own 3 foot replica of Beyonce.

The place got mobbed, but I must say the crowd (by and large) were friendly, nice and not stereotypical Boston-style irritating.  (Note: I say by and large because later when we got in line for the signing the guy behind us was a total douche to his wife.  But at least he wasn't being douchy to everyone else in line.)

Dave came in while people were standing in the aisles, sitting on the floor and mobbing the stairs (the room was in the basement level of the bookstore).  The crowd was so nice they didn't even give him a glare when he took the seat I saved for him (and surprisingly, no one asked if they could sit there or gave me a hairy eyeball for saving it). 

At one point I turned to Rachel and said I really had to pee and I kind of wanted to go to the bathroom to see if Jenny was hiding in there (she has anxiety and tells stories of how she'll often avoid crowds by hanging out in the bathroom all night).  But then the moment came and Jenny made her way through the crowd to begin the reading. 

She was totally adorable, humble, sweet and very, very funny.  She read from the book (complete with side notes which were even more funny stories) and took questions from the audience.  It was hilarious.  I started to record a portion, but knew I wouldn't be able to keep the camera steady what with the buckled over laughs and wiping the tears from my eyes from laughing so hard. 

There were easily over 150 people there and after all was said and done, we got in line for the signing.    She was signing upstairs, so those of us with seats actually ended up in the back of the line and the people on the stairs got to go first.  But it was still fabulous and then a manager announced that Jenny would stay until they closed to sign every last book or stuffed mouse, so a lot of people left the line and headed out to get food and whatnot, so that actually made the line move rather quickly.

Rachel, John and I waited (Dave went to get food--it was now past 8 and he hadn't had dinner), continued people watching and eventually wound our way to the front of the line where I got my book signed, a card for Amy (who had bought me the book in the first place), and got my picture taken with Jenny and Copernicus.  It was so much fun.

And Jenny totally signed the card to Amy "Knock, knock, mofo."

I Can't Make This Up

Conversation between Dave and I the other night:

Dave: I'm going to be busy tomorrow.  I got a lot of stuff to do.

Me: Oh yeah?

Dave: Yeah.  I got a shed to clean out.  I have 3 cars to wash.  I have to go to the hoobajoo to get the spinny thing.

Me: The who and the where?

Dave: The hoobajoo...you know, to get the fan.

Me (laughing, hard): No, I don't know.

Dave: Well, I couldn't get storage locker and since I was committed to hoobajoo, I couldn't say, 'I need to go to the hoobajoo to get the...fan.'  That wouldn't sound right.

"It was camouflaged!"

Actual conversation between Dave and I last night:

Me (in the kitchen): You like cantaloupe, right?

Dave (in the living room): Yeah.

Me: Ok, I'm going to cut this up then.

Dave: Ok...Wait.  When did you get a cantaloupe?

Me: Oh dear Lord.  Are you serious?

Dave: What?

Me: It's been here since Saturday.

Dave:  Where?

Me: On the counter.

Dave: Oh, well it was camouflaged!  (Note: Our counters are off-white, but not the dark beige of a cantaloupe rind.)

Me: You're full of it.

Dave: Well it wasn't in the fruit bowl, so I didn't see it.

Me: No.  It was right in front of the fruit bowl and you reached over it earlier.

Dave: See, it wasn't in my line of vision because I was looking beyond it.

Me: I'm so blogging this.

Dave: What?  No!

Me: My mom is going to love this one.

Dave:  Ah, dammit.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...Thud

That's the sound of me falling off my chair after laughing so hard. 

I'm still crying over this it's so funny.

I had a whole other post written for today, but as the blog gods have eaten the associated photos instead of publishing them in the post, I'm sharing this link to a very funny blog post a friend shared with me.  I've never read this blog before but you can guarantee I'm all over it now.

And That's Why You Should Learn to Pick Your Battles

Enjoy.

Priorities

I love this story and hope my friend isn't offended.

Moments ago I received an email from a friend, who is a doctor, telling me she was pregnant (yay, babies!).  So I immediately called her.  The following is our conversation.

B: Hello?

Me: Hi, B!  Congratulations!

B: Thanks.  I'm in the OR.

Me (laughing uncontrollably): I can't believe you answered your phone!

B: Yeah, that's how I roll.  I'll call you later.

Willing Spring to Come

This winter has been painful.  Aside from the 80+ inches of snow we got, it's been so cold and windy throughout March and into April that I'm beginning to believe winter will never end.  EVER.  I've been willing spring to come--refusing to wear my heavy winter coat (I've been layering underneath my fall/spring jacket), pulling out my fun and funky spring/summer sandals and heels, even getting pedicures in March with Cindy was a signal to spring that it was welcome to come around.

Seriously, this is what I woke up to on April 1st:

April Fool's, suckers!

But alas, none of this is working.  To the point that a colleague who was born and raised in Boston commented that this winter has been so bad and has lasted so long that its enough to drive someone out of New England. 

Wow.  I expect a comment like that from me, but not from a lifer.

Of course by now you know that one of Dave's and my favorite warm weather activities is mini golf.  And I'm eager to continue the dominance that I relished in last season, what with my holes in one and beating Dave on more than one occasion (yes, beating him twice is considered dominance in my world.  As my dad says, you're only as good as your last game).

At Christmas-time, I'd noticed that our local mall had replaced the Gap/Gap Kids store with an indoor Glow Golf course.  Very intriguing.  While we had no interest in checking it out during winter break (mall rats and all), we kept saying that we should go do it sometime.  Finally, we decided that it might be an indicator to the Spring gods that we were ready if we did some mini golf.  So we went to the mall the other night and started our season early.

Guess what?  If you go to the mall on a school night after dinner, there won't be as many mall rats to annoy you.  In fact, there won't be anyone at all in the glow golf.

We had the place to ourselves and it was a pretty good set up.  They actually have 2 eighteen hole courses that wrap throughout the two stores (the stores adjoined in the middle) and for $9 each, we could do both courses and then if we wanted to, we could pick our favorite and do it again.  It's like less than 17 cents a hole.  Awesome date night value.  Although the clerk told us they had apparently run out of the little pencils so we weren't able to keep score.  Not necessarily a bad thing.

That dark circle thing in the middle of this hole is a loop-the-loop (two side by side).  And it's metal.  And when you miss the lead into it and hit the side, it makes a very loud noise.  Every time you hit it.

You know what's hard?  Mini golf in the dark.  Well, it wasn't entirely dark, because the glowing aspects were quite bright and neon.  And the course was hard.  They had a lot of stuff in the way (I know that's the point, but I mean there was A LOT of stuff on the greens in the worst places).  Plus, since it was dark, seeing the slight dips and bumps was very difficult.  And even the holes that didn't have a lot of obstacles required a 180 degree turn to get remotely close to the pin. 

The good news is that I got a hole-in-one on the second hole.  The bad news is that I was otherwise terrible.  The first course was a disaster--I probably mulligan-ed my first shot of the tee on at least 7 of the holes.  Dave had some do-overs, but wasn't quite as awful as me.  In the end we both ended up with two holes-in-one, but I know on the first course, he probably beat me by 10.  The second course was better and I think we were more evenly matched.  We opted not to take them up on the offer to play our favorite course again.

I don't know if we'll go back--I don't think I could tolerate it had there been a bunch of people.  And it would have been slow going if there were children.  But we did have fun, mostly laughing at how bad we were.  Maybe we were just rusty--after all, it's been months since we played.  Either way, we had a good time. And since we didn't keep score, I was able to convince Dave that I beat him and made him buy me ice cream at Dairy Queen when we were through. 

Civic Responsibility

Yesterday I had the joy of partaking in what some (the judge) might call our most important civic responsibility, outside of voting--jury duty.  While I wasn't thrilled with the prospect of a day spent sitting and waiting, I did look view it as an opportunity to spend a day reading or crocheting, even if there chairs weren't exactly comfortable.

Jurors in Massachusetts are summoned from 9 am to 4 pm on they date dictated by the state, but are asked to arrive by 8 am for processing and instructions.  Shortly before 7:30 am I found a place to park in Worcester (not after driving in a circle or two) and made my way to the courthouse.  While walking to the building, another juror who was also confused by the crazy roads was parked randomly on the street and asked me if I knew where the courthouse was.  I told her (right in front of us) and asked, due to the confused look on her face, if she had jury duty.  She confirmed and I pointed her to the lot I used, supposedly for jury pool parking.

Woman: Then where do I go?

Me: Well, I'm going to walk in the front door of the courthouse and see what happens.

I've never been summoned before, so I didn't know exactly what to expect, but anticipated I would just be waiting.  Worst case I would actually be called in for selection and potentially impaneled.  I was hoping that if it got to the point a lawyer would ask me questions to determine my biased, I could tell them I spend all my free time watching Law and Order marathons in every flavor.  This wouldn't be completely inaccurate.

Guess what I learned upon walking in the courthouse?  It's better to crochet than knit!  I had brought a bag of projects to work on and when I went through security (bag scanners and metal detectors, something caught the officer's eye.

Officer: Crochet hooks?

Me: Yes.

Officer: But no knitting needles?

Me: Correct. I didn't even bring scissors.

Officer: Ok, no problem.

Apparently I'm not dangerous with a hook.  (Insert your own conclusions here.)

Upon arriving in the Jury Pool room, I was registered and got my juror number: 80.  I looked at the room with enough chairs for about 120 people.  This did not seem like a good number.

I took a seat, read a case for work, had some snacks and generally just began the waiting process.  What really amazed me was the number of people who were just sitting there.  the vast majority hadn't brought a book, magazine, newspaper or even a cup of coffee to keep themselves occupied.  What's more is that as the day went on, I learned may of them had been summoned before, so it's not like they didn't know the day was spent just sitting in a room.

Between 8 am and 9 am we watched a little video on what it means to be on a jury and the aforementioned judge came to give us a pep talk.  Shortly after 9 am, the first group of jurors (#1-74) were called to go for selection.  That's when the fun began.

Those jurors went to a small room off to the side and were (presumably) lined up and given instruction before walking out of the area and up to one of the courtrooms.  While this group was lining up, another woman summoned for the day came in.  Her name, for all intents and purposes, is Princess.

Apparently Princess had a juror number that fell into the range of the first group.  She didn't understand why Rose, the court officer in charge of the jury pool, wouldn't let her just go with them.  There was some conversation I missed prior to this, but here is where my ears perked up.

Princess: I don't understand.  I belong with that group.

Rose: But you were late.  You were summoned to be here at 8 am and it's after 9:30.  You've received no instruction and the selection is about to get started.  We can't delay it because you were late.

Princess: But I'm here for the morning session, so you should just let me got with them.

Rose: There is no morning session. Our day goes from 9 to 4.  You have to be here for the whole day. If you can't I'd be happy to reschedule you for another day when you can be here all day.

Princess:  I can't reschedule. I took off work to be here today.

Rose: Then you'll have no problem being here until 4 pm.

This little interchange caused the rest of us to snicker, raise our eyebrows and roll our eyes.  From where we were sitting, we couldn't even see Princess, so we were eager to see her come around the corner.  When she did, let's just say I was unimpressed.  She was dressed nicely enough (even though she wore a velvet jacket.  And it was 55 degrees yesterday) but had a sour, annoyed look on her face.  I wanted to shake her and ask what she expected.  Jury duty has a reputation for a reason!  Oh and she was another one of these people who didn't bring anything to do and just sat there wallowing in her bitterness.  At some point I heard a strange noise and looked up to see her rolling her purse-sized lint brush on her outfit.  I must have had a bizarre look on my face because the guy sitting at the other end of my row just started laughing when he saw me.

A few minutes later, she went up again.  Several of us just giggled as we watched her approach Rose's desk.

Princess:  When will the next group be called?

Rose: I don't know.

Princess: Well, I need to know.

Rose: I can't tell you.  It's up to the judge. He may call in 5 minutes, he may call at 2 pm.  I have no idea.

Princess: Well, can't I just go and join that other group now?

Rose: No that's not how it works.

Princess: But my number was in that group.

Rose: That group went to be selected for a trial that is probably going to last 2 and a half weeks.  You said you couldn't even be here all day, but you can be here every day for 2 and a half weeks?  I'd be happy to send you.

Princess must have mumbled something (she didn't strike me as the type to not respond) but I didn't catch it.  And Rose was quickly becoming my hero.  She was probably in her 50s and couldn't even be 5 foot tall, but she was a spitfire (who was very nice to the rest of us) and held her ground firmly.

About an hour and half later, the original group of jurors came back (minus those who were selected).  Rose continued to give us updates about the status of the other jury trials pending for the day, which had been at 4 and were now decreased to 2.  Rose had also mentioned (before Princess arrived) that lunch break was generally an hour long and usually started a 1 pm.

Shortly after the first group of jurors returned, Rose announced that some jurors would be released.  She was very careful with the words she chose.

Rose: Those of you who went to jury selection early can leave now.

She didn't say numbers 1 through 74, and I honestly believe it was because she didn't want Princess to have the opportunity to leave.  Priceless.  There were some more Rose and Princess interchanges and it got to the point that the rest of us didn't even try to conceal our disdain.  We laughed audibly at the exchanges and several people catcalled Princess as she approached Rose's desk.

Rose kept calling to see if the rest of us could be released.  She hoped to let us know by lunch so that we would know to either go to lunch or head home.  Finally at 12:45 pm she announced she was going to go straight to the courtroom and find out.  Now, knowing this was the difference between going to lunch and then returning only to find out I could have gone home, or just going home.  I was more than pleased to sacrifice a few minutes of my lunch time to clarify my overall time commitment.

At 12:59 pm, Princess announced to the rest of us, "I think it's illegal for them to keep us past 1 pm."

I laughed.  Loudly.

One of the guys behind me said, "Yeah, I don't think you have any clue what you're talking about so you might as well just be quiet."  Also said loudly.  And also causing the rest of us to burst out into laughter.  "In fact," he continued, "you should stay later since you weren't here on time."

A few minutes later Rose came and much to our delight announced we were no longer needed.  We all thanked her and I'm pretty sure most of the group considered punching Princess in the face. Outside of the courthouse, of course.  Ok, maybe just I considered it.

I wouldn't say I enjoyed jury duty, AKA sit around and wait day, but at least I can say I appreciated the entertainment.  And I complete 2 1/2 chemo caps for charity.

I Didn't Mean To

This weekend I spent a lot of time (ok, practically the whole weekend) making cookies.  This of course piqued Chiquita's interested with the noises, my activity in the kitchen, and of course the smells.  She's experienced a cookie baking extravaganza before, but this weekend was pretty intense.

She's generally pretty good, listening when I tell her to get out of the kitchen or back away from the oven when I open it.  She doesn't lunge for anything, although she will sniff at the table when the freshly baked goodies go onto the cooling racks, and she does enjoy laying down near the warm oven.

Are these cookies for me?

A few weeks ago, I had made a couple of recipes and then left them on the cooling racks while Chiquita and I went for a walk.  We came back and she was quite worn out and had been well-treated. Dave was out of the house for the day, and in a moment of stupidity, I went into the bedroom to take off my shoes.  And then I remembered I'd left a highly food motivated dog in the kitchen with 8 dozen cookies on the table.

And it was quiet.

I called for her, and didn't hear a sound, not even her nails as she walked across the kitchen floor.  I ran into the kitchen only to find her bent over the floor, surrounded by crumbs.  And then looking up at me with a pathetic look on her face, head tilted and ears back, as if to say, "I'm just sitting here, not doing anything bad."  And then she vacuumed up the rest of the crumbs.

It actually took me a while to figure out where she got the cookie from, because she didn't disturb the cooling racks at all.  And since Dave and I are only training her with positive reinforcement, it was too late to discipline her.  So I called Dave and told him he had to come home because his dog stole a cookie and now he couldn't have any.

I presume it was only a matter of time, but apparently during this weekend's cookie explosion, I inadvertently did a bad thing.  I taught Chiquita the word "cookie."

Last night after dinner, I was cleaning up dishes.  Cookies were again on the cooling racks and Dave was in the living room.

Me (to Dave): Do you want a cookie?

Chiquita (according to Dave): Head raises up and ears are perked.

Dave: She's not talking to you.

Me: What's that?  Do you want a cookie?

Dave: Yes, please.

At the same time, Chiquita jumps up from her blanket and scurries into the kitchen.  The scurry was pretty hilarious because we have laminate flooring in the living room and she couldn't get any traction coming around the corner since she was moving so fast.  After all, she was coming for her cookie.

Dave was hysterics because he connected that she now had expanded her vocabulary to include the word cookie.  So we had to test it.  We each kept asking her if she wanted a cookie and she kept going back and forth to whoever said it (oh, stop--it wasn't torture.  We gave her one of her own cookies that I had made for her.)  It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

Except now I feel bad that I have to update her Petfinder.com listing to include she knows commands such as sit, stay, wait, leave it, and cookie.

Boobies In My Face

No, there aren't pictures.

And the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

I've been holding back on you. A few weeks ago when Dave and I came back from Mike & Donna's wedding, we ended up having a few friends over that night. Our friends Barney and Robin were visiting with our other friend, Lily (yup, changed all their names). We told them they could all come over and hang out, thinking we'd get something to eat.

We were sitting around, talking and drinking beer, and please do not ask me how the topic came up, but Robin commented that she had never been to a strip club before. Lily, who at one point in time worked in such an establishment, offered to take her to one. Barney of course thought this was a good idea, as did Dave. So they started planning when to go, deciding the following weekend would be a good time. I looked at Dave and said we couldn't do that because we had dinner plans that night, for our first anniversary.

Barney: That's perfect! What a better way to spend your anniversary than at a strip club! (Laughter followed.)

Me: Actually, it probably would. True story: That's what my parents did on one of their anniversaries--went to dinner with friends and then to a strip club.

No lie. And I'll bet they'd tell you about it if you asked.

After some more conversation, and realizing that only one person had to be at work the next day, we decided that there's no time like the present, and hopped in the car. Well, actually, I changed clothes, and then Robin and Lily got made at me for changing to so I had to lend them clothes. And shoes. And then we got in the car and drove to, um, Centerfolds.

We get there and the sign says "50 hot chicks and 3 ugly ones" so we know we're in for a good time. Since Lily knows the bouncer, we get in for free. Since she knows the bartender, our drinks are cheaper than $10 each. Good to know people.

Robin is visibly disturbed from the moment we walk in, so of course after we get our drinks and dollar bills, we take a seat up front by the stage. Not that it's difficult since there's barely anyone there (it was a Sunday night). In Robin's defense, skeevy doesn't even begin to describe this dive. It's just awful. The decor lost it's mojo at least 30 years ago, and it just feels...dirty. And not in a good way.

The sign outside about the 3 ugly chicks is not false advertising. These girls were...let's just say, they didn't have the A team on stage. Or the B team. And I think the C team might have been on vacation.

These girls were ugly. And lacked certain "features" that one would expect in such an establishment. But that didn't keep them from trying. Even though they couldn't dance. But they tried. To heavy metal.

You know what's not sexy? Ugly chicks who can't dance pretending they have rhythm while heavy metal blares from the speakers.

Poor Robin, looking absolutely mortified, was a little surprised at the "exposure." So of course we tried to buy her a private dance. Lily attempted to find someone who wouldn't make Robin cry, but alas, none of those types of girls were dancing that night. So saved by the ugly chicks, we gave up on that idea.

Although at one point, one of the dancers told Robin she had nice boobs.

So the three ugly chicks did their sets, and the DJ announces Molly coming to the stage.

Me: What kind of stripper name is Molly?

Dave: I dunno.

Me (Looking up as Molly takes the stage): Oh, she's cute! That's the kind of stripper name Molly is!

And she was. I guess we were back into the hot chick rotation. And she had the appropriate assets. And she could dance. So of course, I put up dollar bills in front of Dave and I and she came to dance for us.

Molly (mind you, she's dancing for this entire conversation): Hi guys!

Me: Hi, Molly!

Molly: Are you guys having a good time?

Dave and I both nod yes.

Molly: Good. It's like couples therapy! I don't know if it works for everyone, but it works for me!

Having no other response to that kind of statement, we laugh. Because really, what would you say? No, seriously, I want to know what would you say?

Molly to me (squeezing her boobs together): Go ahead, mama.

Yup, I put the money between her ta-tas.

After Molly finished her set, we decided to leave. In part because we'd been there long enough for Robin to say she's been to a strip club (hey, you keep saying you want to be bad ass). And in part because Mya, the next dancer to take the stage, was delayed in getting to the stage and then stood there with her arms crossed giving the DJ a surly look since he didn't have her music ready. I'm not sure anyone wanted to see how that was going to end.

Robin told me I couldn't blog about this. So I didn't. And then I decided that I'd just change her name for the story, because this was worth telling.

We left, got some food, went home, and ended our night. Totally not what I'd expected to be doing after traveling almost 6 hours to come home from a wedding, but it was a good time. And pretty funny.

And makes me want to tell Robin she has nice boobs next time I see her.

Car Key Management FAIL

This weekend I went on a wonderful Girls' Weekend away to Vermont with my closest friends from college. We celebrated our collective 30th birthdays and we had some little bachelorette festivities for my friend L who will be getting married next month. It was great.

In preparation for the weekend, I'd planned to go into work late since I'd be staying late to pick up two friends from the airport before driving up to Vermont. This gave me a chance to work out, shower, have breakfast with D and get everything packed up in the morning. Additionally, I worked it out so that I could stop by the liquor store and pick up a couple of bottles of champagne before I headed to work/as soon as it opened. Because nothing says lush like walking into a liquor store at 9:00 am.

I said good bye to D, headed out the driveway and pulled into the parking lot of Kappy's before getting on the highway to Boston. My purse for the weekend was my huge bag that serves as purse/suitcase for anything I need to travel that isn't clothes, so I thought, "I'm just running into to grab two bottles of champagne, I'll just take my wallet and keys." I did just that, came back out to the car and popped the trunk. I set down my keys and wallet so I could peel the price tags off the bottles (because nothing says tacky like showing up to a party with the price tag on the bottles you brought). Then I had to wedge the bottles in the trunk so they wouldn't roll all over the place. Satisfied, I picked up my wallet and shut the trunk.

Dammit.

My keys were now locked safely in the trunk and my phone was locked safely in the car.

Dammit.

Maybe nothing says lush like having to walk back into a liquor store at 9:00 am and ask to use their phone because you locked your keys in your trunk? The idea of walking the 1/2 mile back to the house flitted across my mind to save from the embarrassment, but I didn't want to get sweaty and knew it would be faster to have D bring me the other set of keys.

So I went back in and the woman at the register was very kind. She smiled, but didn't laugh (while I was there). I called D and prayed his phone was on and he would answer. He did.

Me: Hi. I stopped at Kappy's and proceeded to lock my keys it the trunk.

D: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Me: So are you coming?

D (still giggling): Yeah, I'll be right there.

Ain't he a peach?

He did come and I rescued my keys. To D's credit, he didn't razz me too much more. But I was paranoid about locking my keys in my car for the rest of the weekend.


PS: I've got lots more fun stories from the weekend with the girls coming!

Can't take yourself too seriously

I am so sore.

But I am a dancing machine. Watch me get down.

I suppose I should back up. D and I like to play video games. D had a PS2 that we played together and then we both got PSPs for our commute. Recently we traded in the PS2 for a Wii and have been having a lot of fun with it. We just play goofy games and enjoy spending a snowy, cold winter evening together.

So last week, my dear friend C told me she got Just Dance for the Wii and absolutely loved it. It's fun and a great way to embarrass yourself or others while playing a game. Her son actually told her, "That's so wrong," while she danced to Ring My Bell.

I was intrigued. I went online and read some about the game, watched the hi-LAR-ious videos of other people playing the game and was hooked. So Saturday I bought the game, and Sunday all chaos ensued.

This is what I learned: I am not coordinated.

I sort of already knew that. A few years ago, I had a Pilates DVD at home and decided to try it. I ventured to our basement gym and popped it in the player. Although no one else was home, I managed to embarrass myself into hysterics for how poorly I could 1) do the correct movements; and 2) keep up with the instructor. I have refused to do Pilates ever since.

So it should come as no surprise that the first time I played Just Dance, I was bad. Really bad. The game scores you on Bad, OK and Great and at the end of your performance, it will tell you the percentage of moves you had in each. I was more than 50% bad for at least the first 4 songs.

But it was so much fun. I must have played for over an hour and a half yesterday. C came over and showed me how to do it (and kicked my butt on every song). Then my friend R came over and played (her first time even hearing of the game and still schooled me in 2 out of 3 songs).

I love to dance, I just never had anyone actually point out to me that I'm rhythmically challenged. The game wants you to be a mirror image of the dancer on your TV. At one point, D looked at C and I and said, "One of you is wrong because you two are a mirror image of each other." That would be me.

So I shall practice. And come my friend's wedding in June, I shall overcome my coordination and rhythm impairments and own the dance floor.

Or give everyone a good laugh.