Let Us Discuss One Of My Stronger Abilites

I am known, among other things for my ability to remember useless information. Whether it be regarding pop culture or people I met once's birthday, I don't forget silly things. Important things slip my mind, but if it can help me in no way, like a steel trap. I will get calls from people asking me a bit of random information and somehow I even surprise myself by knowing the answer. Just last week I spouted off two guys birthdays, just to prove my randomness. These "guys" were from high school and middle school and hadn't talked to either in over 6 years. So weird.

I have been called pathetic by some. Well excuse me, it it not a choice. I do not actively sit down with a calendar on Friday nights and put to memory all the birthdays. I don not quiz myself. I just know it. And I am far from infallible, I do not claim to be a master at pop culture. There is plenty I don't know. But tonight was one of those nights that proved I know enough.

Kate calls. Kate never calls, wonder what she wants.

Kate: I need to ask you a random pop culture question. But I don't have alot to go on.

Me: Alright, what do you need to know?

Kate: Well my boss looks like someone famous and I can't remember who. I'm going to describe her.

Me: It would help if you knew one thing she was in.

Kate: That's the issue I have no idea so I can't imdb her. All I know is that she has brown hair, a wide smile, and she's not like sexy or anything. She's a normal 90's movie star, kinda plays the b roles. Maybe she was in something with Chandler.

Really, wow, great description there Kathryn. So at this point I think of who could have been in a movie with Matthew Perry, or as Kate says, Chandler. Amanda Peet, not her. Salma Hayek, obviously not. Remember 90's....

Me: What about Neve Campbell (shot in the dark)?

Kate: Let me look her up. No, not her but close. I can't believe you got this close. You're ridiculous. I remember a scene where she was frazzled, maybe smoking a cigarette or something?

Me: (While looking at pictures of Neve), Well what about Parker Posey? 

Kate: Let's see. Oh my god that's her.

Let's see, out of the 3 clues I was given, one wasn't even accurate, Parker Posey and Matthew Perry haven't ever worked together. Somehow though, I found my way to her. Another satisfied customer, another ridiculous conversation. 

P.S. So this has nothing to do with the above situation, but my 11 year old brother just walked in saying something about the dog, and what did I do to her? I have a miniature dachshund named Darcy. She likes to sleep in jackets and blankets, and anything she can wrap herself up in that was left on the floor. I apparently left a north face on the floor. While she was trying to get out of it, she mistook the arm hole for the exit. She was able to get her head and front paws out, but then got stuck. She dragged herself out of my room by her two front paws. She was like an honest to god sausage in a casing. Highlarious. I held the jacket while James held her and I acted like she was a stubborn pillowcase and shook until she came loose. I doubt any of you have ever had that situation come up. 

The Follow Up Conversation

After Lindonia read my blog, she needed to know what brought me to my discovery. Honestly, I couldn't remember, it was just one of those things. But I prevailed and will share my thought process with the world.

Linden:  I'm totally loving this

 me:  quite the discovery

 Linden:  agreed

how did you find it?

 me:  hm, now i have to think

im not sure

ladonia was the key

 Linden:  let me know

 me:  ya, im trying to remember

working backwards

i found it yesterday, so i cant just hit a back button

 me:  ok, so this is just ridiculous

but i looked up my history

and it told me

so, i started with the orca shit

which lead me to dolphins

which lead me to flipper

i google image searched flipper

 Linden:  ok

 me:  got lost, gotta find the image

 Linden:  lol ok

 me:  ok google search flipper, on the second row on the far right therir is a picture of

as german shepard

with a monkey head

with a ram horns

obvioulsy had to see what the eff that was

 Linden:  haha, right

 me:  which lead me to the ladonia "new herald"

 Linden:  bahahahaha

I'm posting this convo on my blog. happening.

 me:  i was thinking the same thing

 Linden:  this is a pure gold nugget that should be shared with everyone

So, in case you were wanting to follow in the mental footsteps of a genius, there ya go.

What Do You Think Of Dual Citizenship?

In my many travels around the world (wide web), I came across a small micronation in Sweden. It was formed to preserve artwork built in the 1980's. It is called Ladonia and it now has about 14,000 citizens. Of course I was skeptical since I have never heard of such a place. Wikipedia, as helpful as it is, is not very trustworthy. But when I went to the Ladonian website, it wasn't much better. Research ensued. Did you know there is a British West Florida micronation? Ya, they think they should be returned to dominion status, and have the same relationship with Britain as say Canada does. What? I mean, I've heard of the Conch Republic, but to me that is just Key West people trying to assert there uniqueness. Apparently, all you have to do to make your own micronation, is declare it. Maybe this is well known knowledge and I'm just behind, but I this to me is falling along the lines Petoria. 

Back to Ladonia. Citizenship is free, all you have to do is apply online and you're in. Normally I wouldn't consider such a thing, but for $12, you can create a title for yourself. I could be a baroness, or a lady, or a countess. I could be Baroness Consuela Banana Hammock. A-maz-ing. 

Or, I could just make the Republic of Timber Cove and become the real Cpt. Amurica. Can you imagine? The possibilities are endless.

P.S.  Ladonia sounds alot like Lindonia, so maybe you should join and take your rightful place.

The Milkman's Baby

I come from a family of skinny people. I don't mean thin people or people who have to work at it, I mean bony, skinny people who are annoying. In my extended family, there are normal people. Some thin, some athletic, and some who could stand to lose a couple of pounds. But in this whole, monstrous family, I came from the two freaks. My mother, at 5'10" is on the tall side. She was a runner in high school and weighed about 120lbs until the greatest thing in her entire life happened: me, obviously. Then there is the Daddy. He is all of 5'9", weighing in around a whopping 150lbs, skinny bastard. Nathan, the 22 year old brother waited until college to weigh over 130. He is 5'11" and couldn't gain a pound over 125 until the age of 18. More than frustrating. The boy was on a special high calorie diet. He had to drink chocolate milk for the extra fat. And as far as James goes, we'll just have to see. He's 11, but he is on track to be the tallest. He worries about getting fat, because then what will happen to his six pack. Really? Then he comments about how fat he is. I hate him. I tell him I was skinnier than he was at his age, and he just laughs and laughs. I am by no means fat, but I am not a skinny freak either. At 5'8", I am a shorty. Even though my dad is only a little over an inch taller, he's seems much bigger, because well he's my dad. I am different. And you would think, that as strong as these skinny genes are, I would not have to work so hard. I was the athlete in the family. They all were runners, but I was the swimmer. I am normal. They are not. I did every sport there was to do in middle school. I took all the classes, camps and training my dad, grandma, mom would sign me up for. I ate as much as  I could, or I would fall over. It was great. You see the difference between myself and the men in my life is they don't LOVE food. I love food. SO being in sports was awesome. Waking up every morning to 2 hours of swimming was a great way to not gain weight. Hear I am, 6 years later, missing the grueling workouts that were the bane of my existence. 

But the differences don't stop at body type. They are all brunettes. Granted, I'm no longer a blond, but I was for a longer time than any of them. Then we can move onto the intelligence. Both of my parents are chemical engineers. My brother is now an electrical engineer. James will now doubt be able to take things apart with the greatest of ease. What was my practical sciency major? History. Yes, a liberal arts major. And no, I do not teach. Something about a lack of patience. And the kicker, my family is painfully shy. My parents have learned to be better with age. Now it still takes time to see them as outgoing people, but they can come off a little harsh because they are shy. As far as Nathan is concerned, people don't even know he exists because he is never around, avoiding social engagements like the plague. His voice was unheard for years it seemed. They say a talkative older sibling makes it harder on kids. I just think what I had to say was more interesting, that theory can't possibly be right. James on the other hand is a mix. He can be shy, but once he's comfortable, he gets way to comfortable. Like whoa buddy. Except for the fact that I have the exact same face as my mother and share a hereditary ear anomaly with my father, I would swear I was adopted.

Celebrating Is Hard On The System

The past week has been quite a doozie. There is nothing quite like having a friend force you into over indulgence because they have some thing going on. Be it leaving me, Kate, or coming back to remind me you already left me, G.Mc., there is no way to say no. I even had an engagement party to attend in the middle of all this.

So my weekend started Wednesday, a la college style. Honestly, if this weekend had happened 2 years ago, it might not have even made a blip, but man am I out of practice for the marathons. Started with margaritas, seemed safe enough, but never trust the $1 margaritas, something is always wrong. The plan was to go have a couple brews at my local watering hole, but somehow we got swept up in another awkward and forced CLC reunion. That is until I got absolutely hammered and decided that these people were my actual friends, not just people I passed in the hall for 4 years. But not only was high school discussed, but middle school, because the memories from high school just weren't embarrassing enough. Somehow, Kate in all her infinite wisdom managed to get me to chauffeur her over to Taco C for one last terrible decision (the next morning I got a text informing me that her car is covered in queso, hilarious because it wasn't my fault). We were interrupted my her dear mother, who was then informed by Kate that she was ruining "our moment". Whoa Nelly, not sure what that means. Since the moment was over, I went home, to awaken mere hours later with one of those headaches that makes you stop caring about absolutely anything except how to stop the headache. Great way to go to work on a busy Thursday, so professional.

Without being fully recovered, mentally or physically, a visitor from the north arrived and the revelry continued. Which brings us to bowling. I had the best and worst games of my life. I mean just embarrassingly terrible first game. I played better as we kept going, but I'm not sure i was able to erase the memories of the other players. Terrible. Woke up ready to eat the glory the is a Classic breakfast. Stuffed. Little Woodrow's for day drinking. Random bars for Sunday Funday. It really was just too much. I took Monday off to recover, and yet am still just too tired to work.

I ended the drink fest at Kate's with wine. I can see how that could be confusing because this blog is half about how Kate left me so how could I be at her place. Well The Bachelor was one, and I think I've made i clear that this crap TV show is just entertaining enough to make me watch it if I'm bribed with wine. Donna, the mother, and I watched our weekly dose of b.s. TV. Our routines not going to change just because Kate left, ludicrous, but next week my Momma is coming with me, so the cycle will continue.

I Forgot What Sun Looked Like, Thank You For Bringing It Back

This weekend was a good weekend. I didn't leave the T Cove once, not once, from Friday to Monday morning. And yet, I wasn't bored. Some Saturdays, I wake up and can't wait to find something to do. Last weekend that something was drinking, this weekend, running. Doesn't even sound like the same person, I know.

So after work Friday, I saw Valentines Day. It was cute, funny, everything you would expect it to be. Just a solid movie. Plus, there was popcorn, so I was happy. When I got home, it was impromptu movie night with the ladies. About 8 of my moms friends came over for dinner, dessert wine, and 500 Days of Summer. I love oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Love them. But since everyone of the people there was on one "diet" or another, the plate kept getting pushed from end to end of the table, because people have no self control. Yet somehow, the plate was empty in only a few minutes. Where did the diets go? Needless to say, i was drunk early, watched some Olympics, because I am in fact an American, and then passed out only to awaken to a horrific red wine headache.

Saturday started gross. Gray gray gray. It's been gray for weeks I feel like. Someone up there heard the bitching and the sky opened up. Awesome. I went on a run (on a Saturday?!?) Shocking, I know. What can I say, I'm trying. Sat on the patio for a bit, because, again, it was awesome outside. See for yourself...

Then we went to a neighborhood VDay party. Pink margaritas = greatness, thank you momma. Cindy went and brought her damn cookies, for the second night in a row, so I ate those with some other delectables. Confiscated a bottle of champagne, which was finished by Hallie, Kate and myself. Speaking of Hallie, Congrats on the new house Anne! Movin' on up. So Saturday ended the same way as Friday, drunk and well fed.

Sunday was more of the same. Running, drinking, eating, movie. This time it was "The Invention of Lying". Good movie. When I left for work on Monday, I realized I hadn't ventured out in over 48 hours. Weird how full a weekend can seem when you actually did a whole lotta nothing.

Smörgåsbord

I have a lot of half-blogs running through my head, so I will join them to create one giant monster blog. Well, we'll see, maybe it won't be "giant".

Thoughts from Tuesday's possible blog. The Bachelor is crap. I watch it, but it is crap. One of the reasons to indulge is the next day chit chatting that ensues. I always find it fun to rehash and bitch about the previous episode. But c'mon Jake, Vienna? Really? Super gross.

The weather. I know that rainy weather makes us thankful for warm, sunny days. I don't care. I hate it. One or the other, weather gods, one or the other. Nice, sunny, bright, cold as fuck days, totally doable. Warm thunderstorms that make 2pm look like 8pm, cozy. Sleet, the bane of my existence. I have only been running for a month now, and half the time, it has been crap crap crap. I think god just likes me out of shape. That must be what it is. Some of you I'm sure are saying, just go to a gym. Well a gym costs money my friends, money I don't have.

The weekend. My brother and father are heading up to New England to ski with the cousins. I have never skied in the east, only in west, and was quite displeased when I found out like 2 days ago I wasn't included in this trip. The purse strings are tightening. I of course am referring to my mother.

But with them gone, that means the house will be half empty, sweet. As I am writing this, I am realizing that maybe I haven't made it perfectly clear that I live "at home". I'm sure you could figure it out, but maybe I haven't stated it. It is not something that defines me, I just happen to find it more appealing than working in hell (read Boca). Moving on. Momma has proposed a movie night to the women of Timber Cove, so we'll see what happens, and if I decide to go.

Almost lastly,  Julie I am jealous of your Mardi Gras, truly. As far as cameras go. One of ours was actually dropped into a glass of water, basically placed there by the owner. Very nice. But cameras are needed, or else your whole trip will be lost. The likelihood of you remembering the night 12-15 hours in is doubtful. At least it was for us. Think, "The Hangover" camera montage.

Lastly, how is "a lot", not one word. Stupid. Oh, and people using their instead of they're. I'm channeling Ross at the moment. Red Ross.

Done.

Who Knew I Could Have Such A Productive Weekend

This was a good weekend. Fun from end to end. I started it off by leaving work early, already off to a good start. Lindonian came over around 5 to start the party, which for those of you who don't keep track, was a First Friday party. Chatted it up with the neighbors, ate to much, drank an "appropriate" amount, and passed out feeling good.

Woke up feeling, not so good, but what lay in front of me was a long empty Saturday. Something must be done. Made a few calls, and decided to head into town to play with my little baby cousins. As I am heading out the door however, I was informed that a trip to the brewery was happening, switch plans, and was drunk by 3, oops. Headed to Amy's and proceeded to lose my voice in a yelling contest with a 2 year old. Technically it was a roaring contest, I believe we were supposed to be T-Rex's, not sure. From there I moved about 10 blocks south to the couch of another cousin. Tried my hardest not to embarrass Justin on his date, but sometimes he makes it too easy. Went to Rebel's, reluctantly. I like the people we were meeting, but this bar is not so much my scene. Think cowboys wearing Affliction. Yuck-o. Crowded as shit, people spilling on you every few minutes, and old men keeping their hands on the small of your back a little bit too long. Thanks for the memories. At some point near the end, I ran 3 doors down, to say hola to other people. Wanted to get in a fight, but what's the point in winning a contest with a spineless pussy? Made it home, and by home I mean the place I sleep at least half of the time, the lovely couch. 

Was awoken by Justin announcing the fact that he was up, which I found pointless, lost an argument about tacos, went to get tacos from Chiloso's Taco House. By the way, these are my new favorite tacos. The tortillas are so good, they makes you forget that you are hungover. And after that, well I think you can assume how it went. Beer, food, football. The end.

My Amazing Powers of Persuasion... If Only I Could Use Them On Someone Besides Myself.

Per my previous post, I am running this year. I'm not saying something ridiculous, like run a marathon. My goal is to run 5k's, emphasis on the "s", as in multiple. If I went out and ran, I could run the 3.1 miles it took to fulfill this goal. But the reason for the "s" is that I believe that if I am in good enough shape to run 5k's, I am in good enough shape. And contrary to popular belief, I like working out. I understand the concept of endorphins. It makes me feel better. Physically and mentally. Now, with all these reasons, it would take quite a professional manipulator to convince me I would be better served sitting on the couch. Enter, me.

I have been running now for 3 weeks, no big thing. But seeing as how once you workout for a couple of weeks, you get addicted, I am in crucial "keep at it" phase. The first 2 weeks went by easy. Ran my mandatory 3 times the first week. For the second week, I got out there 4 times. I knew the cold weather was coming, so I wanted to front load my week so I wouldn't miss workouts. Cold weather you say? If I am speaking to yankees, you will not understand. For the first 2 weeks, I was running in the upper 60's. It was glorious. The last 6 days have been in the low 50's. I do understand the 50 is not cold, but coupled with darkness and rain, it's just not going to happen. Nope.

Monday. I have all week. We'll wait till it warms up a bit.

On Tuesday, I decided, fuck it, I can do it. But then I remembered that only 5 minutes earlier I had decided to wash my running clothes, because I wasn't running that night. Very tricky on my part. 

Wednesday. Enough is enough. I don't car how cold it is, I'm running. On the drive home, the rain started. At first it was just spitting, I decided I was gonna be real tough. But by the time I got home, pouring. Not gonna do it.

Which brings us to Thursday. Make or break time. My phone was dead, so I had to charge it, for music purposes. Run without music? What is this, the '90s? So while that was happening, I turned on the TV, got wrapped up in a show, so I had to finish that. You can feel where this is going right. Master manipulator at work, the later I wait the colder and nastier it gets. There's only one thing that can bring a person back after such an enticing argument: a snide comment from The Mother.

Yes, she was there, in all her glory to ask the obvious question, " so, how was the run?". I'm going, geez.

So I went. I ran. I'm home. Where's the remote?