RAVE: Oh, such a rave. Rave rave rave. Girl invited me out to the movies tonight. Then came back to mine. After 7 long, dry months, life is fucking phenomenal. RAVE: I'm a gigantic pussy and was psyching myself up to make a move, when she jumped me. Absurd. This just doesn't happen to me. RAVE: Life.
Rant: I feel like a dumbass. I've spent all morning confused as to why I can't reach a SINGLE person on the phone today (as I'm cold calling banks), and then it hits me... it's Columbus Day. Kinda hard to reach someone at a bank when there's nobody to pick up the phone to begin with. Rave: But they're open tomorrow! Rave: Great weekend. I need more like this past one.
Raviest of all Raves: My daughter Mia Elizabeth was born at 12:16 PM on October 6, just as perfect as can possibly be hoped for. Labor was MUCh easier than either Wifey or I hoped, and we are all home safe and sound. We aren't getting much sleep, which I think can be expected, but I can stare at this little thing for hours and hours. To all the parents on this board, NOW I know what you were talking about. This is freaking awesome.
rant: I spent 8 hours today basically doing filing. I've got another day of this ahead of me tomorrow. All the coffee in the world can't make it anything approaching bearable. rave: That aside, the job is going pretty well. Boss seems impressed with me so far, coping well enough with the workload and get on with everyone in the office. rant/rave: All I've done in the past few weeks is go to work, go to the gym and drink at the weekends.. Is this all there is now? Is this what life is like for grown ups? I'm not sure if I like it. Though I'm sure my mind will change as soon as I get my paycheck.
Rave: Press box was awesome at yesterday's game. The game itself wasn't incredible, and was riddled with turnovers and long periods of punting back and forth, but the accommodations couldn't be beat. Some views... Spoiler This was right before Seattle got the safety Spoiler Looking down the line in the box. The guy with the Dell on the right side of the frame was a scout for the Bills, who play the Giants next week. This guy kept track of everything--drawing their line-up formations, receiver routes, pass rushing...everything. When a guy went down and took a second to get up, he grabbed his binoculars real quick and noted his number. He missed nothing. We also got into the locker room after the game where I briefly met and shook hands with Coughlin and Manning. Neither of them said much, but they seemed happy enough to talk to someone for a few seconds who wasn't asking questions about why they sucked. We also interviewed Jake Ballard and Victor Cruz. Nice guys. Rant: The very first thing I saw when we got into the locker room was a huge black defensive lineman cock. Now, I'm not naive enough to think that there wouldn't be dudes naked in their own locker room, but as a first sight, it caught me off guard. Rave: It was really funny watching the female reporters trying so hard not to look. I caught one staring and she looked up at me, laughed, shrugged her shoulders, and thrust a recorder into a mass of reporters around Cruz.
Rave: Stag do on Saturday. Got so hammered that I fell over in front of a packed comedy club, and elected to watch cross legged on the floor. Then decided to wander back stage for a look around, which no one seemed to mind me doing, and went through a doorway into what was some kind of house party. Ambled around for a bit, then went back for more 'comedy' and beer.
Rant: I've showered and thrown my clothes into the washing machine. Still, all I can smell, see and taste is phenol and a transverse colon on the verge of exploding, throwing shit everywhere. I can't get it out of my life. I'm starving, but every time I think about eating I start gagging. People, if you're about to die and are donating your body to science, do us all a favor and take a dump before you kick off.
I'm going to try and make this mostly short and sweet so as not to lose y'all in the story. My husband (who, for the last week I have been referring to as Dillhole to our friends and to his face) isn't very creative when he comes to gift-giving, as most men aren't. Mine is bad though in that he will give cards with promises in them - promises that never come to fruition. Like $100 dollar bill and short sentence about taking this money and getting the boys portraits done (that less than 2 weeks later we end up spending on gas money or something). Or other money with names of baby sitters and a list of things that we can do (for a date night that never works out). He's so bad at it, he literally used the same "Get the boys some portraits" again last year. Not just the idea - THE SAME CARD. My birthday 2 weeks ago, I got a card from him telling me that he had commissioned me an oil painting of his own design. Because I care dick-all about art, I presumed this was another empty card promise, nodded my head and went on about my business. Until he brought it home last night. I.... There are no words.
Rave: Being single while on tour is the greatest thing ever. Why didn't I do this years ago? Rave: Weeklong sex binge. Rant: Couch surfing for the next 4 weeks in Toronto. Should be pretty awful Rave: 4 straight weeks of shows. Rave: Packers! I'd definitely kiss Aaron Rodgers on the lips.
Rant: After my former roommate moved out and cancelled the cable service it just never got disconnected for 10 months. Today it finally did so now not only do I have to start paying for it again but I won't have Internet for 4 days.
Rantish Rave: Two Mormons snuck up on me yesterday and unleashed a torrent of religious bullshit. I valiantly fended off their aggressions with as much logic and reasoning as I could throw at them. They beat a hasty retreat when they eventually realized that I am a lost cause and already have my hell seat booked.
Rave: An old FWB just texted to let me know that he's moving to Australia. That specifically is not a rave. His donation of a sex swing and an unused rubber fist to my toy collection, however, is definitely a rave. Rant: I'll miss that guy.
Tell them you can't talk because you're on your way to a birthday party. They will beat a hasty retreat. FOCUS: In case you couldn't tell, my last post was mostly a rant for the hideousness of the painting but a small rave for the fact that Dillhole actually followed through on a promise. I also thought I would take a moment, if I may on this most boring of Tuesdays, to answer a few questions you may have had: * Yes, that is supposed to be Jerry Garcia's head on a dancing bear's body. * The painting was done by a coworker of his. He is probably fucking her but that is neither here nor there. * Yes, I am a DeadHead but Dillhole is not (neither, I suppose is the woman that did the painting). * Yes, I shave my armpits, bathe regularly and do not wear patchouli. I am a DeadHead, not a hippie. There's a difference. * He apparently actually paid for this though I have no idea how much. I'm suspecting it was at least a dollar too much. * No, I did not scream/point/laugh at the painting when presented with it but the utter WTF? look on my face had to be there. There's no way it couldn't have been. * Despite the fact that I'm touched by the idea, I do think the thing is dreadfully ugly and am trying to think of somewhere to hang it that it won't be seen by anyone ever, most of all me. So far, the basement is winning. * I think he is a bit disappointed by the outcome, though I didn't actually ask him outright. * Even my 12 year old son thinks it's hideous. * No, I still have not gotten any dick since the last time we talked about it, thank you.
RANT The world would be a much better place if people could learn to get a fucking sense of humor and stop taking themselves so seriously.