Runaway Bride

Dear blog, I’m just not that into you right now. I need some space. And endorphins. And real life friends.

However, since I’m nearing the 1-year mark to my wedding, I’ve decided I need a plan to keep myself sane and fit.

So, I’m running 100 miles a month, every month until the wedding. 1200 in 12.

That’s all I have the energy to write these days. Blame the dumbass Ramonas.

 

The Ramonas

Ramona isn’t their real name, but it’s close enough. We’ll go with Ramona.

Ramona 1 and I have known each other since the first grade. We were inseparable up until our mid-twenties, with that telepathic connection that you have with one, maybe two friends in a lifetime. However, Ramona doesn’t say “hi” when you call her, doesn’t ask you how you are. Ramona likes shortcuts, favors and fun without responsibility. While I’m far from perfect and she’s seen me at my absolute worst, her faults either became worse or less tolerable to me, to the point where I told her I no longer wanted to be her friend. We made a slight reconnect when my dad died, but that’s about it.

Ramona 2 lived down the street from me. From 7th – 12th grade and even part of college, I spent a few hours after school every day at her parents’ huge house. We could even see each others’ houses through the woods, so we could call each other at midnight if a light was on, or sneak over after our parents fell asleep. She was the complete opposite of me, but proximity made us close friends. Ramona 2 has like 1,000 Facebook friends. Ramona 2 is in a dance crew and goes to clubs every night. Ramona 2 is a bundle of hormones, energy and love, which works both for and against her.

The Ramonas both had blond hair, black cars, black cats, the same first name and last names that began with the same letter. The Ramonas have both struggled with major addictions, shaky employment, bad men, weird parents, bad tattoos and more. The Ramonas are both moms – one Ramona has a daughter, the other a son. Their kids are the same age. Both Ramonas are currently living with their parents. The Ramonas are trouble. In fact, for years I called them “The Scandalous Ramonas”.

The Ramonas are a huge part of my life. They were there for some of my biggest mistakes and struggles, my huge milestones, my first boyfriends, and more. They saw me every day, and we spent hours doing absolutely nothing in that adolescent way that somehow still feels productive. The Ramonas would sit on my back porch and chainsmoke half a pack with me in one sitting. Ramona 1 and I would analyze our entire day, Ramona 2 would invite boys over.

The Ramonas and I haven’t spoken for years. The Ramonas don’t know what I went through when I took care of my dad, weren’t there when I got my new job, and have never met Justin. The Ramonas don’t know what I’m like when I have my sleep disorder under control. The Ramonas probably don’t know that I can be a very rational, responsible, caring person. The Ramonas don’t know what it’s like to have a career, though they know what it’s like to have a kid so we’re probably even. The Ramonas stay out til 2 on a Monday. The Ramonas say “yes” to the wrong things and “no” to themselves. The Ramonas taught me what not to do.

Two weeks ago, the Ramonas both came back into my life. The Ramonas hung out with each other for a few days. Each Ramona claims the other Ramona is still on drugs. Each Ramona claims the other Ramona is a bad parent. Each Ramona claims they are okay. I still haven’t seen either of them; the Ramonas like to make plans and then not show up.

The Ramonas make me sad. The Ramonas make me simultanously nostalgic and relieved that my youth is over. The Ramonas make me want to hug my mother and apologize for things.  The Ramonas make me exhausted. Just thinking about the Ramonas is enough to make me too tired to write in this blog for weeks. The Ramonas make me want a cigarette, or two, or twenty. The Ramonas break my heart.

The Ramonas make me wonder how I turned out the way I did. The Ramonas make me proud of myself. The Ramonas make me grateful for all of you, especially those of you I know. Thank you for not being a Ramona.

UPDATE: The Ramonas are currently on a road trip to see Primus.

Breaking My Silence (On One Direction)

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Harry Styles (in the plaid shirt) is totes the cutest!

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You’d think this post would put me in jail, but:

a. He’s 18.
b. His last girlfriend is a year older than me.
c. His outfit here makes me think that I like him because he looks like my girlcrush Shane from The L Word:

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P.S. Good grief, that song is terrible. Palate cleanser (and my favorite video ever):

STILL WORKING THROUGH SOME SHIT GUYS

… but you would not believe my week. Aside from all my pouting and crying about work, it also involves a perverted Canadian visitor, like 16 babies, a psycho friend I haven’t talked to in years calling out of the blue and asking to stay at my house for two months, and a dance crew. Yes. Two of my old neighbors/besties have started a dance crew. Uh, not a very good one. This would be the greatest post ever if I didn’t love them so much. I have to figure out a nice way to tell you how ridiculous it is.

Still crying every day. Getting there. Holy shit, I love my friends, work family and Justin so much.

 

 

The Method Is In The Kindness

Another reason why I’m becoming a Methodist:

 

Not my church, but still great.

My life was basically turned upside-down yesterday, work-wise, so I need to adjust and run and freak out and drink heavily and hug my work friends before I get back to regularly-scheduled posting, including a certain promised post that is written but still needs pictures. No idea what my F this April goal is going to be yet. Still recovering from shock.

It’s not like I lost my job, or even the brands that I work on, but I’m switching teams and will have a new partner and new bosses. Apparently my new boss is amazing (“That is a GOOD MOVE for you,” one friend whispered), but Kim and I are pretty heartbroken that we won’t be working together any more. I may even have to move from my chaotic, noisy enclave to a miserably-quiet office in the back corner.

During the Mega Millions madness, I told Justin that I wouldn’t quit working if I won because I love my team so much. So even though I should be excited about this (and really, out of everyone’s changes, I lucked out the most), I’m pretty nervous and depressed. I’m in emergency/recovery mode for now.

One cute thing: I called Justin and told him as soon as I found out, and he could tell that I was upset. So when he got home from class late last night, he woke me up with an Easter basket. Marshmallow bunnies, games, silly tabloids, and the sweetest card ever. I don’t just have a good one. I’ve got the best one.

So I Watched “100-Minute Lady Boner”

I mean, Drive.

  

Other movies I’ve watched while Justin is at work: Crazy Stupid Love, Half Nelson, Lars and the Real Girl, Murder by Numbers. See a pattern?

I have yet to watch The Notebook. Give me 24 hours.

Half Nelson was the most impressive and Crazy Stupid Love was the most fun, but Drive was 100 minutes of me writing “Stephanie Gosling” on the back of my social studies bookcover. It’s one of those movies where I walked away with more of a feeling than a story. Also: I love the soundtrack!

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While I’m talking about great soundtracks, I have to mention Hanna. And really, Gosling may be badass, but nothing he’s done compares to Hanna’s escape scene.

Especially since she spares the hot guy. That’s my girl.

Gifs by my braintwin starsweptnight.

You Talkin’ To Me?

Justin was playing with a fancy million-dollar camera and this happened:

And then I was playing with my free-with-purchase software and this happened:

In District Stephie, We Make Gyros

All the media tour clips of the The Hunger Games cast fucking with each other are charming the pants off of me.

 

 

Speaking of Peeta, I finally went to Pita Pit and oh mah gad.

(Gifs by starsweptnight, who has documented like every great quote.)

Eternal Sunshine Of The Offline Mind

Sometimes I wish I could just remove my thumbprint from the internet completely, so I wouldn’t have to think about certain people or, worse and more specifically, know that they are thinking about me. I’m engaged! I shouldn’t have to think about this bullcrap anymore! GO AWAAAAY

And while I don’t feel quite as dramatic as this (and definitely not lovestruck), it’s still worth sharing because I am dying over Charli XCX, seriously:

Also Grimes!

Help Me Gyro; You’re My Only Hope

I forgot to mention that Justin’s latest film project, which he hopes will play on the video wall at CityGarden, is shot entirely with a Lomokino so each 30-second scene takes like an hour to film. So when we do hang out, it’s usually me napping or reading in the shade while he does this:

I actually love it because it gets me out of the house to explore new parts of downtown, or stare at a giant full moon that I can’t see from inside my loft. I’m really only using this topic as an excuse to use that gif, because it’s so Justin it’s scary. (iwdrm)

I don’t mean to brag, but this week I started doing some free-weights moves that I’ve been doing off and on since high school, and I was in more pain after one day than after an entire week of P90X. I suppose the moral of the story is, stick with what works. And boy, do 15 lb. dumbells work. I’m still in pain 3 days later!

I’m finally back to running 5 miles a day, but just barely. I need a break or two. Chauncey sleeps in bed with us now, so I get pretty wheezy if I don’t have my inhaler. I would just kick him out again, but this is how Justin and Chauncey sleep:

It’s too precious to break up, right? I usually sleep on one shoulder and Chauncey sleeps on the other. Though Justin has confessed that sometimes he’ll lean over in a daze and either pet my hair or kiss Chauncey because he doesn’t know who’s who.

It’s Gyro Truck Day, which means Stephie is a happy lady. Justin is on Spring Break; he’s going to walk up here so we can eat gyros on the gazebo and feed pita bread to the koi fish. AND tomorrow we’re eating Lent pizza covered with clams with Miss Sarah Paradise. This will be my first clam experience. I love my life!

Finally, never get accused of a crime in Tennessee–did you know they will lock you up with absolutely no proof and dumb hick juries will vote you guilty because “it just feels like he did it”? And then when you file a motion for a new trial, the judge will write his decision like a week in advance and forget to change the date, so you know he made his mind up before he even pretended to listen? That’s what happened to someone I care about this week. He’s been in hell for over 2 years with no end in sight, all because someone wanted to do meth in front of her kids instead of paying him rent. Shame on you, Judge W____. (Will someone please tell me if I can add his name without getting charged for anything in Tennessee? Because with their logic and collective fourth-grade education, I feel like I could get the death penalty.)

However, get accused of whatever you want in Florida, because apparently people who murder toddlers or shoot an unarmed kid that was getting candy for his brother will go free. I’m so pissed about everything right now (except gyro day) (and my family).

Chasing Nothing

I’m alone a lot these days. Justin works Sunday and Monday nights, Tuesday he has class, and Wednesday he has Police Academy. And while I relish my time alone, lately it’s been causing some problems with my PTSD.

When I was first faced with my dad losing his legs, my shrink told me to just give myself 60 seconds a couple times a day to cry and let it all out. And it worked–the bathroom became my little safe place to be afraid or upset, and the feelings would pass like a tiny storm and I’d be fine again.

I never ignore those feelings. I never block them out. But PTSD is a lot different than grief or stress. It’s visual. Visceral. And when I’m alone and not concentrating on a book, show, song or chore, it hits me hard and often.

Cheer Up, Sleepy Stephie

This month, I am tired. I’m tired of everyone bitching 24/7 on the Internet, I’m tired of politics, I’m tired of drama that people invent because they’re bored, I’m tired of negative people, I’m tired of angry/sad memories that haunt me unless I’m running, I’m tired of road rage even though I see so little of it these days, I’m tired of everything revolving around food and booze, and I’m tired of a couple people whose interest in me is borderline creepy. And obviously, I’m tired because I have a sleeping disorder.

Also, March is the last month I think I have to relax before the wedding planning gears back up and I really need to focus on getting in shape. These days, aside from P90X, walking to work, and a few 5-mile runs, I spend most of my time lounging around the house. (This sentence is making me laugh a lot. Remember when my only exercise was walking to school while chain-smoking and eating Doritos for breakfast?) I’m not going out much, either–my friends are either too crazy, too busy, too pregnant, or too exhausted like me. Here’s what I’ve been up to lately: A Song of Ice and Fire and Downton Abbey.

If I ever picked a good time to start using a Kindle, this is it–each book in A Song of Ice and Fire is at least 1000 pages. I just started the third book, and it’s about 1200 pages long. The most recent is so long that they split up the paperback into 2 parts in the UK. So thanks, Kindle Fire, for saving me from crampy hands and bad circulation. Also, I found that by reversing the display to white text on a black background, the Kindle doesn’t mess up my sleep cycle anymore. Good thing, since I have roughly 4000 more pages (or 80,000 locations) to read.

A Song of Ice and Fire is the series that HBO’s Game of Thrones is based on. It doesn’t seem like something I’d be into, but the tv series was intriguing and when your female doctor and lawyer friends start gushing about fantasy books, you pay attention. I am insanely addicted to these. In fact, writing about these is making me want to wander away from my computer to read some more.

Why do I love them? For one thing, the books play out like a TV series–each chapter is from a different character’s perspective, so you jump from city to city and scene to scene. With so many characters literally sprawled across the world, it helps you keep track of everyone. The characters are all great, but my favorites are tomboy/badass Ayra, little person with big brains Tyrion and bastard Jon. Giving each of the Stark kids a direwolf was a nice touch (I love that Jon got his own special wolf, and Ghost is clearly the coolest out of all the direwolves); I’m interested to see if their dreams about wolves lead anywhere. Also: dragons are schuper schweet!

I’m much more interested in reading these days than watching TV, but I’ll be so sad if I fly through these books. So lately I’ve been throwing episodes of Downton Abbey into the mix. My co-workers are totally obsessed with this show. My boss has basically dedicated his Facebook page to it. So I figured I’d give it a shot; I’m about halfway through. It’s lovely and I love Mr. Bates. If you’re not drinking the Kool-Aid yet, give it a shot.

Speaking of great TV dramas, Vulture has this whole Greatest TV Drama bracket going on right now, and while I should protest it simply because Six Feet Under was knocked out by The Sopranos, I’m still in it to root for Buffy. My buddy Davy had the tough choice of choosing between My So-Called Life and The Wire, and I think he made the right call.

Because I’m boring right now, I’ll tell you what Justin’s up to lately: Police Academy. That’s right, Justin and his best friend are taking a citizen’s class at the Police Academy, where he gets to tour the 911 call center and juvy and do ride alongs and hopefully Citizen’s Arrest some folks. My brother and I are especially delighted by this because we were obsessed with the Police Academy movies when we were little. My personal favorite was Police Academy 4: Citizens on Patrol.

He is also very, very sad about Peyton Manning.   Hell, even I cried during that press conference yesterday. Hoosiers have the biggest hearts in the world. When their hearts break, mine does, too.

F This March: Fuel and Finally Writing That Post About The Spot

I’ve been walking to work at least three times a week lately, so it’s time to step it up. I’m going to fill up my gas tank tomorrow, and then that’s it for the month.

(I was about to type, “I’ll only use half of it this month”, but I might want to visit my mom or grandma, and poor Justin has been driving so much for school and work that I try to drive when we go out. Still, it might happen!)

The other goal is self-explanatory. Poor Ron. I hope I can find that napkin where I wrote down everything that happened.

Tucker Jesus and the Sad Hipster

You know it’s going to be a good day when you kick it off with a sunny walk and a Jesus sighting.

Why yes, I saw Jesus. He was walking down Tucker, which I consider one of the more treacherous downtown streets. He was spotted in several places, including asking people for hugs in a public housing neighborhood where people get shot at least once a month.

Yoinked from @jdh583

I spotted him on the bridge that crosses the train tracks, though thank … him … that he was on the other side. He was bouncing his staff up and down with a beatific smile, and stopped to wave into street level windows once he reached the other side. This would have been awesome, but it was a preschool.

Jesus kicked off a pretty great day. On the way to work, I pass by the courthouse and usually get hit on by someone smoking on the front steps. This time, a nice young man offered to buy me breakfast. 10 points for pancakes! (I’m so happy that I can deflect these invitations with, “Sorry, I’m married!” now.)

Once I got to work, I had to work on a pretty urgent project with the head of my department–I kicked its ass and got kudos from my bosses, their bosses and some of the top people in the company! It wasn’t even that hard! I left work early!

On the walk home, the bridge was still happening. As I crossed over the train tracks, I glanced at a small maintenance vehicle that was riding down the tracks. The driver waved and honked his train horn at me–the noise echoed off all the downtown buildings and was so loud that it made everyone on the bridge jump. Way to make a lady feel special!

After work, I caught up with my best friend in Florida, Liz, for about an hour. We spent the last 20 minutes doing our usual validating the shit out of each other, which always makes me hang up with a smile (mainly because I know I’ve made her smile).

THEN, Justin and I went to see The Artist at the Hi-Pointe. The Hi-Pointe is the oldest continually-running theater in St. Louis, so there’s this great Old Hollywood vibe to it and there’s a dog who is always running around the lobby to catch dropped popcorn. So it was the perfect place to see The Artist and it’s always a romantic spot for a date. Also: I drank champagne out of a can with a straw!

Tonight is the first Fish Fry of the season, which we’ve already established is awesome. But today?

I just got invited to SXSW Interactive for work, but I can’t go for several reasons–mainly I have Radiohead tickets for that weekend and I offered to have a pre/post-show gathering at my loft. WORST DILEMMA IN THE HISTORY OF EVER? Just say yes.

Thrilling And/Or Appalling Confession #9

I never really watched Sex and The City before. I hated women who identified themselves as “a Carrie” or “a Samantha”, so I wanted no part of the phenomenon.

But Justin and I have access to HBO Go these days, so I figured, why the hell not? And I watched the whole series in about a month. Guess what, y’all? I’m a total Carrie! But Samantha is gross.

This week, Justin’s mom visited and brought along her foreign exchange student from Brazil, Milene. We wanted to entertain her, so we went to the Arch, the Fabulous Fox, Busch Stadium (her parents are huge baseball fans), City Garden, and the City Museum. We also gave her a tour of my work because she loves animals and she’s passionate about dog rescue. We ate at some of the best restaurants downtown: Kota, Rooster, Bailey’s Range, and the Old Spaghetti Factory.

We stopped by Mad Art Gallery so Justin’s mom could see where we’re going to get married. Justin and I walked to Laclede’s Landing today and took the long way to the grocery store because it was so gorgeous outside. And to top it off, I ran 5 miles yesterday and 5 miles today.

So, I earned the right to watch something dumb today, right?

TA/OA Confession #9: I watched the movie Sex and The City 2 in the bathtub*–and I liked it.

*The last half. My bathtub wouldn’t let me spend 150 minutes in there even if I wanted to. It’s not that bad if you pretend it’s just 5 episodes in a row. Also, I liked the feminist message of the movie, but I was just as horrified by Samantha as the men in the Arab Emirates. “Lawrence of My Labia”?  *shudder infinity*

Farewell, Fishers.

Justin and I just finished Six Feet Under. It really is the best show ever. I’m so bummed that it’s over.

Kathy Bates’ character Bettina is basically my role model for life. In fact, remember when I wanted to be her before I knew she fictionally existed? And then Josh said the funniest thing he’s ever said to me (and he says funny things for a living)?

Anyway, if any of you guys get divorced in 20 years, please come live with me. I promise I’ll say sassy things and bake eggplant and help you rediscover life as we drink an assload of wine. Bettina 4ever.

AlsoDavidandKeithomg

Let It Flow

If you’re a writer, then you get this immediately… but you also know that before the last-minute panic comes endless procrastination, crippling doubt, and a minor nervous breakdown. I’m in that stage right now.

Lately Lifehacker has been posting all these mindhacks for creativity… and several posts have said that you are your most creative when you’re drunk and sleepy. Why, that’s how I spent my entire twenties!

Unfortunately, I’m kicking ass with the P90X and eating right, and I had enough of a boost of confidence this weekend to keep it up… and that means no drinking. Sorry, Stephie.

But, um, y’all I am really stuck and seriously stressing right now. So I guess the point of this post is really to (a) procrastinate and (b) convince myself that 9pm is too late to walk down to the general store for booze. On Monday night. In my pajamas.

P.S. It doesn’t help that my favorite place to write is in my papasan, which means I’m staring at a giant neon champagne bottle that pops on an endless loop:

Heart Boners

The Internet has earned a day off. Good God.

Seriously, my wedding reception is just going to be that song on repeat for 4 hours (except for the part where I make Erin dance to “Moves Like Jagger”). Does anyone know how to make this live on my iPod? I will bring my laptop to the Y if I have to, I swear. (UPDATE: Amanda made me an mp3! WOOO!)

I got Justin 12 Ways To Say I Love You from Rag & Bone. It just arrived last night so I’m writing it on my lunch break. Why give a hastily-written card when you can give a hastily-written book? If I had more time, I would make a flash drive mix to put in that teeny tiny envelope (his car has a USB port; jealous!), but oh well. Last year I just got him s’mores fixins. Valentine’s Day is so close to my birthday, the Superbowl and our half anniversary that by the time we get to it, we’re exhausted.

My valentine to all of you is more Tony Lucca, whom I am still swooning over:

Ahem.

Last night I watched The Grammys for the first time in years. Mostly out of curiosity for how they would react to Whitney Houston’s death, but also to support Robyn (she lost to Skrillex; don’t even get me started) and to keep up with some of my favorite people while they live-Tweeted the show. Because if there’s one thing Twitter is good for, it’s finally making awards shows fun to watch again.

HOWEVER, one thing that threw me for a loop was people’s reactions to Chipotle’s “Back to the Start”–people were reacting to it like they were seeing it for the first time! Are you guys kidding me? This video is 6 months old, and it blew up the Internet thanks to a gorgeous cover, sincere message, and awesome stop-motion animation with creatures made from a 3D printer. (Justin was virtually unfazed by the video til he learned that 3D printers are an actual thing.)

This is the first time I’ve ever said this, but I pity people who don’t work in advertising. We have been gaping at this thing for half a year. So here it is; no more excuses:

The Best Fever Killer Is Whitney 24/7

I’ve been getting better about not pigging out this month. I swapped out coffee for green tea at work (ginger green tea; normal green tea tastes like spinach), I’ve been making protein and fiber a priority at every meal, I’ve been rocking the kale chips, and if I get hungry at a weird time, I drink some water or go for a walk first.

I’ve been walking to work or running every day so that I can still eat like a normal person. I’ve only been to one party since I started making a conscious effort, and my P90X partner Jane was there to help me behave myself.

In fact, out of the last 5 days, I’ve burned 1,000 calories more than I consumed for 4 of them (and even on the party day, I burned 750 more). It’s a big deal for me but not very interesting for you, huh?

Other than that (or including that), life is pretty boring right now. Justin has had an awful fever for 3 days and his school/work schedule is literally about to kill him, so I’m taking care of him and myself today and that’s about it. Our 2 1/2 year anniversary was yesterday and we were going to celebrate with a Blondie’s brunch, but right now I’ll just settle for him being alive. It was really awesome to see all of my Napa friends at Kendra’s fun baby shower yesterday, though. I’ll be more interesting next time, haha.

Poor baby Justin. He’s so miserable. I hope he likes Whitney, cuz he’s getting a full dose today.