Three Stories

Stormy Weather

This crazy weather reminds me of the last big ice storm we had, which was when The Secretary General of Cool lived here.

Everyone was freaking out about the storm, so one night after class we went straight to the store and bought enough beer and food to last us a week.

That night the ground iced over. Then it snowed. Then more ice came. Then more snow.

We stayed holed up in his apartment for about three days, until the streets cleared enough for me to move my car. It was one of those old apartments where the heat comes out of the floor. So we would just snuggle up on the warm floor watching the snow outside the window, and it felt like we were hiding from the rest of the world.

That was one of the coziest feelings I’ve ever had in my life, and whenever a wintery mix hits and people freak, it makes me miss TSGoC something awful.

Why Karate Chop Calls Me “Pringles Breath”

While in London, I discovered the joy and thrill of having my toes cracked by Kevin. He would offer to crack them all the time and I would turn him down, but then I would work up the courage and stick my foot out, shrieking with fake girly terror.

One night we were lounging in Matthew’s room munching on Pocky, and Kevin asked me, “Hey Steph… have you ever had your MIND BLOWN?”

Because of the toe-cracking, I trusted Kevin to do anything. He told me to lie down on the bed, close my eyes, and plug up my ears.

Then I felt something sitting over my nose. Then a strong gust of air. Then my ears popped and my head cleared in a way that I’ve never felt before.

“Wow, that was aweso-“ I started to say…

…and then came the pain. An incredible unnatural stinging sensation, accompanied by a strangely familiar smell.

“Ow.” I said. “Ew. EW! OW! What did you just do to me?”

Matthew, who had been standing in the corner gaping this entire time, said, “He just… he put his mouth over your nose and blew.”

“Yeah, but what’s that smell?”

“Oh.” Kevin said, noticing a can of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles on the floor. “I probably shouldn’t have eaten this whole thing before I did that.”

“And Then There’s The Ho.”

Margaret Cho once told a bunch of jokes about what happens when three girls are best friends… she said that “there’s always the sweet one, the smart one… and then there’s the ho.”

I first saw that act while I was hanging out with Rachael and Liz.

“Haha.” I said. “Ha. So which ones do you think we are?”

“You’re kind of…” Liz started, and then she stopped. She looked at Ra and they stared at each other for a few seconds, having a telepathic conference about me.

Then as Liz nodded, Ra whispered, “We think you’re all three.”

I’m Calling It Quits

What do I mean by that? My job? Life? Love? Who knows? Who cares? Who reads this shit, anyway?

Actually, my job is going better than ever right now. The only problem is that my office is freezing; I currently have an afghan over my lap like a little old lady. And I am still boycotting shoes until it snows, so my toes are like little ice cubes.

And life could be worse. It could be a hell of a lot worse for a million reasons, and whenever I’m hating on life I try to remember that I have it better than lots of people and I probably just need to take a nap.

I honestly don’t believe that I will fall in love again. I don’t mean that in the “it will never happen” way, I just can’t fathom falling for that bullshit again. I don’t see myself having an equal attraction and admiration for someone else; relationships like that are so few and far in between and one of us will inevitably be settling for the other. I refuse to live in fear that the other person will leave me, and I refuse to deal with someone who I could leave in a heartbeat.

And despite how much progress we’ve made in society over the past 100+ years, if you are a single woman over 30 and do not have babies, then you pretty much don’t matter – unless of course everyone is ganging up on you and bugging you about when you will get married and have babies. So I have four years to decide if I want to settle down, get settled for, or just fucking die.

So… should I be a co-dependant delusional turd or should I let some turd follow me around and bug me all the time? Or, should I put “November Rain” on blast and drive off of a fucking bridge – kind of like “Thelma and Louise”, except there would be no Louise because all my girls are married? A, B or C? C’mon kids, choose my adventure and we’ll discuss it over pie.

Also, I have PMS today.

Oh Yeah!

“Oshima reaches out and lays a hand on my knee in a totally natural gesture. ‘Kafka, in everybody’s life there’s a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can’t go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That’s how we survive.'”

– Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami

Note: This story has a point, I swear.

Right before Ex and I broke up, he wanted to plan a “romantic getaway”. We spent a few months researching wineries, cool things in the city, etc. Then he bought a ticket to come see me.

The night before his flight (for the ROMANTIC GETAWAY that was HIS IDEA) he called to say that, um, tomorrow would be his last trip to St. Louis. Furthermore, he would not be able to move there in six months (also his idea) because he had joined a psuedo-psychedelic emocore band and they were going to “seriously make it”.

I told him that if that was the case, I didn’t want to see him. So he didn’t come.

Here’s my point: almost immediately after I hung up the phone, I had a brilliant idea. I should have told him to come. I should have driven to the airport to pick him up. I should have met him at the gate and given him a hug and walked him to my car.

Then I should have poured a 32 oz. grape soda on his crotch and left him stranded at the airport with purple pee pants.

Dammit. Dammit! That would have been awesome, right? A decent revenge, but virtually harmless. Fun for everybody!

But I didn’t. I cried. I wrote. Boy, did I write. I didn’t eat, but I drank. I ran. I found new boyfriends. I made fun of his shitty band. I did a lot of things, some more rewarding than others.

About a year ago, I decided to go on a dating strike. I suppose it was partially because I was still mad at him, I still had trust issues, etc.

But it also had to do with my career, my life, and getting to know myself. I didn’t feel like dealing with all the relationshippy bullshit, and I didn’t want to use people to avoid feeling lonely. And most importantly, I just had to resolve some things within myself, and I didn’t want to take out my problems on anyone else.

I’ve discovered a lot of things over the past year, some of which I’ll share (mainly that I never feel lonely – even when I’m alone) and some that I’ll keep to myself (yo, couples are annoying as shit).

But I’m still really fucking pissed that I didn’t give him purple pee pants in front of thousands of people. I feel that months of misery and aggression could have been avoided with that one defining moment.

So yes, I will probably have issues concerning him forever, issues that can only be resolved with a punch to the face or a purple crotch. Or both. Until that happens, I will occasionally feel the need to make fun of his band, no matter how immature it may seem (or how TRUE, because they SUUUUUCK). Other than that, I think I’ve accomplished everything that can be expected.

So that being said, I suppose “The Year of No” is over.

That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m in the “Year of Yes”, buddy. The first time Ex and I broke up, five boys tried to kiss me in one week, and they were all friends so I’d end up at parties with all of them and it was a scary weird time. And while I highly doubt that boys will be lining up at my door, I’ve purposely prefaced my announcement with an ex-boyfriend story to freak them out, hopefully preventing any future “Black Friday” incidents.

I’m not dating. I’m just done actively not dating.

Yeah.

Um. Hmm…

DAMMIT GRAPE SODA! DAMN YOU! WHY ARE YOU SO AWESOME?

Wake Me Up Before You Go GOP

Oh, St. Louis. What would we do, ba-by? Without us? Sha-la-la-laaaa…

This morning (or, yesterday) I told my dad that since we’re canceling each other out, we should just skip voting and get pancakes. However, he had already cast an absentee vote, so I had to go do my thing.

If you know me, then you know I hate politics and I hate taking sides. If you’re shit talking, I’ll take the opposite side as you simply because I hate bullies. Hell, my “Coexist” bumper sticker is the biggest political statement I’ve ever made in my life, and that’s about as general and all encompassing as you can get.

But it’s 1 in the morning and I’m still watching the election. Me. The election. I know. The last time I stayed up this late for an election was when I had a crush on Chris Kline.

I took my sleeping pill about an hour ago, but I’m still wide awake with a beer and a breakfast Hot Pocket, screaming at the TV every time they announce the updated results. I’m like a drunk frat boy during the World Series. And it’s the midterms. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Don’t worry, I haven’t completely lost myself in the midst of this… they keep cutting to commentary with former Senator Betty Simms, and I squeal like a little girl every time she’s on. She said that she supports the Stem Cell Initiative even though she’s Republican… because she has triplet grandbabies. TRIPLET GRANDBABIES!! EEEE!!! I heart Betty Simms.

Jim Talent has been winning all day and the Stem Cell Initiative has been losing… this is because all the rural votes came in and were counted immediately. It was practically 50/50 (like 53/47) all day… I’m shocked at how close it was in the rural areas.

Actually, I’m not… my state was basically cut in half during the Civil War, for crying out loud. That kind of sums up everything.

But now the votes from St. Louis and Kansas City are coming in, and with every batch comes a new lead for Team Michael J. Fox.

God, I wish Michael J. Fox could do a split-screen debate with the most beloved Republican of all time, Alex P. Keaton. How sweet would that have been? Can somebody go wake up James Lipton? He could make that happen.

Right at midnight, Claire McCaskill went from losing by 3 points to a 14,000 vote lead in the span of like two minutes. That’s when I decided I was in it for the long haul. Right now it looks like everything I voted for is going to win. I like Claire, even if she does murder old people*.

Now I know what it feels like for a sports fan. It’s kind of bugging me out, to be honest. I’d much rather go back to disagreeing with everyone and therefore not caring. But all of these issues are split by less than 10,000 votes. I get more hits than that on Myspace. This election blows my mind.

So now it’s like 2am and Claire McCaskill is giving a victory speech. I really want to stay awake for the Stem Cells but I don’t think I can make it.

Hey, do you think if we referred to embryos as “An Army of One”, more rednecks would have voted for this thing? We’ve killed thousands of soldiers in the war, and those are human beings with functioning brains and millions of friends and family. Why can’t I draft some of my eggs to “fight the good fight” and cure everybody of everything? Like they know what’s going on anyways.

*Paid for by the Republican National Committee.

Go Do Your Own Front!

Ron was awesome enough to burn some pictures of the Red Bull Soapbox Derby for me. Check out that sweet ride!

Right when Jen and I got there, we stumbled across our friends GETTING INTERVIEWED BY TELEMUNDO! Heee!

Team Semi-Coherent was sponsored by CW 11, so we got to hang out in a sweet CW Tent all day. We also had boxes of CW stuff, and I discovered my second calling as a Promo Girl when I passed out CW Can Cozies for like an hour.

Here’s Jen and I dishing about Gilmore Girls:

The creativity that went into each boxcar was incredible. It would take forever for me to describe what we saw. Joe raced the station wagon from National Lampoon’s Vacation:

The guy who drove it was dressed up like Marty Moose from Walley World. I think the part that made me laugh the hardest was towards the end of their race, when both teams lost momentum. Everyone watched Joe get out and start pushing the cart to victory. Then suddenly in the background, the station wagon exploded as Marty Moose burst through the roof, trying to get out of the car. I really hope that gets on YouTube somehow, because I can’t really do that story justice.

~~~*~~~

After the race, Jen and Ron had another awesome Halloween party. I think my favorite costumes of the night were Warren and Tony, who dressed up like The Warriors.

I did a good job with my costume, though. I was Britney Spears! I made sure to neglect the baby by dropping it repeatedly, leaving it by the stove, letting it hold my beer, etc. I also had a big pregnant belly. Warren gave me the best joke of the night when he said, “Don’t forget, you’re drinking for two.”

I certainly did drink for two, and while the end of the night is a little fuzzy, I do know that Dan and I had a really sweet conversation… something we’ve been meaning to do for a while. It sounds silly, but that was probably my favorite part of the whole weekend.

Our talk got kind of heavy at one point and we paused… then Dan looked down at his outfit and remarked, “I wish we weren’t having this conversation while wearing our costumes.” Hee.

Oh, and I take back what I said about The Warriors. My favorite costume was Dan’s Grape Suit:

~~~*~~~

And to top it all off, Tony moved in last weekend!!! He lived with me for about 30 minutes before we established Rule One: Tony farts in his room and his room only.

Rule Two is that all of the windows stay open until he masters Rule One. I am also considering banning dairy from the apartment.

Every time we bent over to pick up his furniture, he would let out a Silent-But-Deadly, and then I would have to walk directly into his Fart Cloud while carrying a dresser or whatever. Gross.

I suppose that’s just what happens when you live with a boy. However, the other day I was having an Uglyfat Day, and he gave me a big hug and told me to “shut up, because you’re gorgeous.”

That’s another thing you’ll only get when you live with a boy. So I suppose the farts are a fair trade. It really does feel like home now that he’s there. He carved a Jack-o-Lantern for the porch and everything. I have the feeling that we’re going to have a great time.