Did I Say Inspiration Strikes?

More like PUNCHES ME IN THE FACE:

That is Mort’s twin brother. I’ve met him at Grace Basement shows and was aware that he was cool, but my god. I don’t know why this exists or why it is so mesmerizing, but dude, it just does it for me.

I’m feeling weirdly optimistic about taking care of my parents this week, which is probably because I got my weekly high five from Charlie.

If you’re not on Facebook, then you probably don’t know that Charlie and I are TEAM ADORBS and Charlie is CAPTAIN ADORBS. I can seriously high five him for hours.

Also: I had the most brilliant idea that I’ve ever had yesterday so you will probably hear about that soon. Life is nuts right now. Lovin’ every minute of it!

Deal With Stress In Your Own Weird Way

This is gearing up to be a very busy and exhausting week. I will spare you the details – I know you don’t come here to stress out vicariously through me.

Real quick: last night I saw the biggest, fluffiest snowflakes that I’ve ever seen in my life. Today I wore shorts while I took out the trash. St. Louis is silly.

Every time I assume that I will be too busy to write, something inevitably happens and inspiration strikes and I post twice as much as usual. But as of now, Twitter updates aside, I think I’ll be too busy to write this week.

So… in case you’re wondering what I’m up to, it’s something along the lines of this:

This World On You Depends

“If you give this man a ride, sweet memory will die.”

– Riders on the Storm, The Doors

One night when I was fifteen or sixteen, Rachael had come over to hang out at my house and my mom let me drive her home. I had my driver’s permit, so the three of us piled into the old Honda and headed towards Kirkwood.

It was a beautiful spring night, so we had the sunroof and all of the windows open. I was wearing flip flops, so I was practically barefoot, just the way I like it. This was the year I discovered the “Dead at 27” club, so we were grooving to The Doors. I was driving down West Adams, which is this long windy road that goes through the woods alongside a big creek – about as close to country driving as you can get in the county.

Everything was so perfect and relaxing and – as I thought in my adolescent mind – cool. And I remember thinking, “When I get my license, I want to do this ALL THE TIME. This is AWESOME.”

Rachael lived very close to where I live now, and we used to ride our bikes past this building all the time. There were always people barbecuing and hanging out on the porches. When I was little, I thought all these swinging college kids and young adults lived there and they had parties every day and it must be the raddest place ever.

Tonight I was driving home from the hospital in my Honda. It was a gorgeous breezy spring day. I kicked off my heels and drove barefoot with the sunroof open. “Riders On The Storm” started playing on the radio. I drove down West Adams with the wind blowing and Jim Morrison crooning, towards that building that used to fascinate me so much.

And it hit me – I was doing exactly what I wanted to do, at least for a while when I was younger. I take that road home every single day. I live in the building that I thought was so glamourous and cool. Sure, most days aren’t that pretty. My neighbors are older and give me cookies instead of margaritas. I don’t actively listen to The Doors. But tonight – tonight it was perfect.

I used to have this boyfriend who always told me that I would never be happy if I stayed in St. Louis. He told me that my dreams would come true somewhere else, and he was so worried about what would happen if I never left. He used to rip on my city (and the Midwest, and so many places he had never even seen) so much, and at the time I hadn’t explored my home enough to show him why it was so perfect in spite of its faults. I thought he would rescue me from whatever he was so afraid of. When you’re in love, you believe they know what’s best for you without question.

Which is better: having big dreams and lofty goals that you will never achieve, or simple dreams and small wishes that one day come true? I suppose it could be argued either way.

But every day… every single day for the last two years, I live out at least some version of that childhood fantasy that I had forgotten about until just now. I think that’s pretty remarkable, and I’m a bit overwhelmed by how lucky I feel to be exactly where I am.

One of Those

“There was a profound sadness inside Gilda. At the same time there was this boundless joy and energy. She fluctuated. It wasn’t like bipolar. She didn’t go on periods of horrible depression and then elation. They existed side by side. And sometimes she’d just disappear. She would just go away, and maybe that’s when she was sad.”

– Neil Levy on Gilda Radner, Live From New York

I went all day without smoking. It had less to do with quitting, and more to do with the fact that I had such a crazy week and I wanted to spend an entire day in my PJ pants. Success. It was such a gorgeous breezy day and I opened all the windows and lounged on the couch all day long. I read two whole books, ate toasted ravioli and finally watched The Pied Piper of Hützovina. Hooray!

I’ll run a bunch in the morning and we’ll see where that takes me. But for the next 10 hours: more PJ pants. I needed some sort of cocoon where I could hang out and be still before the next phase, whatever that is. My cocoon just happens to be covered in sock monkeys (or if I’m feeling really crazy, glow-in-the-dark sheep).

This has nothing to do with anything, but this clip is my favorite moment in the History of Everything. It’s days like today that I remember to look it up, watch it over and over, and smile about it a whole bunch:

Changing the Subject

I really don’t want to get into the details of my day; it was scary. For updates on that, check mah Tweets.

I will say this, though: I have finally figured out what it means to be a grown-up. It’s not aging or graduating or moving out… it’s when you realize that you have to keep it together because all of a sudden, YOU are the one in charge and everyone is depending on you. And something just… clicks. It immediately (and seemingly automatically) becomes possible to face situations with an unnervingly calm demeanor and logic. There is no time to worry about yourself when your priority is to take care of everyone around you.

It’s nice to know. I’ve always wondered how some of my friends (mainly the parents) transformed from immature nutcases like myself into these superheroes who seem to handle everything effortlessly. I thought I was missing something. I get it now. As it turns out, sometimes you don’t really have a choice.

I was doing fine until about noon when my aunt appeared and woke me up by gently rubbing my back. All of a sudden, it was okay to be the baby of the family again and my face crumpled up instantly.

Tomorrow it’s back to this:

Okay hold up – a few observations upon re-watching that clip:

1. I vividly remember being terrified of those fish in the window.

2. One bite, dude? Really? I guess no one had mastered the art of cutting to an empty plate.

3. I still laugh my ass off at “Fran-CEEESS.”

Also since I like ending on happy stuff, I’ll tell you that I watched Intervention with Erin and Erin and we hung out til midnight and it was the most fun I’ve had in a while. The perfect new combination of people at the perfect time.

I was going to post a clip of Allison from Intervention “walking on sunshine” but I ended up watching all her clips and guiltily laughing and now I’m late to visit my dad. She’s worth googling, though. A thousand horrified LOLs.

Nectar of the Devil

Last night Jason handed me a bottle. “Try this,” he said. “It’s incredible.”

I looked at the label: Smirnoff Ice Wild Grape. Then I smelled it. “Uh oh.”

“What? Taste it.”

“I don’t think I should. You do realize that artificial grape is my favorite flavor, right?”

“You can’t even taste the alcohol.”

“That’s my point. You should just drive me to Betty Ford right now.”

“DRINK IT.” Jason likes to force feed me things all the time and no matter how much I fight it, he never gives up and I usually comply.

So I try it. It’s basically grape Jolly Rancher, with a hint of grape Kool-Aid. “Son of a bitch. That is delicious.”

“I know, right? And it’s 5% alcohol.”

“I hope you like roommates who stumble around wasted in their bathrobe all day and like, throw shoes at you.”

“Would you throw stuff through the window? Because that would be funny.”

“This is the kind of stuff that alcoholics pour into water bottles and take to work.”

“It’s f*&$ing goooo-oood.”

“Never allow me to buy this stuff. Do you hear me, Jason? Never.”

“I thought you liked grape?”

“I also like pizza but I’m not going to order it every day. There is a reason why people don’t try heroin. Never. This is never allowed in my mouth ever again.”

“That’s what she said.”

~~~*~~~

To be honest, the longer I sit here writing about Smirnoff Ice Wild Grape, the more angry I’m getting. This is a drink made for children and it has an alcohol content that I’M uncomfortable drinking.

LISTEN UP BEVERAGE COMPANIES: ALCOHOL NEEDS TO TASTE LIKE ALCOHOL.

When I was a teen, I couldn’t stand the taste of alcohol. It took me about 2 hours to finish my first beer. And even though I had fruity drinks to choose from, they still tasted like crap: Boones Strawberry Hill, Bartles and James Peach, Seagram’s Mixed Berries, ZIMA, etc. I could taste the booze and therefore, I couldn’t slam it. I would drink it at a proper pace and could feel myself getting drunk. Therefore, I stopped drinking when I needed to stop.

I promise you, teenagers are going to CHUG Smirnoff Ice Wild Grape (and the strawberry one that is just as candy-ish). This is especially true if they are sharing their stash of booze, and most teens do. Teenagers drink shared booze the way kids in huge families eat their dinner: if you want your share, you have to grab it fast.

Never has alcohol poisoning been so easily accessible. I already know that kids are going to drink themselves into comas over this. An entire generation of teenage girls just lost their virginity because of this drink (and sorry dudes, but that is a bad thing).

When I was a little kid, I would always choose grape candy. And if my parents had this in the refrigerator and I saw the grape pictures, I would try it. And because it doesn’t taste like alcohol, I would love it. Again, 5%. Terrifying. I’m well aware that the wrong products are marketed to kids all of the time, but this is the first drink that definitely would’ve killed me if I had tried it.

I’m not saying it is a bad drink. Smirnoff Ice made a fine product… it’s just too good. This is not a Benjamin Button world; there are a lot of little people running around who don’t know better, and they would not be able to handle themselves if they got a hold of this. It should be illegal.

“I Know You Only Make Cheese Friends When Something’s Bothering You.”

Yes, I KNOW, I haven’t updated in a week. I haven’t felt like it. So suck it.

I DO update my Twitter at least once a day, so if you come here and you’re devastated that I haven’t updated, you can check the sidebar on the right for a dumb sentence or two. I call those “stalker crumbs”. (This includes other people’s Tweets that I read. Stalker crumbs are delicious.)

Things I have been up to:

* Beers and bonfires with pals
* Playing with puppies
* Staying up all night with Rob
* Slumdog Millionaire with Tom
* Twin Peaks with Twin Peaks Club
* Getting weirdly turned on by this violent Erik story
* Potential Intervention marathon with the Erins
* Dancing to It’s Blitz!
* Chatting with my sister-in-law and hanging up happy
* Boot camp workouts
* Running to prevent any obese Fish Fry/Samoa tragedies
* Obsessing over Tracy Jordan’s Cheese Friends

Now that I think about it, I was probably feeling too fat to write. It happens. Does too. It’s over now.

~~~*~~~

I’m at this ridiculous stage in my life (so ridic, in fact, that a gay friend just called it “gay”) where I’m reevaluating basically everything. It’s a battle between “things/habits/people/places that I actually like” versus “things/habits/people/places that I am used to”. I wasn’t prepared to launch into a full mental overhaul but my brain is forcing me. Does this mean I’m pregnant?*

The downside to having a blog that (theroretically) everyone reads is that I can’t write about people unless it is 100% positive. I’m not mad at anyone; I’m just deciding some stuff and I have nowhere to write and hash everything out. I may have to fire up the ‘ol private LiveJournal. But don’t be paranoid. Just know that you are all up for review. (Totally kidding.)

I don’t know how to explain this mood I’m in without rambling for days and days about nothing at all. All I can say is I feel like things are changing, and I’m not yet sure if it’s my life or just me.

*Nope. It absolutely does not.

Ballin’

I have been determined to grab drinks with Rob and Courtney for a while now, and on Friday we were finally all free and ready to party. I thought we would hit up some bars, but then Courtney suggested something even better. Cuz she kicks ass is why:

There’s this guy in Illinois who collects and restores pinball machines. Every now and then, he throws a BYOB party where you pay a cover charge at the door and ALL THE MACHINES ARE ON FREE PLAY. I was pretty impartial to pinball before this – I hadn’t played in at least a decade – but I have been converted.

I rode up there with Rob, Ann and Nighthawk. I don’t know if I’ve ever been to this part of Illinois before because we saw the Shell Oil Refinery from the highway and I was terrified.

The refinery looks like that place Richard Pryor worked at in Superman III. Plus: OPEN FLAMES shooting out of gigantic pillars and smoke billowing everywhere. If Mordor and the actual Earth from The Matrix had a baby, this place would be it.

“It looks like Hell. The real Hell,” I said. “Thank god we’re not going there.”

Close: it was across the street.

Someone joked that the place might be filled with mutants from all the smoke, and I laughed a lot. We had no idea what to expect. But as it turns out, across the street from Hell is Pinball Heaven.

Rob is really into pinball and handled my ignorance with a lot of patience. (“How do you flip the flippies?” “Are you serious?”)

We met up with Courtney, Ben, Maysam and Lindsey (the cutest couple in the world), and had a blast playing games like The Creature from the Black Lagoon, Elvis, The Simpsons, Playboy, and so on and so on. He had about 50 games total.

The place is called CP Pinball, and I will definitely come back with Joe and Ron in tow. The owner seemed really nice. I like people who work hard to preserve an art that’s almost extinct.

My personal favorites were Terminator 2: Judgement Day, Addam’s Family and a carnival-themed one where you have to get the ball into a ferris wheel. I was amazing at that one… and only that one.

~~~*~~~

In case you are wondering, Badass Bitch Boot Camp lasted 3.5 days before a tragic detour involving gyros and a Melrose Place marathon. I’m going to try again this week, only much like the work week, Badass Bitch Boot Camp starts on Monday. We’ll see how it goes.