Category: family / friends Page 20 of 27

Send me in for detox OR Consider me sentimental

On March 31, 2006

In the last month I have seen all sorts of old friends – people that I often see once a year tops. So you can image the number of walk I have taken down memory lane. Apparently though, I have been more stumbling than walking because dear God I have drank more beer this month than I have since that quarter in college where Movie and I spent a few too many nights each with our own pitchers…

Visit one was with Delicious in DC where he and his lady showed Wonder Boy and I a fabulous time. Now Delicious has requested a post about the visit but I don’t know what to focus on but him and it will sound sentimental and sappy. But since he asked for it, here it goes.

So Delicious has this gal and they live in sin but that’s cool. I have met her but always in passing or at very hectic events like weddings. So it was fabulous to spend more time with them and get to know how very cool she is. But for one thing. She has convinced Delicious that Miller Light is bad. WTF??? The Decliious I know LIKES Miller Light. And I know for a fact that we CHOSE to drink Miller Light and not only in college but out of college too. And I still like it, damn it, and will defend it. So there. Aside from this new girlfriend-inspired beer snobbery (I swear I think she’s awesome.) Decliious is turning into a full-fledged adult. Freaks me out.

The visit to DC for the first weekend off from the foster dogs and my embracing of beer on the trip I thought was inspired by being on vacation. After I came home I realized that the dogs were driving me to drink. And lose five pounds. It turns out that having those pups drove me so crazy I lost weight without trying, but it’s not a diet I would recommend. At least not without lots of Prozac.

Visit number two was to Chicago where I visited with three friends from high school. Right before Wonder Boy and I left, the dogs were sent somewhere else. Now that might have given me a chance to stop drinking, but honestly I had to drink to celebrate. We stayed with Mart Girl and with her I give myself permission to be a girl. That’s right, I get very girly and I don’t do that with anyone else. Maybe my sisters, but that’s different. So in Chicago we drank and ate a LOT of good food. Seeing Mart Girl was wonderful because she is all done with school now which means she has a job which means she has money. Hanging out with your friend while they are poor and then later when they have money is great because its such a damn transformation.

Then this week I don’t even know what happened but I had happy hours every night and last night I visited with my favorite and only Iowan friend, Iowa, and a bunch of people from work and we had so much fun over beers and I am not going to lie – I am hung over today. But motherhood and an Iowa address have changed Billie. Back in the day I used to, in an effort to be nice, pick a piece of fuzz of her shirt or something and she would kind of freak out because I had touched her. Then last night she HUGGED me. No shit.

The end result of all of this is that I miss my friend more than when I visited with them because I remember how much fun they are. And I have a very high tolerance and need to start a serious detoxification program.

Why you should not push your child into acting

By Kate

On March 27, 2006

In family / friends, television, travel

This weekend Wonder Boy and I headed north to Chicago. As luck would have it, three of the maybe five people I keep in touch with from high school all live there. It makes for fun times and cheap accommodations. It’s also the only environment where I turn straight up girl and revert back to catty gossip and exclamations of Nuh-uh! and, mostly to mock Mart Girl, Hey Chica!

The weekend was filled with lots of good ethnic food, some shopping and catching up. On Saturday night we headed out to the Cubby Bear, across from Wrigley Field. It was packed, as well it should have been. After all, the beer was relatively cheap, the DJ was spinning good cuts and the opening act for the evening’s cover band was Dustin Diamond.

You’re probably sitting there thinking “Dustin Diamond? Sounds familiar…” And it should. You grew up watching him every Saturday play Screech on Saved by the Bell. Apparently his post TV days are occupied with stand up comedy now. And wow. Talk about trying hard to not be Screech.

Diamond spent a little too much time trying to convince the audience that he was cool (“Trust the Dust”) and that he was funny (“People in Miami laughed at that!”). In addition, he is obsessed with doing girls in the butt. Obsessed I say! He also seems to have an odd preoccupation with old ladies’ cooters. (That’s right, I said cooters. But I think that is a much nicer word that calling them grilled cheese sandwiches.)

It was worth the $10 to see Diamond because of the jealousy it will cause for my sister. And because it was funny to say I was 20 feet from Screech. But hearing him say things like, “Oh, trust me, I will make you Screech” in a pervy way… Let’s just say I have a whole new perspective on my childhood Saturday mornings.

Then… Definitely not getting any from Lisa

Now… Not getting any
from anyone

When was it I grew up?

By Kate

On February 22, 2006

In family / friends

In the past weeks I have read Prep: A Novel by Curtis Sittenfeld and Smashed: Story of a Drunken Girlhood by Koren Zailckas. Both books were good and though strangely depressing I would recommend them both. Last night I was discussing Prep in book club and was able to look back on my high school years, for perhaps the first time, with only minimal resentment. WHEN did this start happening? Next, will I start saying they were the best years of my life? (They so were not.) I recall them as the awkward prelude to my current nerdy present. My most confident moments spent hiding in alcove in the rear of the theatre running the around board or running up to the light booth to spend time with my other technically inclined, nerdy friends. (Sorry, Cincy and Mara for outing you as the nerds you are, or at least were.)

Here are the memories I can look back at with only laughter now, because GOOD GOD was I naïve:

When a girl throws herself down the stairs for a rumored pregnancy, then goes to a new high school because her dad got transferred at work and then comes back to school the next year because her dad got transferred back, she was likely PREGNANT. Duh. And why didn’t I realize this until years later when Kirsten had to EXPLAIN it to me.
When during freshman year girls run into school up to their friends yelling, “I did it! I did it!” they are indeed referring to sex. Yes, sex. Just because you won’t kiss a boy for many more years does not mean that other girls aren’t getting some. Get a clue.
When one of your best memories from high school is pranking your friend by plastering her locker in New Kids on the Block and NKOTB pictures from TigerBeat, it’s a good sign that you are not popular or cool, something that you might not realize for many more years.
“Trigger,” the 1985 Honda hatchback you drove in high school was indeed awesome with its inoperable heat and vents that sucked in everything from air to cigarette butts and twigs. When you pulled into school on the first day of senior year and parked between a BMW and a Mazda Miada, it was proof that the other girls had more money than you, NOT that they were jealous their cars weren’t as sweet as yours.

Because me, Wonder Boy and all of our friends have serious Pirattitude

By Kate

On February 21, 2006

In family / friends

The past many weeks have been filled with thoughts of pirattitude: how to decorate with pirattitude, how to cook with pirattitude, how to dress with pirattitude. This weekend was the culmination of all the hard work and friends showed up in full force.

I salute my friends for the pirate-filled exuberance. I am happy to have found someone like Wonder Boy who can spend so much time, work and money around a party theme like pirates.

Here are the things I learned during my pirattitude weekend:

Alcohol and toy swords do not mix well. It is because of these things that you have someone say to you, “I would love to come with you but I have to kill your dad first” while they are holding a $3 plastic sword to your dad’s throat.
Wonder Boy did it right when he bought the turbo Eureka vacuum cleaner he did. It turns out that sucker can suck up whole pretzels, which is a good thing because some drunk pirates were inspired by the Olympics and tried to do back flips over the couch and might have missed and hit a coffee table sending a whole bowl of Chex Mix flying.
When Wonder Boy comes up with the idea to use tape and make treasure-map-like dashes around the apartment that lead to beer and the bathroom, you will think “Brilliant!” The next day when you are on your hands and knees picking at tape with your fingernails, you will curse to yourself, “Brilliant, my ass!”
Family members who party with you despite pregnancies, not knowing people, being called old by your friends … they rock.
Wearing baseball uniforms to a party is funny. Wearing cups under those costumes is even funnier. Signing people’s bodies like you are really famous is even funnier still.

Dancing with the Geek OR You make me feel like dancing … wanna dance the night away

By Kate

On February 15, 2006

In family / friends, work

I do some freelancing for a local web site where I cover events. I was asked by my editor to write a story about dancing locations around town. She made it clear that she did not mean the bump and grind places I used to frequent, but more places where you can for real dance – like tango. Truth be told, my years of bumping and grinding are only because that is all I know how to do.

So I find this guy at Shall We Dance Cincinnati who teaches at Step n Out Dance Studio in Covington, Kentucky. He is nice and agrees to the trifecta if story perks: lets me interview him, gives me and my boy two free dance lessons one right after another – one group and one private – which I desperately need as research for this story AND agrees to raffle off a dance lesson along with the story. What, I ask, is better than that?

My BF, henceforth referred to as Wonder Boy because I think it’s funny, agreed to the dance lesson research under some conditions:

The resulting article would not be called “Dancing with the geek” (Blog posts were never mentioned in these conditions.)
Participation in the group lesson was optional so he didn’t have to make an ass of himself in front of people

I agreed and Wonder Boy and I signed up to take our classes lat night. What we approached with visible fear and trepidation turned out to be F-U-N.

The twelve or so people who were taking the class would line up with the (shiny-shoed) instructor in front of them. He taught them some rumba steps and before long I convinced Wonder Boy that a little public humiliation in front of strangers would be worth pulling out the rumba at the next wedding we got invited to. Long story short, we kinda sucked for most of the group class. Actually, I would say we were mediocre and then we were taught some swing steps and then we sucked. During the private lesson though we went back to the rumba and I can now be twirled, rumba in a circle and do the basic box. And not only that, I do this all without leading, which is a first!