Realizations of a sober friend

Last night I had the distinct pleasure of being the sober friend. I was for once, not intoxicated while the rest of my friends....well, I can't say the same. It was the celebration of Luba's birthday. Her 27th. Whoa! 27, I don't know..it kind of hits you when you put it down on paper like that...or umm, screen. Anyway, in my soberness, I came to the realization of a few things:

1. White men CAN'T dance.
They try of course. And whilst both people are under the direct influence of the old cough syrup, it might appear to both participants as though he is getting his swerve on. But do not be fooled, white men just lack the upper body motion to jive my friends. I learned this mainly from watching my fiancee, who generally, I am hammered right along side with. In fact, through the 2 years we have been together, I have often complimented him on his dancing ability. Maybe it only encouraged him. Though fun to watch and a blast to have a good time with, there are reasons why the Caucasian race belongs in their own corner on the dance floor.

2. Drinking games are never to be played with water. When played with only flavored water, they may cause you to be more sick than with alcohol. Luba's sister kept making me drink this lemonade flavored water I had during a good 'ole fashioned round of "Up the River, Down the River". I can not chug lemonade, even pseudo lemonade. I think that may have actually been worse for my stomach. The only thing I kept thinking was, "Does she think this is a real drink-drink? Why is she making me drink so much lemonade? Does she want me to just pee a lot?" Odd really.

3. Stage diving is not really cool anymore. Though it seems like a good time, as a sober person, man does everyone look silly. I thought that was outlawed in the 80's. Oh wait! I love the 80's!. Well, it is just wrong. At any moment, I thought the lighters were coming out. Yeah, it's a good thing we had the whole back room to ourselves.

4. DJs with Napoleon complex who haven't listened to your friend's last 10 requests, are not going to listen to their next 5. Even though this DJ totally sucked, he still had this chip on his shoulder where he refused to play any requested music. Even though we were the only people dancing and even though HE HAD NO OTHER PEOPLE TO PLEASE. Requesting songs every 2 minutes doesn't help either. Just enjoy the crappy music peeps...we've resorted to stage diving for goodness sake!

5. Watching friends fall down is funny regardless of if you're drunk or not. Sorry b-day girl. Missing a step is just plain funny...at all times...no matter who is around...no matter where or what you are doing. It's a reality check we all need. I can't wait for my next one!

Actually, I am one of those people who has a good time with or without the potion. I would have preferred some. But rather, I traded it in for the ability to drive home and get in my nice cozy bed. Besides, remember when you used to be able to just act drunk? I was able to channel my youth by attempting to do that. Also not cool anymore. Yeah, I also realized I'm OLD. thanks.

NTW: What the hell is the Gasolina?

Is it all child's play?

Today was the first time in quite some time I thought that having a kid's problems might somehow be better than having an adult's. Typically, I am not one of those people who think that way. As we age, we have problems and we just deal with it. That's how life works. But today, well, it was just one of those days. One of those days where you wonder if it is all worth it...Somehow. I would like to think I am a very hard worker: for my employer, in my relationship, in almost everything I do. But why should everything have to be worked at? Some things should just come easily. Love for example. Do you ever wonder how it is possible to love someone so much and also let them drive you absolutely insane? Do you ever wonder if working at something is the way to make it last? Or should lasting through the years come easily as long as you have that certain connection? All questions the typical 9-year-old doesn't worry about. All of which I would have traded for today. Anyone know where I can get that crystal ball?

Within a few short hours, today I became so angered by a co-worker I wanted to scream, was so emotional I wanted to cry, and laughed so hard I almost peed. How's that for a roller coaster? The problem I found myself faced with is that I am lacking the opportunity to say exactly what I am thinking...partly because I can't conjure up the verbiage and perfect conjunction of sentences to mean everything I really want to say. That age old fear of saying something you truly don't mean and then regretting it 10 minutes later also exists. I seem to have foot-in-mouth disease to the fullest on most occasions. But somehow, today I think everything I wanted to say was almost perfectly ready to exit the large orifice in my head. I chickened out to the fullest.

Later this evening, I found out my brother was being picked on at a family gathering this weekend. He didn't tell anyone because he didn't want to make his problems worse. Instead, he just let the "bullying" continue and hoped the other kid would eventually stop. I realized then how much harder being a kid might be than being an adult with too much scrutiny into her own thoughts.

NTW: If you could say exactly what you were thinking on most occasions, would you?

Green Beer and a lot of Cheers!

Yet another St. Patty's Day come and gone. What a fine day! I don't know if it is was because this was going to be the last year of celebration with one of the most Irish names in existence or because I was just in desperate need of a reason to consume a large amount of Guinness mid-week, but I was set out to have a rock'in St. Patty's Day. By most standards, that can be pretty easy to do. But by mine, it can be a bit more difficult. This was the fist year I had not planned some kind of elaborate "event". I was not in Savannah. I was not drooling over the other JM. I was, in fact, remaining in Connecticut. Though completely and utterly excited about the events of the evening, I was not by any means, expecting it to be one of the best. As if it were a pre-cursor to the NCAA tourney, I couldn't have been more wrong.
St. Patty's Day started off just as mundane as all the others. I will spare you the details of the day. But by 3 pm, the place was hopping and it was quite obvious that everyone at work had suddenly begun to act as if they had a leprechaun in their pants. I myself included. The countdown was on. The plan was to meet at Bunny's, grab some grub (you know, some substance for the syrup) and head out to a few places in Stammie. Though dressed appropriately nice to score a few good glances, Sibby and I decided that a stop at the GAP and Banana was imperative. Luckily, it was just enough to clear the traffic which would have permitted us from getting our drink-on earlier anyhow. The arrival at Buns's house then the drinkage.
Now, here is where it gets interesting. There are 5 girls and one fireman on patrol. We represent about a $70 tab every time we approach the bar. Yet, in making our way through Temple (in what had to be the most crowded place I had ever been), you were hard-pressed to get a drink within 20 minutes unless you strategically placed your party throughout the bar. This was Lesson 1 we learned early. Next: we are ladies. Ladies who like to dance. You're in a crowded bar. Why is it that people can't learn how to hold their drinks properly. As we were shak'in our groove things, a large man walked by and I may or may not have hit his drink. He may or may not have dropped it all over the floor and shattered glass everywhere. He may or may not have just experienced Lesson 1 as described above to get that drink. At that moment, I realized I was about to get bitch slapped by a very large and in charge black man. BUT THANK GOD FOR BOOBIES! They definitely saved me. As Buns apologized profusely for me, I just started dancing again!
So we're having a good time, we're getting loaded and suddenly, it hits me that the bling on my finger has turned into a magnet. Now, I have never had a problem having men approach me. I am sure most women experience the same thing. But this night was a bit more than usual. And since I don't frequent the clubs much anymore, I can only imagine it has to do with the ice. One question: Why do men still think it is completely original to walk up to a woman and say "hey, I have never done this before but..." Buddy, you lost me at "I have never". Unless we are playing a drinking game, I don't ever want to hear those words come from some random man in a stanky bar. However, in this case, it allowed me the opportunity to use my now infamous line that was coined only a few short days prior: "Back Off Mista. Umm...I'M Engaged!" The ice came out, the boy left. And once again, I kept dancing!
By the end of the evening, the party had grown to 12 people...all of whom had also turned green by this point. I had licked an ice sculpture. The fireman had started to dance. Buns was, well, she beer checked me. Sibby fell asleep on the wall...almost. And LB was hail'in all the cabs in Stammie. Time to go home!
St. Patty's Day turned out to be one of the best ones I have ever had. I don't know if it was because setting no expectations only allows for no let-downs or if it was because things just seemed to go almost too smoothly. Either way, it was a night of a lot o' laughs.
Shiver me timbers! OK, well that is pirate...but whatever....they both walk funny after a few brews.

PICTURES FROM THE EVENING

NTW: Do high expectations yield better results or only make for more of a let-down?

Why do we stay connected?

Life is funny. Well, you didn't need this blog to help you come to that conclusion. I am sure most of you probably realized that during those awkward teen years. We meet people, they come and go, some stay and some stay around even longer. Of those whom stay, we form solid friendships with them and others, they simply linger, like a dense fog. And still, as in my case, I find that as time seamlessly passes, I continue to question the meaning of these not-so-meaningful, yet long-lasting "relationships/friendships".

Before you know it, 2-, 3-, 10- years have passed and what you perceived to be those not-so-meaningful "relationships/friendships", have now begun to form somewhat of your most stable interactions. And why? Why can't we, well some of us at least, end something knowing that there is absolutely no good that can come of it? Why is it sometimes so hard to not be a part of something when it takes too much effort to be a part of in the first place? Why do we continue to surround ourselves with relationships/friendships that inevitably show signs everywhere of falling apart?

Well, I suppose it isn't quite fair to bring all this up without explaining a bit further. Lately, I have just realized that some people in my life do not play as big of a role as I had hoped they would...or perhaps as they used to. Still, they have significant meaning to my past. And I am torn between wondering if you can build a better friendship of tomorrow and just let the a past go, OR should what you had in the past be the base of building a better future?

Now, I know I said only one NTW, and apparently, I have asked quite a few. I should probably go back to writing about elves, shouldn't I?

Recommendation of the Week (though probably very late in the Game): Soundtrack from Ray

What better reason to begin blogging...

than to start talking about Vegas again?? Yes, another trip is on the horizon which only means 2 things: 1) there is an excuse to take an inventory of my shoes; and 2) E.C. can now come down from the attic. Oh, you know what I am talking about--the Elvis Cow. He will be in full effect in 6 weeks.

As you can see from my lack of postings, it has been quite the busy schedule around here. There has been wedding planning, and well, other people's wedding planning, and in between, I have desperately been trying to convince my friends we need one last rendevous to Sin City. NOT that we're committing any sins--(what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?). Well, after all the persuading, all the dressing up in white and gold lamme, all the days of wearing that goofy ass black haired wig, I guess it worked. VIVA, VIVA, VIVA! We are headed to Vegas. I can not begin to tell you how excited we are. Not to mention we're at good 'ole Roy's place. Also, not to mention we somehow managed to milk an extra day's vacation out of the employers. How do ya like them apples?

Over the past few days, it has been brought to my attention that I might be putting too much emphasis on the fact I keep repeating "but this may be the last time I go with the ladies". The fiancee thinks that there will still be plenty of time for random flights to Sin City and booze-filled binges. I guess I am not of the same mind-set. After all, didn't I decide this was the right time to get married because I am preparing to give these trips up for romantic getaways to the Poconos and those large champagne glass bubble baths or some crap like that? I just don't see me, the hubby and the kids, packing up to go catch a whore-packed, Sirens of TI (Treasure Island for the non-Vegasers out there) sex show and some grinding dance grooves in--with the baby pack on my back--at ghostbar, fun-filled weekend that often. But maybe that's just me. Isn't that a hot image?

Perhaps some of the scrutiny comes from the fact I am going and we told all the boys they aren't allowed. Perhaps, there is a bit of jealousy that the ladies are going to Vegas, while the boys have realized that without us, well, they are just boring. They will be here with nothing to do but beer-pong and Third Watch (sorry Fireman). We however, will be there, with fabulous shoes and glass floors to dance on. Not that I have to justify any of this, but let me just put it out there that the year has not started off the greatest, either. I think we can all agree that the people thus far involved in this trip, myself included, deserve this trip. You never know what tomorrow will bring. But I know 2 weeks from now will certianly bring CHA-CHING and BLING-BLING!

NEW ADDITION TO THE BLOG:
I have decided to add this as something you should all think about each day. Well actually, it is something I am thinking about, and therefore, you will now too. So from now on, there is a NTD('Nifs Thought of the Day)

NTD:
Why is it when you try to show someone that they're thought of, it can sometimes have such a negative effect--as if it did the exact opposite of your purpose? Is it worth ever trying to extend a heartfelt thought or are we better off never crossing sentimental barriers?

Ouchies!

Well, some of you may know, others will not, that I had minor back surgery yesterday. Everything went well...or so I think. It is hard to tell when your in a neck collar and can't really move anything from the mid-back down. Not that I lost all use of my lower body---god knows I couldn't do anything to my body that would prevent me from doing the "Beyonce". But the surgery wasn't pleasant and left me with quite a bit of residual pain.

In any event, I have sent the fiancee to do the dutiful things which required our presence this weekend. He gets to go to Stammie, he gets to go watch F-Ball and he gets to truly represent this "Rosigan" household of ours. I was actually looking forward to some Peace & Quiet. Just me and my fist-full of prescribed painkillers---how can it get any better?

Well, actually, there are a million ways it could be better. Like I could be dressed all hot and ready to shake what my momma gave me, but instead, I have opted for the "no shower" look, neckbrace and sweats. A fashion statement nobody will be making at the Golden Globes---though they really should. I don't know--I think the brace is hot. With some Swaravski crystals, they might just envy it at the Golden Globes. Speaking of which, I will provide a full detailed report of my fashion criticisms this week.

I sent the fiancee out so that he could be with his friends (and mine) and let them know we are there for them. Being a good supported--you know. I was glad when he decided to go. For a while, he was really wanting to stay here to take care of me. But I don't need all that bloody attention. I am fine on my Demerol and Percodan. Still, I can not bring myself to crawl into bed. Because I know my sweetie won't be there to snuggle up to. It's funny how sometimes at the worst moments, you realize how much you love someone. I miss him tonight---just him being around. And as I fall into my next semi-conscious coma, I hope when I wake, he'll be there with his arms around me.

Unexpected findings

Tonight my future in-laws invited the fiancee and I over for dinner to talk Wedding Dirt. Needing every opportunity I can, I quickly accepted. So over we headed for a simple dinner and to "re-group". I even brought my latest porn over to share with the mom.
So there we were eating dinner and I bite into my food when all of a sudden I hear a "Snap" as I pull my burger away from my tightly clenched mouth. I looked down and oh snap! There is a hair in my burger. Ok, this is me here. I am completely grossed out by the slightest things of this sort. But what to do? I placed my hairy burger down gently and began to open it up. I found the culprit and surely, it was the mom's. Do I stop eating? Do I kindly refuse my one and only burger? Do I let her know? Being the faithful future Mrs. R that I am, I simply re-bun'd and tried again.

Now I know at this point you are probably losing your stomach....I am too a bit. And as I watched the fiancee (who was watching all this from his un-haired burger seat to my left), he seemed as if he was going to lose it as well. So what does he do? He calls me out on it. "'Nif, what is it that you are doing to your burger? Do you not like it?" What am I to say? " Umm, well, yes, typically I do enjoy the taste of a flattened patty of beef, especially when it has a locket of hair!"

After sucking it up and taking one for the team, I tried again. Wouldn't you know I must have gotten the knot or something because I came across another hair! Ok, I am not eating anymore of these hairy burgers. With that, I stopped and moved onto the mashed cauliflower. I figured, at least with that being white, I would see something right up front. But never-the-less, I am sure everyone knew what was going on. And why did I feel so strange about it? As if there were children in other countries who would die for burgers with an extra "kick".

At what point does our sacrifice for the sake of another person's feelings become too much to stomach? It was then I realized that as much as you want to, you can't always pretend everything is perfect.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that. And now I need to go find something I can actually enjoy eating. Anyone know where I can get a good peach?