September 10th

Why You May One Day See Me at a Remote-Controlled Helicopter Conference

I forced Fiance to go to the LA Bloggers Party with me. The man had absolutely no say in the matter.

On Saturday, Fiance and I were running late from about 8am on. We had a million errands to run - including borrowing a bundt cake pan from my parents - and it took us much longer than we had anticipated. After we were finally home, Fiance set to work making a lasagna and I ran a couple more errands we had forgotten about. I'm not typically much help with lasagna making because Fiance doesn't follow a recipe, he just smells and tastes and works from memory. All I do is grate the cheese and after a few pounds of cheese have been grated, he tends to intervene because I do that so damned slow it is maddening.

For at least a month, Fiance and I had been planning to attend the LA Bloggers Party. I had responded to the email invitation that we would bring lasagna and Kahlua cake and that we would show up early to help get things set up. So I knew that we needed to leave at, oh, 4pm Saturday afternoon.

4pm came. And 4pm went. SHIT.
And then 5pm came. And 5pm went.
And then 6pm came. And we finally left.

Fiance, the poor and wonderful soul that he is, tried to stay out of my way while I panicked and fumed for two hours that THEY WERE ALL GOING TO HATE ME because I said we'd be there by NOW and we hadn't even left and WHEN THE HELL would that cake be finished baking and WHY wouldn't the FUCKING lasagna brown already?

I think he was maybe two minutes away from taking me out back, shooting me, and then claiming my whereabouts were a mystery.

I kid. He would never hurt a hair on my body unless it was by accident or he got a good laugh out of it.

Anyway, the party was great. And they didn't hate me after all. And here is the photographic evidence:

(RedStapler, Fiance, and LA Daddy)

A non-blogger, Tara Met Blog, her friend, and 8 Centimeters Deluded

Frowning of a Lifetime, Childsplayx2, Honea Express, Sink into the Pacific, Tara Met Blog, and House of Prince (left to right, top then bottom)

Fiance taking a shot with Tara Met Blog and two other peoples' hands =)

Now I have some people to email and soon I'll add a sidebar link page with everyone's websites. I'll also get all the links in order for this post, which shouldn't take too long. I used everyone's screennames and blurred out the nametags because I'm not sure who is picky about being anonymous and who is not. Hopefully all the pictures that I need to email and responses to comments and emails that I have received will be finished soon. I'm sorry to those of you who have been inconvenienced by my inability to email in a timely fashion but in my defense, I'm, er, busy? =P Thanks for your patience!

Dear Me of Yesterday,

Hey there, little Miss September. That was a big Easter celebration; I'm so proud of you remembering everyone's name! In fact, since you did such a fantastic job maneuvering between fifty people and introducing your in-laws-to-be to those crazy folks you call your family, I'll almost overlook your HUGE social faux pas. Almost... Next time when a large group of people is toasting your engagement, pay attention, okay? They don't want to raise their glasses and look over to see you in a tiff with your sister.

She didn't mean to pour champagne all down your shirt and pants and camera, after all. So if it ever happens again, just let it slide and take it with grace. Trust me that you will not remember the flurry of words that happens when you're trying to figure out what the hell was going on with your sister's champagne. But you will always regret that you denied yourself the opportunity to enjoy, to experience, and to remember your family and your friends joined together in one happy moment. You will always remember that you missed what was potentially one of the most heartwarming moments of your life thus far. So many people came together to congratulate you, to wish you and Fiance well, and to show the two of you their love and support and you? Sarah, you let that moment pass you by in favor of fighting with your sister. You will always wish that you had been paying enough attention to thank them for such a thoughtful toast and you will never forget that you acted unreasonably and immaturely in front of several dozen people who love and care about you. And yes, you will cry because afterwards you will find that champage spilled all over costs most people a change of clothes, but you? Your foolishness cost you a memory. One of the memories you had been waiting for your entire life, one of the memories you had been looking forward to, and one of the memories you will never have a chance to make again.

It also cost you a photograph. But that's beside the point.

The point is that you should live your life as if each day were your last and when you missed that toast, you failed that mission in a split second. Because they may forgive you for missing that memory, Sarah, but you will never forgive yourself. So if you ever have that chance again, do me one big favor:
Don't. Blow. It.

Oh, and also? Don't wait until the next day to apologize to your parents. But if you do, you know what? They still love you, even if you do play the part of jacka** rather well.

Love,
Me of Today

How the Grinch Stole That One Day in February

I've been reading alot of blogs written by people who had amazing Valentine's Days. Apparently, around the blogosphere February 14th was filled with fancy schmancy dinners, outings to the spa, bouquets of flowers, alcoholic interludes, and the like. In the spirit of the day, many bloggers have been inviting fellow writers to tell romantic stories of their own.

In the spirit of such a lovey-dovey holiday, I thought I'd tell you how my Valentine's Day went as well. And then, I figured I'd follow that short paragraph up with a more romantic tale of how Boyfriend and I met. Then I realized CRAP! that I met Boyfriend at work when he was up to his elbows in bicycle gear grease. If that doesn't have ooh baby take me now written all over it then I don't know what does.

So Valentine's Day? Yeah, about that.

See, a few weeks ago, I started dropping not-so-subtle hints reminders that Valentine's Day was fast approaching and I began to ask what plans he had for the holiday. Boyfriend told me - and by this I mean he made perfectly clear - that he was purchasing tickets to an opera in March. I love just about any event that includes a performance and a stage, so I was thrilled. An opera! With a stage! And singing! As a date! For Valentine's! Yippee! I thought for a few days afterwards about what I should buy for Boyfriend. Before he told me about the opera tickets, we had discussed a simple weekend picnic and my uber-fantastic plan had been to wrap up a pair of kites. We both, after all, love to fly kites and it has been rather windy around here lately. Next to the opera tickets, however, two kites didn't sound like enough.

I know, dear Internet, that you're wondering how I got around the problem of how to make sure my gift to Boyfriend was equally as wonderful as his. And so, I'll tell you. When Boyfriend came through the door Wednesday evening with a romantic card and a small white ticket envelope, I returned the gesture with...absolutely nothing.

Zilch.

Nada.

Nyet.

Luckily, Boyfriend already knew I was the biggest loser the planet had ever encountered BEFORE he started dating me...

How to Romance Boyfriend in Four Easy Steps

One 
    Come home at 7pm and suggest playing a game of Monopoly because the two of you have nothing better to do on a Friday night. Besides maybe watch "Shakespeare in Love" and lament that the only Godiva chocoltes in the apartment are not available to eat because they are designated as a holiday gift. Losers. Ha ha ha.

Two
    Slowly but surely annoy Boyfriend to the point of an argument which ideally will include at least two slammed doors and fifteen minutes of incessant screaming and wailing. More wailing than screaming, if at all possible, because it is more obnoxious and if you have to fight and be miserable then so do your neighbors DAMN IT. Conclude this segment of the night with two big fat apologies, a bunch of big fat tears, and one big fat hug.

Three
    Go ahead and finish the game no earlier than 11pm. Follow this late finish up with some pillow talk for at least another hour until Boyfriend starts contemplating sedation or strangulation. Feel free to swear at him when his alarm rings six short hours later and groan if he so much as thinks about turning on the bedroom light so as to match his socks while stumbling out to donate platelets.

Four
    Upon his return, complain about period cramps and cry and reduce him to saying something like "Well, I need to go to work now. Hopefully they'll stab me with burning pokers so that I can escape this pain." Realize those Godiva chocolates are in very real danger of being inhaled. Resist temptation long enough to write a blog post.

I'm Right and You're Wrong

I went to bed in a bad mood last night and I woke up in a bad mood this morning. The world was not coming up rainbows. The day was not picture perfect with roses. In fact, the first words out of my mouth when the alarm clock woke me up were in the form of an accusation. I opened my eyes with a burning desire to kill someone.

So I snapped at Boyfriend instead.

I know it was unreasonable. I know he didn't do anything wrong. I know it made no sense, I know it came out of left field, and I know Boyfriend had been pushed to his wit's end last night. But somehow, this morning, that didn't matter to me. He told me last night he would be up twenty minutes before I would and it really annoyed me when I woke up to find he was still in bed. Ordinarily, I hate being left alone in bed. But this morning I was furious that I wasn't. And I just snapped.

He responded by snapping at me. "What's wrong with you lately?!"

We fought. We laid in bed, side by side for half an hour and fought. He stayed where he was laying and I scooted as far away as possible. There were snide remarks, clarifications, explanations, and finally apologies. Then we snuggled up together and kissed and reminded each other we loved each other and that was the end of it. Neither Boyfriend nor I is one to hold a grudge.

But today, I thought about it. I thought about what was upsetting me and I thought about the concerns he had voiced. We only fought for half an hour but it seemed like an eternity. Just last night I read a confession that mentioned that all the man in the confessor's life had to do was take her in his arms and tell her everything was alright. I read it aloud to Boyfriend. And during that thirty-minute eternity all I could think about was how I wished he would just take me in his arms and tell me everything was alright.

He didn't, so we stayed in our respective places on the bed and we fought and I wished he would put his arms around me and then we finished fighting and he did. He put his arms around me and kissed me deep and so I spent the rest of the day thinking about it. Thinking about what we'd fought about and about what I'd been thinking and why I'd snapped and why he'd snapped and so on and so forth.

Quite frankly, my mind is tired of running around on this hampster circle of thought.

So now I need to start it on the hampster circle of thinking about how to do something sweet and romantic to show Boyfriend just how much he means to me. I never want to wake up in a bad mood next to him again. As of now, the world is most definitely coming up rainbows; I'm a lucky gal.