Gleeful boy taunting doubled over in pain boy, "I just hit you in the nuts, so you must've done something wrong!"

Funny, I say that to John all the time.

Scrawled on a stop sign in the heart of my hometown in "angry" hastily scribbled, angular black letters (with the necessary anarchy symbol in all of the "A's"), "All Hail Satin" and "We Worship Satin" (hopefully, the next time I find myself there I can snap a picture). It makes me feel a little giddy inside that the hometown boys like the smooth shiny fabric that reveals all body flaws.

I hope no one ever corrects this graffiti. ever. It is most awesome.

It's unbelievable but last night was the first time that John heard me yell...and yet he did nothing about it. Let me explain. We bundled up almost the second that he got home in search of the ever elusive cheap diet meals. Once we hit the six month mark, we looked around and I realized that I was carrying more of a caboose than I've been used to in the past few years and John's work pants were getting a wee bit tighter than they had been. I blame it all on love...and maybe just a tad bit on getting comfortable and maybe even the tiniest bit on being lazy (those are my excuses, John's excuse is that he has a bitch of a commute and by the time he gets home in the dark hours of the night there's just no time). But all that's neither here nor there.
We figured let's get the calorie thing under control and then we can both figure out where exercise can enter our little married utopia after that.

So our hunt began. In the neighboring town, there is a discount supermarket that was supposed to have hundreds upon hundreds of Lean Cuisines, Healthy Choices and Smart Ones all at the lowest prices anywhere. But first...we needed gas. Now here's the thing. I drop money like it's nothing on stupid things like say beer, or clothes but when it comes to gas, I never put more than $10 in my tank at a time. I have no idea why I'm so gas stingy, really I don't! Because I wasn't feeling well, John offered to pump it for me. I forgot to tell him about my gas stinginess and so when I saw the pump click closer to $6.00 I yelled, "John! Stop at $10!" As it neared $10, I screamed, "Stop! Stop! What the hell are you doing?" (as if he was murdering someone or something). When he neared $15, I hit the steering wheel and said, "Just what the fu#% does this son of a bitch think he's doing!" Finally, he stopped at $21, when the tank was full and he got back into the car.
"Did you hear someone screaming Tom?"
"That was me!"
"You were screaming Tom?"
"No, you idiot I was screaming John!"
"It sounded like...." (and then he did an impersonation of a pterodactyl screaming Tom)
"Well I was screaming John!"
"Why?"
"Because I wanted $10 worth of gas!"
"Huh? Why?"
"Because that's all ever get at one time."
"Well you shouldn't, it's winter and you don't want condensation in your gas tank!"
I laughed, "Thanks Dad."
"No, seriously, condensation is no laughing matter."
Again I laughed, actually, I snorted mostly since my nose is all stuffy.
"That was really you, yelling like that?"
"Uh-huh."
"You sound funny when you yell. Do it again for me." (had I looked over, I'm sure he would have had his hands clasped with glee)
"No, I'm sure there will be plenty more times when a cold, my period and you pumping over $10 of gas all coincide again, Sweetpea."

The worst part? After getting all that gas and making the trip to the "Mecca of all Food Stores" all we found were a few deals..mostly, I got creeped out by the poor lighting, weird old carts and narrow aisles (grocery store aesthetics are very important to me apparently). I felt the whole way home it was a waste of gas. Call me a gas miser, I don't mind.

As I wrap the blanket tighter to ward off the chills which will in a few minutes switch over to waves of heat that will force me to rip the blanket away from my body and fan myself, I attempt to remember about the last time took care of me when I was sick, other than my mom or dad when I was younger...and I thought hard...and I realized that in fact, I've never had anyone play nursemaid for me other than John.

He's a wonderful nursey. He doesn't make fun of my raw face from countless blows into the plethora o' tissues. He doesn't even make fun of the sounds my nose makes either. This is quite a feat not to laugh at because the sound is a cross between an evil Canadian goose and an angry elephant. He forces liquids on me, and fizzes up my Alka-selzer. And then he searches the house for Nyquil for me so that he too, can get some rest.

John said to me the other night, "You know what's missing from your blog these days?" Without batting my eyes I said, "Random sex with anonymous strangers?" in the cutest most innocent way possible. He didn't even bother to acknowledge that question but continued on his own.
"No, you're missing your whole cast of characters."
"Like I said John, there's kind of problem with introducing new characters on the blog...it's called infidelity!" as I jokingly hit his arm. Again he just rolled his eyes and me and sighed in his patient and patented "How-Did-I-Marry-This-Dummy-Again?" sigh.
"No! You never talk about your old cast of people...I mean you still hang out with everyone, but you never fill people in on what's going on in their lives."
"Well HELLO!" throwing up my arms and stating,"My blog is about ME!" in a way that only an only child can.

But then I conceeded that he may, in fact, be correct. So...here goes:

Chelle- Remember her?? She was my cohort in many a Derek chasing excursion. She was the girl that I could talk into going out any day of the week by explaining carefully to her that we needed to "Seize the Day", granted, we never did anything more than "Seize the Booze". There was a time a ways back in the history of this blog where she was making out with boys left and right. Kissing co-workers, skinheads and cute men alike, but that's all over now! Chelle's getting married...in March! Whoo! Needless to say, Mr. Chelle-to-be does not know the contents of this blog, nor will he...ever...Chelle, that's my gift to you.

To explain how agreeable and amiable Chelle is ,it's necessary to say that on Saturday she accepted my offert to join John and myself at the bar...she joined up with us at 4pm...this was a pivotal hour. It became our mission to get Chelle drunk and therefore to get her fiance out and about to pick her up. I'm not sure why this was so important to us but we succeeded in our goals. And I'm sure that Rob wasn't all that pleased with us...particularly John and myself because after our many, many hours out and about we were truly blithering idiots. Luckily, I think our friends were so pleased to see us in our old haunts that they took good care of us and after eleven hours out at the bar (yes, you read correctly, we decided to go out at 12pm and we were delivered us safely back to our house (by our loveable designated driver) at 11 pm where I immediately went to sleep (read: pass out) and John (crazy man that I love) decided to do some drunken house cleaning. I woke up to a perfectly clean kitchen and bar with all the recycling lined up neatly on the counter. I honestly thought that Dobby the house elf stopped by.

Ml- remember this coworker, exciting friend extrodinaire? Ml was my partner in crime from many work happy hours where we trolled for excitement and boys--well as much fun and excitement as the Cornfield would allow us. Often times we found ourselves in weird situations like the time she played wingman for me and she ended up getting her toes licked by a gross married man...all the while drunken Ml forgot to look down and thought it was my dog. When she did realize who/what it was, she kicked him in the face and said, "Oops!" and then got out of Dodge. A lovely addendum to this story is that the "gross married man" also ended up being the bartender at John and my wedding reception. Ml was thrilled (and by thrilled I mean disgusted) that she had to see him every time she wanted precious liquor. So anyways, Ml is doing well...she is still trying to find the perfect man, but while on the elusive search she hangs out with some not-so-perfect (but oh so cute) boys in the meantime.

Coming soon... updates on E and my ever fun friend T.

The other night I had this very vivid dream that John and I were in the process of a divorce (don't worry, no problems to relay or anything!! In fact we hit the six months of holy matrimony today). I woke up and to my surprise...he was laying next to me. I was still confused, so I woke him up and demanded, "Are we getting a divorce or was that just a dream?" Without opening his eyes (and actually, still asleep) he replied,
"No, go back to sleep. But I will tell you what today is...it's all Anal Penetration Day. You will be penetrated later."
I was very confused by this and couldn't help but laugh when I heard him snore immediately after stating this. He's the king of talking in his sleep. But...if I was dreaming about divorce, what the heck was he dreaming about? Hmmmm.

Then last night John woke me up in the middle of the night still deep in sleep. He shook me awake to tell me, "The monkeys are all in barrels!" and then he started giggling hysterically. I didn't get the joke, and I still don't.

You know the episode where Cindy Brady's all cocky and thinks she's going to win at this quiz game show that's on TV but as soon as the camera light goes on she freezes and can't answer any of the questions???

Um yeah...

That was me last night.

Last night I had the opportunity to try out online for Jeopardy! it was kind of weeding out process for the next round of weeding out. Let's just say, as my 15 seconds counted down between each question, I got so flustered that I didn't know the definition for aromatherapy.

It is now clear to me, that I'm an idiot.

Good news! I get a new phone on Thursday, apparently, I'm allowed to get a new phone two months before my contract is up...I'm very excited. Although I've been able to make my phone work, ala MacGuyver, it will be extra exciting not to have to warm my phone up with the car heater to do so. And you know, I NEED my phone, particularly because I receive strange random text messages at all hours of the night from people all over the country. I'm not sure why, this happens but just the other day I got an awesome one that said, "As pegasus flies through Aquarius, so too he sends my love to you." I have no idea what that all means and I have no idea who from California would be sending me Pegasus's love but I certainly enjoyed it.

Even better news! I took off work today to get work done...I've got deadlines people! So my goal is to get everything done in the morning hours (which is never going to happen) and then continue what Johnny started last night. As I've stated before, you've never seen a slob quite like me. I haven't seen the floor in my bedroom since I first started dating John and that's only because my mother said to me, "No man is going to want to have sex with you in this pigsty!" because those are the weird statements that my mom likes to make. So yeah, the last time my bedroom was clean was when my mommy helped me clean it...this time, while I napped on the couch, my husband cleaned it! Now that the hardest task is done, I just need to wash, fold, hang about 9,874 items of clothing and find a place in the new wardrobe that John put together for me!

So yeah, just wanted to get a post out there...I will post again for real once this mountain of paperwork miraculously disappears and I must keep myself off the internets until then.

Is it March yet?
My cell phone keeps presenting me with a white screen of death rather than a cute drunken picture of me, T and John. My contract isn't up until March and if I buy a new phone I'll be paying some crazy price for a phone that I will drop into the toilet eventually.

The worst part? When my phone signals to me that I have a text message but I can't read it.

GAAAAAAAAAH. Please send flowers and monetary donations...or a straitjacket...I will need all of them to stay sane.

My sister in law is pregnant! I'm happy for her. She got herself out of a decently long relationship and found romance very quickly, right around the bend. She has a boyfriend/fiance whom she seems to adore, and he seems to love her every bit as much. I'm a great champion of love. I used to be a great champion of lust, but I've learned that love is a bit more awesomer. Anyways, that's not the purpose of the post.

The embarassing truth is...

I wanted to have the first grandbaby...

Whew, I said it. So yeah, John and I aren't planning on having a baby anytime soon but I felt secure in the fact that we were married and that I was the old one and John was the oldest sibling that we'd have the first one.

When I heard the news I thought to myself crazily, "Perhaps we could just get pregnant right now and perhaps I'd have a preemie and we'd have babies at the same time!" (yes, a truly brilliant idea and work of deduction on my part that even Holmes would be proud of...or would possibly abhor). But alas my own private breed of craziness (which I'm sure is only being spurred on by turning dirty 30 (gag) ) was thwarted again by the revelation (courtesy of a phone call with my mother in law) that she's four and half months pregnant...so yeah, even I, the craziest of the crazed couldn't catch up with that, therefore I conceed that she wins the pregnancy race. I know! How absolutely gracious of me! (that's sarcasm...I realize that I'm a little shrew)

Oh well...maybe I can have the second baby in the family.
Or the third. Whatever...it really doesn't matter what order they come in does it?
Plus my mom pointed out that my baby will be the "chosen one" in our family because I'm an only child and my baby will be the only grandkid.

PS. Don't you feel bad for John for having to put up with me?? I know I do! Sorry for being a nutjob pookie!

Tell me that you adore me, hate me or are just so bored you accidently found me while looking for "Melina's boobs".

That is all...for now.

...and the winner of the best new wife eva is...ME! Like you didn't know I was going to say that in the first place. Seriously though, I casually asked John what he wanted to do for his birthday next month because at first I was going to plan something all stealthy-like. Even though his birthday isn't until the end of February, planning birthdays is something I enjoy and obsess over. Because of this, I spent countless days frowning at the computer, typing furiously and trying to find something "unusual", "exciting" and "cool" on Google to do for his bday. Unfortunately, the shemale that kept turning up in my searches wasn't exactly "the exciting surprise" what I was thinking about.

Ideas that were nixed (besides Shaundra the Shemale):
1. Huge surprise party at the local VFW. Pros: it's pretty cheap to rent out, it's right by our house for easy drunken John unloading, all of our friends could come and it could be a lot of fun. Cons: It's the local VFW, I think I could do something with a little more class than a kegger up the street from our house.

2. Go to Mexico for a four day weekend: sure we'd have to go the week before his birthday, but in every life there must be a little sacrifice, or so I'm told. Pros: Warmth, sun, margaritas, sand, tan lines Cons: John doesn't have a passport and President Bush is an idiot.

3. Go to Atlantic City and pretend we're high rollers for the weekend: Pros: fun, intimate little weekend in a fun town. Cons: Neither of us are really big gamblers and we wouldn't really do much high rolling. PRO: I probably would've gotten rolled on the bed quite a bit if I did this option! Con: It's cold and sad when you go to the beach but can't go into the water in February.

I couldn't think of what to do for him, so I gave up the stealth factor and sent him a very straight forward email, "What do you want to do for your birthday?" because I didn't know if he wanted a wild party, I didn't know if he just wanted to spend it with me, or with his family or with the Pope...I just wasn't sure about any of this--although, I had a niggling feeling that he didn't want to spend his birthday with the Pope; maybe the old Pope but not the scary new one. He looks like the Emperor from Star Wars. So instead of digressing about the Old Pope/New Pope controversy...let me just say, that asking John what he wanted to do for his birthday was the best thing I could've done, because I would've never thought of this:

He wants to go to NYC to see Evil Dead: The Musical. As the wonderful person that I am (can I say that? I think definitively that I can...) I called some woman in New York and inquired about tickets for the particular Febuary weekend. I had to fight with the woman about the fact that "Yes, indeed I DO want tickets located in the "splatter zone!"" For those of you unfamiliar with this musical, blood flies (splatters if you will) onto the audience members in the first few rows of the theater house, very similar to the ye ol' Gallagher comedy shows...except with blood, not with watermelons.

To top off our weekend and to make us feel like true bonafide married adult people (weird that I'm turning 30 and I don't feel like an adult quite yet),I checked us into the W hotel for the weekend. I think that they will truly embrace us when we return home from a night at the "theatre" drenched in fake blood. Oh wait, who am I kidding, this is NYC...no one will even notice.

On the bright side, for the amount of money I am spending on two nights in the city that never sleeps I make a prediction that John will not be sleeping either . This is because no one rides for free. I will be making him work off his share of the room in sex. I may even buy him dinner first to seal the deal, because then he'll have to put out. Ain't love grand?

Blame this post on watching One True Thing, the book slayed me and watching the movie (which isn't all that great) killed me a little bit more.

My mother has always played second fiddle to my father. She's my biological blood and yet she willingly took the back seat to my non-biological dad. Why? The only answer I can come up with tonight is the fact that she is an unfailingly good mother. I look at her (now, introspectively of course, but in reality, I've never really looked at her aside from physically...it's terrible), and I realize how truly blessed I am to have had the life that I've had--and it's all because of her.

She became pregnant at 18. She was unmarried and had been having a romance with an older man, I think it was all very exciting coming from the abandoned strip mine town that she did. She was (is) very intelligent and I was definitely going to "interfere" with her plans, her dreams...college. Because my family based our entire relationship on truth, when I was old enough she told me all about the feelings, the overwhelmingness of it all. She even told me that she went to an abortion clinic, that she sat in the waiting room, touching my non-existant self and when they called her name she stood up and walked out.

I don't see this as noble, I see this as an impulsive decision. I'm not against abortion (I know this will anger many people, but I could never decide for others. I don't believe that I would ever have one, but to choose for everyone?? That's not my job) I understand that I wouldn't be here had she not stood up and left...and believe me, I'm glad that she did. She made that choice at 18 as many women do, but when she did that, she became a mom. A real mom.

My mom almost never had a babysitter for me (two times that I can remember in my entire childhood). I blew out the candles on her 21st birthday, I have the picture to prove it. When I went to bed, her friends and my dad and her celebrated with bottles of champagne quietly after I was asleep. Date nights? I went on every single date my parents ever had. Was this healthy? Probably not, but it worked for all of us. I can't even imagine. My mom had no identity other than Mom and she never complained, although she probably should have.

Now my mom is 48 and my father (non biological), the true love of her life is dead and she started over. I'm proud of her. She met a man, has been with him for about three years and has built a life without myself and my dad. At first, I was jealous and vindictive child (at the age of 26). It's only now that I realize that this is the first time that she has a chance to live the life that she's dreamed (let me quote Thoreau if I may). This is the only time in her life that there has never been external expectations upon her...can you even imagine?? And she never complained, not once. Of course, there are people who would say that she couldn't complain because she made the decisions that she made, but this is reality, people complain daily. She never once did.

My mother is going to college at the age of 50, that's her goal and I'm proud of her. Because of my dad's tour in Vietnam we all received (basically) a free college education. As of today, I was the only one (out of the three of us) who took advantage of this. In fact, on graduation day my dad said to me, "It was almost worth losing a hand and a leg for this." I cried. I want to cry for my mom when she throws her cap. I hope that she does. She's deferred all her dreams and now, it seems, she is trying to live the life she was meant to live.

Ok...every single day I get just under a billion search hits (ok, about 100) for this woman. Apparently, she is Melina from the WWE. I've seen her boobs and I agree, they are worthy of searching for. However, just so you WWE fans know. I'm not her, my site has nothing to do with her, her nakedness, orgies with her and her boyfriend Johnny Nitro (I did my research this morning) and I never will.

PS. She does have a banging body but I can't stand her hair. C'mon Melina...you have gorgeous hair...I like the multi-tonal streaks and whatnot, but do you have to have pageant hair? Isn't your job to kick ass and take names later (and by kick ass and take names later I believe I mean, isn't your job to titilate all the men who are watching your program and are probably subs and are hoping that you'll smash a chair over their heads while screaming that they are bad, bad boys??)?
From one Melina to another, I hope that you take my advice love.

1. I wouldn't have a scratchy throat.

2. I wouldn't be sitting here alone (why oh why does John have to go into the city and work on a Saturday morning) in my red pajama hoodie and long red pajama pants that make me look like a demented Christmas elf (every year my mom gets me jammies...the year that I get married she seems to have purchased me the least cute jams eva (however, they are pure pleasure and comfort). I think she wants me to take them off and have an excuse to have sex with my husband. As if I need one? I can't keep these pants on!)

3. The mummers wouldn't exist. And, they wouldn't have rescheduled their New Year's Day Parade. Sorry if you like them, I can't stand them. My friend Tash and I would mock them repeatedly starting at the age of 7, it's a tradition I just can't quit.

4. John wouldn't be at work on a Saturday morning and we'd be snuggling in bed or on the couch. Maybe he'd even be making me breakfast right now, cuz I'm hungry. And lazy. And wide awake.

5. John wouldn't have taken the copy of Lunar Park (John, don't click on the link, there are spoiler alerts!) to read on the train, that I bought him for Christmas. He keeps telling me the plot and I keep thinking how I could steal it from him for just a day. Hey! I'm a fast reader, I could put it back into his car without him even knowing.

6. He would've taken me with him and I'd be sitting in some coffee shop in the city, reading a book (probably Lunar Park) , taunting Mummer fans and I'd be munching on something tasty right now.

It will be titled, 52 subtitled...How I Got Married in Under 52 Weeks...sub-sub titled It May Not Work for You Because John and I Totally Rock

(I may leave off the sub-sub...don't want to look too pretentious,right?)

Each chapter will be a "step"...a step in which we did something right, or did something wrong. Let me map out my book for y'all. All of the embarassing steps are steps that I might leave out if I were you, or anyone trying to make the long trek to love.

Step 1- Make Your Boy Believe You're Cool- For example: I told John that I would be in Philly on a random Tuesday for tacos (by the way, the anniversary for this fateful first hangout--not quite a date--was last night! Whoo! I wish I could say I did something clever like make tacos for dinner, but alas, I thought of it right before I drifted off to Nodsville). I never went to the city, I didn't have the money or the coolness to actually be roaming the city on worknights but...I sure did send him a text message saying where I was going to be and that he should meet up with me. His reply, "Will you be wearing pigtails?" Sadly, I forgot to put them in that night. I learned from my mistake.

Step 2- Stay Away From the Phone- I flirted with that boy hardcore over text messages only. I knew that my kryptonite was my telephone banter. I'm fun, I'm witty...on the phone there's lots of silence and small talk...very, very uncomfortable small talk. Mistake I learned from this? Text messages are often ambiguous and as much as I thought I was flirting with him, there were times when he had no idea what I was talking about...and like-wise with him.

Step 3-Ask Him Out On a Date- (before someone else can)- I'm not going to deny that I was instantly intrigued by ol' Johnnyboy, and who wouldn't be? He's good looking, he's smart, he's super sexy and he has the softest lips that have ever touched mine (although I didn't know it at the time, I suspected that they were sooooft). So what's a girl to do? Sit around? Wait for a call? The Rules and He's Just Not That Into You would say yes. I would give a definitive, "No." If you were looking for a job, and you saw the most ideal position in the classifieds would you sit around and wait for them to call you? Perhaps...but you wouldn't get the job. In this case, I probably wouldn't have intrigued John into putting his suede soft lips upon mine.

Embarassing Step 4-Go Out Without Knowing that Your "Friend" is Going to Show Up- In a strange turn of events, I somehow got my period four days early. Unfortunately for me, I got that "friend" (who appears to be somwhat of a showboating jerk of a friend) mid sex the morning after our first sex. So basically I'm saying, the second time I had sex with John, I imprinted into his memory a bloody crime scene. Not that you couldn't guess this but...it wasn't hot. In fact, after he left, I sat on the edge of the bed and cried, thinking that I would never get to see that penis (I mean, the sweethearted man) again.

Semi-embarassing Step 5- Be Very Bold- So, say you're me. You've had crime scene sex with a man, he still seems interested in you...you've apologized multiple times and he seems actually sympathetic! Yeah! He's quite a catch (and remains so, to this very moment)! So say, you get asked on a second date, this time on his turf...you have to pull out the stops. He already knows that you like sex and you've found out his little turn ons like knee socks, pigtails and Jameson Irish Whiskey. You MUST do something with this knowledge.
In this case, I showed up promptly at seven most likely looking like I was trying too hard in knee highs (hidden under my jeans as a little surprise/in case he didn't want to take my pants off, he didn't know I did it), with long low pigtails with bangs sweeping across my forehead and a small bottle of whiskey to present him when he opened the door. Luckily, in my case, after the first glass of whiskey, he took my pants off in the kitchen and appreciated everything that I had done to "prepare" for the date. Ah...but I was heading to hookup material here only, wasn't I? Being a trollop doesn't often pay off...even though I would say that I wasn't being a trollop, I was being me and enjoying life...anyways...how to fix that issue??

Semi-embarassing/I don't think I actually did this-Step 6- Be Brazen- After the kitchen sex we went out for dinner. It was all incredibly exciting for a country bumpkin like me. We didn't go anywhere fancy, we just went to a place that had scrumptious food and was well known to the city folk. Apparently, John told me that he had other dates lined up...kind of like telling me..."Hey, we can hook up, but I'm not saying I'm not hooking up with others." Apparently, I asked him to cancel said dates and to date me exclusively because I only wanted to date him and (the and is what I think saved me, because I sounded like a confident woman, and not a needy one) "that I didn't have time to wait around and see if he wanted to date me or not." I believe that I said it, because I can pull of the dating bravado necessary for such a statement.

More steps and flubs from the past year later...I don't want to overwhelm you with my (lack of) awesomeness just yet. John, if you get bored at work (which I know you're overwhelmed right now so don't worry), you can add your two cents to this post.