This is blog of a woman who didn't know what she wanted and so chased after dreams and men in search of the answers...drunken hilarity ensued. Then one day she met a man who was everything she wanted, but he wasn't so sure. Then she did the unthinkable; after they broke up she gave him this blog address and she let him into her mind as well as her heart. Unbelievably, even after sorting through the sordid archives of failed relationships, one night stands and her lusty (and embarassing) pursuit to secure the heart of a certain young line cook, John somehow managed to fall in love with her too. Melina and John were married a little over six months after they started dating, running away to Las Vegas to seal the deal. You can imagine what the over/under bet was to see if they'd even make it a year!! Over a year later and they are still going strong...this blog has become their story. Need to tell me something? Email me at Melinalovesjohnny at gmail dot com
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igotyourtexts.blogspot.com

melina310.wordpress.org
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Tuesday, January 30, 2007
The first time he heard me yell...
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.

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posted by Melina at 7:57 AM