This week two years ago I was getting ready to go to Vegas and marry a man I had known for only about 7 months but whom I was madly in love with.

This week one year ago, Johnny and I were celebrating our anniversary in Chicago by drinking our faces off...warm champagne did me in.

This week, we celebrate our two year anniversary, as I sit here, 19 weeks pregnant, and reading over the blog I realize how much the two of us have grown. This year we had to put our noses down and really try to kill off debt. But I think we managed to have plenty of fun together (although I'm sure John can't remember the last time he had fun with me...being pregnant has taken some of my fun quotient away...I've become more of a fat hermit if you will). So, here were a few posts from the year that reminded me that we will always be better together.

Playing hooky... from work to snuggle.

First sex tape together... perhaps some of the angles weren't so flattering, but it was still fun.

The endless game nights in the effort to stop giving the bars all of our hard earned cash...obviously, the game nights didn't stop me from drinking myself silly.

Turning normal Thanksgiving leftovers into a sexperience...

We all learned that John's a sock monster...

Before April, we played all the drunken wii that's fit to be played, although the post doesn't reflect that, we played drunken wii all the time.

Now we're pregnant , probably our biggest growing experience together...especially me, I really miss my waist.

If nothing else from this post, I've learned that I've been a pretty bad blogger this year because I know we did some pretty hilarious things this year but they're all still in blogger drafts. I promise to try and do better--there are some real gems in there.

After days of outlining and after lost days of studying due to the fact that I had to languish on the couch feverishly, sometimes crying (true story) over the fact that I thought I was hallucinating...I think I'm actually ready to see if I remember the crap I've been outlining. Because of this John's role of nursemaid gets traded in for the role of study buddy.

Many men wouldn't be excited to help their wives or girlfriends study but, once I pass this test I get a sizeable increase in pay (well, next year) and that means that I will panhandle from John less by the month's end! It's a win/win situation for everyone.

Now, here's the rub...John and I are completely different thinkers. John has an analytic mind, I tend to flit from here to there and back in about 10 seconds flat. When he tried to help me in December with my research study, I was resistent because I didn't like his methods and we both threw our hands up. I glared at him until he ran away and painted our bedroom...but later, we learned how to mesh our big brains and he helped me pull a big fat A out of my class--something that I can typically do alone when the classes don't require math, or the need to discuss descriptive statistics in a presentation. I was thankful for his help (particularly because it knocked three essay questions off the test!). So tonight, my study buddy and I will be discussing the fine topics of Jonathon Kozol, Henry Giroux, John Dewey and how they would react to some stupid article. We will also deeply examine cultural literacy, Afrocentricism and multiculturalism and how Diane Ravitch, Molefi Asante and Arthur Schlesinger, Jr feel on the subjects. To top off the evening, we will discuss the question of whether or not schools are used to solve social problems. Feel free to discuss these very burning questions with your loved ones tonight.

When you're lying on the couch suffering with a modified version of your husband's "man cold" and he brings you a container of Whipped (!) Betty Crocker Cream Cheese icing you know that it's absolutely true love. When he hands you a spoon to go with it and a kiss on the head, you know that you love your husband too.

So I took a sick day...

what am I doing?

Emailing back and forth with my friends from work because I miss them...

Keep in mind, I live 30 seconds from where I work.
**************************************************************************
John's off too, so we'll be making a third trip to Lowe's or Home Depot (Home Despot) to finish gathering supplies for our master bathroom. We've been living with one toilet in the house while we waited for the tuition reimbursement money to come in from my grad class. It's here and now we're going buck wild. Imagine when we can poop simultaneously in the same house!! It will be glorious! (bad choice of words Michelle, my bad!)

For years (obviously not many), I've been trying to get John to post on here as a guest. He has always shied away but tonight, after a bottle of wine I've talked him into dictating a post to me. Here is his story:

"I've been hiding something from my wife. I've been hiding something from my family, my co-workers, my dog and sadly, myself. Like a Republican senator I rail against the very thing I've been doing since before I can remember. I spend evenings and weekends feeding the washing machine, running the vacuum and painting, it's a vicious circle. I give off every indication that I'm obsessed with neatness and order. But still, there they are. In the wooden salad bowl above the refrigerator, in/on the floor and seat of my car, littering the depths of my soul...my dirty work socks.


In my defense, I hate socks. Wait! Wait, don't get me wrong! I'm not one of those guys who doesn't wear shoes without socks, I hate shoes! I've always hated shoes. If at all possible and/or sociably acceptable, I refuse to wear them. But one of the downfalls of a corporate world accounting job is...you guessed it...shoes. Every day...shoes! I think of plenty of excuses as to why these socks aren't removed and properly put in the washer, but that's not the point. The point is gathering this massive pile on cold Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is, I am John, I am a sock monster and I'm sorry".

Well my excitement (from yesterday's post) came to an end this morning which is no big deal we haven't been trying long enough to be concerned in any way, shape or form...but damn was I excited and I think I got John a little excited too and that makes me sad because the let down isn't all that fun especially when most of our friends are getting pregnant just by looking at each other! However, there's always next month and that means more sex and who doesn't love that deal? Seriously? In fact, I'm already looking forward to it...

And because I don't want this blog to turn into something where I post when and if I get my period this is the last I'm going to say anything about it all until/if I'm actually pregnant. So sigh a little sigh of relief my faithful readers. And John put on your game face becauses now that means that you and I have to do something truly ridiculous, hilarious and/or scandalous so that I have something fun to write about.

I blame John's love of football for some of the things I do such as shit talking, ball grabbing and tackling). I'm a red blooded American woman, if I see something on TV, I have to emulate it, right? Right.

That's the only excuse that I can even begin to formulate for the reason that I quickly gathered a burst of energy, sprang up like a rather less than graceful gazelle and ran around the living room only to get low and throw my shoulder into my husband's midsection. That's right, I tackled my football player sized husband onto the couch and continued to "beat him up" (so that social services doesn't come and take me away, my "beating" consists of goofy harassment) for about forty minutes. To be fair to him, I only had the upperhand for the first ten minutes of the battle but he's 6'1" and 5'5" and I'm uh...dainty...well, not really, but I'm daintier than a football player. I used all the tricks in my playbook--titty twisters (learned from my youth), Indian (Native American) Rubs (he said, "hey that feels nice!"...it was infuriating), licking of face and glasses (kind of gross to do, it isn't recommended). I crawled under his Eagles jersey and initiated a three pronged attack using my mouth and and hands but aside from his girlish shrieks I didn't accomplish all the mayhem that I had been planning. However, it still provided 40 minutes of unadulterated fun and excitement. I'm keeping things spicy, like salsa! Or maybe immature like recess...either way, we laughed like hyenas.

The nasty side effect? Today, my back feels like I'm an 80 year old arthritic hooker (SFW).

Geez...I had a to dust off the keyboard before typing, it's been that long!!
vacation has been glorious so far, I think I'm crossing the halfway point now and I never want it to end. However, just like life, vacations have their highs and lows. Let me explain in list form:

1. Thursday evening officially marked John's holiday break...for some reason, I thought I'd celebrate too. After a few rum and pineapple juices (daiquiris if you will...John's been reading a lot of Fitzgerald lately and daiquiris are anything that are rum based mixed with fruit juices, he's trying to bring it back--don't ask me why), I had a glass of Jameson and we played lots of Trivial Pursuit and sang to music. You can imagine my excitement when I got up at 6 the next morning. It reminded me of the good old days and why I don't like drinking during the week.

2. I came home from work on Friday and the house was full of deliciousness. On John's day off, he cleaned and he made me my favorite dinner! MMMMM! This is why I'm keeping him. More drunken Trivia Pursuit ensued (hey, it's a cheap yet fun entertainment...plus our local, hometown bar is closed for the entire holiday). I made John giggle with some drunken dirty talk...it was pretty funny, good thing he didn't start laughing until it was all over.

3. Saturday was the laziest day we had. We laid on the couch, did some grocery shopping and watched bad movies (namely, Hatchet, John didn't even make it through that one). We also had dinner where we were outnumbered by pregnant people, and toddlers.

4. Sunday we lounged. Then John took me to lunch since I've been salivating over commercials of shrimp. I believe at one point I said that I wanted my teeth removed and replaced with baline so that I could just guzzle shrimp down by the dozen at a time. I know, I know...what a dream to have!! Then we went out to see our friends down at the FQB. There we were on a mission to catch a buzz because our drunken friends had been there since 2 pm. We started with White Russians, switched over to shots of blackberry vodka and coke, more dark rum and pineapple, a shot of SoCo and lime, and then finally switching to a single beer and a shrug...we were well beyond our budget for the evening and well behind everyone else in the bar who were at this point posing with a giant blow up penis. Ah the holidays, so festive!

5. Monday was the low point in my vacation. It started off great...in keeping with our "drink lots of alcohol theme" of the holiday, John whipped up some vodka, cranberry and sprites for us and we sat and watched Die Hard, which John has declared to be his favorite "holiday movie ever". After a few of these drinks I started to feel not so good. In fact, only three of them had me on my knees praying for death. That "warm and fuzzy feeling stayed with me for hours...it wasn't until about 8 pm that I was able to actually keep food down. Unfortunately, this is the same amount of time I got to spend with T, as I ran back and forth to the bathroom. This little exchange though almost got me strangled.
(John comes back into the house after he ran out saying he was going "to get me something")
John: I brought you Wendy's, you need to something!
Me: I was hoping you got me Pepto Bismol or something... (as I greedily took my sandwich)
John: (tries to keep his hands from my neck) I'll run back out...
Me: No, I'll be ok, this sandwich should help...
I take three bites and fall asleep.

Needless to say, I had a lot of damage control to do on Christmas morning!! I'll stop off here for now.

So yesterday he says to me, "You're like all four of the Horsemen of the Apolcalypse, but mostly you're Pestilence" as I was giving him zerberts in his belly button.

We went to John's fancy schmancy Holiday party this weekend and when I came home from getting my hair done by his sister and slipped my black dress on he said, "You look absolutely gorgeous!" and he cupped my cheeks and kissed me deeply. That, however, was nothing compared to what he said to me yesterday while we were lying on the couch and he was smooshing my face with his hand while I was sticking my tongue out and trying to lick him (sexy and sophisticated right?). As I made a final tongue attempt he said to me, "I think they wrote a book about you, what was it called? Oh yeah, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Fish Monkey!"

Why that made me laugh so hard? I'm not sure but I loved it so much that I made him call me a fish monkey all night.

So John and I were playing Wii the other night and I slipped into the bathroom and decided that I wanted to take a pregnancy test because my boobs have been hurting and well, one of them has gotten ginormous...seriously, it's a little monster!!

I took the digital test and called to John while still sitting on the toilet. "Pregnant" he said slowly, it says pregnant! And then we hugged and I jumped around with my jeans around my ankle. But being the pessimist I am, I took another test the next morning, and this one read, "Not Pregnant". I sighed with disappointment in the first time in my life.

Now I have four more days to wait until I see whether or not I get my period...it looks like a 50/50 chance.

It was fun to have that feeling of excitement, this other feeling of anxiousness and not knowing isn't nearly as much fun.

Turning over a new leaf...

John got up this morning at the ungodly hour of 5 am to workout, shower and have coffee. His wife however, is a stubborn leaf and stayed on the tree (the bed) until 6:15. Tomorrow, I'm going to try doing it too...of course, this means that my lovely habit of getting up, getting dressed, tending to the dog, having a glass of water and then getting to work in 20 minutes will have to fall by the wayside. Sacrifices, sacrifices...

However, if that means I can lose five or ten pounds I can wear everything in my closet, and that my friends sounds like a fair enough trade. So John? Tomorrow when I roll away from you at 5am...roll me out of the goddamn bed, k?

People there may be a post about spousal abuse tomorrow after I beat John up for getting me out of bed, but he's strong, he can take a quick morning beating for the greater good. Am I right?

When you're hosting Thanksgiving for 13 family members it might be wise to replace the two couches that you and your husband broke while having sex. It saves the awkward explanation why the one cushion is ripped open and pulled away from the back of the sofa and why the other couch is no longer structually sound.

At least that's what we think, so we're going couch shopping tonight. Otherwise there would be 13 pairs of wide eyed stares looking at us with what I would expect would be awe and pride. Or perhaps, disgust? It could go either way really.

Posts about myself puking aside (see below), it's pretty amazing how far I've come in the past two years. Two years ago my house looked more like a frat house than a place in which a woman with a professional job resided. That mostly had to do with the fact that I spent most of my time out and very little time playing homemaker. As a naturally messy person, I would come home to the wreckage that was my house, shrug and think to myself, "No one else lives here, so why should I even bother." It was a fun time for me, but looking back it was more of a lonely time for me. It was less about the partying than about not wanting to be alone. And so out I would go...leaving all my responsibilities and fears behind.

Today, my house is becoming a stylish little pad. That has very little to do with me and mostly to do with John. He has been systematically covering the walls (that I had previously slapped a few colors on here and there) expertly with paint (that we both pick painstakingly). Seriously did I ever think I would be standing next to a man and saying things like, "Does this color purple flow with the colors we picked for the rest of the house?" That answer would be a definitive "NO!" We purchased a new charcoal colored carpet in the entire upstairs and when that's paid off, we will realize the dream of hardwood in our downstairs. I'm elated, and far more excited than I ever was as I swept shadow across my eyes, and practiced my glossy pout in the mirror. Of course, John still has to follow around after me so that I don't leave everything trailing behind me like a slug...but it's baby steps, kids. Baby. Steps.

The house is the tip of the iceberg in terms of change and new perspectives on things but I take it as a sign of good things that have happened to us and for things to come. Previous to knowing each other, both John and I were living parallel lives--both of us holding things down but not as well as we could've been (should've been). The two of us coming together could've been bad...we could've burned each other out. We could've been out at the bar every night of the week, not wanting to "miss out on the scene". Instead, we decided to grow up together and get it together. Today, John's become somewhat of a golden boy at work. Imagine, he used live mere blocks from work and yet now, with a two hour commute in the morning he's rising to the occasion more than he ever has. The same can be said for me, well, except that I might have a one minute commute.

Of course, don't let me kid you for a second that yes, we still love to go out. Yes, we still like to act like we don't have responsibilities and to pretend not to have a care in the world but it's for different reasons now. It's not about worrying about missing out on something, it's more about having fun together. Hence, I guess...you'll still find me playing drunken board games, which I suppose is better than what I probably would've been doing two years ago. Responsibility, who knew that one day it wouldn't be a dirty word to me?? Certainly not moi. That being said, I had to wipe myself with a Kleenex today because I didn't have time to go out and purchase toilet paper. Oh and with the work week over for me, I may just reach into the fridge, grab myself a cold one and reflect on another sucessful foray into the 'Real World' .
Again...baby steps.

There's only one reason why John is awesome this Monday morning...

and that reason is that he selected me as his partner for the summer quoit tournament (the boys have some fancy name for it, but it eludes me right now) that is coming up in a few weeks!

Saturday found me seated on the grass, sipping a beer in the heat watching John and his childhood friends throw quoits in the new "AQA approved" pits wishing that I could do something other than flick bugs off my jeans. Typically, the girls (usually just me and two other girls and a baby) sit off to the side of the pits and stare blankly as the quoits get tossed back and forth making small talk and avoiding errant quoits. John rescued me from this fate when he asked casually, "Do you want to throw a few?" My enthusiasm and excitement was tempered only by the fact that a) I had never thrown a quoit before and b) I hate sucking at things in front of people. But then I looked back at the two girls seated on the chairs and I realized that there was a far worse fate than throwing a few bad quoits. I happily jumped up and began practicing.

I wish I could say that I was a natural or plant the idea that I'm even remotely good, but I'm not. I got a lucky ringer, and I scored a total of two points in two games (that's 2 out of 42 points possible) but I had a lot of fun and it was nice that the guys were cool with me infiltrating their game. And I have a lot of hope for John and I in the tournament, because wouldn't it just be the ultimate Cinderella Story?? That being said...we might be Cinderella and Prince Charming of the Loser's Bracket, because the other guys that we "practiced" against on Saturday whipped us...badly.

Last night John and I were watching a comedian, Tom Pappa to be exact. Typically, we Tivo a bunch of Comedy Central Presents and weed them out/delete immediately if both of us don't issue a belly laugh in the first three minutes. Hey, it may be hasty, but there's only so much time in the day...

Well there we were on the couch laughing at Mr. Pappa's jokes when out of nowhere I start cracking up to the point where tears are just pouring down my face...but Pappa wasn't what I was laughing at. I pawed at the air and gasped, "Pause IT!"

John pauses it and looks at me quizzically, "What?"
And that's when I had to explain, well, after I laughed hysterically for five minutes by myself.

"Remember when we were watching that Lewis Black special and he said that there are certain sentences that if you think about long enough your head will explode?"
John nodded.
"Remember when he said, "Listen to this and try to wrap your brain around the mindfuck that is this sentence..."?
He nodded again, a smile spilling across his face. Like mind readers, at the same time we both uttered the sentence,
"If it wasn't for my horse, I would've never spent that year in college" and then we proceeded to laugh on the couch hysterically for about fifteen minutes.

The funniest part of this story came later when we were doing some things on the couch that shouldn't produce laughter when done correctly...and I couldn't stop thinking about the sentence!!! The best I could do was avoid eye contact, bite down really hard on my lip and think about baseball.

Seriously, say the sentence very slowly pausing appropriately at the comma and then tell me you didn't laugh. What the fuck does that even mean?

For our first anniversary, John and I went to Chicago for a few days, and now we're back...le sigh. I want to be on vacation all the time. I can't think of a fancy schmancy way of doing it so, here goes:

Day 1- We left the house without a hitch, including instructions for the dog who I kept trying to figure out a way to fit her in my bag. Unfortunately, I could not. We managed to pack tiny little bags chock full of stuff and didn't forget a thing--in fact, I think I packed about 20 outfits for four days. Of course, I gave John the "Lady of America" gym bag to pack his stuff in. I didn't alert him to the pink embroidery until we were boarding the plane. I thought it was nice of me to tell him at all, really.
Arriving early (wow! our lucky day!!), we checked our bags at the front desk (our room wasn't ready) and headed off to find a local bar to get ideas as to what to do over the next couple of days from some locals. I'm so glad that John and I don't plan our itinerary minute for minute... it's much more fun with just general ideas. Our bartender was super helpful and sweet, since he cut us a huge break on our check and lots of ideas scrawled all over our little map. With ideas in mind we left the bar, grabbed a few bottles of champagne and a bottle of Jameson (it was our anniversary, remember?!?) and headed back to our room. What is it about hotels and vacations that equal the most fabulous sex?? I don't know, but I'm half tempted to sell the house and move like a nomad from one hotel to another for life! After toasting many times and drinking numerous glasses of champagne we headed out (and no John, I'm not forgetting our little skit we worked up as we attempted to figure out how you have the "talk" with your kid, I just don't even know how to put it into words--it was just too funny!). Most of this night I can skip...it wasn't one of our finer moments as a bickering couple (particularly in public), and on our anniversary day no less! But it was resolved quickly enough and we shared a tasty meal in the city we were to inhabit for a few days. And I don't know if it was the alcohol but I ate a few pieces of John's tuna steak and loved it. This is a big break through...I haven't eaten fish since my dad stopped making me at 18 because in my mind, fish is yucky. See? John's good for me...expanding my horizons and such.

Day 2- I call this the day I walked the urban jungle. We got up nicely late...for me this is 10 am. I think I let him sleep until about 11. This was my concession to John since this was really his vacation from work. I've been on vacation for many weeks and I've had many days to sleep in, this was his turn. We headed out and before long it was lunch time. With our local bartender's suggestion in hand we set out on our quest. It was then that we discovered the joy that is deep dish Chicago pizza. Mighty tasty. With food in our bellies, we began our serious walking tour...oh. my. god. I can't tell you all the places that we went because we walked just about everywhere. I remember going to Millennium Park, I remember seeing the Bean...I loved the Bean. I did not love the squat image that the Bean reflected of me and that John captured with the (disposable) camera (that you'll hear more about later)...but you can't win every battle can you? We walked down to the river and followed its meander through the city, it was one of the beautiful things we witnessed that day. It's a shame that I haven't had a chance to purchase a new digital camera...sigh. I mentioned this to John and he quickly ran to accommodate his princess by getting a disposable camera. Being the brat that I am--I was too sweaty, too tired and had no pockets to put the camera. I thanked him, but left him to do the photography. We didn't capture much. But the camera was much appreciated John, really, it was.

We walked and walked until my knuckles were dragging on the ground and John was begging to get on a boat tour just to sit down. This suggestion fell on deaf ears, I looked at him and said, "Where is that boat going to take me that my feet haven't already??" He agreed with me and so we paused at a picnic table where we both laid down like we had walked 1000 miles. Seriously folks, I no longer believe in the Proclaimers. I don't know what the deal is with the heat/humidity in Chicago but it is certainly a different beast than here in Pennsylvania. Right now it's a sweltering 90-some degrees with 84% humidity. My hair is curling in little snarls and yet it's still more comfortable than it was in Chicago. You Chicagoans are amazing with the way you handle heat. I melted into a puddle while some girl walked by me wearing a 3/4 length sleeved shirt!! But I digress with my story...
We went to the Navy Pier, walked around a bit and then headed home to rest a bit. After laying on our bed for awhile, and showering we went down for a little dinner. When we actually sat down for dinner I ended up with the largest prime rib I've ever seen in my life...seriously, I had a half a cow on my plate! After six bites, I had to declare defeat and take a calffie bag (that's like a doggie bag, only bigger) home with me. John might have wanted to go out after dinner but unfortunately, I sunk into a deep food coma. Apparently it was that night that he got to see all the sexy shows on HBO (the best of Taxi Cab Confessions)...I don't believe him, because every time I turned on the TV it was My Super Ex Girlfriend. (if you're wondering why this is even relevant, it's because we don't have HBO at home so any down time had us either jumping each other or soaking in whatever HBO had to offer us).
...to be continued
Day 3 and 4 tomorrow.

Don't worry, it's not that kind of letter.

Dear John,
We will have been married for a year in two days. How can that be?? Some days I feel like I've known you forever! You have become my very best friend and I love every minute that I get to spend with you. I learn more and more about you every day and I love celebrating the small triumphs of this first year--home renovations (you've done some really impressive things!), both of us getting recognized at our respective jobs for doing well and simply meshing our separate lives together. The best part of my day is lying next to you, being spooned and held tightly as we both drift off to sleep. Never in my life have I loved this deeply, this happily and I thank you for that.

My favorite memories of our first year together:
1. Our trip to Vegas was soo much fun. Of course, it's a fond memory because that's where we got married but also because it was our first vacation together. I loved sipping pina coladas in the pool with you, watching you win with a single dollar on the slot machine, and seeing all the sights.

2. Our reception at home. It was everything I ever wanted. I had the man I loved by my side, a lovely dress, the best song list ever created (Oh how much we worked on that thing! It was completely worth it!) and every friend and family member who we bewildered with our shockingly quick engagement/plans to marry that I could've possibly wanted. Again, I would've never change a second of it. I'm glad that we didn't waste time with a long engagement. I fell in love with you quickly and I was amazed (and blessed) that you caught on to the plan and fell in love with me too. I look at my ring and see the inscription and smile...because I love spending every day of my life with you.

3. All of our random nights in our basement, particularly the first couple of months after you moved in. It was so fun, getting tipsy (and/or drunk) and singing all of our favorite songs together at the top of our lungs. In the basement we've talked about everything: music, books we've been reading, our pasts, and our future together. We snuggle up with the dog and love her up and of course, our clothes usually end up together in a heap on the carpet. You know I love that!

4. The night you tied me up. I don't really need to go into graphic detail but it was three hours where you focused almost entirely on me. Three hours! I still get chills when I think about that night.

5. This might sound strange but even our fights have been good. I say this because we've never really managed to stay mad at each other for very long and we've always been pretty respectful and apologetic towards each other. Each of us owning up to what we've done wrong and each of us remaining communicative and responsive as to how to fix whatever it was that started the disagreement in the first place. I think this is one of our greatest strengths and it will serve us well for a long time in the future.

6. Your birthday, which we spent in NYC. A weekend getaway which was too short because it was wonderful. I loved traipsing around the city with you, staring up at the tall buildings, giving each other roses, popping in and out of shops, and braving the icy cold winds and our freezing cold ears. Having the opportunity to go to a quiet restaurant for your birthday where I had you all to myself...unlike the previous night where you had me cracking up when you celebrated with our friends and your mom.

7. My surprise birthday party. Only a man who loved me would call all my friends and get everyone to dress like pirates. Whenever I see your sailor picture, I smile a little more. You are absolutely adoreable.

8. Any time I get to spend with you is my favorite time. You always have me laughing, smiling and feeling lucky that I married such an interesting, smart and caring man. Thank you. And I love you to pieces.

Love Always,
Me

John, what are some of your favorite memories of this year???

***Wednesday we're going away for our anniversary so the blog will be a little quiet for the rest of the week! Talk to you all when we get back!!!***

After a fairly harrowing experience at both Fredericks of Hollywood and Victoria's Secret yesterday I was feeling a little low about my lingerie purchase. There is just no in-between ground with these places. Federicks is just sleazy and cheap looking and Victoria's Secret is more comfort driven than sexy driven lately...don't get me wrong, I saw lots of things that I would like to wear when cuddled up with a bowl of popcorn and a movie; but this mission wasn't about me--it was about John. You see, I was reminded on Friday of the fact that I don't romance the boy enough. And it's true. I'll strip down naked at any given moment but I never do it with any panache or class. As John stated on Friday, "I guess you never had to do it? You just brought the guy home, took him up to your bed and had at it, huh?"

Um, yeah...that's about right.

So anyways, I decided that I was going to start practicing my seduction/romance skills. I know the boy has a weakness for lingerie and stockings so I set out to give him exactly what he wanted. After a brief shuffling through Fredericks, I left only with the stockings. I got to VS and I couldn't find anything that wasn't an A cup or a 32. Frustrated, I found one item I wasn't completely fond of, but it would do. I hastily paid for it, grabbing a couple lipglosses for good luck and to cure my desire to run to Sephora and drop a paycheck or two and I headed home.

It was at home that I tried the damn mesh/lace thingamig on. First of all, it was a small...I am not a small. It fit though, and that made me happy. Looking in the mirror, I was expecting to look more like the ladies in the catalog do. I looked decidedly nothing like that. Then I realized that I didn't have a garter belt anymore, so the stockings that I pulled up began a shameful slide back down my legs as if they were too embarassed to be seen on me. I reached into my arsenal (read: three drawers of bras and panties...I used to work at VS!) and pulled out a frilly little garter skirt thingamabob that I had never worn. It looked cute as I held it in my hand, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I had never worn it. Two minutes later, I realized. That little garter skirt was the most goddamn-ridiculous thing ever invented. I swear, even the dog had to bite her lip not to openly gaffaw.

Stripping that off, I slipped into my trusty boxer shorts and t-shirt and put the offending lingerie back into it's small pink bag and stowed it next to the couch. When John came home, I slowly explained the trouble that I had had with my seduction mission as I pulled the lame lacy items out of the bag exclaiming, "It's not even what I wanted. It's STUPID!" and that's when I started to cry a little.

John grabbed the stupid cami top thing and said,"No it's cute" and then in the same breath, "Are these holes so your nipples poke out??" And I nodded, pronouncing,"They're stupid too!" with all the conviction of a five year old who doesn't want to eat her broccoli. "You can pull them shut, that's what I did when I tried it on...they're stupid poking out like that." (Notice my immense vocabulary?? I really like the word stupid. A Lot.) And then I cried a few more tears. And that's when John comforted me, by cupping my boob and gently murmuring, "There, there." And that made me laugh, because John was comforting my breast. Later, I used this move on him to ease the pain of a devasting loss at darts to yours truly. It seemed to calm him as well...go figure.

This little tale simply proves that Sarah Silverman is always right. She said, "If you hop in the shower with your boyfriend or husband you are guaranteed to leave it with squeaky clean breasts!"

Some things to consider about our tarnished character:

John and I have been relishing in the Teen Jeopardy--Summer Games, because we can "totally school a bunch of teenagers" as he so elloquently put it. Yeah, that's right, we are excited about the fact that we have a more than decent grasp on bullshit categories such as "You Tube" and "Pop Music".

To make matters worse:

I relish in making fun of the teen contestants, John merely makes observations. The sweet freshman that was on the show last night made John turn to me and say, "She looks like someone...but who?" After a moment's pause he came back with, "She looks like Corey Feldman!" And it wasn't an insult against the poor kid, she just really looked like a young Corey Feldman. Now like I said, I like to make fun of the kids. For example, yesterday's young winner liked to build homing devices and put them in things that he often loses...for example, his backpack or his coat. I turned to John and said, "I guess he doesn't need to put a homing device on his virginity, does he?" See? That's just mean. True, but mean...and in about five years the smarty pants will probably own my soul with one of his new inventions--so, it's a trade off of sorts.

National Geographic anyone? Anyone?!?:

John and I sat staring at a Praying Mantis that was sitting on our table on the deck. John said something to the effect that we were watching the world's most boring episode of National Geographic. I pointed out that I still had my shirt on and thus wasn't quite that authentic. With neighbors milling about on either side of us, John did not urge me to peel off my top. His loss. I realized (after 10 minutes of intense staring) that the neighbors couldn't see the mantis and so to them, it appeared that we were both leaning forward and staring crazily at one distinct spot on our table. After seeing the mantis poke at a beetle, I decided to go inside so that the neighbors didn't have anything more to talk about...as if that were ever going to happen. We've already been called oddballs under their breath as we left the deck one night, lord knows what they call us behind closed doors.

And finally, if you had any respect for me, it's now gone:

My final submission of nerd-dom. I believe I've finally turned John to the "dark side" (we'll use terminology that he can understand). For a man who just loves himself some Star Wars, he was awfully reluctant to learn anything about Harry Potter. OK, whatever. I like Harry Potter...not enough to camp out to get the latest book or run to the midnight showing, but I think I have a healthy love for the kid. Amazingly, John has been able to avoid Herr Potter for all these years--until, I brought the first DVD home for him to watch. For the first 20 minutes, I had to fight him about turning it off/finding anything else to do except watching it(including rearranging couch pillows, ball scratching and belly button exploration). But finally, something clicked in his nerd DNA and he declared last night, "I think I love him!" And guess who rented the second DVD for him? That's right, I'm going to make him beg for a little more Potter...it's like pulling his x-wing star fighter in with my tractor beam (that's my little Star Wars reference to make him feel more comfortable with his latest trek down the Geek Path).

***PS. John, don't you think I look a little like Ashley Madison, over there in the ads??? You know, if I would put makeup on in the summer!?!****