"Is that when people in animal costumes hump each other?"

The Midwest Furfest...

I had the ummm... pleasure? of witnessing the start of this annual convention a couple of days ago. I was so deeply intrigued I had to look it up, ask the participants questions, and well... sit back and observe the verrrry strange behavior.

We were checking into the hotel Wednesday evening when it became apparent it was going to be a busy night.  There were a number of very 'dorky' looking mid 20s-30s guys walking around and checking in as well.  A few were just hanging out in the extremely large lounging areas in the lobby.  The first spotting happened then,  a giant fox was roaming the crowds.  Obviously this sparked a bit of curiousity and I started looking at these 'dorks' a bit closer...  2 of the 4 sitting on the couches right behind my crew and I had tails.  Tails... literally, a long yellow and black stripped cheetah tail and the other a black fluffy one I can only assume was a dog tail.  Like hanging out of their jeans all the way to the ground, tails.  Whhhhhat the heck is going on here?!?!  Then I started asking the guys checking us in, and was informed that the hotel was hosting the Furfest this weekend, and close to 2000 participants would be coming.  Ok... a furfest.  I actually thought he said fearfest first, which is slightly appropriate as well.   And then it hit me.

I am not a big fan of CSI or the Law and Orders, etc.  But, one day I was watching a CSI episode when of course there was a murder, and the only suspect they could find was the 'orange cat' or some animal.  Well,  the episode unfolds to show this party where everyone dresses up as animals and they literally roll around on the ground together.  Extra large orgie style.  They may fancy the feline in the corner, or chase after the pretty pretty pony, but they have no idea who is in the costume.  The hardest part for me to understand is that they do this because they're aroused from all this rolling around and humping.  After my lightbulb moment I just had to confirm with the employee that this was in fact,  THAT kind of convention.  Sure enough,  people came from all over for this kind of activity.  2000 people... I was floored! 

The next night, I happened to be back in Chicago again... and pumped this time.  I knew from more 'furries' as they refer to themselves as, that the convention actually kicked off at 6:30 that night.   This same 'furry' that was on our airport shuttle, excitedly mentioned that he was looking online and he was shocked to find that 40 furries live in his neighborhood! I couldn't help but wonder if this went hand in hand with pedifiles, and how many furries live around me.  Regardless,  6:30 that night I had a date with my coworker at the bar in the lobby to sit back and watch this sure to be entertaining night unfold.

These are the pictures that I managed to take.  At first I felt like I had to sneak and take them, then I realized Duh, these people are prancing through a hotel lobby, they want their picture taken...

This prissy pony was my favorite.  She literally pranced around by herself not once breaking character. 

The First officer, another flight attendant, and I stayed downstairs people/animal watching for nearly 2 hours.  At some point, this proud unibrow rockin software developer came over to chat.  He probably heard the animal noises we were making, or the snickers, or maybe just saw the look of confusion on our faces.  He explained the history of the event first.  It's the 3rd largest convention of it's nature in the world, there are in fact 2000 people here for the event, and one of those custome made bad boys costs around $2000 each.  The guy with the light up claws and tail was probably rockin a $5000 animal suite.  I bet he had the pick of any of the furry woodland creatures he wanted, haha. Obviously not everyone could afforde the full costumes, hence, all of the tails out of the jeans. We then asked, "Do you pick your costume, or does the costume pick you?"  Apparently this was a great question, because the self named 'green reaper' smiled, wheezed, and got super excited.  Turns out, it's a combination and everyones case is different.  It can be because you feel you have common personality traits, or maybe its an animal you admire and want to be like.   Orrrr maybe it doesn't really matter because you're hidden behind a full costume and can be free to be whoever you want and do things you would never do otherwise.  Just my opinion.  The first officer had one main goal, to get to the bottom of the sexual questions.  The guy said well of course we like sex (picture him saying all of this with a lisp... I promise im not making it up), and there was that CSI episode everyone thinks of,  and sure we party and drink and things happen... but that's not what everyone here does.   I think I zoned out of the convo at this point because picturing these guys in any type of sexual act made me want to throw up.   Actually, we had a pole going between the 3 of us as to what percent had ever touched a girl that was not at the convention.  I went with a very optimistic 60% to start with... by the time we talked to the green reaper and watched for a couple of hours, my percentage had lowered to like 17%.  I gave the highest of us 3.

But at the end of the day, as much as the whole thing creeps me out... it's for a good cause.  They raise money (and a lot of it) for a charity of choice every year.   Also,  you have to admire people with passion.  Regardless of what that passion may be (and how sketchy I may find it), they do share an extreme amount of passion towards this event and coming together with like-minded people.  So...  while I will never participate in the Midwest Furfest, and will never call myself and hopefully none of my friends 'furries'... I commend them on doing what makes them happy.  I think.

While looking them up the first night, I came across this video from last year I think...  just to make you feel like you were actually at the Furfest... because I know you all want to go now. HA

South FL: I Am A Giant That Can't Hold Conversation... And I Love It!

I have been an official South FL resident for a month today.  In honor, I thought it was time for a new blog post to update friends, entertain the curious, and most of all.... vent.

First and foremost,  I have never been so thankful for taking a leap of faith.  I had NO idea what to expect coming down here. With nothing but a pitiful, yet adorable1 bedroom apartment lined up and 1 friend that lives 30 min away, I had no reason to believe that things would work out.  But they have... better than anything I prayed for.  Yes, I am broke with a capital B but there is nothing that feels better than leaving the comfort of an easy and familiar life behind, getting through that horrifying unknown, discovering things you never knew about yourself, and making plans for a future.  In my case, a future that I never really considered, but can't help but feel as though it was meant to be (yeaaaa cheesy, I know).  Anyone who knows me knows my passions thus far have been:  Basketball, and traveling.  Adventure in general being a close 3rd.  Meeting new people and being social in there somewhere too. (It goes without saying that my fabulous family and friends are #1).  I have a list of places around the world I have been trying to figure out how to get to ever since basketball ended.  Unfortunately I have always been broke, and still am... but luckily now I get to travel the world for basically FREE.  Oh it just makes me smile thinking about it.

Right now I'm in week 1 of 3 1/2 of flight attendant training... They say only half of us will make it through to get our wings... and I understand why now that I'm almost through this week... I literally had no idea how hard it would be, but if I am so lucky... (jk, I'm making it through) I am starting with my airline at the start of a huge expansion, and will be senior to the hundreds more flight attendants they will be bringing on board in the next few months.  Hello, that means off the reserve list in 3-4 months compared to most airlines that are 1-5+ years.   To keep from boring you, I'll just sum it up to say that I'm just super excited about the opportunity and the growth that could come from it.  I love my little house that I have decorated just how I want, and do whatever I want in, whenever I want. (can you tell I'm enjoying living alone?).  I have a tiny little deck and backyard that I have planted flowers all over and enjoy drinking my morning coffee on. I have met a couple of really cool people... and really love my city and can't wait to really explore it.  Oh, and it was 89 degrees today and I plan on laying on the beach tomorrow...  I miss the pretty TN fall foliage, but um I'm going to be laying on the beach tomorrow.

Ok, the update part is over...

Now,  life in South FL...  I have never been a minority,  but I sure do feel like a fish out of water down here.

1. I dont understand 25% of strangers conversation around me. I'm pretty sure they are calling me a freak (see #9).

2. I am becoming aware that it's not just 'hispanic'... its Cuban, Latin American, Puerto Rican, Mexican, and who knows what ethnicity I'm forgetting.  I'm working on being able to tell the difference, and not making much progress so far. No one understands that, not to sound racist by any means, but there just isn't much difference where I'm from...


3.  I have been thrown into a world of beautiful scantily clad women. I've never been one to be afraid to show a little skin, but whewww im def not in TN anymore... The outfits in the grocery stores, walking downtown, high heels all day everyday, & I have never seen so many thong or half missing bikinis...  But, there are sooo many rocking bodies.  And there should be by the way people obsess over it.  I don't remember what it was called, but there's an area on South Beach where just unbelievably sexy, ripped men were working out on the outdoor equipment by the dozens. DOZENS I say!  I was walking with 4 other girls, tripping over each other, and I think I was literally drooling.  It's either situations like that, straight out of a movie....  Orrrrr quite the opposite and like People of Walmart style... lets just say I hope the European style banana hammock men's suits don't make it to the good ol American guys wardrobe.

4. Butt implants...  Once one pair was pointed out I feel like I saw them all over the beach.  Seriously, it's just weird...  White girls.  Get over it,  if it's not there its not meant to be.   And its obvious when you buy it... It doesn't jiggle.  Literally, it's like 2 perfectly round melons bouncing under the surface of the skin and like I said, just weiiirrrrd.  And hello, you can't have a huuuuuge perky butt without a little cellulite.  Not possible and not foolin anyone. 

5. People dont smile.  They don't go out of their way to be nice.  And for the most part are just pricks.   Buttttt then like every 1 in every 5 will surprise you and actually go above and beyond.  It's been such a strange experience.

6. Mosquitos.  Ahhhhh,  apparently they can't get enough of my sweet southern belle blood...  Depending on the time of day, and if it has rained the past couple of days,  I will have anywhere from 8-10 before I even realize it.  They are ruthless!!!

7.  Texas or Tennessee?  Where are you from?  Oh, wow... that's an accent.   Yea, its a conversation piece for sure... but my serious country accent certainly doesn't help me fit in around here.  Not that I've ever been one to give a shit if I fit in anyhow ;)

8.  How could I almost forget this one...  I am literally like a giant here! People just aren't near as tall as they are back home... and I get comments on it all the time.  I haven't even gone out to wear my 4'' heels either.  Finding a tall man could be quite the challenge...

So, that's all the complaints I have so far...  8 little things, that's it.  And most are just cultural differences that I am anxious to learn more about.  And I do plan on getting in good enough shape to rock one of those skimpy bikini's, haha. I know it has just been a month, but life is good... and I would encourage any and all of my friends who are debating getting out of a funk to take that leap and just do it!  Seriously, time's a tickin'.

This is where I can go run and shoot basketball, & it's all of 3 miles from my house.   It is also my therapy, and where I go when I miss home.  I will try to get some pics up of my house soon too!

Soooo, I think I have updated people who kept complaining about a new blog post (ahhhhhem Emmy, haha), vented, hopefully inspired one or two... and this is what I have to offer for the entertainment I promised.

He lived.  But was our entertainment for a solid 2 hours,  especially when he started doing his 'Step up 4' dance routine.  Aka, kicking around more seaweed.   Ohhhhh the things I see on a daily basis.

I had never known anyone with cancer...

 Ok, so first off... I know it's been a long time since my last post.  I can explain. 

I have moved out of my house, had no internet/roommates/furniture/cable for a month or so, and have been scrambling the last month to get a good hold on my life and future. All while working 2-3 jobs. 

And today's blog is going to be a bit different than my previous ones.  There is just something I really want to write about.  Something that has moved me in a way I dont know if I can properly explain.

But I'm going to try.

I've said it a million times.  I never evvvver thought I would be working in the health care industry.  In any way, shape, or fashion.  I dont like blood, dont like grumpy people, and hate doctors offices.  Buuuuut, straight out of college when I was offered a legit position for TN Oncology being a receptionist, I was just happy to have a good job and accepted. 

I had never personally dealt with cancer, had any friends whose family members had dealt with cancer, and basically knew nothing about it.  I was expected to understand diagnosis, procedures, and prognosis's immediately upon hire.  I honestly just didn't know what to expect.  I thought, sadness, depression, and tears was what I was going to be faced with on a daily basis and really dreaded starting the job.

What I got was exactly the opposite.  I have NEVER met so many amazing people in one place.  I dont think I will ever see human nature in such a positive form ever again.  The nurses are such special people, and the Doctors are indescribably great.  Seriously. But, I'm tearing up just thinking about the patients that I will never see again and how wonderful they are.  The positive attitudes, the can-do spirits, and the fight that I have witnessed with stay with me forever. 

I'm a people person and enjoyed getting to know everyone.  However, the ones you get to know most are the patients that come and see you weekly or monthly, which is obviously not a good thing. I saw 2 of my favorite women die after there 2nd battle with breast cancer, and years and yearrrrs of chemo treatments.  Both times I thought they were the strongest women I have ever met.  Never complained, and always smiled when they saw me.  Those are the ones you can't help but wonder how life is fair.  There are success stories too though, and those were special.  The changed people that now truly appreciate life can really rub off on you.  I left work many days with a smile in my face after seeing theirs.   Laughter in the chemo room was one of my favorite things.  How a group of people, faced with such a grave situation could be cutting up and laughing as a whole is such a hard thing to fathom.  I made many friends... one of which referred  to me as 'Sex in the City' everytime she saw me... because she thought I resembled one of them?  (I was too scared to ask which one),  one who tried to hook me up with her son, and many who just baked sweets to bring in to us or just stopped at my desk to have conversation.  One amazing woman who was lovingly referred to as the 'bread lady' who baked banana bread every Wednesday to bring to the patients and just give them an upbeat smile and a hug. A few of which gave me their business cards and numbers, and I honestly want to keep in touch with.

Today was my last day working there, and I just wanted people to understand what it is really like to be in an Oncology office.  You dont see the fluid retention that makes someone look pregnant it is so bad, you dont see the visible tumors, or places they used to be.  And you certainly dont see the bald heads anymore... you see amazing people.  And I am beyond thankful to have met them.

So...  Just in case you want to volunteer or know someone who might... just a couple of resources
https://www.minniepearl.org/
http://www.cancer.org/

Who knows, I might just be the next bread lady :)

You Dont Need Cops In A Small Town...

I am from the small town of Lawrenceburg, TN. About an hour and a half south of Nashville and home of Davy Crockett (headless in this picture), Amish Country, The Hippie Farm, and apparently Grannys Network?.  I know, you're thoroughly impressed right?




Yes... Amish park at Walmart...

The sign for the Hippie Farm

For you city people, let me break it down.

Growing up in a small town is... special.  I wouldn't trade how I was raised for the world. I was taught morals and values by example.  I'll never forget thinking, gosh my Dad knows everyone cause he waves at almost every car on the road... no, it's just small town protocol and nothing out of the ordinary. I skinned my knees when I wrecked on our unpaved street,  I walked down the bluff behind the house to play in the creek when I wanted to, and every house in the subdivision had kids to hang out with.. without supervision, and probably without telling my parents. Softball leagues were taken serious, and parents came to every game. Friday night football games were social events, and holidays meant mini family reunions and were the best playtime ever.

Highschool is when I learned an important lesson.  Cops really aren't necessary in a small town. A few examples.

Grandmas:
-One random day, myself and 3 girlfriends had 45 minutes to kill before some riveting event i'm sure.  So what do we decide to do?  Break into 2 teams to see which team could steal the most street signs.   I know what you're thinking... that's horrible.  No worries, we never took a Stop or children playing sign. Strictly way back in the boonies signs only. If you've never tried before,  there is a true art to stealing street signs.  Unless you're 6'2 200 lbs+, its best to do it with 2 people.  Treat it as a seesaw with both team members alternating pulling up and down until, Bloop, it pops right off.  Obviously you want to work as quick as possible to avoid facing the fact that, it is in fact illegal to steal signs. It took time to come up with the most efficient way to do it.  The first time, we actually pulled the sign right out of the ground and had to put it in the back seat of a car with 2 feet of the end out the back window. But, back to the story-

45 minutes later, 4 girls had accumulated 19 street signs. Well we were all proud and happy and put them all in one friends trunk and went about our business.  She got home, her dad needed something out of her trunk the next morning, and found 19 street signs.  He came back in, told her mother, and they ripped her a new one about what a horrible thing we had done. And what if an ambulance had been called and they couldn't find a street because of us, and how could she go to church knowing what she's done.  After this, we realized what we had done was in fact, a really bad thing.  19 times.  No cops needed.  They had hid the signs in the back of the basement (after threatening to make all of us take them to the police station).  Then they moved.  It was my friends grandparents house, and she then inherited the signs.  To this day, they are in the garage at her house, covered with a blanket because she's horrified she's going to be arrested for having them.  I dont know that i'll ever steal another sign again knowing how much stress I have caused poor Memaw.

Fathers:
I'm sure there are many examples for this one, but the one that I'm currently remembering is when some girls from my grade decided they wanted to roll my yard.  They park the car a bit down the road from my house and got started.  Well, they obviously didn't know how to properly roll a yard, and woke up my dad.  Did he go outside with the shotgun? No.  Did he call the cops? Nope.  He snuck out the back door, through the woods, to their car....  where the keys were in the engine.  He turned on the lights and started slowly cruising up the street.  He said the looks on there faces was way better than not having the pick up toilet paper.  They never rolled my yard (prolly any yard) after that.  No cops needed.

The Whole Town:
I had a close group of friends by senior year.  4 girls, and about 8-9 guys. We were a good group of kids, honestly.  Yes... We got into our mischief, but us girls had never drank & we didn't do anything else either. So, after the men's district championship bball game, there were plans to have a party at one of our guys houses.  His parents were out of town.  We all arrange stories to tell our parents and head over when we got in town from the game.  We arrive after people had been there for a while, and immediately shots were handed to us.  Our very first shots,  tequila....  PARTY IS ON!!!  So we are just having a blast,  one of the guys had a video camera going around interviewing people and documenting the good time, I kissed a couple of guys, my girlfriend (also first time drinking) puked her guts up for like 2 hours, there was lots of living room dancing, and more and more people stopped by the party.  After everyone was pretty drunk and things were dying down late late night, we got a sober driver to take us back to a friends house (whose parents weren't home either).  My mother had been trying to call me the whole night.  Call it mothers intuition I guess, but she thought something was wrong.  When I never answered my phone, and neither did my friends, she drove to the house I was supposed to be at.  No one was home. I dunno how many missed calls i had from her that I ignored, but i wiggled my way out of it by saying we ended up staying somewhere else.  We never thought another thing about the party...

After the first round of our region tournament, I will never forget getting a text on the way back to Lawrenceburg.  The party was starting to get out, and the youth minister at a big church in town had heard.  You're probably thinking ok, no big deal... but watch how things work in a small town.  The next day,  my coach called me into his office and said that he didn't want to ask, but he had to.  Did I drink? I told him that myself and the other bball player that was there just split a beer, just to try it. Even though it was a lie...  Merrrrrrrg, wrong answer.  He told me that I had broke team rules, and that I would have to face the punishment of sitting out a game like the mens coach was enforcing.  The next game was the 2nd round of the region tournament against our rival Shelbyville.  That's when i realized the severity of the situation.  I cried, he cried, I had to tell my teammates, I had to call my college coach to inform him and listen to the speech, my Dad came to school that day to talk to the principal, I got lectures from my teachers on how disappointed they were, made my mother cry,  had to read the articles in the newspaper, listen to people talk about it on the radio (yes I'm serious), annnnnd then I even got an email from a dumb dumb sophomore girl talking about how she knew I was stripping on a table, and stealing girls boyfriends, and that im lucky she's keeping this stuff to herself because i could lose my scholarship if she told, and then signed it -The Class of 2006.  Well, my mother broke into my email and read it.   And basically cried herself to sleep for a week I later learned.  NONE of that was true...  

So, I had a heartbroken verrry pissed off family, a whole town was was disappointed in me, sat the bench in street clothes my very last high school game (which we lost), had my future college coach worried I was a hellion, and was grounded for a long time.  But basically we were humiliated in front of our whole town. Alllllllll because someone just told on us that there was a party, there were NO COPS!  We were so scared, we even destroyed the video.    This will forever be known in Lawrenceburg history as 'THE Party.' It still makes me mad to think about it. 

So, If you want an easy job.... go be a cop in Lawrenceburg.  (if you're reading this and you're a law enforcer, im jk)

MARDI GRAS -Glad I did it, probably wont go back...

I came to a very abrupt and frightening realization after attending 2011 Mardi Gras.

I.

Am.

Getting.

Old.

Say it aint so!!! I have experienced weeks of Panama City Beach, trips to Vegas, Miami, Chicago, Tunica, & Orlando... All full of basically just straight partying with friends.  It's been a blast, an unbelievable good time.  But, I'm sad to say, I can't do it like I used to anymore (and function).

Granted, Mardi Gras is by far the most extreme partying situation I have ever encountered.  We arrived the Thursday night before fat Tuesday.  We didn't get in the hotel room until midnight, threw on our cute outfits, freshened up, and were out the door. We were only 2 blocks from Bourbon, well by the time we got a couple of blocks on Bourbon we had our first run in with the cops.  I see my friend lift up her skirt to the people dangling beads from overhead.  When I say lift her skirt, I mean... lift the side of her right butt cheek very quickly just kidding around and teasing.  I'll be danged if there weren't 4 fat cops literally right where she was mooning.  They quickly take her over, threaten to arrest her, get all of her info, and inform her that it ok to flash breasts, but you can not show genetalia.  REALLY?  Ok... quickly into the trip, this lesson was learned.  Boobs = ok,  Butt = arrested.  So, we continue on to get our first drink, and end up having a great night...

The rest of the trip was fairly indistinguishable.  It was more or less a blur of festive fun. We started Friday and Saturday at probably my favorite bar in this whole world. The Cats Meow Karaoke Bar.  It's where I discovered my karaoke performing skills, along with my favorite karaoke partner of course.  If this wasn't enough of a reason,  they have 3 for 1's... everything.  This, along with the entertainment factor, is why we spent probably 35% of our whole trip there. 

 They really should have been paying us.  Now that I have shared my favorite bar, lets talk about my favorite cheeseburger.  Port of Call is the place.  It's an old pirate bar (how freakin cool is that?) and its dim lit and tiny... the menu consists of about 5 things, a few appetizers, a steak, and cheeseburger, and baked potato.  That's it... and that is all they need. 

The burger and potato come with mushrooms soaked in this gift from the gods wine sauce, and it's probably the best thing you'll ever put in your mouth.  Granted, it could be the level of alcohol we have all had both times I have visited, but seriously... if you are ever in Nola, call me, get off the beaten path, and find Port of Call.  We had a few other tasty dishes, and checked out a couple other fun bars....


Shout out to Dominics, the bar connecting to our hotel that we danced up and down the small bar, and basically dominated the end of every night. 






But I know that's not what you're wanting to know.






I'm obviously not a guy, and don't know judging criteria. But I was very disappointed in the boobs.  The people flashing their goods were old, and they were not desirable in any stretch of the word.  The women, nor their sweater puppies.  I'm assuming this is the reason that people just had to throw their beads to any joe shmoe standing under there balcony, or any girl who just flirtidly asked for some.  (hence, why my girlfriends and I have beads on in our pics...  ok, most of them). We saw some body painted chests, the naked indian, a gay guys ass... up close and personal (and I dont want to talk about it anymore than this small mention), and made lots and lots of new friends.

 The parades were nice.... nice and scary.  If you dont know (I didn't before I went)  people are in 'krewes',  I discussed how I could join a krewe with the 'naughty gras' members, and was told all I had to do was email the guy I was talking to next year.  I didn't take his email.  But, they pay money... the people who get to ride the floats pay A LOT of money.  This is my theory.  I think they're pissed that they paid so much money, and they try to nail the little pee-ons watching below with their beads.  I'm not talking just individual beads,  if you aren't watching... you'll get knocked upside the head with a 5 lb bag of beads.  Not kidding... saw it happen.  Not to mention, the people are scary.  I would have been horrified as a child watching.  Not that any child should attend Mardi Gras, ever.  Because if you're a good parent, they wont. I'm not exact a parade pro though, we only saw 2 lol.

The trip home might have been the true reason I still haven't recovered from the trip.  We checked out at 11,  we didn't get our car from the valet until 12:15ish,  we were supossed to meet a friend who had gotten his car 45 min earlier up the interstate a couple of hours. Wellllll, an hour outside of Nola we realize that there are 2 ways out of the city.  Yep, we were going the other way.  Turning around we headed back in the traffic to the city we were so desperately ready to leave. We finally meet our friend, get the girl who was riding back with us,  roll 5 deep, and head out...  only to drive 45 past the exit we needed to take.  Again, driving righhhht on back into Nola.  4 hours after we originally left.  This is after I had already gotten car sick and puked behind a quick mart, the driver was so pissed her head almost exploded and I had to start drive.  Needless to say, I didn't get back to Nashville til 2:30 that morning.  And had to be at work at 8.

Honestly, I couldn't have picked at better 8 people to go with.  Everyone was super outgoing, loved to dance, and no whining. We even got along great in a tiny tiny little hotel room (yes, all 8 of us... 2 dbl beds and a double airmatress pushed together into one giant sleepover) All in all, it was one of the best times i've ever had. The atmosphere of New Orleans, crazy outfits and situations, plus the craziest people in the country.  4 nights in Mardi Gras did me in, but I think everyone should do it once. 

EWWWWWWW

Upping my street cred on Indiana Avenue...

When I decided I wanted to move to Nashville, I was hell bent bound and determined to make it happen.  My roommate and I gave plasma to make money, and just literally saved every penny we could.  So, when we found the adorable 3 bedroom house for a great (recently reduced price) we were so excited. The only thing I knew about Nashville was shopping, so the part of town it was in meant nothing to me.  Yes, we did notice the janky houses around us... BUT, they were also building new townhouses up the street, there was a church literally across the street, and our landlords friend lived right beside the church to keep an eye on us too. 



We didn't think living off Charlotte Ave was a big deal, but my parents did.  My aunt lives in Mt Juliet and tells my dad that me living in this area was dangerous and she would never let her kid live here.  So, my mother informed me that I was absolutely not moving into that house.  Well, when I have my mind made up about something... it's going to happen, and my mother is fully aware of this. She then settled with, well the only way I'm letting you move in there is if you and Suzanne take self-defense classes.  Ok, sure mom. 

We move in and everything's great.  Our cozy little house becomes a home and we had no issues what-so-ever.  Then after a couple of months I had my first situation.

I felt like I heard something outside my bedroom window one night,  like a mans voice and sticks breaking. I peaked out and saw nothing. I went to the front door and looked,  nothing. So I went back to bed. I get in my car the next morning, running late of course, and notice all my papers in my glove box are in the passenger floorboard.  Shit.  Then I notice my ipod and Garmin were gone.  Well, at least I'm safe and they didn't break in the house.  Theeeennnn I opened my glovebox. 

Marbles.

Just a bunch of marbles...  hanging out in my glovebox.  I didn't know what to do, and figured I was marked and doomed from the marble gang, so I should just go on to work.  I get to work and realize I should call the cops and report it.  They come and tell me there's nothing they can do since I left the crime scene and have my finger prints all over everything..  I quickly informed the officer that I didn't touch the marbles, please just tell me what the marbles mean.  Do gangs use marbles a lot? Is this some kind of sign?  Should I search my house for marbles?  He told me that he didn't know what the marbles meant, that I shouldn't look too far into it and he had never heard of the marble thief before.  Still to this day, I would be horrified if marbles showed up anywhere in or around my house.  (Friends... DO NOT GET ANY IDEAS)

After that,  I was a bit frightened and I got a baseball bat.  I'm not going to lie... when I was home alone, I slept with it.  I was convinced I would knock someones head off if they came in my house. But for the next situation, I didn't even have the comfort of my baseball bat. 

I was on my way home from work one night around 10:30ish, I pull in my driveway and notice a car sitting in front of my house.  Not a big deal, except there was a man sitting in the car. So I whip it out of my driveway and cruise around the block.  He's still sitting there... all the lights off.  I was basically living alone at the time, So I continue cruising around.  30 minutes later I start freaking out.  The marble gang is waiting on me!  I called a couple of guy friends to ask advice,  they all said I should call the cops.  An hour later he was still there so I called the local police station.  Well they didn't have anyone that should have been there and only could tell me that it could be a unmarked car just checking things out in this part of town.  Really? Cause that's comforting.   So I went and hung out at a friends for a while and then went home. Then, I started considering getting a gun.    But, things started slowing down... my roommates were home more often and I wasn't scared near as often.

Then I met my next door neighbors.  My roommates dog was outside with me and of course ran over to the little red headed girl next door. So I go and start chit chatting with the mom.  Convo was easy, they had just moved from Pittsburgh, she was trying to find a job in the school system, her husbands a warlock and she's a witch.  Skkkkeeerrrrrrt.  Say what?  She didn't seem to notice the look of sheer horror that I'm sure was plastered on my face, and continued right on talking about how they used to be Christians and they had been practicing witchcraft for about 10 years and it's definitely the way for them. She tells me that they only practice good spells though, like if someone's sick they light a green candle and say a spell (yes, she went into complete detail) and that they have to go back to Pitt to get there black cat.  Really? a black cat too?!  Ask yourself this question,  what would you say if someone was expecting an answer to how you feel about them being witches?  Because after knowing this woman for 5 minutes, and her telling me this, she looked at me expecting a statement.  I stumble and say,  'Wow.  I've never known a real live witch before.'  (I'm sure the sheer terror look was back) And I'm thinking...  just dont say anything to piss off a witch.  I proceed with, I'm a Christian, but yea I understand everyone has different views...  and I'm running late to an appointment.  It was really nice to meet you, and please let me know if yall ever need anything! She said likewise, and then says, 'If you ever need any good spells, you know where to come!' and smiles.  Creeeeeeeeeeepy.   We never heard much from them, and I waved and kept a nice smile on my face anytime I saw them. Then one time, I came home from work late night, pulled in my driveway to 3 cop cars and 2 undercover cars pulling up and the cops rushing out.  I'm standing in my front yard like wtf... and as they are sneaking literally through my yard, I ask one cop what was going on?  He looked at me and just points next door, and says... we're heading over there.  REALLY?!  Can I get a bit more please?  Nope.  I watched peeking through my front window and see them hiding while one cop knocks on the door like they were about the break the door down and start shooting.  Horrified, I once again call my local cop station and ask if they could tell me something. Nope, they told me it was probably safe to assume it was for a warrant or something small.  Thanks, cause that's going to help me sleep. I went to a friends house that night too. I never found out what that was about.  The next witch story is unexplainable. I had a desk on the front porch that I moved out of my room and was trying to sell.  Well Mr. Warlock came over (picture him... shirt off -b/c he never wore one, and long black curly hair down to his mid back,  mustache, and stumpy.) and asked about it.  I told him they could have it, and he said that he would have to wait for Mrs. Witch to get home to move it because it was so big.  Ok, whatever... i'm just tired of dealing with the desk.  So myself and my roommates watch him leave from the front window... giggling like little kids.  We turned back to the tv and 2 minutes later my roommate looked outside and screamed Spann it's gone!  Sure enough, the desk was gone...  like it vanished into thin air.  We never heard a thing.  Obviously, I'm not saying that they waved a wand and it floated through their front door, but it was weeeeeiiiird.

The last story, and the inspiration for this blog post, came last night.  I am driving down my street and see the blue lights im used to (we lovingly refer to it as 'ohhh it's a light show' in our house), but when i get closer I see crime scene tape wrapped around the stop sign to turn onto my street.  It's wrapped across my driveway and around my mailbox.  Whooooa. What the hell is going on?! So, I pull up to the cop, tell him that's my driveway that's blocked, and ask what the deal was?  He informs me that someone is in the hospital claiming they were ran over here.  He asks if I have been around tonight (im thinking this is my alibi, so im going into serious detail about when I went to work, etc.), and then tells me he thinks it's domestic violence at the house that's beside the church across the street.  I tell him I dont know those people and that I can get to my house from the alley beside it and peace out.   I then think how it's seriously disturbing that I'm not phased by the fact that crime tape was just wrapped around my mailbox and someone was ran over.  I was raised by a father who, if he even saw blue or red lights on the highway that was in front of our subdivision, he would drive down to see if he could help.  And here I am mentally dismissing the fact that someone was ran down in front of my house. 

All of these examples to prove, that I might be from little ol Lawrenceburg, TN.  But I have gained some serious street cred living here... much to my mothers disdain.

The Ultimate Experience: A Bonnaroo Security Guard...

When my college weight lifting coach asked if me and a teammate wanted to work Bonnaroo, my thoughts were 'um duh... free concerts, the experience, all while making money?!'  So, a few details were discussed... I had to become an unarmed security guard (which for me, consists of paying money and bringing a passport picture).  I guess my coach could vouch for my bouncer like skills.  I mean I did hold the womens power clean record at the time.  I was scary... and those hippies would be sure to bow down and do what I said.

Riiiiiggghhht. 

First let me say, my teammate that was supposed to be going with me (and really the only reason myself and my parents were ok with the situation) ended up being unable to go due to a bad break-up with one of the football players. So I packed my bags, and headed to the gym to see which guys I was going to be camping out with for the next 5 days.  We get a huge speech from our coach, and he tells the guys that if anything happens to me that he will personally kill them, and then we go outside to wait for the greyhound.  It arrives, and I board to find the entire Georgia Tech football team on there.  Nope, no other girls.  Just me and 2 football teams heading out to Bonnaroo.  My mind kept going back and forth between thinking two things.  1. Hmmm, there are a couple of cute guys on here and 2. I really might get gang banged. 

So we arrive, and are taken to our tent... a HUGE tent.  They tell us to grab a cot, and pick a spot.  I really dont know how many cots we fit in that tent, but I would say atleast 100.  Maybe 5 girls,  3 that weren't lesbo... yes, that's counting myself.  I pick a spot in the middle of my bodyguards and spread out my pretty blue sheets only to realize we had like 15 min to get our first assignment. 

We all report to a tent and are split into shifts to search the cars when the gates open.  When I say search cars, I mean we were told the following.  If they look suspicious, take the seats out, remove all luggage, check gloveboxes, push all buttons, and use flashlights.  If they had more than 2 liters of alcohol per person we were to confiscate the rest, if they had weed that looked like it was for more than personal use, confiscate it.  Any paraphernalia take it.  Weapons, duh you idiots... they're mine now.   You would be surprised the things you see...  I confiscated a machete, yes... a 3 foot long sharp knife.  Really?!  Multiple knifes, hatchets, and axes.  Lots and lots and lots of extra marijuana...  12 big black trash bags full at the end of it to be exact.  I, on the other hand, was no help.  I dont know drugs.  Sorrrrry, I can't tell what a white bag of stuff is, and I dont know how much weed is enough to be a big deal.  There is no telling what I let through those gates.  So, there were about 3 days of 12 hour shifts in the bazillion degree weather of doing that. If it got too busy at the gate, we weren't as strict.  I do remember one particular car that came through where everyone was naked, whooping and hollering... even when they got out of the car.  I also remember a guy crying when I took his bowl.  There were people straight out of the woods, people in million dollar RV's, people from other countries... you name it, they go to Bonnaroo. 

Sleeping in a tent full of men was interesting.  My boys were more like big brothers.  I couldn't go to the port-a-potties without an escort, someone waited outside of the portable shower for me, and made sure I always made it to the make-shift cafeteria.

 After everyone had arrived, our shifts switched to being stage guards at the concerts.  I, being one of the few women, got the very important job of being the handicap ramp guard.   This meant that I had middle of the field front and center view of all of the concerts, and that I checked everyone for there white 'handicap' bracelets.  Not a bad gig at all.  I saw BB King, Pearl Jam... who pissed off Kayne West (on purpose) by doing an encore and making his show late.  By late I mean, I watched the sunrise as Kayne's prick ass performed after he was the only performer the whollllle time that insisted on having his own set put up rather than using the main stage.  I saw Jack Johnson,  and had the night off for Metallic and lots of techno tents and 'glow stick shows'.  It. Was. Awesome. 

If you haven't been, you hear rumors about hippies running around and nudity and such.  Well, this isn't false... but its also not entirely true.  While I did see plenty of F'ed up people, there were also the frat kids, the families, the senior citizens, and everyone in between.  I did see a few butterfly painted chests with no shirts on (yes, women), and had to call the paramedics when some girl ran up to me crying that her friend was dead (cause a bright yellow security shirt can help with that...) but I was able to find someone to help the girl whose eyes were in the back of her head seizing. 

All in all...  It was definitely one of the most interesting things I've done.  Maybe not as a Security Guard, but I firmly believe that everyone should have the Bonnaroo experience at least once.

Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off... among other things

It was the summer after Freshman year in college. There was a party everyone was talking about that some friends were having at there apartment.  The rules were simple, only tequila was to be drank.  At the time, I didn't have much experience with the effects of this alcohol but what can I say, it was freshman year of college... Peer pressure will getcha. 

We get to the crowded party to find bottles of tequila (I'm sure it was the cheapest option possible) lined up on the bar with limes slices ready to go.  Everyone is showing off these dashes on there forearm and are obviously pretty drunk.  Well, they take me to the bar and I discover that all these dashes I see are sharpie marks to keep track of how many shots they have taken.  I take my first shot and get my dash... on my chest for some reason.  Let me clarify,  my upper chest.  I remember the music was loud, people were dancing and having a good time, I had a big crush on one of the guys that was there, and 2 of my friends got crapped on by a bird. Right on the head, both of them.  That's completely beside the point, but a funny side note. 

After that, things are a bit foggy.  Appppparently I had 13 dashes across my chest. I'm a large girl, and it was off season from basketball, so my tolerance was probably pretty good... but 13 shots in probably an hour and a half is enough to make crazy things happen.  So i'm sick... my best friend (who didn't drink at the time) takes me into the bathroom, I puke... a lot.  Then I decide I want to take a shower, because that's what always makes me feel better. 

*** UPDATE ***

It has been brought to my attention i have left out an important detail about why i showered. I was peed on... how i forgot this im not sure. I was directed to the bed so I would pass out and my friends could party on and my crush was in the same situation and was placed on the bed as well. He peed on me. How romantic, I know. Soooo that's when I showered, after throwing up and being urinated on.

It wasn't her house, but she didn't stop me.  She gets me a towel when I get out.  What a good friend right? A cute little blues clues towel.  She then proceeds to let me out of the room.  Mascara running down my face, sopping wet, in a blues clues towel I start going through the party rounding up my gang to go home.  It was maybe midnight... the party was definitely not over, but we were heading out... thanks to me.

My sober driver had a explorer, one without backdoors/windows.  For whatever reason, I got in the back. We roll up to the main red light on campus and I had to puke again.  I tell the driver, and have to lean up and throw up out her window.  Of course I lose my towel while I'm hanging all the way out the front window... on the middle of campus... puking out a car window.

*Before any of you start judging me... Let me just say that this is the only night I have ever not remembered a big part of it.

So my friend gets me to my apartment.  I shared an apartment with a teammate and some random girl. Then I decide want to get in the bath now, again... Im soaking and she assumes that it was safe for her to crawl in my bed and I would be in shortly.  Wrong.  She said she woke up the next morning and freaked out when she realized I never came to bed.  She jumped out of bed to find me and apparently woke up me because all I know is I woke up in my bath robe, on my couch in the living room, with a girl I didn't know.  Heads on the same end of the couch and everything.  There was a solid 3 seconds of us just staring at each other before I half awake said 'Um who are you?', and got the response of...'who the hell are you?'

Apparently my random roommate had 3 friends in town.  There was a couple that was sleeping on the living room floor that I had tried to crawl in between, and I guess they told me I couldn't sleep with them... so I crawled on my couch. With a stranger.  Why I didn't just go to my own bedroom I'll never know....

Needless to say, when the song 'Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off' came out... it had a wholllle different meaning to me...

The Men Who Love Me

After the last post about dating I started thinking. 63.7% of the time, there are 2 types of men I tend to attract.  Old white perverts and large black men.  Other women will probably say they feel the same way, but let me give you a couple of examples.

The Wheelchair Whisperer.

I work face to face with a lot of senior citizens and I happen to love it.  Most are just adorable and harmless and even if they do say something out of line, it's easy to disregard as 'ahh they are just old.'  Then there is the wheelchair whisperer.  Picture a slumped over santa clause (but not as jolly, and not quite as old) wheeling himself into our office.  He never comes to my check in, but goes to the one next to me.  As my coworker gets up to retrieve his chart, he usually sneaks in a 'ahhh so beautiful' or a 'omg, so hot' under his breath while I feel him stare at me.  Then when she comes back he's quite.  he always digs through her candy bowl and then wheels himself in front of me to dig through my candy bowl.  The whispers pick back up.  'so sexy.'  'uhhhhhhh' 'gorgeouuusss'.  The catch... NO ONE ELSE HEARS IT.  It pisses me off beyond believe, and I think he's extremely disrespectful.  I'm right here, quit acting like I'm not you old fart.  I left off the fact that his wife is with him sometimes but is always parking the car while he is checking in.  My coworkers might possibly think im crazy, but now when I see him coming I either get up and leave, or call my ex-NFL playing boss to come stand behind me until he's gone.  I can't bring myself to file a formal complaint against him because realistically he is just complimenting me.  In the creepiest way possible. 

My poet stalker.

Once upon a time I had a stalker. Kinda...actually just an extremely strange situation on my hands.  I was sitting in Coach Freemans history class when I got a letter addressed to me that was sent to the high school.  I opened it,  a card and some papers.  I read on,  Dear Kristen,  I saw you play basketball and I think you're very pretty.  I want you to read these and I want to talk about it in person.  Signed, Jamal Smith. I dont remember his name... (but if you lived in UTC Place 3336, Jamal will give a paint a perfect picture.)  The papers were copies of this guys work. Apparently he was a published poet. His picture was there and everything, just a large black man with a fro. One of his poems was included,  the rest was an article talking about 'out of body experiences' and really really strange stuff.  He had written in the white space beside the articles talking about how he really thinks he could get through to me, and other reallllly creepy stuff.  Then, still semi-laughing, I took it to my teacher who said hmm maybe you should take it to the principals office to the SRO officer.  They were a lot more concerned with it than I was... until the police report came back.  Apparently the guy lived in Franklin Co (we had just had an away game there) and has a police record and gets in trouble with the law frequently.  Typically neighbor complaints, and small stuff. But it was enough for them to give me the make and model of his car and other special instructions.  As a Junior in highschool, I was horrified.

Big Mississippi.

One night out in Chattanooga, my girlfriend was at the bar getting a drink when an older short man struck up a convo.  They were just giggling away leaving me just standing there. Well I guess the gentleman with the short guy noticed this and heads on over.  Small talk continues... he informs me that he is the short Brazilian man's body guard.  I inquired what he does that requires a body guard and was given the response.... he's an entrepreneur.  Yea, ok.  So while my friend is dancing with shorty, apparently he slips a $100 bill and a $20 to her.  Damn it, im stuck playing wingman now.  So after many free drinks, my friend kisses the creepy Brazilian billionaire and big body guard is trying to put moves on me.  Not happenin.  Let me explain why... Big Mississippi gets his name honestly.  Picture a much grosser version of Big from Rob & Big on MTV. He is a 40ish African American, prolly 6'6 and 350 lbs.  acne scars all over his face, and just over all I would describe as not appealing... At all. So the night ends... my friend and his friend exchange numbers. Typically he would never have gotten the time of day, but they were talking trips to here, and trips to there, and free this, and free that.  Poor college kid gets sucked in.  So we agree to go to dinner with them when they were coming back through town a couple of days later.  Horrible idea.  Obviously the old men had expectations, we did not and they were both extremely affectionate.  Especially my friends guy.  We struggle through dinner, stilllll not sure exactly how this guy has so much money or what his 'career' is, and they insist on walking us to our car.  Well my poor girlfriends dude wasn't coming up for air he was so into her, and Big Mississippi kept trying to hold my hand the whole way to the car,  and then hugs me goodbye.  Doesn't let go.  I look up into all those fat rolls on his neck, and then he kissed me.  He had me in a bear hug,  I couldn't budge...  He finally lets go and my friend said my face was one that she'd never seen before and she didn't know if i was goin to cry, punch him, or throw up.  Big Mississippi got my phone number the night before and literally called me everyday for 2 months.  I'm not exaggerating at all.  Voicemails included, and yes.. texts too.  I wont even go into detail on what they said, but at the time I was really worried about having a potential drug lords bodyguard as my 2nd all time stalker. 

The Perverted Pressure Washer

This happened way back when I was very young and impressionable.  I believe I was 18 and at home one summer.  My Dad had hired some guy that some other guy had recommended to pressure wash the house.  Well he was out running errands but had told me he was coming and he may need a ladder or whatever and to just tell him where things were if needed.  My mother had just had ankle surgery and was posted up on the couch.  Well he knocks at the door for the first thing, the ladder.  No prob I directed him to it.  He was a scrawny, maybe 5'8, upper 30s, white guy.  Balding on top, facial hair, and just straight white trash looking.  Well he came back to the door again, and I helped him with whatever insignificant thing it was. This happened like 2 more times.  Stupid stuff that he could have done on his own.  Then he asked me to move the cars in the front so they didn't get sprayed/dirty.  Ok, finally a logical reason to bother me... I move moms,  and get in mine to move...

Our driveway isn't even with our house and part of it sticks out into the side yard.  The side yard faces street and we have neighbors on that side as well.  Well I get in my car, look up, and this disgusting and disturbed man is suddenly 5 feet in front of my car with his penis pulled out peeing.  Looking me dead in the eyes.  OH HELL NO.  I throw it in reverse.  Park it.  And start storming to the front door. He has the nerve to start walking next to me.  I verrryy politely (not) told him to get away from me right now.  I get inside to see my Dad pulling up in the basement drive.  I'm flipping out and just straight pissed that this jerk off had the nerve to just do that to me and could not wait to tell my Father who was supossed to beat up any bad guys for my whole life. Nope, my sweet laid back Dad was just as calm as ever. I mean, I was 100% sure he was going to go rip the guys dick off when I told him what had happened.  My mother and I are just in a tissy, and my Dad just calming sat down, probably popped open a beer, and said well we will never use him again.  I was floored.  It wasn't until a few weeks later, I found out that my Dad had in fact gone out and talked to the guy and it wasn't pretty, but my mom wouldn't tell me what he said.  Whoooo does that?! 

Revisiting these stories, I just cant help but think... It's a sick sick world we live in, full of perverts, creepers and mentally unstable idiots.  But what can you do, life goes on.

My First (and last) Blind Date... What an athlete.

Everyone goes through phases in life.  Last year about this time I went through one where I wanted to date. I had been told, 'Spann you're just too picky,' or "you just never give anyone a chance' one too many times. So, I set out to prove people wrong and decided I was going to accept a date offer from nearly anyone.  About that time someone wanted to set me up with a friend who was super funny, cute, and nice. I was shown a picture, he got my number, text me, asked me to meet him at the YMCA downtown the next evening and then to dinner.

I was actually really excited about this date.  He was really cute from his picture I was shown, was charming and funny in his texts, and the fact that he wanted to go to the gym (he knew i was a D1 basketball player) meant he must be an athlete too.

Date night:

We were supposed to meet at 6:30.  At like 6:15, when I was already on my way he informs me he misjudged traffic and would be a bit late.  I said that's just fine, I will just hop on an elliptical until you get here.  30 minutes later, I'm accidentally a sweaty mess waiting to meet this man for the first time. Great.  Then I see him come in.  Wait, that can't be him... he looks like an adult blonder version of Screech from Saved by the Bell, and he has on... no those can't be, wait.. yep. Swim trunks? and a too tight for his scrawny body T-shirt?  -Ok, dont make eye contact, he's never met you maybe you can run out the back door.  I couldn't do it, so I get off the machine and go to say hello to Dustin Diamond and go in for a hug.  He gives me a side hug... strike #2. Silence.  So i offer going to the basketball courts for a game of horse (we had already discussed playing prior to the date). He said he needs to get warmed up a bit and he would meet me in there.  Ok, sure... As I'm shooting I'm reminding myself, don't be picky... So he's not Brad Pitt, he's got a great sense of humor.  And then it happened... Strike #3. He came in the gym and shot a basketball like a 4th grade girl.  If there is 1 sure fire way to turn me off... it's to shoot a basketball with 2 hands.  It's my passion, my pride, and you sir, are making a fool of the sport. I try to forget the fact that he blamed it on the weights he had just lifted during his warm up. But ok, I'm just going to suck it up.  I can't remember specifics, but I think I beat him in horse and only had a 'H'. If his skills weren't bad enough, he continually was trying to touch me.  You know, like subtly touching my arm as he tried to talk to me.  I'm pretty sure the dating for dummies may have left out the fact that you can't do that while playing a sport.  So, i offer to move on to racquetball.... something he claimed to be good at and I have never played before.  I'm not bragging, and maybe I'm a little too competitive and shouldn't have; but I beat him at his own sport. All the while he's still trying to have serious conversation while im focusing on hitting that tiny ball.  I suggest maybe we should move on to dinner, im sure he has more to offer than his athletic ability.

I go to the locker room and throw on a bra, new tshirt, freshen up on the deodorant and leave my yoga pants and shoes on. He wasn't ready, so it sit down.  5 minutes go by... well maybe he showered? 10 minutes go by... is he giving me an easy out?  maybe he left?  and then he came out.  In a 3 piece suit.  Matching hat included.  I say suit loosely because it was like a tacky velour/ velvet material... yes, the hat was too. I would have been happier if he had kept the swim trunks on. Strike #4-8. So, i apologize for not bringing clothing options and we head to our cars.  He then informs me that he needs me to drive because he's still in his 'college car'. I inquire about his age, 29 (strike #9). We head to dinner, my option didn't work out, so he directs me to a 'nice spot' in East Nashville.  We get there and it was actually a bar, and that's 100% ok because I'm in gym clothes and he's in a suit(ish) and i would rather not be seen by anyone I know at this point.  We sit down, he starts talking about this great beer and so when the waitress comes up I order his suggestion.  She asks him what he would like and he looks at her seriously and says 'Oh I don't drink' like it is a horrible thing. Awkward moment #6, and strike #10.

Conversation wasn't horrible.  He lives with his family & has no ambition (strike #11), spoke of the 11 different states he has lived in the past 5 years, and kept commenting on how beautiful my eyes were. I can pretty much talk to anyone if I have to, so besides the awkward 'subtle' touching he continued to do, dinner wasn't miserable. As we are walking back to my car, he informs me that my shoe was untied.  I prop my foot up to tie it on a small ledge, and as I did he leans over and gently rests his head on my shoulder. Top 10 most uncomfortable experiences of my life.  He left his head just laying on my upper back/shoulder while I continued to tie my shoe.  I've never wanted to own velcro shoes more than in that moment. BIG Strike #12. I'm just tired of being polite at this point and just want to get him back to his car. Obviously im being quite on the drive. Then this guy grabbed my hand and proceeds to say, 'Um.. would it be ok if I asked to kiss you?'

Did you just ask permission to ask to kiss me? I just felt really bad for the nerd, and we were at a red light.. so I just leaned over and kissed him. Ha, jusssst kidding. I took my hand back from his, gripped the steering wheel firmly and told him, no i don't kiss on the first date. I dropped him off at his poor clunker of a car, and never heard from him again. 

 += Hopefully, my worst date ever.



I'm not sure how many times he struck out that night, but I sure learned a few lessons from it:

-Don't listen to your friends. If you don't want to go out on a date with someone, DONT
-Stay away from velour suits at all costs.
-Don't ever go on a first, second, or third, date at at gym. Too many possibilities for failure.
-Subtle touches = awkward moments.
-Learn how to ignore your conscious and run when you can.

That was my first and last blind date. 

A Brown Lace Thong and a Breath-Right Strip...

I think my first post was enough self-humiliation for a while, soo I want to share my all-time favorite story and embarrass one of my girlfriends instead...

It was around 11:30 before my 3 girlfriends and I got settled in our hotel right off of Michigan Ave in Chicago.  We debated and then decided to just go out and have a drink or two and have a chill night considering we only had 3 days to cram lots of sightseeing in.  So we take off to just find a bar around the hotel... obviously not knowing where one was, but assuming that we could find one easily.  Not.  30 minutes of wandering around a ghost town (minus the scary homeless men of course) we come across a little Irish pub.  It was dead, but we got a nice little table and ordered a couple of beers.  I still don't understand this part, but 30 minutes later we were surrounded by literally like 10 men.  Mostly old men, but that's not the point. 

The point was, they were funny, friendly, and our glasses were never empty and we were having a great time.  You know chill nights never end up as planned.

So we closed the bar down, got a cab back to the hotel, and decided we needed food to end the night.  When Katie and I left to go on our little food hunt, the other 2 were washing there faces, putting PJ's on, and crawling into bed.  We go to the 7-11 across the street and come home to find them so asleep that they dont even wake up to eat the drunk food.  So Katie and it all, and crawled into bed.

Here's where things get strange.  6:45 am Suzanne bursts through the hotel door, I pop up in bed and witness her digging through her clutch that's on the ironing board by the door.  Then I notice the man... in a uniform? She looks at him like he was the devil and screams, "Here..." and passes over her drivers license.  Obviously satisfied, he leaves and I immediately question if she's ok and what is going on? She glares at me and says, 'I'm fine.. you f'ing left me at the bar.  Just go back to bed Spann." Ummmm... ok. She was in noooo mood to discuss this, soo I went back to bed.  We wake up the next morning, and I inquired if she remembered the little incident the night before.  Ohhh the light bulb turned on, her eyes got big, and she covered her mouth. 

Apparently, Suz is a surprise sleepwalker... hasn't happened before, but she came to and woke up on floor 14 (we were on floor 16) knocking on a door and hearing a reply of  'Honey, I think you've got the wrong room.'  She had been riding the elevator up and down knocking on random doors.  Once the nice lady snapped her back to reality she realized what was happening and that she had no idea what room we were in.  So, she rode the elevator a bit more (keep in mind it's an elevator with windows), and decided that she was going to have to go to the front desk.  Now I will mention my favorite part...

She was wearing a white tank top, a brown lacey thong, and her breathright strip.

Yep... my friend was roaming around the Inn of Chicago in a thong.  And yes, she did have to go to the front desk at 6:30 in the morning when it was full of business men.  Thinking a bit more clearly now, she got off the elevator, and butt against the wall scooted down the hall, around the corner, and to the side of the front desk.  I can only imagine the shock on the workers face when he saw what was in front of him. He said 'Miss, what do you think you're doing?!?!'  she informed him, very politely im sure, that she was locked out of her room.  He then responds and asks her which room she was in and got a quite obvious, 'Well if I knew what my room number was, dont you think I would be there?!' They figure it out, and hurriedly got her out of the main lobby.  You may be asking yourself this question, but yes still barefoot in her thong and tank... Why they didn't give her something... anything to cover herself with, I'm not sure.  So they accompany her back to the room, and make her get her ID to prove she was really staying in the hotel I guess.  And that brings the story full circle.  My friend probably roamed around the hotel for a solid 30 minutes half naked, with a breathright strip on.  I'm giggling again just thinking about it.

The next night...
We are getting ready to go out, and we're in the lobby... (we liked to hang out there as much as possibly the rest of the trip, just to live up her uncomfortableness) Katie asks one of the security guys if he was working last night.  He smile, looks dead at Suzanne, says yes... and points at her.  He chose his words simply and only said, 'No one believed me...'  the rest of us lost it and needed to know more.  Yes, he was working and yes he told everyone about it that day.  By the grace of God, somehow she wasn't on the video tapes (the more i think about it, the more i think they lied to her), and soon a couple of other workers had approached us saying... 'This is the girl?  That's her?!'

My sweet and appropriate Suzanne...

Barefoot with a brown lacey thong and a breathright strip... geez