Le Sigh...

Well, looks like I shaved my legs in vein this morning. The boy is now working until midnight tonight, instead of hanging out with yours truly. ANNOYING. I mean, I can't blame the guy for working. He needs the hours, I get that. But...I was looking forward to it. Sigh.

It's a good thing I didn't plan my entire week around him...oops.

Looks like my good friend boxed wine and I will have a very hot date this evening. I should probably invite DVR. He's always a kick in the pants. I need to start painting again. Maybe tonight would be a good time to do so. Only I don't have a clue where an art supply store is in Vancouver - and I'm not sure I would want to find out. This city scares me. I feel far more comfortable on the south side of the Columbia River. Things are just easier over there.

Example: Last night I needed gas - no way I would have made it back to Oregon. So, I put on my big girl pants and drove to the closest service station. One problem. I could. not. make. it. work. Seriously, 20 minutes of futzing with the damn thing. I turned around, hoping someone would see my distress and come to my rescue - sure enough, Justin and Mariah from the banquet staff were right there! I frantically waved my arms at Justin, asking him to please get out of the car and assist me. He begrudgingly came to my side, looking at me like I was seriously inept. Justin took one look at the pump and told me to go inside to pay. That's it. I am officially a spoiled, helpless Oregonian. Sigh.

Sheer Panic

There is a fine line between nervous energy and panic. I thrive on stress - something I discovered the first week of working in my profession. I'm addicted to endorphins, I suppose. Cute boys tend to flip the switch to panic, however. Realizing I might ACTUALLY hangout with this boy - the fact it might ACTUALLY happen - has me freaking out. Take the onset of wedding season, add a two week period I will be out of the country- unable to control anything, toss in a cute boy who is tall and mysterious and BAM. Sweaty palms, tight chest...full on freak out.
Confidence is a funny thing. Wine helps, however.

Saturday Morning Edition

Last night was monumental. Why? We found the best. bar. ever. Okay, maybe not EVER but pretty damn good for a "stumble upon". Fuzzy tvs playing the Zers game, a bonfire in the back, a Foosball table, and PBR on draft - these are a few of my favorite things. I do believe Lucky's was the perfect setting for our Friday night. Yes, my head hurts a bit this morning. And yes, I am exhausted. And yes, I am foggy enough to start two sentences in a row with "And". But I laughed. A lot. Can you think of anything more therapeutic than an accidental great time with good people who not only inspire you to be better than you are, offer wonderful dating tips, agree to call you Rachel when appropriate, and sing whole-heartedly to Madonna in a bar full of angry men sporting unkempt beards? I enjoyed being "unapologetically myself". Something I am learning is easier said than done. Sometimes the stars align and the bitter cold drives you to enter the first door you come to.

Voila. Lucky's on Friday.

Welcome Back, Kotter!

Well, well, well. It has been a longggg ass time. Thanks Kristi. Your fabulous sense of humor and wonderful writing inspired me to "get back in the saddle".

I can't stop smiling. I've been bitten by the eewy, gooey crush bug. Very similar to a 12 year old school girl, I am on cloud nine because a boy paid attention to me. While I am aware this gross feeling goes against everything I stand for, I can't help it. HE TEXTED ME!! "He" - let's call him Fred - is gorgeous. This superficial fact alone has me all atwitter. I'm not sure we have ever really spoken in person. Maybe a passing, "hi"...but that's probably it. I can't bring myself to open my mouth around him, I get too nervous. Yes, this socially capable, self-described people person is at a loss for words because of a pretty boy. Sigh. So, how, you may ask, did we progress to texting? THANK YOU Mr. Zuckerberg. I owe you. Big time. A friend request, a few humiliating drunkbook messages, a desperate attempt to share my digits...and BAM! I am pretty sure he is petrified of my very calculated scheduling of our "hanging out". Being a gal who plans things for a living, I obviously had to have the day and time frame mapped out. In attempts to not come across psychotic, I prefaced my insanity with, "I'm an event planner - I like planning. It's sick, I know. Yes, I also like spread sheets". His response? "Yeah i'm not just FYI :)". The sad thing is the use of the smiley face did, in fact, make me grin. Sheesh, Fal. Get it together! Anyway, we are supposedly going to hangout Wednesday after he gets off work. Let's see how this pans out. I want to get into trouble. Fingers crossed.

Moving?!!?!

No, it wasn't the PBR and great company that kept me up last night. It's the impending move. I want to stomp my foot - Veruka Salt Style - and say "No, I don't wanna". I love my little oasis that is A428. It still smells new and i have artwork I haven't even hung yet. Sigh.
The carpet is lovely and new still - the blue stain in the bathroom was caused by yours truly. The refrigerator smells like tofu and the construction dust on the floor is mixed with MY hair. MINE. I love my annoyingly hipster neighbors, my mailbox that never gets anything but catalogues. I DON'T WANNA.

Saturday Office Coverage

I'm sitting in my office - at my desk - on a SATURDAY. This isn't fun. We rotate through managers, one of us has to be here on Saturdays. Today is my day. I didn't shower. I reapplied mascara over yesterday's smuges and I'm bitter. Buttttt - I haven't written in a long time. And now, with nothing else to do and the endless world of facebook seemingly exhausted, I am blogging. Novel concept for someone who supposedly does this regularly. I am feeling pretty good lately. I have been getting along swimingly with the parents...amazing what changes when I can once again pay my own rent. Shantae is doing well, she putts around just fine. I've been lucky to have a good girlfriend move back from LaLa Land and we have been hanging out a lot. Danny moves back this weekend...and voila! The Rebranding of moi is manageable.

Letter to new brides

Bride to be:

First and foremost – CONGRATULATIONS on your engagement! Although I know you think this is “the happiest time in your life”, you are sorely mistaken. In fact, more than half of US marriages end in divorce these days. You and your fiancé will most likely join those ranks. But, if you are insistent on getting married, I hope you are ready to spend lonely nights waiting for your man to come home. Chances are he will be out philandering with strippers, cocktail waitresses and other hussies. You probably will end up sniffing his shirts, picking up traces of dime store knockoff CK1.

The best part will be when you catch crabs from your cheating hubby. At first you will be too embarrassed to confront him about it – but after a few glasses (or bottles) of wine alone on a Friday night, when your husband is “working late”, you will work up the courage to confront him. He will deny it, you will cry and beg for the truth. Trust me, you don’t want to know.

If you are stilllllll considering marrying this guy, take a gander at the enclosed packet. All the deets are outlined in there. Let’s meet about 6 weeks before your “big day” to discuss linen colors, etc. Other than that, please don’t bother me. Your event is NOT the biggest thing to ever happen at the Lodge. Honestly. Your final numbers are due 5 business days before your blessed union. No exceptions. I don’t care how important you think you are. I am not excited about spending my “day off” at your party. Sorry, but it’s the truth.
Late-skies,









Catering Sales Manager