Jacket Oil Vote Clever Sam's Halloween

So check it out, y'all. Last night? Got the jacket back!!! WOO!!! It's been since March and we're finally reunited. Sigh. There is contentment in the air. Yesterday and today went pretty well altogether. Let's start from the beginning, shall we? Or at least the parts I remember. Hee!

First, I got my oil changed. Now, this is routine and banal, but you know how when something has been nagging at you and you know you have to get it done and you either forget or procrastinate? Well, I had been procrastinating because I knew I would be visiting my parents' on the weekend of the 22nd and my dad always does it. Not because I insist on it, but he just likes taking care of his little girl even though I'm not so little any more. If you're a parent (or even a doting close relative), you understand that. Anyway! Well, we all know what happened last Saturday morning (and thank you all for your inquiries and good thoughts. He's doing great and finding new and fun ways to build things that blink using only one arm.). Can you believe he still wanted to change my oil Sunday morning? I'm all, "No, One-Armed Wonder, I'll pay $25 to have someone who's slightly less injured do it." So I did it! In under a week! It's so cleansing to get that black cloud removed from your soul. You know...by...getting your...oil.........changed.....

So earlier in the day (Friday), the co-parent had asked if I wanted to go sing karaoke with him. It was kind of "Oh you're going to go sing tonight? Where do you go?" and then he was all, "Yeah, I go to Vinny's. You wanna go?" Because both of us have professional-grade voices (it ain't braggin if it's true, OK???), we sang a lot back in the day. It sounded fun mainly because I hadn't been out singing in a long time. But then it was Friday afternoon, I was running late because I had to pick my car up. Now, there is something I've learned about traffic in this area. Maybe it's everywhere, I don't know. Every minute you leave later, your traffic time multiplies exponentially. If I leave at 4:50, it takes me 20 minutes to get to Gabi's day care. If I leave right at 5:00, it takes 35 minutes. If I leave at 5:10, it takes an hour. Child, I ain't even makin that up. So anyway, I was wearing my work logo shirt and I am NOT wearing that out. Basically, I didn't have time to go home and pick up another shirt. It was 4:57 and if I went home first, I would not get on the highway until 5:15 at the earliest and I just did not have the patience for that. So I head straight for the highway. As I'm driving in my 24 minute commute I decide I cannot sing karaoke tonight, for I have nothing to wear to the ball. Oh dudes, I should totally tell you about a dream I had about me and my hot mulatto boyfriend! It's not dirty or anything. Pervs. But that's for another post. So I get the lil princess, head off to Nana's and we sit and we chat and then Nana's all telling Gabs that "Mommy and Daddy are going to go out together tonight." Now, we're in the garage at this point (it's like an outdoor family room at their house) and I'm going inside. I get one foot in the door (literally) and I turn around and say, "no we're not." Nana whirls around, "Why not?!?" I point to my shirt and say, "I'm not wearing this!" She says, "I've got tons of clothes!" Now, this sounds weird coming from someone they call "Nana" but I'm sure I could've found something decent to wear. But I pause...put my other foot in the door and say, "Oh you just want another grandbaby!" She gives this look like, "Well, duh!" I just laugh and go inside. Seriously dudes, there is no effing way in this life or next that we are getting back together. He and I walk this very fine line between "Oh, you're smart and funny and we have great conversations" and "I must restrain myself from flying into a murderous bloody rage for the sake of our child." It's better this way.

So, I drive home. I take a shower. I putter around in my towel, painting my toenails, and watching Medical Investigation and finding it very easy to become distracted from it. Phone rings. It's Robby! He is married to my dear friend Melinda. Anyway, he says they're heading up to my regular bar and wanted to know if I'd be out! He and Melinda and Melinda's brother Mike, and everyone's friend and all-around kick-ass girl Jordan were all going! Yay! So see, if I had stayed and gone to sing karaoke, I would've probably missed out on the good funtimes. So I get dressed and paint my face and brush my hair and go up there to meet them. I immediately sat down with them without saying hello to all of my regular friends. I don't think this is bitchy since I see those people every week and I hadn't seen Melinda since August and Jordan since like...January! Mike lives in Chicago, so I can't say for sure when I saw him last. Anyway, this leads to people either not knowing I'm there or giving me looks like, "what are you doing over there with people we don't know instead of over here with us?" Don't worry, I made nice with everyone as the night progressed. So I got to see pictures of the baby and we briefly dipped into political conversation. Whew, that is a minefield if I ever heard one. It all started with Robby pulling Melinda out of a conversation she was in with me to gesture to Jordan and say, "You didn't tell me she was a Democrat!" I find this so hilarious because Robby is the most innocuous, whatever-you-say, if-that's-what-you-like, easy-going person I've ever met. EVER! The guy really enjoys talking about darts and beer. And politics is certainly not the most innocuous thing ever, especially four days before what everyone is calling "the most important election of our lifetimes." Which.... yeah it's important, but our whole LIVES? Dramatic much? So then Melinda is all "I'm not voting." Jordan....oh man, she does not like that one bit. Melinda tries to defend herself by saying that she hasn't done her reasearch and she's just not sure which way she would vote. Jordan: still not having any of it. I explain that you've got to vote for SOMEONE even if you vote for Harrison Ford (he made a good president, right?). So if, say, the vote tallies come back with 20% "Other/write in votes" then I think that would send a message that a lot of people don't like the current system and/or the current candidates at all. Not that I think it would ever get that high, but you get my freakin point, OK? We have the right to vote. It is not a mandate. It is a privelege. And Jordan made a great point when she said that women died to ensure that we have that privelege. That's when I brought up Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Apropos, no? Have you guys seen the "get-out-and-vote" commercials on Comedy Central? Well, there's one with Triumph heckling innocent people on the street. He goes up to one guy and asks him if he'll be voting. The guy says no. And Triumph says, "Any other rights you'd like to squander?" Hilarious and to the point. I wish I could be to the point. Just once, you know?

So Melinda and Robby leave. Now it's just me and Jordan and Mike. Somehow, the conversation got turned around to me. Now don't think I'm some egomaniac, OK? I really don't know how this happened. I think someone stopped by to say hello or goodbye or something and I made the oft-hilarious statement that everyone loves me. Jordan asks, "And why DO people love you?" And I said as adorably as possible, "Well, duh! I'm adorable!" She shoots back, "No really. Why do you think people like you?" At this point, I'm all, "...." Then I say, "I'm not sure. I'm really loud and opinionated, but I try not to be condescending and close-minded" or something to that effect. Then I opine that for some reason, men my age do not like me. 20 year old bartenders? Love me! 40 year old bankers? Love me! Any male in the 25-35 age range? Bzzzzzzzzzt!!! Wrong!!! She asks, "Why do you think that is?" Again, "....." I'm thinking, dude, if I knew that, I probably wouldn't have a problem. I go through some possibilities, I'm loud, I don't need a man (I want a man, which is very different), I'm very independent (which is what I thought guys wanted??), and I think they get confused when they realize that blonde southern women can actually have working neurons. Mike jumps in here with something to the effect of "Maybe you should just chill the hell out." Of course he didn't use those exact words because Mike is a great guy. I think he used something more like "relax." (I just watched Zoolander. Hee!) So maybe I'm too intense? I don't think I overanalyze and I think I'm pretty cool with stuff overall, but I can see his point. So if I start to look like I'm not chill, please, someone tell me to not freak out. Do not EVER tell me to chill. I freakin hate that. Or when I'm really mad and someone tells me to calm down....whoa, I hope you're ready for tea because there's going to be some steam. And possibly a satan-voice. I'm talking about if I am overanalyzing, freaking out about a situation that is possibly not that freak-outable, go ahead and tell me to quit it. If I'm mad, just let me be mad. I cannot be dealt with in those situations. Hey, I'm honest. Which brings me to my favorite part of the conversation. After having a semi-dark talk about my "issues" (of which I have none, I assure you)*, I ask Jordan why SHE thinks everyone loves me. She simply says, "You're clever." Now this is completely awesome for two reasons. One is, I love that word. Not because of the way it sounds or the way it's spelled. I love what it means. It means quick-witted! Original! Bright! Me?? Really??? Second, I truly love using that word to describe people, whether it being an honest assessment or an ironic one. So I assumed she meant it in the literal sense and was truly flattered. She explains that, "Yeah, I don't ever dread your presence. It's never like 'oh no, not her again.'" So guess what! I'm not a buzzkill!!! I'm not the death of the party!!! This is great! That was a great ego-boost.

Then I had a text message exchange with CK again. I'll just sum up for you this time. He said he wasn't hitting on me last week. Whatever, fool. You don't tell someone to "drive" when you're just messin around. So he's all "I'm on my way home, whatcha doin?" I say, "sitting up, thinking about how hot you are. what are you doing?" and he's all "going home to masturbate." And this reply is funny for two reasons. Let's play a game to see who can figure out what's so hilarious about my reply. "Think of me. I'm sure it's routine by now. Call me if you want to snuggle. Hee!" Now, the "hee" is there so he knows I'm totally kidding and that I know that he's just trying to prove to me that he can pretend to hit on me. So at least I got my jacket back. That's some sort of weird closure. Maybe this whole thing will ride off into the sunset. Let's hope.

And then today! Man. I paid my bills, I mailed/dropped off everything, and I went to Sam's. Now, I know I'm supposed to hate everything associated with the corporate monolith that is Wal-Mart, but I love Sam's. Not only do I have an $80 eye appointment (see oil change paragraph on why that's so satisfying) on Wednesday (that's cheap, yo), I was also approved for a Sam's credit card, AND I'm like, never running out of Q-Tips. Ever!!!

Then I got home to peace and satisfaction only to find Zoolander on TBS! I forgot how funny that movie was. Omigod. Just....too funny. So now I have to go get ready to go out. Mark says I should totally dress up. I'm all....well....I'm not very good at it. And then I started telling him my idea to go as Drunk Girl from SNL and he seemed to say that was OK. It always makes me nervous to go somewhere in costume. Didn't you guys see Bridget Jones's Diary? Oh that is one of my worst fears. Thinking everyone will be dressed up and then it's ONLY YOU??? Dread. So...maybe. I'm sure I'll be writing an update tomorrow since I can't seem to SHUT MY TRAP FOR MORE THAN 2 MINUTES!!! Whew. Anyway. OK. Toodle-oo!!

*You can stop laughing now. Really.