growing up to become older in age and sometimes mind and body.

staying young in spirit and in size.

not but a week ago i was trying to grow up professionally, in a direction that i am still interested in growing in. however, the easy opportunity door, closed and it barely effected me… barely. i really wanted it, but i also really want my life to be mine… so when the door shut, i knew that nothing would stop me from what i wanted in the long run… the path would just be different. – so now i feel all weird and grown up in that aspect.

today i realized this… i get unsatisfied with my job when my personal life is suffocated and is in need of resuscitation… so i called… FUCK IT. i love what i do… and when i stop to think about what it is i do, i really get a little surprised by the ease, the growth and the possibilities for a successful personal life that my job allows me to have. – so another grown up life lesson…

my friend/business partner just informed me that our online literary magazine is moving towards success with writers and critics alike. and it is fast becoming a sought after publication… – dang. that makes me feel really honored and all achieved and stuff.

i am coming up on my 4 year wedding anniversary, and yet i can’t imagine that it has been that long… or a life without the man who makes me smile and cry. – grown up shit.

most of my petty fears have dissipated, and now i am just left with the real fears to conquer… and yet i am not afraid of what may come of that accomplishment. dang.

i drink wine. like on the real. and i like it.

i am being all smart about what i eat and when.

i actually want to be more resourceful and independent from frivolous technology.

and still…

i was at payless, because i just don’t pay more… and i am shopping in the size 4 section (as i always do). i find a cute cute pair of silver shoes, and as i reach for them… i notice they are hannah montana shoes and i cringe deep and full of conviction. hell to the fuck to the nah…

i went to target today and bought some 100% cotton thermal shirts from the little gal section XL of course… but $8.00. verses $10 for a ladies cotton blend… hell to the fuck to the nah…

people still think i am 12. which i kinda still am.

i still cry when i hear the song fish & bird by tom waits.

i like to hold hands.

i think blowing kisses is romantic and a great way to show PDA.

and when i see my friend’s tiny profile pic on her face book account i think it is a penis in her face…. but it is really her dog trying to lick her (no pun intended)… you can tell when you actually click on her profile and the picture is bigger, but still…

i still laugh at the words: poop, tea bags and golden rod.

 some things are worth changing… others aren’t.

MWAH!

i was on my way home from my boyfriend’s house. it was late. and i was eerily content.

 i was driving with my windows down and one of my favorite songs (back then) on repeat. my ford tempo had only two motor mounts and a cursed radiator, but my dad made up for it by putting a cd player in it. i was almost home when i saw a frantic woman rush into the middle of the street waving her hands in the air (like she did care).

She pleaded, “HELP! PLEASE”

i stopped. Looked at her and thought to myself, if tonight is the night i am going to die then so be it.

“PLEASE! My son’s inhaler is at my friend’s house. He may have an asthma attack any minute! i have got to go get it, but my car won’t start!”

“Is it far?”

“no. not at all. i promise.”

While she got into the passenger seat, i noticed her hands shaking, the sweat on her forehead, and her inability to shut up.

“Okay. You know where tidwell is? With all of the apartments?”

growing up i had a friend who lived over there, “Yep.”

“well my friend lives in those apartments.”

As soon as I started to drive, she thanked me. however, it seemed as though her concern for her son disappeared.

“You in highschool?”

“yep.”

“Oh that must be fun!”

“not really.”

“Oh.”

i tried to stay as quiet as possible, and i knew that she was nervous, but not the “i am going to kill this person and rob her” nervous. she kept thanking me over and over. and she kept forgetting her son over and over.

when we reached the gate to the apartment complex, she couldn’t remember the code to get in, nor could she remember her friend’s apartment number. she got out and slipped between some bars that had been pried open for such an occasion as this one.

i watched her move so quick, so hungry.

the thought of leaving her there never crossed my mind. i just sat with the feeling of content. the feeling of satisfaction for my life.  i waited for her return and i listened to the cars go by, to the life that had no idea what i was doing there or what i was feeling. she must have been gone for fifteen minutes or so. i kept thinking, feeling, noticing. i saw her. she walked slower this time. calm. collected.

when she entered the car she wasn’t sweating, she had no inhaler in her hands or in her dress. she seemed as though she had seen some sort of clarity for life in that apartment.

“You know, you seem like such a  nice young girl with a great head on your shoulders. You should enjoy your time in high school. you should because life doesn’t get any better than that.”

i just drove. i was never one to respond to that comment. why in the hell would i live past high school if i believed in that nonsense. what she meant was, she should have enjoyed her time in high school, that her life would never get any better.

“you know when i was in your age. i was a singer. i was in choir. i loved to sing.”

“i am actually in choir.”

“oh really. i can tell just by looking at you that you are a really good singer. you should keep going with that. follow your dreams, you know?”

i didn’t want to tell her that my dreams did not consist of singing, i did not want to tell her that my dreams consisted of this feeling of content that i had. i did not want her to feel as though she did not understand it, or worse was not capable of it.

“follow your dreams, kid.”

when we got back to her house. she looked at me. she was worn, tired, physically and emotionally depressed. she looked at me with such shame in her eyes, such regret and i knew that she had just come full circle and she would keep spinning, keep loosing hope. she teared up and said thank you one last time before getting out of my car.

i watched her enter her house. listened to the life outside of my self, this experience and i knew that i would never experience her presence again.

when i reached my house, i got out of the car and looked up at the night sky. i took a moment to remember the lack of color in the trees, the de-saturated green in the leaves. the concrete seemed as though it belonged in the dark, the color did not seem to change with the night, but instead it looked as if it were naturally created by the moon light. i went inside, felt my way through my house, reached my bedroom door and got undressed in the dark. i laid down in my bed. in that moment, i was content; i was ready for anything to begin or end, which ever life saw fit for me.

tonight, i was designing for a friend… resume. and while yes the layout of a resume is pretty cut and dry… the font choice isn’t and the color isn’t as well. the good thing about doing things for friends is that i understand who it is they are, i can get the feeling of what the typeface should convey, what the colors should symbolize… so it isn’t as crazy…

but i still second guess myself.

tonight, i chose to listen to bukowski read selected work. charles bukowski uncensored. it is a major rough edit version of him reading. you hear him speak about his work and the people who like him and the future audience that will finally make him a “name” in literature after his death. it was recorded during the time he was writing pulp, and in it he mentions the book in progress, and that it is written to be bad, to be nasty, to be completely off from everything he has ever written. and it is. while listening to him, he just seemed so ready and in tune with the fact that he was old and he was close to death.

and his honest opinion about himself, life and his method for writing… it just helped me focus on my intent for this particular design project.

after it was done, i still had some designing to do and a cake to bake. so, i found some chris rock on my itunes and the result was the same. this blatant honesty, just kept me going. not second guessing my methods, my capability with art.

however, when i tried to write this blog… it was not helping. so i went back to tom waits. and started typing away.

yesterday evening, we went to dinner- bombay sweets $6.99 all you can eat vegetarian indian food – with a friend. we were catching up on being non social and really just watching all the episodes of heroes… we liked that the writers might have realized that milo cannot act, but instead they added yet another character who couldn’t act… daphne.  and that is when our friend says, “Oh an acquaintance of mine said she got a part on that show. She wasn’t in it from the beginning. She was suppose to be a villain or something. She has short blonde hair…We met in Austin and she moved to LA.”

dang.  his acquaintance was in fact the gal who played daphne. and when i realized that, i couldn’t help my self when i said, “Yeah dude. She can’t act. Like really can’t.”

he went on to describe her, and then he said, “well thats too bad. she came to see me performing some stand up and she had nothing but nice things to say about it.”

to which my husband replied, “yeah, i bet she is a nice person, but she was my least favorite character on the show. and i think the writers realized cause they killed her off pretty early. which is something they do to what seems to be the people who can’t act. but they are stuck with the guy who plays peter cause he is a pretty key character”

and because i wasn’t in a deep enough hole, i kept digging, “yeah i guess the director told her to be sassy, so she always puckered her lips when she talked and squinted her eyes… she would toss her head from side to side.” and then i imitated her… “hey matt parkman, you don’t know me okay. i am bad.”

our friend kinda giggled and said, ”no. that wasn’t the writers; that is just how she talks.”

dang.

 i was done trying to reason out her acting skills on that show, “well never mind then.”

“yeah i’m just never going to mention this to her, ” said our friend, “she got another part as a junkie in some sci-fi movie.”

and that made me feel relieved… at least she was still able to get work… so she can grow into a better actor. right? and she makes more money than i ever would so she wins. right?

we found out in early march and we thought back to exactly when it could have happened. and we began to feel disappointed. weren’t disappointed with the idea of the pregnancy. however, we were disappointed with the story of the conception… we are people of stupid intellect and stupid culture (or really what we consider those things to be) and we love novels and movies… that aren’t filled with bullshit and predictability… and our story went like this…

valentine’s dinner, drunk as shit… but obviously still able to function in the way that counts.

can you smell the stink of cliche?  oh boy we were more devastated with that, than the actual idea of loosing our free time and extra cash.

so here we were, soon to be parents… we were suppose to deliver in november… and my husband wanted so bad to name it dostoevsky… and i want so bad to just give it a regular name. alice? matilda lou? what about just, lou?  and with every name i gave out he just looked so disappointed in our agreement to love each other forever.

“lou? are you serious? what if it’s a girl?”

“girls can be named lou!”

“no. no they can’t.”

and like that i was trying to figure out how to make dostoevsky cute. dos? kiki? v? d-man? tos? ovie?

 we called parents and got congratulations.

then we called my ma.

“are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“um. yeah. i mean i am married, i have already graduated from college with two degrees.”

“yeah, but you’ve always said that you don’t want kids.”

“i know, but here we are.”

“yeah, but you don’t have to be there.”

and she was right, i had always said that i don’t want kids. i had always wanted to adopt kids, not push them out of my… but yes, here we were. and the situation wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

so, we went full speed ahead. bought the prenatals, got some almond oil to help with keeping my skin moisturized in the areas that were soon to grow. we contacted our friend to make some art for the baby’s room. we considered how we were going to feed it, change it, clothe it, and more importantly support it.

we both worked. i worked at an upscale grocery store. my job was pretending to care when people with diamonds the size of a small countries complained about how much the nayonaise cost them (what about the LIFE that was lost for your fucking diamond you lousy narcissistic broad?). my absolute favorite part of the job was when i went outside to collect the carts and bring them back inside.

it was like any other day except now i had to make sure i didn’t over work myself… and i was collecting the carts outside. after i was done, i went to the restroom and found blood. i didn’t panic because i had read that a lot of women still bleed while pregnant. I told my boss and he sent me home for the day.

i was resting at home when i got up to use the restroom again. more blood. a lot more. so i told my husband and we talked about whether or not we needed to go to the emergency room.

“i don’t know?”

“how did they deal with this kinda thing before emergency rooms?’

“i guess they just let it all flush out and then went about their day.”

“do you think that is what we should do?”

“well it is still very early into the pregnancy. if there is any time to naturally miscarry without harm, it is now.”

“but what if you are hurt?”

“well… dunno?”

“then we should go.”

and we did. oh went to the wonderful all caring emergency room.

it was about 3 p.m. when we checked in. we sat next  in the waiting room. and we…

waited…

waited…

waited…

 i am not sure if we were worried or upset. i wasn’t. the way i see these sort of things is… it happens, has happened to others, is happening to me, will happen to someone else. there is no use crying over something that i really have no control over. it is best to just deal with it the best way i can, and move on. of course this is not true for the rest of my life, but that isn’t what this story is about.

when we first got there, there was a girl screaming in a wheel chair. she cried and screamed. the nurses were just telling her to quiet down. apparently this girl came in once a week saying that she was having some sort of problems… but i guess the way the nurses saw it was that they couldn’t do anything about the type of problems she really had.

while in the waiting room, we couldn’t help but listen to other people talking to each other or other people on the phone.

one girl was there for a miscarriage as well… she was telling someone on the phone that if her man didn’t stop hitting her they could finally have a baby (see my situation could have been much worse).

and when she was finally called in, we were back to square one…

waiting…

waiting…

waiting…

 and then we watched the late afternoon turn into the evening.

a woman with children walked in. what looked to be her oldest son had a huge welt in his throat… so big that he could put his head upright. however. she didn’t have the time to be too concerned with him. her youngest boy, te-te was what needed the most attention and he was going to get it no matter what or how.

“ma ma.”

“ma ma.”

“ma ma.”

“ma ma.”

“ma ma.”

“WHAT?????”

“ma ma,” pointing to his sister, ”she hit me.”

“what did you do to get hit?”

“nothin!”

“YOU LIE TE-TE! OOOOOO, YOU LIE! MAMA HE IS LYING TO YOU,” interjected one of his sisters.

“you lying to me te-te? you better not be lying to me!”

Te-te just sat there. quiet. and then you heard…

“Ow! MAMA TE-TE HIT ME!”

“did you hit her te-te? you just like your daddy. you like to hit girls. that’s why your daddy is in jail.”

“yeah, te-te you’re not suppose to hit girls.”

“so. i don’t care!”

“you don’t care?”

“no. i hit any girl i want to.”

“you gonna hit your wife?”

“yep.”

“she gonna call the police on you!’

“so. i don’t care! i’ll run from ‘um!”

“yeah. you best run from ‘um.”

and for about 5 mins we had nothing interesting to listen to. te-te and his sister were play thumb war. and from what it sounded like, he was loosing.  and then more magic…

“i don’t want to play with you anymore!”

“oh come on, te-te.”

“no. i never win!”

“just one more time te-te!”

“no!”

“i’ll let you win!”

“okay!”

“don’t you let him win!” ma ma said, “he’s got to win on his own. if he can’t beat a girl on his own now, he never will.”

“sorry te-te.”

it was around 8:30 when my name was finally called. they took me to the back. checked my heart rate, blood pressure and took blood. then they sent me back into the waiting room.

te-te’s mama looked exhausted. her kids were finally settled down. the oldest boy just sat there with his head back and his eyes closed. everyone was ready for this all to be over with. everyone, but te-te. he just couldn’t settle down. it was as though he never really got out all that much. he ran around and around. he messed with his sisters and he stared at his brother’s welt. his mama watched him, and then she reached inside her purse and pulled out a bottle of prescription cough syrup. she twisted the cap and drank some. stopped and watched te-te some more.

“come here te-te.”

“yeah.”

“here drink this.”

she handed the cough syrup to him and he reached for it with his little chubby hands. the bottle looked to be the size of a small flask.

“what is it mama?”

“it will help you calm down and go to sleep.”

he put the bottle towards his mouth and swallowed. and in a few short moments te-te did calm down, but he didn’t fall asleep.

the waiting room was now quiet and we were left with our thoughts of whose name would be called next. a homely woman who resembled mrs. doubtfire walked in with a much younger man. they had their clip board in hand, and they sat down. the woman began to fill out the paper work. and then she looked as though she had had it with something.

“i’m the one who is hurt. why am i filling  out this paper work?”

there was no answer from the man.

“well. you’re suppose to be taking care of me. you are my husband.”

i don’t think i was the only one in the room who was a bit shocked when we all heard that. the now known husband still said nothing.

“well. here take it!”

he took the clipboard and just stared at it.

“that says… address. it is asking for your address. don’t you know our address?”

still the husband said nothing. the woman reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper.

“here. this is it right here.”

the man just looked at the paper and still said nothing.

“fine. i’ll do it myself. again!”

the woman filled out her paper work in an angry hurry and then her phone rang.

“hello,” she quickly handed the phone to her husband, “its your brother.”

and with the phone to his ear the quiet man we once knew started a loud conversation in spanish over the phone. he went on and on about god knows, but his voice was full of personality, laughter and sarcasm. when he got off the phone the woman started up again.

“what did he have to say?”

“no se dice.”

“no se dice! it sounded like you se dice a lot. and you’re going to tell me no se dice?”

her husband sat quiet, with his arms crossed and the look in his eyes was one with purpose. the purpose of having the strength to endure, for he only had a short amount of time before he became a citizen.

the room stayed quiet and it seemed as though everyone had been there forever. it was now 10:30 and myself and the others still hadn’t been called. my husband and i walked up to the counter.

“hi. we’ve been here since 3. when do you think we will be able to leave?”

“you can leave whenever you want. no one is being seen tonight unless they are going to die.”

my husband and i looked at each other. he put his arm around my shoulders and we turned and walked out the double doors.

reflection.

there is only one way i can reflect, and that is complete and total isolation. however, being married now… not so much the same thing. now it is harder to accomplish without ruining my love’s mood as well… of course due to my rather withdrawn presence.

it isn’t uncommon for me to take at least 30 minutes out of my day to reflect on my life from where it was to where it is today… i keep my past close and it helps me stay close to my daily motives. but this reclusive reflection period, this keeps me growing, learning and loving every minute of my life.

so it usually lasts about a month or two, and usually it starts off heavy… full of instant tears about everything that the day can possibly bring.

for instance: i was listening to tom waits and the song alice came on… i started to cry at the beauty each sound, rhythm and lyric that was brought to my ears. i cried because i was able to experience the beauty and even feel it inside of me.

ridiculous… i know.

i have also noticed that these reflection periods usually start after life has taken its toll on my spirit… lets look at what might be weighing on me…

1. lack of physical change

2. unexpected but at the same time expected, father-in-law drama

3. unexpected but at the same time expected, ma and stepdad drama

4. unexpected but at the same time expected, marriage woes due to #2 & #3

5. unexpected but at the same time expected, sick kitty woes

6. lack of motivation to ignore problems 1 – 5 and thus completely ignoring my plight to get my health together.

all of these things i cannot control, and they are probably negative things that will only bring in positive things… i get that…

BUT right now, my little spirit is overloaded, and now it needs to detox.

my last major reflection was about 7 years or so ago… it was VERY necessary and i went from being horribly pessimistic and bitter to alright and ready to explore. this reflection period will be of a different focus, as i am not pessimistic and bitter and at the time i was completely alone… i mean not a soul to call or trust other than my pop. but instead this time, i am ready to grab a hold of many things that i have let sit on the sidelines for my entire life and this time i have people to call and trust other than my pop.  the only thing that is bad about periods of relfection are the things in life you realize that you need to get rid of in order to change… the level of comfort that you had is no longer effective in a helpful way, but rather it is highly ineffective to the person who you are destined to become.

i have come to realize that work is definitely on the back burner this time… it is NOT helping in any way… it is only delaying. however, there are certain people at work who are helping with the personal goals i have. so it isn’t like i have to quit and find some where else to work; it is that i have to take a step back and realize that moving up for me right now or any HUGE work changes are an instant N-O.

i have also realized that i have got to keep my mind focused on me. this is hard though… really really hard. i like that i have compassion for people, but right now my compassion gets in the way of maintain anything substantial for me to depend on. so i have tailored that to become… only being compassionate to those who will be in return. it sounds really selfish, but right now it is necessary… after i have a more substantial foundation then i can spread the love and concern any which way.

i also have to take at least 30 mins of my day to focus on what i am and who i am in the moment without distraction. some people call that meditation… i call it hard as shit.

I also have to be honest with every damn emotion that comes my way and not try to hide it from myself *this of course is limited to times that i am alone or with someone who knows that i am not crazy.

OH BUT THAT’S NOT ALL…

music choice during this time period is essential.

here is what was on the last period reflection soundtrack

1. jeff buckley (for the natural flow of confused emotions to just ooze out)

2. portishead (for the steady and comforting feeling of depression)

3. radiohead, kid a (for the idea of change and an open mind to the idea of change)

4. deftones (for the drive to get up and go to work)

5. the rolling stones, aftermath (for the pure vanity of it)

6. weezer, the blue album (to bring me back to a time of honesty and happiness within myself)

7. fiona apple (so i could sing and sing and sing)

this period of reflection will be accompanied by

1. tom waits (for the creativity and beauty that i admire and i know i am capable of… not to say that i am anywhere near tom waits, but more to say… you want this)

2. the beatles (for the balance of optimism and pessimism)

3. nina simone (for the conviction, passion and vulnerability that i keep inside of me)

4. ratatat, lp3 (to keep my nose to the grind at work)

5. stephen malkmus and the jicks (to set me free to dance my silly little ass off and feel like i am going some where)

6. ani difranco (to keep in touch with my powerful feminine qualities and my natural ability to survive)

7. bob dylan (to stay grounded and realize, this is all apart of life)

8. a random new artist (new to me) to keep it interesting and take me out of my comfort zone

and so now it is time… now it is time to grow.

i find anything short of myself (no pun intended) to not pursue any real goal… i have always just done something because someone has told me that i am good at it, and not because i want to… not that i don’t like being told that i am good at something, but you know…

i am a damn good problem solver, damn good.

i l-o-v-e the idea of baking mini pastries all day long… and after the result of doing that, becoming jolly and round with sweet goodness as i progress into my old age.

i like to take pictures, and i love it when i get good shots.

i like to sing when i wash dishes as well as in the shower shaving my little legs.

i like to design with art in mind, and not an audience.

i like to create websites and make up little tunes about people.

i like noticing the tiny details in a person’s presence and helping them recognize those things in themselves.

i like to be a sarcastic asshole, who shouldn’t be taken seriously when being one.

i like to wear earrings that reach my sexy collar bone and i like to pretend i don’t notice.

i like to say i want to do things and not do them…

so this is where i am now…

i am working, working, working… and while my job is fun, it is just that… i burden myself with taking care of things that are not mine to take care of because my job is boring to me… it isn’t challenging at all.. the problems that were there are g-o-n-e.  so i helped create a problem between a coworker and i… that basically went like this…

everyone- “hey, so and so hasn’t done this yet and it is past the deadline.”

me- “i’ll do it.”

and like that… i made a mess of a perfectly smooth operation. did i get props for taking on what was not mine to begin with, yes. did i do it for the props, no. but now, now, it is expected, all of the fucking time. and now, now, if i don’t do it… i get… “is there something wrong?”… and no there isn’t anything really wrong. i don’t have a fever or a troubled home life. what i do have is the inability to just say, “well that is so and sos job, so… maybe you should talk to them about it.” yep, that is me, the enabler.

and now…

here i am looking for an escape from the mess i made. and all i really want is to say, “no” without the guilt, without being so goddamn catholic. i want to trust that if it doesn’t get done, it really isn’t my fault.

so after realizing all of this…

i have come to the conclusion, that what i need now more than ever…

to not worry about moving up in my job.

that with my new boss, i really have a clean slate and i can say no without feeling guilty.

i need to be a damn good problem solver for myself.

i need to start tinkering with recipes for mini pastries.

i need to take pictures the way i feel is best for me.

i need to sing louder when i wash dishes as well as in the shower shaving my little legs.

i need to design with art in mind, and not an audience.

i need to create websites and make up little tunes about people.

i need to notice the tiny details in a person’s presence and helping them recognize those things in themselves.

i need to be a sarcastic asshole, who shouldn’t be taken seriously when being one.

i need to wear earrings that reach my sexy collar bone and i need to pretend i don’t notice.

i need to say i want to do things and do them…

i went to target, michael’s and academy… bought my supplies and went to work… since it involved putting things on my wall my height made it a bit difficult. however, i was determined to get this all done before my husband got home… so i put on my 3 inch heels and used the step ladder… and it was JUST enough to reach…

i didn’t finish before he got home, but i did do enough to get the main parts up… he ended up having to help a bit, but he didn’t seem to mind.

yes, the picture is fuzzy, but i really don’t care…

i wanted our room to be light-hearted and passionate. a safe haven from all seriousness. i wanted our room  to be open for love and peace.

My family had two working parents, so I was raised by the television… You name it I saw it… And in the 80’s & 90’s… That is a crap load of bad  television. So growing up like this, I started to imitate voices, do impersonations. I found myself impersonating the characters I would watch in cartoons, out loud and without any effort or people to tell me to shut up. As I grew up I sang opera, chamber music and all that boring stuff… I had my own “voice” (big and loud… But damn good), but I was really really good at imitating another singer’s voice (without hurting my voice). So I was always placed next to the girl who sang like a 12 year old boy (perfect pitch but no passion) and my instructor was able to keep his soprano section small, and his alto section full of gals who couldn’t sing, but loved Barbara Streisand. SO since I was practicing someone else’s voice EVERYDAY… I started to imitate people without even knowing it… I would (and still do) pick up on their accents. In order for me to NOT talk like them- I either have to listen only, or just control the conversation or just pretend like I forgot what I was going to say so I could adjust my vocals back to its regular formation. You name it, I can impersonate it. I may not get male vocals down right, but mannerisms, facial expressions, their placement of their voice in their nose, throat, mouth… Easy as pie. I pick up on the tiny details, I can tell when a person shifts their mood without shifting their body language… I just know.

 
Story…

Every year my choir had a banquet. We’d get dressed up, hand out awards, make fun of people (maybe that was just me), eat, dance and regret (maybe that was just me too).

My junior year, I was single and hot (not that I am not hot now, but I am not single)…  So I actually had a date… My friend’s best friend… So since I was with his friend we all sat a table together. Me, My Date, My Friend and his girlfriend (whom I just met). We said hello and we all sat down to eat. We all talked, laughed, made fun of people. My friend’s date wasn’t really saying much, but I just thought she was shy… Plus there was a bunch of music going so we all had to talk a bit louder than normal…

We ate our chicken, our crappy veggies and my date wanted to know what was for dessert, and since I am not that kind of gal… I asked my friend’s date if she knew what they would be serving having for dessert…

Me- me

Friend’s Date- Blonde

Me- So Blonde… Do you know what we are having for dessert?

Blonde- No.

Me- Oh, okay.

Blonde gets up to talk to the waiter. She comes back smiling. My date then leaves to go to the restroom.

Blonde- We are having cssshezecake!

Me- Oh?

Blonde- I LOVE cssshezecake! My family ischses apart of a cssshezecake cake club and eacsshe month we get a new cssshezecake. We’ve gotten rassschchberry csshezecake, regular cssshezecake, schstrawberry csshezecake, blueberry cssschezecake…

It is here where my date comes back and he wants to know what’s for dessert (for real this time)… It should also be said that it is also the time where the awards are going to be announced and the place gets quite…

Date- So did you find out what dessert is?

Me- Cssshezecake!

And it is here where my friend and his date just stop and stared at me. And it is here where I try really hard to apologize, but can’t because I am too nervous to control what I am saying…

Me- I’m schso schsorry! Oh schs!t I didn’t it again! I’m schsorry!

My date, thinking that I am super hot and now super funny… Just taps me on my leg, and tells me its time to get up… He takes me out into the lobby area, and he laughs his butt off… And I do too.