The Bird Flies High

I always get onto Justin about being an aggressive driver.

He’ll take upon himself to “show” people how rude they are – some people call it road rage, I call it stupid, and tell him so anytime we are in the car.

It’s like this:

1. Don’t flash your brights when someone is going slow. Simply wade it out and go around them.
2. Don’t give someone the evil glare while waving your fist, they could pull a gun on you and kill your ass.
3. Don’t block others in the left lane from going fast because you think it is illegal. Let them pass, and I’m sure some happy state trooper will greet them further up the road.
4. While others do not understand the protected right on green concept, there is no need to honk at them until they do not take action for at least 15-20 seconds after the green light has occurred. After that, I polite tap of your horn with a friendly wave should let them know that “no hard feelings, but please go ahead and take that right. Thanks a bunch and peace and love and such!”

I try to live by these ideas, and others, when driving.

But there are occasions when I feel it necessary to “express” my frustrations driving.

Case in point: this evening, after a 10 minute discussion on why I would be the one to fetch the to-go order from Pei Wei. After a long day of work (seriously, LOOOONG) I didn’t feel like fetching the food. For Justin, hitting golf balls outside of his place of work and playing dodgeball in the cubicle area of his office equals extreme physical exhaustion.

Apparently mental exhaustion does not trump physical exhaustion, so I set out to pick up the food. On my way back, I decided to take 290 all the way to the main street to get to my neighborhood. It narrows down to one lane and there is always a back-up.

I do my part, and merge into the left lane with a reasonable amount of space left in front of me. After the lanes merge, I continue my decent off the highway and to the stoplight, only to look in my rearview mirror to see some a-hole barreling down the shoulder.

Sitting in this traffic for 10 minutes, smelling glorious Pei Wei must have pissed me off, because I flicked the guy off. Maybe this will shock some of you, but I had never flicked off another driver before.

Okay, I lie. I have flicked off other drivers before; however, I always did it under the window so they wouldn’t see me. (See point two above) I mean, I don’t even really honk at people unless the really, truly deserve to be honked at. (Reference point four)

So I’m feeling pretty good about myself, until I see the guy slow down and turn to park… and I’m like, “Oh, fudge.”

But it turns out he only parked at the range – the GUN RANGE! OMG! Okay, maybe I overreacted, but I mean, the guy really did have a gun in his car. He could have pulled his gun on me instead of taking out his aggression at the range. I mean, obviously this blog is one big overreaction to life, but seriously, guns scare the heck out of me!

In retrospect, he probably was going too fast to even see my “bird.” But I have learned a most valuable lesson.

My bird is flying back under the radar, err… window, from now on.


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Dream Girl

On Friday night, Justin, myself, and some friends embarked on our yearly trek to H-Town for Dave Matthews Band.

I’ll skip the part about how disappointed we both were with the song selection and general lack of energy we felt the band had, and focus on one specific incident which saved an otherwise boring and expensive concert adventure.

The second song of the night was Dream Girl, and you may, or may not, remember the music video for the song with Julia Roberts. I like the song live, and enjoy listening to it. However, halfway through someone started shrieking like a hyena or something. Looking around, trying to figure out who it was so I could pass the “evil concert glare,” I see this girl crying right behind me, her boyfriend in tears, in fact, a lot of people in tears.

Then I look at Justin, and see he’s tearing up, then he shakes the boyfriend’s hand. I’m a tad slow, and finally figure out at this point he had proposed to his girlfriend during the song. And the shrieking wasn’t even her, it was the couple next to us. Haha.

And, interesting story about the couple next to us – we sat next to them last year at the Selma concert. Small world, or should I say, one sweet world. Okay, I was waiting for an opportunity in this blog to use that sentence. I’ll admit it.


Hurt so good…

After a particularly grueling day of activities at the office (got there at 7:45, left a few minutes before 7… and there was still traffic on MOPAC – go home to your families people!), I came home to a glorious site.

Justin, who will be referred to in this posting as “Man-Wife”, spent the day at home taking care of household chores.

Let me back up to 7:00 a.m. that morning. After getting up earlier (6:00 a.m.) to do some work, and watch Saved by the Bell (the one where Screech and the rest of the gang competes in a beauty pageant), I thought a more gentler approach to waking up “Man-Wife” would be to talk to him until he started talking back, instead of resetting the alarm.

After about two minutes, I begin to get a little agitated, as I need to get to work. Finally he rolls over and says, “I’m going to take a vacation day.”

I was mad, I’ll admit it. I had so much stuff on my plate for work that day, to just hear someone passively dismiss work was upsetting, mainly because I can’t do the same. Call it selfish, childish, rude – I’m all three.

So his butt gets up long enough to e-mail his boss on my still-running computer, and goes back to bed, and Walter follows him to pass out.

But luckily “Man-Wife” went to Central Market for groceries during his day off, and by the time I got home, this gorgeous meal was waiting for me. I mean, Spinach penne pasta, sun-dried tomato sauce, with chunks of fhicken (fake-chicken), topped with three different cheeses. I mean, literally, I walked in the house with a hug and a kiss, food on the table, and a “Man-Wife” who loves me.

Now I know why men like their women at home.

So after that adventure, we go for our weekly (or bi-weekly… just depends on the mood) massages at Massage Envy. There is this couples room, and I always feel more comfortable hanging with “Man-Wife”. Plus, this was the first time I had a guy working on me.

Male massage therapists are probably the most under-utilized. For men getting a massage, to be worked on by another male is insulting to your so-called “manhood.” For women, especially if you are dating or married, it just doesn’t seem right that this guy is getting access to your body typically reserved for your significant other.

But after yesterday’s adventure, I’ll be using male massage therapists for the rest of my life! I’ve never been in so much “good-pain” in my life. I mean, he was tearing into me. I’m so sore today. And being in the same room as “Man-Wife” didn’t make it awkward, because if he tried to cop a feel, I could just be like, “Man-Wife!” and scantly-clad “Man-Wife” lying on the table next to me could save the day. HAHA. What a visual.


I need a brain dump.

Here it goes:

This past weekend we were up in Dallas for a wedding, supplying the SnapHappy cameras for the “happy” occasion. Justin and his buddies at Unfunded Think Tank have a few business plans, and this is one of them. So if you have a wedding/special event coming up, support the cause, and my makeup fetish.

We were also up in Dallas for my grandmother’s 88th birthday. My mom never invites people over or makes a big deal out of it, but it was still a good time. She made this ice cream cake, which was incredibly rich, and I’m pretty sure I gained two pounds on the spot. I always gain weight when I’m in Dallas. Suck.

I also had lunch with my old violin teacher, Ms. V (now Mrs. S, but I’m pretty sure I called her Ms. V the whole time… old habits die hard), who apparently reads my blog! In fact, I learned I have a readership of almost 15 people based on talking with people at the wedding. CLUTCH!

My goal is 50 by the end of the year. So, shout out to all you peeps who read the blog; you are loved.


Bad Days...

I’ve had a bad day, taken one down, sing a sad song just turn it around, something something something…

Kristy left this weekend. I didn’t think I’d actually be sad to see her go – I mean, obviously we enjoyed having her stay with us – but I didn’t think I would feel as sad as I did.

It started by shutting the door after she left, I turned to Justin and gave him a hug. Then he followed up with, “Okay, well, I’m going upstairs to watch TV, later.”

And I just stood there, watching him walk up the stairs, and thought, “Who am I going to watch television with now?”

Kristy is WAY ADDICTED to Law and Order, and in our short time together (three months), I became slightly addicted to the SVU and CI versions of the series. And Sunday, as I’m flipping through the channels, trying to find something to watch, I come across a marathon of SVU, AND FELT NOTHING.

It was sad, truly. I can’t even watch Law and Order without her now.

And the true test will be if I can even remember to tune into Project Runway tonight, another group favorite.

I mean, who else am I going to fail miserably with when attempting another run at “The Crunch Dance Party?”

So I’ve talked about with Justin, and we’ve decided we need a roommate. I just can’t go on living like this. It’s been three days now, and it’s horrible.

We’re currently taking applications. The room and board will be cheap – we’ll even barter. Thanks.