The one that got away. Do we all experience it? That one ex that you didn’t know completed you until you left?
The longest relationship I have ever had took years to build and only two to demolish. All of the memories, the places, and the laughs. Our relationship was fickle and tumultuous, but extremely passionate. We would bitch endlessly over the thermostat one minute and then bask in the balmy humidity the next. We loved to savor our food together and never shamed each other for drinking a little too much. Occasionally, I would grow tired of lazy ways and become jealous of friends that were driven away, but then the radio would come on. Everything was butter. I never liked Country. The songs never sounded good with anyone else.
You see he wasn’t like anyone. He was one of a kind. And not in the cliché kind of way that people might describe a cheap pendant on QVC. He owned the phrase one of a kind, and he knew it despite the fact that I sometimes didn’t.
He loved the water, and even looked great covered in moss. When I was in his presence I felt I belonged to something special. We were our own little secret club. It’s weird though, because we never really had a honeymoon phase. As long as I could remember we had always just been together. There was no one before him.
Regardless, I knew ultimately something would happen to our smooth cruising. We eventually began to take each other for granted. This would be the beginning of the end. The more possessive and predictable he became, the more indifferent and unimpressed I was. I convinced myself that his simple ways were holding me back.
Eventually, I started refusing to go out on the water. The special meals we cooked tasted bland, as if my taste buds had become tired of the repetition. We didn’t drink together anymore, but I drank alone. I had built up so much resentment, though he really hadn’t done anything wrong. Then my eyes began to wander. I would leave town for weeks and see other people. I didn’t even try to hide it. Funny thing is, he must have known but didn’t seem to care. Maybe he secretly knew I was too far gone. He was intuitive like that. And one day, sure enough, I was gone. For good.
Blogger Interactive is next weekend! I can’t wait to meet everyone who is coming. You can keep up with all the festivities by following us on Twitter, Facebook, and now Instagram (@bloggerinteractive)! Be sure to use the hashtag #BI2013 for posting!
Don’t you love a good conversation with your family on the Holidays? My family sure does…
Brother (from a room on the other side of the house): “Come help me, I don’t know how to wrap.”
Brother: “Come help me.”
Mom: “She said no.”
On shopping last minute…
Brother: “What can I get for Dad?”
Me: “He likes to be outdoors. You should get him a tent so he can camp out in the back yard.”
Brother: “He would probably love that.”
Me: “Or, a pillow for when he sleeps on the floor. I was joking about the tent.”
Brother: “I am going to get him slippers. If he doesn’t like them I will take them.”
Me: “I don’t think that is how it is supposed to work.”
Brother: “Do you have any money?”
Merry Christmas everyone. May all of your conversations be this deep.
I am overwhelmed since the end of Becca on Fire, so this is an old post I wrote back in May that I re-edited for today. I wanted to revisit my blog’s history for a moment of deep reflection on how things have changed and how I have grown.
We both know that’s not true. I am really just too busy re-gifting last year’s snuggies and bad DVDs. So here, have this re-gifted blog specially selected by me for you. I will most likely not post again until the weekend. Instead, this week I will throw myself back into YOUR blogs that have been neglected in lieu of the beautiful chaos.
Is it just me, or is Tuesday the most uneventful day of the week? Check it out.
- Monday is the black sheep of the weekday family, but at least it is known for something. It’s famous for all the wrong reasons, but that’s the way to do it these days, right?
- Wednesday is kind of like the just-popular-enough step brother of Thursday. It also is often referred to by using the word hump, which is never a bad thing unless it is in the same sentence with the word surprise or butt. If you aren’t familiar with humping, just ask Daan.
- Thursday is just close enough to Friday to switch your thoughts from putting proximity mines in your favorite co-worker’s cubicle, to thoughts of drinking rum in your backyard in a hammock for two whole days. Isn’t that everyone’s idea of a weekend well spent?
- Friday = Parties, paychecks, and pandemonium. I don’t think elaboration is necessary.
- Saturday is Mecca. Saturday is that distant cousin of all other week days who ran off from the weekday family to live a Summer in Paris sipping Cafe au Lait by day and squandering Absinthe by night. It is the day to sleep in, do whatever you want, and then entertain the enchanting notions of the unpredictable course Saturday night could take you. OR you can play Hitman until your eyeballs look weird and everyone thinks you are either stoned or Steve Buscemi.
- Finally, there is Sunday Funday. Even the most chill day of the week gets an inviting name. Host of family barbecues, abundant naps, football, catching up on housework, and maybe even a little front porch swing action, Sunday is akin to Wednesday but with slightly better genes.
What happened to Tuesday? You never hear anyone say, “Dude, you will never believe what went down last Tuesday”. Okay, maybe you might, but for me Tuesdays remain the most mundane of all the days, and the only thing that’s “going down” is my spirits.
Maybe I will reinvent Tuesday. It’s time to take the monotony out of Tuesday. It will finally be envied by all the other weekdays. Here is what I am thinking:
Tool Tuesday: Wrap things in tulle while listening to Tool and sitting on a stool.
Why it won’t work: Tuesday will always suck, and I used all of my tulle to make an indoor hammock for Saturday.
I will be working on getting my shit together and writing a legitimate post with awards, tequila, fireworks, people doing ridiculous things in horse masks and maybe even some real jokes! You know, something worth seeing. Until then, please go visit Le Clown and help him get another deserving blogger Freshly Pressed. There, I pulled a Santa. I am done until 2013.
- Get Locked And Loaded This Sunday Funday [14 PHOTOS] (coedmagazine.com)
- Prince Harry Taps That Ass Tambourine For The Queen! (perezhilton.com)
- Humpday Inspiration: Part II (sleepeatgymrepeat.com)
I know everyone must think this, but bugs in general are out to get me specifically. Bugs and frogs, but today we are just going to discuss the bugs. They know my name, what apartment I live in, and have a tracking system planted somewhere on my vehicle that I can’t locate. I guess that’s because a bug made locator device would be rather microscopic, but whatever. The point is that they are watching me. They are. The proof is in the battles.
Show Down #1:
I never roll my windows all the way down in my vehicle. I’m have long hair, and I bitch when the wind messes it up. There I said it. I am very much a girl. A small crack will always suffice when needing fresh air. Until they missile their way into my vehicle that is. They strategically wait to strike until they see that I have exceeded 50 mph. On the highway. In rush hour.
They know my attempts to halt swiftly and counter attack will be futile. Their tactics are flawless. I have yet to determine how they train for such accuracy.
Becca: 0 Bugs: 1
Show Down #2: Read the rest of this entry
Following closely to the theme of my last post, I present Baby Shower Pinnuendo – a post that has me questioning why I can’t get my mind out of the gutter as of late (I think it could possibly have something to do with me recently following Kyle Mew’s blog).
Maybe you will remember a while back when I explained the oddities of planning two very different events at the same time. One of those events was Booger’s baby shower. Nearly half of my life savings and one very confusing stint in the baby isle later, the baby shower preparation is over. This coming Saturday, all of my efforts will hopefully come together to make one baby-rific party, despite me still really having no clue what I am doing.
As I finished putting together game supplies this weekend, I
desperately accidentally began drinking a margarita. It may have contained an extra shot. What you will read next, is the result of mixing these two activities.
Thank you for giving us a reason to miss work, stay indoors, and get paid to drink like it’s the apocalypse.
The new blog is currently under construction. I should finish at some point that is undetermined … if I survive Isaac the hurricane. What I really mean is if I survive the hurricane parties. The torrential winds, spawned tornado, possible flooding and frightening sized hail don’t scare me. Pshhh.
- Isaac to strengthen before hitting Florida (wtvr.com)
- Will God still be on Dems side if Hurricane Isaac buries New Orleans? (legalinsurrection.com)
- The latest on Isaac (wtvr.com)
Last weekend, my impatience and curiosity got the best of me. Add in a little Saturday afternoon boredom, and I began scribbling figures on a notepad. I have been keeping on track with my plans for saving money for future moving intentions, but what exactly are the costs of moving over a thousand miles? Now that I had figured out how to drug my cats in a natural way, I needed to focus on the more serious details. Not only was I calculating personal costs to ensure a smooth transition (i.e. car maintenance for such a voyage, disposing/possibly selling unnecessary belongings in attempts to downsize, etc.) but also the actual heavy lifting and transporting of my furniture and belongings. Where is a teleportation device when you need one? Basically I came up with a list of costs in order to help me edit my savings goals:
- New residence lease deposits, first month’s rent, and other new apartment fees
- Vehicle maintenance – The last thing I need is for my brakes to give out while I am towing my life around in a metal box.
- Moving truck/trailer and services
Considering the last time I moved there were almost a couple of deaths (resulting from the over-exertion of a 54-year-old dad and myself with the upper body strength of Olive Oil), I concluded that the next move I endure will be lead by a team of Magic Mike look-a-likes. Obviously, I will also need a
portal rental truck. Having no idea what this might cost, I naturally took to the internet. Read the rest of this entry
It is eerie to think about just how much of the ocean man has yet to explore. Creatures that must exist out/down there are probably inconceivably bizarre, scary, and fascinating all at the same time. At the same level as it is incredible, it is equally as ominous. This reminds me of another shady habitat. The abyss that is my keyboard. Yes, I am comparing my keyboard to the ocean. What of it?
Like most, I spend the majority of my days behind the computer screen with my fingers hovering the keyboard. It is your standard basic hardware. My sips of morning coffee take place directly above it, and the crumbs from my morning snack find their way to the caves between the H and J or W and E or… well you get the point. I often think about all the food matter, various liquids, dust, and bugs(?) that have ventured down below the glossy top surface of the alphabet decorated squares. At this point, I imagine there is a new strain of disease brewing down there, that if released from its enclosure will surely off me.
I once watched a very informative YouTube video that clearly described and showed how to properly disassemble the keys of your keyboard in order to clean out the trash trap below. Basically, one option is to use a can of air to blow debris out from underneath the keys. The problem with this, I assume, is that it is much like trying to floss around a permanent retainer. Or, like trying to use only water pressure to clean a dirty plate that has been sitting in the sink for days. It’s simply not going to do too much. You may feel like you are at least giving an effort, but come on. Who are you kidding?
The more efficient option explained in the video, is to just pop those keys off one by one. You can reveal a whole year and a half’s worth (in my case and probably a lot longer) of accumulated heaping compost. I actually attempted to complete this horrifying task once. It may look easy enough to pluck out those keys, however, I personally felt a sense of panic each time one gave way to my prying. It doesn’t feel like they are supposed to be removable. Don’t worry if you get this sensation (assuming you even have the stomach to try this disgusting task), the keys will snap back in to place.
I personally never made it past the shift, A and Z keys when I threw in the towel. I am very much in denial/oddly and aggressively freaked out by the junk under there, so I put the keys back in their place and tried to bleach my mind of the experience. I wont go in to detail of what was under there, partly because it was a collection of unrecognizable mutant spawns of whatever materials initially fell in, and partly because I still want people to think I have some sort of respect for my computer’s hygiene. But, before you judge you should take a look under your own keyboard’s hood, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.
- What Are the Advantages of Silicone Keyboard? (tomtoplulu.wordpress.com)
- How to get my laptop’s keyboard to work after a beer spillage? (ask.metafilter.com)
- Spike case with QWERTY keyboard for the iPhone (geeky-gadgets.com)