I decided to blog again, so I made a new one. It's way cuter. Go there now.
http://theresnostigma.typepad.com/theres-no-stigma-adven/
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Blast from the (not too distant) Past
And so, only three weeks into the new year, I have broken resolution number three. I have decided that is okay for the following reasons:
1. He's 27, so he's in his late 20's...which is almost thirty. And thirty is totally acceptable.
2. He has a child who is only 2 years younger than my child. My friend Tamara has an interesting theory: When calculating the age between two people, you don't count the years between the two of you. You should count the years between your children. She sets the age at which you become a parent as the onset of adulthood. So, according to Tamara, he is only two years younger than I am. He is 33, which is pretty damn old compared to my past dates. And totally acceptable. (I have no idea how Tamara calculates the onset of adulthood for the non parents. It probably has something to do with not bitch-slapping your idiot boss and knowing never to take your coworkers to that bar where you're known for doing body shots and Debbie Gibson karaoke.)
3. I saw a couple recently with a much larger age span. Dear ladies, you should never attempt a bare midriff when you are old enough to draw social security. Anyway, I remember thinking that her son (sitting next to her) must be appalled. Apparently, not her son...and not appalled. The make-out session was vomit-inducing. So, if Midriff Mawmaw can date 20 years younger, then I can at least contemplate dating a man 8 years younger. Moral relativism: I gotta say, I'm a fan.
The story: I call him BB. It's short for Baby B(insert last name you're not allowed to know). We went out a few times last spring, but then he took a job out of town. It was never anything serious, but he was sweet and fun...and very affectionate. While he was away, he contacted me a few times and asked me out...but I was knee-deep in the Muscles fiasco. Last month he moved back. He met me at Christmas party, and then I accompanied him to a Christmas party. We talked a few times. Last night he asked me to dinner. I said no because I am sickly at the moment. His response was, "Then I will bring you soup...and a hug." I told him I wasn't hungry, but that maybe we could have dinner next week when I was better...or that he could come visit me at school and we could have lunch where the cool kids eat. He said, "Aww...so you don't wanna see me, cause that 'sometime' was vague...if it's an actual invitation, like 'how about lunch next Tuesday at noon' then I'm there. Now how about just the hug? I'd like to see you and waiting until next weekend (when my kids are gone) is kinda far." Of course I said yes. He showed up, not with soup, but with a Diet Dr. Pepper - this is basically my crack. Since I was feeling icky, I wasn't looking my best: pajama pants, tank top, pony tail. His first words: "Awww, look at you. You're the cutest thing I've ever seen in pajamas. And no heels! You're so cute and little. Now gimme a hug, drink your dr. pepper, and we're gonna watch Top Chef cause I know it's your favorite show."
And so we did. He watched the show with me. He pretended to be jealous over my crush on Fabio (Top Chef Fabio, not the but-tah guy). He offered to make me dinner when I was better to prove that if accents and cooking skills were what I wanted, then he would make crawfish etouffe while attempting his very worst Cajun accent. He made me eat saltines. He rubbed my shoulders. He held my hand. When I told him he was going to get sick, he said, "I read some fancy medical article that said that cuddling builds antibodies. Now snuggle up next to me and feel better. I won't kiss you...well, maybe just the top of your head."
Now, I dare you to NOT find that charming.
I'm not sure how I feel about this situation with BB yet. I'm still a bit wounded from the Muscles dealio. But, we shall see :)
Peace, My Lovelies
Annabelly
1. He's 27, so he's in his late 20's...which is almost thirty. And thirty is totally acceptable.
2. He has a child who is only 2 years younger than my child. My friend Tamara has an interesting theory: When calculating the age between two people, you don't count the years between the two of you. You should count the years between your children. She sets the age at which you become a parent as the onset of adulthood. So, according to Tamara, he is only two years younger than I am. He is 33, which is pretty damn old compared to my past dates. And totally acceptable. (I have no idea how Tamara calculates the onset of adulthood for the non parents. It probably has something to do with not bitch-slapping your idiot boss and knowing never to take your coworkers to that bar where you're known for doing body shots and Debbie Gibson karaoke.)
3. I saw a couple recently with a much larger age span. Dear ladies, you should never attempt a bare midriff when you are old enough to draw social security. Anyway, I remember thinking that her son (sitting next to her) must be appalled. Apparently, not her son...and not appalled. The make-out session was vomit-inducing. So, if Midriff Mawmaw can date 20 years younger, then I can at least contemplate dating a man 8 years younger. Moral relativism: I gotta say, I'm a fan.
The story: I call him BB. It's short for Baby B(insert last name you're not allowed to know). We went out a few times last spring, but then he took a job out of town. It was never anything serious, but he was sweet and fun...and very affectionate. While he was away, he contacted me a few times and asked me out...but I was knee-deep in the Muscles fiasco. Last month he moved back. He met me at Christmas party, and then I accompanied him to a Christmas party. We talked a few times. Last night he asked me to dinner. I said no because I am sickly at the moment. His response was, "Then I will bring you soup...and a hug." I told him I wasn't hungry, but that maybe we could have dinner next week when I was better...or that he could come visit me at school and we could have lunch where the cool kids eat. He said, "Aww...so you don't wanna see me, cause that 'sometime' was vague...if it's an actual invitation, like 'how about lunch next Tuesday at noon' then I'm there. Now how about just the hug? I'd like to see you and waiting until next weekend (when my kids are gone) is kinda far." Of course I said yes. He showed up, not with soup, but with a Diet Dr. Pepper - this is basically my crack. Since I was feeling icky, I wasn't looking my best: pajama pants, tank top, pony tail. His first words: "Awww, look at you. You're the cutest thing I've ever seen in pajamas. And no heels! You're so cute and little. Now gimme a hug, drink your dr. pepper, and we're gonna watch Top Chef cause I know it's your favorite show."
And so we did. He watched the show with me. He pretended to be jealous over my crush on Fabio (Top Chef Fabio, not the but-tah guy). He offered to make me dinner when I was better to prove that if accents and cooking skills were what I wanted, then he would make crawfish etouffe while attempting his very worst Cajun accent. He made me eat saltines. He rubbed my shoulders. He held my hand. When I told him he was going to get sick, he said, "I read some fancy medical article that said that cuddling builds antibodies. Now snuggle up next to me and feel better. I won't kiss you...well, maybe just the top of your head."
Now, I dare you to NOT find that charming.
I'm not sure how I feel about this situation with BB yet. I'm still a bit wounded from the Muscles dealio. But, we shall see :)
Peace, My Lovelies
Annabelly
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Happy Screw Year!
Listen up, Peeps, cause this is how we do it, do it...in 2011.
Annabelly's Resolutions:
1. I will lessen my addiction to Facebook. This basically means that I will stop cyber-stalking my dates/ex-boyfriends/ex-husband/booty calls/and any such potential variations of the aforementioned. To show you that I am serious, I have temporarily deactivated my account - a little test to see how long I can resist. Yeah, I'll probably see you there on Wednesday.
2. I will lose 14 pounds. Yes, I am aware that 14 seems like an arbitrary number, but therein lies the genius. Stay with me, people. Every year I say that I am going to lose 15 pounds. This never happens. I always work diligently for at least a few months, then I step on the scale, utterly convinced I am 15 pounds lighter, but NO - I am still far from my goal. Then I give up and eat my weight in cookie dough/hot tamales/french fries/margaritas. I have deduced that the problem is not me; it is 15. Fifteen is daunting. Fourteen, I have decided, is manageable. And let's face it, if I don't do something about my weight, my favorite skinny jeans will be a thing of the past, and I will have to say hello to the As Seen on TV "Pajama Jeans." The Great Holiday EatFest of 2010 was not kind to the waistline.
3. I will not date men under the age of 30. After the whole Muscles debacle, I have deemed it wise to date men closer to my age. Yeah, I know what you're thinking...and to be honest, I'm skeptical, too.
Bite it, 2010,
Annabelly
P.S. I reserve the right to amend resolution #3 at any time. Especially because after making said resolution, I found out that the really cute coach at the high school, who I think is around 28, broke up with his unfortunate looking girlfriend over the break. Don't you just love it when wishes come true? For me, obviously, not her.
Annabelly's Resolutions:
1. I will lessen my addiction to Facebook. This basically means that I will stop cyber-stalking my dates/ex-boyfriends/ex-husband/booty calls/and any such potential variations of the aforementioned. To show you that I am serious, I have temporarily deactivated my account - a little test to see how long I can resist. Yeah, I'll probably see you there on Wednesday.
2. I will lose 14 pounds. Yes, I am aware that 14 seems like an arbitrary number, but therein lies the genius. Stay with me, people. Every year I say that I am going to lose 15 pounds. This never happens. I always work diligently for at least a few months, then I step on the scale, utterly convinced I am 15 pounds lighter, but NO - I am still far from my goal. Then I give up and eat my weight in cookie dough/hot tamales/french fries/margaritas. I have deduced that the problem is not me; it is 15. Fifteen is daunting. Fourteen, I have decided, is manageable. And let's face it, if I don't do something about my weight, my favorite skinny jeans will be a thing of the past, and I will have to say hello to the As Seen on TV "Pajama Jeans." The Great Holiday EatFest of 2010 was not kind to the waistline.
3. I will not date men under the age of 30. After the whole Muscles debacle, I have deemed it wise to date men closer to my age. Yeah, I know what you're thinking...and to be honest, I'm skeptical, too.
Bite it, 2010,
Annabelly
P.S. I reserve the right to amend resolution #3 at any time. Especially because after making said resolution, I found out that the really cute coach at the high school, who I think is around 28, broke up with his unfortunate looking girlfriend over the break. Don't you just love it when wishes come true? For me, obviously, not her.
Monday, December 27, 2010
So I Read a New Book . . .
You've heard of it - that "He's Just Not That Into You" book. The verdict? Pretty good shit. But here's the thing about good shit - true, some of it is good. The rest? It's just shit. In this book there was enough good to make it worth wading through said shit. For those of you unfamiliar with the tome, here's a looky-loo at a chapter title:
1. "He's just not that into you if he's not asking you out"
What I took from this chapter: If a man says any of the following to you:
"We should hang out sometime."
"So maybe we'll run into each other."
"Maybe I'll stop by later."
Or if he does any of the following:
Calls you only when drunk.
Calls you only after 10 p.m.
It means this: He doesn't want to see you UNLESS you are naked.
Men I remembered I hated while reading this chapter: Itsy, MWFHS, Mr. Motorcycle, Cable, CrazyEyes, BB, DA, and Softy McNoodle . . . and Muscles.
Mainly Muscles. Of all the men who didn't love me back, I think I hate him the most . . . because I wanted him the most. I've feigned ambivalence, but I wanted him.
Stupid book. Stupid book with enough good to outweigh the shit.
Shittily yours,
Annabelly
1. "He's just not that into you if he's not asking you out"
What I took from this chapter: If a man says any of the following to you:
"We should hang out sometime."
"So maybe we'll run into each other."
"Maybe I'll stop by later."
Or if he does any of the following:
Calls you only when drunk.
Calls you only after 10 p.m.
It means this: He doesn't want to see you UNLESS you are naked.
Men I remembered I hated while reading this chapter: Itsy, MWFHS, Mr. Motorcycle, Cable, CrazyEyes, BB, DA, and Softy McNoodle . . . and Muscles.
Mainly Muscles. Of all the men who didn't love me back, I think I hate him the most . . . because I wanted him the most. I've feigned ambivalence, but I wanted him.
Stupid book. Stupid book with enough good to outweigh the shit.
Shittily yours,
Annabelly
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Things I Have Broken This Week:
1. A button on my laptop. I stepped on it.
2. A wine glass. It got stuck in the dishwasher. I got pissed and yanked it. Glass errrrrrrverywhere.
3. A corkscrew - while it was in my bottle of wine.
4. My solemn pledge not to buy another pair of boots until my next paycheck.
5. A penis. More on this later.
Peace out,
Annabelly
2. A wine glass. It got stuck in the dishwasher. I got pissed and yanked it. Glass errrrrrrverywhere.
3. A corkscrew - while it was in my bottle of wine.
4. My solemn pledge not to buy another pair of boots until my next paycheck.
5. A penis. More on this later.
Peace out,
Annabelly
Sunday, November 28, 2010
I'm Back, Bitches.
Dear Peeps,
Thank you for your pushy, nosy, bitchy emails asking about my prolonged absence. They make me feel loved and, what's clearly more important, popular. Why the silent treatment, you ask? I suppose it happened because I've been busy with work, kids, friends, and I've been all up on Muscle's junk. That's over now. We broke up. So, here I be. Get ready.
Thank you for your pushy, nosy, bitchy emails asking about my prolonged absence. They make me feel loved and, what's clearly more important, popular. Why the silent treatment, you ask? I suppose it happened because I've been busy with work, kids, friends, and I've been all up on Muscle's junk. That's over now. We broke up. So, here I be. Get ready.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Muscles Update Time
Yo, Yo, Yo, what up, Biotches? I decided it was time for an update on Mr. Muscles. He's still adorable, yet frustrating. He still claims to enjoy simplicity, yet he spews complicated nonsense. AND he still hasn't decided that he's ready to commit...and on that note, I may have agreed to dinner on Sunday with D.A. and a dinner next weekend with Mr. Motorcycle. Good day to you all :)
Cause that's what's up,
Annabelly
Cause that's what's up,
Annabelly
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Vacay Part 2
Sorry for the hold up...real life has intervened...and bitch slapped me. And then there are the other distractions - specifically, Muscles-related distractions. If you don't know who Muscles is...well, catch up on the old posts. I don't have time to catch you up on all that shiz.
We were discussing Divorce Vacation '08. I met a man. Well...a boy...wow, that sounds gross. Lets compromise and say "guy." He was gorgeous - although, do you really have to try that hard at 21 to be gorgeous? He had abs to die for, wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, a butt from the cover of a fitness magazine. It was such a change from the men my age - for starters, nothing on this guy jiggled when he walked, which meant I did a lot of sucking in my stomach when he was around.
Anygay, on night two of the trip we ended up hanging out on the beach with this faboo group of guys. Somehow VacationNathan (VN) and I ended up alone (thank you, girls!). We sat on the beach. He started to point out different stars and constellations (for the record, I'm pretty sure MOST of what he told me was incorrect). He finally said, "So, do you know much about the stars?" I said, "no." Then he said, "Okay, how about sports?" Again, I answered, "no." He laughed and said, "Okay, what do you know about?" I answered, "I know the 25 uses for a comma." His response? He grabbed me, pulled me close, and said, "Can you think of 25 uses for me?" And then he kissed me.
And that's all you get tonight. I pinky promise not to make you wait so long next time.
Love and flowers,
Annabelly
We were discussing Divorce Vacation '08. I met a man. Well...a boy...wow, that sounds gross. Lets compromise and say "guy." He was gorgeous - although, do you really have to try that hard at 21 to be gorgeous? He had abs to die for, wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, a butt from the cover of a fitness magazine. It was such a change from the men my age - for starters, nothing on this guy jiggled when he walked, which meant I did a lot of sucking in my stomach when he was around.
Anygay, on night two of the trip we ended up hanging out on the beach with this faboo group of guys. Somehow VacationNathan (VN) and I ended up alone (thank you, girls!). We sat on the beach. He started to point out different stars and constellations (for the record, I'm pretty sure MOST of what he told me was incorrect). He finally said, "So, do you know much about the stars?" I said, "no." Then he said, "Okay, how about sports?" Again, I answered, "no." He laughed and said, "Okay, what do you know about?" I answered, "I know the 25 uses for a comma." His response? He grabbed me, pulled me close, and said, "Can you think of 25 uses for me?" And then he kissed me.
And that's all you get tonight. I pinky promise not to make you wait so long next time.
Love and flowers,
Annabelly
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Let's Talk About Vacation Booty...
It's story time. Today we shall discuss Vacation Nathan (VL). Picture it: Florida, 2008. I was with three girlfriends on what I dubbed my Divorce Vacation. (Side note: If you walk into a bar and yell, "It's my Divorce Vacation!" you will drink free all night. Trust.) Anyway, it was about six months post-Douchebag (the ex husband), and I was just coming out of my funk. This vacation was my debut as a single gal. And what a debut it was!
The first thing you should know is that it was a very peculiar vacation. It remains the only vacation from which I have ever returned weighing less than I did pre-trip. The alcohol took precedence over real sustenance, and, apparently, a liquid diet consisting of mainly vodka and wine is temporarily good for the waistline. Anyway, I freely admit that I drank too much on this trip - so much, in fact, that my friends and I kept a list going of what I drank each night. It should have made me puke. Truthfully, when I go a little overboard on the adult beverages, I am a puker. However, I didn't upchuck once on this trip. We attributed it to the magic of Divorce Vacation - a place where Annabelly can get drunk and NOT puke and pounds magically melt off. It was a grand old time.
So, let's get down to bidnizz..............
On the first night of the trip, we went to one of our favorite bars, had some drinks, and made new friends. A tip for making friends: Have a girlfriend take pictures of you with random hot guys for your Divorce Vacation scrapbook. This is a fabulous ice breaker. And this is how we met an incredibly fun group of guys from a neighboring state. They ranged from 21 to 34 in age and so-so to OMG hot on the cuteness scale. And I took my picture with each one of them. (By the way, the scrapbook is faboo.) I thought several of them were viable options, and the rest of the girls were having fun with them, too, so we made plans to meet up with them again the next night.
The next night we had a great time again. We drank. We sang. We drank some more. We rode a tram. We walked on the beach. And I did a little stargazing on the beach with one particular guy. Before I tell you which one...let's learn a little bit more about a few of these guys:
A 34 year old science teacher who wore long sleeves in Florida in July
A 31 year old insurance salesman and wannabe recording sensation
A 27 year old math professor
A 31 year old engaged physical therapist
And then, there was Nathan - a 21 year old college student, specifically an exercise science major and personal trainer with blond hair, blue eyes, and abs that made you stupid.
And.............we will finish later. I'm jonesing for a snack.
Peace, love, and all that stupid shizzle,
Annabelly
The first thing you should know is that it was a very peculiar vacation. It remains the only vacation from which I have ever returned weighing less than I did pre-trip. The alcohol took precedence over real sustenance, and, apparently, a liquid diet consisting of mainly vodka and wine is temporarily good for the waistline. Anyway, I freely admit that I drank too much on this trip - so much, in fact, that my friends and I kept a list going of what I drank each night. It should have made me puke. Truthfully, when I go a little overboard on the adult beverages, I am a puker. However, I didn't upchuck once on this trip. We attributed it to the magic of Divorce Vacation - a place where Annabelly can get drunk and NOT puke and pounds magically melt off. It was a grand old time.
So, let's get down to bidnizz..............
On the first night of the trip, we went to one of our favorite bars, had some drinks, and made new friends. A tip for making friends: Have a girlfriend take pictures of you with random hot guys for your Divorce Vacation scrapbook. This is a fabulous ice breaker. And this is how we met an incredibly fun group of guys from a neighboring state. They ranged from 21 to 34 in age and so-so to OMG hot on the cuteness scale. And I took my picture with each one of them. (By the way, the scrapbook is faboo.) I thought several of them were viable options, and the rest of the girls were having fun with them, too, so we made plans to meet up with them again the next night.
The next night we had a great time again. We drank. We sang. We drank some more. We rode a tram. We walked on the beach. And I did a little stargazing on the beach with one particular guy. Before I tell you which one...let's learn a little bit more about a few of these guys:
A 34 year old science teacher who wore long sleeves in Florida in July
A 31 year old insurance salesman and wannabe recording sensation
A 27 year old math professor
A 31 year old engaged physical therapist
And then, there was Nathan - a 21 year old college student, specifically an exercise science major and personal trainer with blond hair, blue eyes, and abs that made you stupid.
And.............we will finish later. I'm jonesing for a snack.
Peace, love, and all that stupid shizzle,
Annabelly
Muscles: The Saga Continues...
Well...we got back together...at least, as "together" as you can be without actually being in a viable relationship. Whatever. We'll see how this goes.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
It's Done.
It's official. Muscles and I broke up. The (sort of) relationship is over. Normally, I'd say bring on the next guy. But this one kind of did a number on me.
By the way, on a not totally unrelated note, I have decided that I don't believe that people actually fall in love anymore. I know they used to fall in love. My parents were in love until the day my mother died. My sister and her husband are in love. I have friends who are in love. BUT these people all fell in love pre-facebook and pre-internet dating. I don't think it happens anymore. I really don't. If anyone reading this is currently in love, I guarantee you that you fell in love pre-2003. It is my opinion that no one has fallen in love in the past 7 years.
The End,
The Definitely Single Annabelly.
By the way, on a not totally unrelated note, I have decided that I don't believe that people actually fall in love anymore. I know they used to fall in love. My parents were in love until the day my mother died. My sister and her husband are in love. I have friends who are in love. BUT these people all fell in love pre-facebook and pre-internet dating. I don't think it happens anymore. I really don't. If anyone reading this is currently in love, I guarantee you that you fell in love pre-2003. It is my opinion that no one has fallen in love in the past 7 years.
The End,
The Definitely Single Annabelly.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
I'm about to break up with my NONboyfriend.
I think I'm at the very beginning of a decent romantic comedy. I'm in a (quasi) relationship that's going nowhere. I'm frustrated. I'm pissed off. I'm alone. Again. There have been mixed signals. There have been dashed hopes. Isn't that how the heroine starts out in most of those movies?
And then just when she's at her wits' end...when she's not looking, when she's not prepared, when she's usually in some awkward, embarrassing scenario...there he is. And it just works. She finds him charming. He finds her adorable.
His bottom line: I don't think Muscles likes me very much. I think I annoy him. He overanalyzes everything I say. Lately, I find myself walking on eggshells around him. He only seems to enjoy being around me when we're in a group. We have been "talking" for two months now. I have been stressed and confused 90% of the time.
My bottom line: I don't want someone to look at me in annoyance. I don't want someone to roll their eyes because I did or said something silly. I don't want someone to read into everything I say looking for the flaw. I don't want someone to wish I were a little thinner, a little taller, a little smarter, a little more interesting. I don't want them to wish I had a slightly smaller nose or a quieter laugh. I want someone to look at me and like me...just the way I am right now. And if Muscles isn't that guy...then what the hell am I doing?
And then just when she's at her wits' end...when she's not looking, when she's not prepared, when she's usually in some awkward, embarrassing scenario...there he is. And it just works. She finds him charming. He finds her adorable.
His bottom line: I don't think Muscles likes me very much. I think I annoy him. He overanalyzes everything I say. Lately, I find myself walking on eggshells around him. He only seems to enjoy being around me when we're in a group. We have been "talking" for two months now. I have been stressed and confused 90% of the time.
My bottom line: I don't want someone to look at me in annoyance. I don't want someone to roll their eyes because I did or said something silly. I don't want someone to read into everything I say looking for the flaw. I don't want someone to wish I were a little thinner, a little taller, a little smarter, a little more interesting. I don't want them to wish I had a slightly smaller nose or a quieter laugh. I want someone to look at me and like me...just the way I am right now. And if Muscles isn't that guy...then what the hell am I doing?
Monday, August 16, 2010
Stupid Students...
It occurred to me that I never finished telling you about Motorcycle. Oh well. Here's the short version - he kept flirting. A lot. He kept asking me out. I kept declining. The flirting escalated with him eventually telling me something extremely naughty that he wanted to engage in while we were on his motorcycle. Anyway, I never did go out with him.
The end.
Here's my point, though...well, the point I'm trying to make today. Students are weird. For every Mary Kay La-Whats-It (I can't remember her name. You know - the one who boinked her extremely underage student), there are probably 10 students trying to get somewhere with a teacher. And by somewhere I mean naked city. Yes, this is gross. Yes, this is wrong. No, I never had fantasies about bumping uglies with one of my teachers. EWWW - I just had a baby barf. Anyway, trust me, peeps, these stupid students are trying.
Take today, for instance. I have been assigned a teacher's assistant (TA) one hour. My TA is a guy; he is a senior. He has decided that he has a crush on me. He has told people this. He walks by my room constantly. He compliments my hair, my teeth, my shoes. Today he got a sticky note and wrote a date on it; he stuck this to my computer. Here's our conversation:
Me: "J, what is this?"
J: "My birthday."
Me: "You're telling me months in advance? Yeah...I won't remember that. Also, I wasn't aware I was supposed to celebrate my TA's birthday. Don't expect much...guess I could bring you some gum."
J: "But it's an important birthday."
Me: "They're all important when you're young. Eventually, you'll want to ignore them."
J: "But I'll be 18."
Me: "Goody for you. Congratulations. We're all proud."
J: "So I'll be legal."
Me: "I don't want to hear about that."
J: "Aww, c'mon, Ms. A. Your niece told me you were single. Soon as I turn 18, I'm asking you out...or do I have to wait until I graduate?"
Me: "You can wait til I'm drawing Social Security; it's still never gonna happen. Don't be gross. Now go sit in the back of the class."
J: "Will you at least dance with me at Homecoming?"
Me: "Gross. I will not."
Like I said, gross. I have said this before, but it needs to be repeated: I cannot attract a man my own age to save my life. Where is the 35 year old single man? Hell, even if you tell me...or place him right in front of me...he wouldn't want me. Now, take an 18 year old moron or a 55 year old paw paw...and they will love me and possibly stalk me. Gross.
Grossly yours,
Annabelly
The end.
Here's my point, though...well, the point I'm trying to make today. Students are weird. For every Mary Kay La-Whats-It (I can't remember her name. You know - the one who boinked her extremely underage student), there are probably 10 students trying to get somewhere with a teacher. And by somewhere I mean naked city. Yes, this is gross. Yes, this is wrong. No, I never had fantasies about bumping uglies with one of my teachers. EWWW - I just had a baby barf. Anyway, trust me, peeps, these stupid students are trying.
Take today, for instance. I have been assigned a teacher's assistant (TA) one hour. My TA is a guy; he is a senior. He has decided that he has a crush on me. He has told people this. He walks by my room constantly. He compliments my hair, my teeth, my shoes. Today he got a sticky note and wrote a date on it; he stuck this to my computer. Here's our conversation:
Me: "J, what is this?"
J: "My birthday."
Me: "You're telling me months in advance? Yeah...I won't remember that. Also, I wasn't aware I was supposed to celebrate my TA's birthday. Don't expect much...guess I could bring you some gum."
J: "But it's an important birthday."
Me: "They're all important when you're young. Eventually, you'll want to ignore them."
J: "But I'll be 18."
Me: "Goody for you. Congratulations. We're all proud."
J: "So I'll be legal."
Me: "I don't want to hear about that."
J: "Aww, c'mon, Ms. A. Your niece told me you were single. Soon as I turn 18, I'm asking you out...or do I have to wait until I graduate?"
Me: "You can wait til I'm drawing Social Security; it's still never gonna happen. Don't be gross. Now go sit in the back of the class."
J: "Will you at least dance with me at Homecoming?"
Me: "Gross. I will not."
Like I said, gross. I have said this before, but it needs to be repeated: I cannot attract a man my own age to save my life. Where is the 35 year old single man? Hell, even if you tell me...or place him right in front of me...he wouldn't want me. Now, take an 18 year old moron or a 55 year old paw paw...and they will love me and possibly stalk me. Gross.
Grossly yours,
Annabelly
So Here's What Happened...
Miller: The Conclusion
It was painfully awkward. He barely spoke. He barely looked at me. It was clear that he was not thrilled about me being there. I know I am not imagining things when I tell you that he went out of his way NOT to acknowledge me.
At one point during the evening, we found ourselves alone in the game room. I had popped in there to get juice boxes for the kids. He was there to grab a beer. I'm assuming the alcohol made it easier to deal with seeing me. Here's what happened:
Miller: "Oh. You're here," he said, turning away to leave.
Me: "Hey! Don't leave. What do you need? Beer?"
Miller: "Yeah."
Me: "Got it," handing him the beer.
Miller: "Thanks...uh...thanks."
Me: "Hey, it's really good to see you."
Miller: "Yeah."
Me: (this is where I start rambling because I hate awkward silences) "So, your kids are adorable...that youngest one looks exactly like you...and you look great, too. You really haven't aged a bit."
Miller: "And...that's good?"
Me: "Of course that's good! Who wants to age?"
Miller: "Yeah. You look...you look...well, you look..........................."
And I never got to hear what I looked like because at that point he shook his head and walked out. I followed him saying, "What's wrong with you?" But he never turned around. He just kept walking away while shaking his head.
Do I look like poo? An extraterrestrial? A supermodel? A prostitute? A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker? A fair worker? A PTO mom? A Jehovah's witness? WHAT the hell do I look like? I'll never know because the MORON walked off without completing his sentence. I hate fragments. Fragments are rude.
And that's that.
Weirdness. Awkwardness. Boo hiss.
This is the same man who once drove 9 hours because I was sad. And now he can't look at me, talk to me...hell, even complete a sentence about me. What the hell happened?
And, because I suppose it's fitting for this post, I may as well tell you that the alias Annabelly came from him. "Annabel Lee" is my favorite poem. Ever. It was one of his favorites, too. He used to call, and when I'd answer he'd say the first line, "It was many and many a year ago..." I would reply by saying the second line. We'd say the entire poem that way - a line at a time. Say Annabel Lee quickly. Sounds like Annabelly, right? At some point, we started referring it to it this way. And later he started referring to me that way. So, there you have it. I'm Annabelly.
Whatever,
Annabelly
Here's the poem. It really is excellent. It is still my favorite and my best.
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
It was painfully awkward. He barely spoke. He barely looked at me. It was clear that he was not thrilled about me being there. I know I am not imagining things when I tell you that he went out of his way NOT to acknowledge me.
At one point during the evening, we found ourselves alone in the game room. I had popped in there to get juice boxes for the kids. He was there to grab a beer. I'm assuming the alcohol made it easier to deal with seeing me. Here's what happened:
Miller: "Oh. You're here," he said, turning away to leave.
Me: "Hey! Don't leave. What do you need? Beer?"
Miller: "Yeah."
Me: "Got it," handing him the beer.
Miller: "Thanks...uh...thanks."
Me: "Hey, it's really good to see you."
Miller: "Yeah."
Me: (this is where I start rambling because I hate awkward silences) "So, your kids are adorable...that youngest one looks exactly like you...and you look great, too. You really haven't aged a bit."
Miller: "And...that's good?"
Me: "Of course that's good! Who wants to age?"
Miller: "Yeah. You look...you look...well, you look..........................."
And I never got to hear what I looked like because at that point he shook his head and walked out. I followed him saying, "What's wrong with you?" But he never turned around. He just kept walking away while shaking his head.
Do I look like poo? An extraterrestrial? A supermodel? A prostitute? A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker? A fair worker? A PTO mom? A Jehovah's witness? WHAT the hell do I look like? I'll never know because the MORON walked off without completing his sentence. I hate fragments. Fragments are rude.
And that's that.
Weirdness. Awkwardness. Boo hiss.
This is the same man who once drove 9 hours because I was sad. And now he can't look at me, talk to me...hell, even complete a sentence about me. What the hell happened?
And, because I suppose it's fitting for this post, I may as well tell you that the alias Annabelly came from him. "Annabel Lee" is my favorite poem. Ever. It was one of his favorites, too. He used to call, and when I'd answer he'd say the first line, "It was many and many a year ago..." I would reply by saying the second line. We'd say the entire poem that way - a line at a time. Say Annabel Lee quickly. Sounds like Annabelly, right? At some point, we started referring it to it this way. And later he started referring to me that way. So, there you have it. I'm Annabelly.
Whatever,
Annabelly
Here's the poem. It really is excellent. It is still my favorite and my best.
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Miller Time
Let's continue, shall we?
We went to separate colleges. He was...I don't know...maybe 9 hours away from me. We talked every night at first. Then it dwindled to maybe every other night. It was always several times a week, though. We both got into the swing of college...made friends...all that crap. I think we both adjusted easily, except for missing each other. I had a cork board right over my bed in my dorm room. It was plastered with pictures of the two of us. People asked constantly, "Is this the boyfriend back home?" Nope. It was Miller. Of course I also had pictures of Bo, and we were still together. So were Miller and Pepper.
Then shortly after Christmas break our freshman year, Bo and I broke up. LONG, weird story that I promise to tell you later. It's a good story - and my good I mean heartbreakingly interesting. Anyway, the first person I called was Miller. I don't even know how he understood me. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I remember him saying a lot of, "Uh huh...yeah..sorry...I know." Well, I started to get pissy because I thought he really wasn't listening. He was shocked I would think this, "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not talking much because I'm concentrating on packing, you moron! You think I'm letting you go through this alone? I'll see you in 9 hours."
And he did. He showed up at my dorm 9 hours later looking absolutely exhausted. He had forgotten one detail. Guys couldn't stay overnight in the girls' dorms, so we drove to a hotel. I cried all night, and he just held me. That's it. No sex, no kissing, he just held me and let me cry.
After this we visited each other as often as we could, and we met in Stupidly Small Town during our breaks, but we did sort of lessen our grip on each other. I started dating DB, and he started dating some moody chick...so we didn't stay in touch quite as often. We were still close, though, and when DB proposed I asked Miller to be in the wedding.
Then came the big day. At some point I found myself alone in that stupid little room in the front of the church, and I was starving. I realized I hadn't really eaten anything all day. And as soon as this thought popped in my head, there was a knock on the door. It was Miller. He had snuck into the reception early and grabbed crackers and drinks. We were now alone in that stupid little room. I guess I was a little nervous because I was babbling and scarfing down crackers. Eventually, he interrupted me.
Miller: "Don't marry him."
Me: "What did you just say?"
Miller: "Don't marry him. He's not right for you."
Me: "What the hell is wrong with you? Of course he's right for me."
Miller: "I know you better than anyone. You have doubts."
Me: "I do not."
Miller: "You do. Don't marry him."
Me: "What if I did have doubts? What am I supposed to do? Tell my dad thanks for paying for all this shit, but I'm out?"
Miller: "Your dad wouldn't care if you weren't sure about this. And you're not sure."
Me: "So, you expect me to do what exactly?"
Miller: "Leave."
Me: "Leave? Leave my own wedding? Just jump in my car and shove this big ass white dress in the driver's seat and leave my own damn wedding?"
Miller: "Leave. But not on your own. Leave with me."
Me: "You're insane."
And then my dad walked in and told me it was time. I looked up, and Miller was gone. My dad took one look at me and said, "You don't have to do this you know." But I said, "I want to." And then those double doors opened, I walked down the aisle, and married the douchebag.
And we never really kept in touch again. He made one trip to see me 4 years later. By this time, DB and I had kids. It was an odd visit. He just kept repeating, "You have kids. And a husband." And then the visit was over. I tried calling. I tried emailing. He never responded. Then, my mother died. It was the worst point in my life. And he didn't call. I heard from people I barely knew, but he didn't call. His mom and dad called, came to the hospital, came to the funeral. I never heard from him. It killed me. It remains a very sore subject with me. Soon after this, I heard he was getting married. I never got an invitation. Finally, his mom called me (we were very close) and said, "Please come. For me. I'm sending an invitation (this was a week before the wedding). I don't know why he couldn't send one, but please come. I need you there." So, I went. I hadn't seen him in years. He looked great. The bride, however, did not. She has a big nose and is in serious need of some makeup tips and highlights. I call her Vanilla. Yes, I realize I am biased and in a very pissy mood tonight, whatever. I'm sure she's a lovely person.
I approached him at the reception. I said congratulations. He said he needed a beer. I followed him. I am not entirely proud of what happened next.
Me: "What happened?"
Miller: "It's not all my fault. You haven't called in years either."
Me: "My MOTHER died, you asshole. You should've been there or at least called me. Everyone came by. But not you. I watched that hospital door for a week hoping you'd walk through it. You never came. You never even called. You missed her funeral."
Miller: "Annabelly, I'm at my fucking wedding."
Me: "Which you didn't invite me to. Your mother did."
Miller: "Yeah...she still thinks you and I should be together...but I'm marrying Vanilla. I'm at my wedding, Annabelly. Remember weddings? Remember your wedding? Don't get mad at me. You got married first. You got married and had kids and changed everything."
Then he walked off. I didn't see him or hear from him until last night. And last night sucked.
Sucks to be me,
Annabelly.
We went to separate colleges. He was...I don't know...maybe 9 hours away from me. We talked every night at first. Then it dwindled to maybe every other night. It was always several times a week, though. We both got into the swing of college...made friends...all that crap. I think we both adjusted easily, except for missing each other. I had a cork board right over my bed in my dorm room. It was plastered with pictures of the two of us. People asked constantly, "Is this the boyfriend back home?" Nope. It was Miller. Of course I also had pictures of Bo, and we were still together. So were Miller and Pepper.
Then shortly after Christmas break our freshman year, Bo and I broke up. LONG, weird story that I promise to tell you later. It's a good story - and my good I mean heartbreakingly interesting. Anyway, the first person I called was Miller. I don't even know how he understood me. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I remember him saying a lot of, "Uh huh...yeah..sorry...I know." Well, I started to get pissy because I thought he really wasn't listening. He was shocked I would think this, "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not talking much because I'm concentrating on packing, you moron! You think I'm letting you go through this alone? I'll see you in 9 hours."
And he did. He showed up at my dorm 9 hours later looking absolutely exhausted. He had forgotten one detail. Guys couldn't stay overnight in the girls' dorms, so we drove to a hotel. I cried all night, and he just held me. That's it. No sex, no kissing, he just held me and let me cry.
After this we visited each other as often as we could, and we met in Stupidly Small Town during our breaks, but we did sort of lessen our grip on each other. I started dating DB, and he started dating some moody chick...so we didn't stay in touch quite as often. We were still close, though, and when DB proposed I asked Miller to be in the wedding.
Then came the big day. At some point I found myself alone in that stupid little room in the front of the church, and I was starving. I realized I hadn't really eaten anything all day. And as soon as this thought popped in my head, there was a knock on the door. It was Miller. He had snuck into the reception early and grabbed crackers and drinks. We were now alone in that stupid little room. I guess I was a little nervous because I was babbling and scarfing down crackers. Eventually, he interrupted me.
Miller: "Don't marry him."
Me: "What did you just say?"
Miller: "Don't marry him. He's not right for you."
Me: "What the hell is wrong with you? Of course he's right for me."
Miller: "I know you better than anyone. You have doubts."
Me: "I do not."
Miller: "You do. Don't marry him."
Me: "What if I did have doubts? What am I supposed to do? Tell my dad thanks for paying for all this shit, but I'm out?"
Miller: "Your dad wouldn't care if you weren't sure about this. And you're not sure."
Me: "So, you expect me to do what exactly?"
Miller: "Leave."
Me: "Leave? Leave my own wedding? Just jump in my car and shove this big ass white dress in the driver's seat and leave my own damn wedding?"
Miller: "Leave. But not on your own. Leave with me."
Me: "You're insane."
And then my dad walked in and told me it was time. I looked up, and Miller was gone. My dad took one look at me and said, "You don't have to do this you know." But I said, "I want to." And then those double doors opened, I walked down the aisle, and married the douchebag.
And we never really kept in touch again. He made one trip to see me 4 years later. By this time, DB and I had kids. It was an odd visit. He just kept repeating, "You have kids. And a husband." And then the visit was over. I tried calling. I tried emailing. He never responded. Then, my mother died. It was the worst point in my life. And he didn't call. I heard from people I barely knew, but he didn't call. His mom and dad called, came to the hospital, came to the funeral. I never heard from him. It killed me. It remains a very sore subject with me. Soon after this, I heard he was getting married. I never got an invitation. Finally, his mom called me (we were very close) and said, "Please come. For me. I'm sending an invitation (this was a week before the wedding). I don't know why he couldn't send one, but please come. I need you there." So, I went. I hadn't seen him in years. He looked great. The bride, however, did not. She has a big nose and is in serious need of some makeup tips and highlights. I call her Vanilla. Yes, I realize I am biased and in a very pissy mood tonight, whatever. I'm sure she's a lovely person.
I approached him at the reception. I said congratulations. He said he needed a beer. I followed him. I am not entirely proud of what happened next.
Me: "What happened?"
Miller: "It's not all my fault. You haven't called in years either."
Me: "My MOTHER died, you asshole. You should've been there or at least called me. Everyone came by. But not you. I watched that hospital door for a week hoping you'd walk through it. You never came. You never even called. You missed her funeral."
Miller: "Annabelly, I'm at my fucking wedding."
Me: "Which you didn't invite me to. Your mother did."
Miller: "Yeah...she still thinks you and I should be together...but I'm marrying Vanilla. I'm at my wedding, Annabelly. Remember weddings? Remember your wedding? Don't get mad at me. You got married first. You got married and had kids and changed everything."
Then he walked off. I didn't see him or hear from him until last night. And last night sucked.
Sucks to be me,
Annabelly.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Tonight Was Stupid...
It really was. It was awkward and weird and really, really stupid. It was so stupid that it was stoopid - this is how the teenagers spell it when something is beyond the usual limits of stupidity.
First, more background. At some point during our senior year, it hit us that soon we wouldn't see each other every day. We did not take this well. We used to spend hours lying on the trampoline in his backyard discussing this - while holding hands and crying. How were we going to cope without each other? He debated changing his mind and staying in state for college. We were pretty torn up about the upcoming separation. We dealt with it by spending even more time together. Our significant others weren't happy with this decision.
Like I've mentioned, we were best friends; we never dated. I had a boyfriend of 2 years. He had a girlfriend of about a year. We told these significant others the deal - we would spend one night of the weekend with them, but the other night was just for us. Looking back, I can't believe they agreed to this.
Eventually, the topic came up: Why had we never dated? We reasoned that we had just become too close - that we were more like brother and sister - that there was no attraction there. The last one was definitely a lie. At some point, I remember looking at him during our senior year and thinking, "What the hell is my problem? He's adorable."
I remember this moment during our senior prom. We danced together one time, and he said, "Have I ever told you that you're beautiful? I know I joke around a lot (understatement of the century), and I'm always talking about your boobs (long story - short version of it is that he used to write poems and songs about them)...and I don't know if I have ever said you're beautiful, but...you are. And I should have told you that a long time ago. I've been stupid. About a lot of things. Do you think there's any chance that you've been stupid about a lot of things, too?" I couldn't answer, so I just nodded yes. Then the song ended...and we went back to our dates. We didn't discuss anything else until our senior trip.
This trip was wonderful and terrible. We were inseparable. We stayed on the beach later than anyone else. We cried a lot. Mostly me - but he cried, too. We just sat there on the beach, not really talking much, with our arms wrapped around each other. But on the night before we went home, we had the following discussion:
Miller: "Do you love Bo (high school bf's alias)?"
Me: "Yes, do you love Pepper (his high school gf's alias)?"
Miller: "Yes, I think so...but then there's us."
Me: "Yes, then there's us."
Miller: "We're different."
Me: "Yes...difficult to explain us, but..."
Miller: "Not dating, but..."
Me: "I can't imagine my life without you."
Miller: "Exactly. Me either. Look...let's just say whatever we want this week. This week, it's just us...no Pepper, no Bo...just us. Okay?"
Me: "Okay. You start."
Miller: "If I had to lose one of you...you or Pepper...I'd give her up. No question. I'd rather have you."
Me: "I couldn't give you up either...I do love Bo, but..."
Miller: "We're something else entirely, aren't we?"
Me: "Yes."
Miller: "Are you attracted to me at all?"
Me: "Yes. Are you?"
Miller: "Yes, and it's not just your boobs, I promise...I look at you, and I think I've been a moron since 6th grade...a scared moron."
Me: "Did you ever want us to be more than friends?"
Miller: "Yes, but I always pushed it out of my mind."
Me: "Me too...and I've got Bo..."
Miller: "And I've got Pepper...but you know that we're more than that."
Me: "I know. Now what?"
Miller: "I don't know...I'm going to be hours and hours away from you this fall."
Me: "I don't want to talk about that tonight."
Miller: "How about we don't talk? Let's stay out here as long as possible...til people come looking for us."
And we did. He wrapped his arms around me, and we both cried. And he kissed the top of my head over and over. Finally, someone did come looking for us. I cried myself to sleep that night. The next day we got on the bus to go home. We sat together, and he put his pillow on our laps so that no one would see that we were holding hands.
That's all I feel up to sharing tonight. I will finish tomorrow, and tell you more about how stupid our little reunion was tonight. Excuse me - stoopid.
like (cause I ain't in the mood for love),
Annabelly
First, more background. At some point during our senior year, it hit us that soon we wouldn't see each other every day. We did not take this well. We used to spend hours lying on the trampoline in his backyard discussing this - while holding hands and crying. How were we going to cope without each other? He debated changing his mind and staying in state for college. We were pretty torn up about the upcoming separation. We dealt with it by spending even more time together. Our significant others weren't happy with this decision.
Like I've mentioned, we were best friends; we never dated. I had a boyfriend of 2 years. He had a girlfriend of about a year. We told these significant others the deal - we would spend one night of the weekend with them, but the other night was just for us. Looking back, I can't believe they agreed to this.
Eventually, the topic came up: Why had we never dated? We reasoned that we had just become too close - that we were more like brother and sister - that there was no attraction there. The last one was definitely a lie. At some point, I remember looking at him during our senior year and thinking, "What the hell is my problem? He's adorable."
I remember this moment during our senior prom. We danced together one time, and he said, "Have I ever told you that you're beautiful? I know I joke around a lot (understatement of the century), and I'm always talking about your boobs (long story - short version of it is that he used to write poems and songs about them)...and I don't know if I have ever said you're beautiful, but...you are. And I should have told you that a long time ago. I've been stupid. About a lot of things. Do you think there's any chance that you've been stupid about a lot of things, too?" I couldn't answer, so I just nodded yes. Then the song ended...and we went back to our dates. We didn't discuss anything else until our senior trip.
This trip was wonderful and terrible. We were inseparable. We stayed on the beach later than anyone else. We cried a lot. Mostly me - but he cried, too. We just sat there on the beach, not really talking much, with our arms wrapped around each other. But on the night before we went home, we had the following discussion:
Miller: "Do you love Bo (high school bf's alias)?"
Me: "Yes, do you love Pepper (his high school gf's alias)?"
Miller: "Yes, I think so...but then there's us."
Me: "Yes, then there's us."
Miller: "We're different."
Me: "Yes...difficult to explain us, but..."
Miller: "Not dating, but..."
Me: "I can't imagine my life without you."
Miller: "Exactly. Me either. Look...let's just say whatever we want this week. This week, it's just us...no Pepper, no Bo...just us. Okay?"
Me: "Okay. You start."
Miller: "If I had to lose one of you...you or Pepper...I'd give her up. No question. I'd rather have you."
Me: "I couldn't give you up either...I do love Bo, but..."
Miller: "We're something else entirely, aren't we?"
Me: "Yes."
Miller: "Are you attracted to me at all?"
Me: "Yes. Are you?"
Miller: "Yes, and it's not just your boobs, I promise...I look at you, and I think I've been a moron since 6th grade...a scared moron."
Me: "Did you ever want us to be more than friends?"
Miller: "Yes, but I always pushed it out of my mind."
Me: "Me too...and I've got Bo..."
Miller: "And I've got Pepper...but you know that we're more than that."
Me: "I know. Now what?"
Miller: "I don't know...I'm going to be hours and hours away from you this fall."
Me: "I don't want to talk about that tonight."
Miller: "How about we don't talk? Let's stay out here as long as possible...til people come looking for us."
And we did. He wrapped his arms around me, and we both cried. And he kissed the top of my head over and over. Finally, someone did come looking for us. I cried myself to sleep that night. The next day we got on the bus to go home. We sat together, and he put his pillow on our laps so that no one would see that we were holding hands.
That's all I feel up to sharing tonight. I will finish tomorrow, and tell you more about how stupid our little reunion was tonight. Excuse me - stoopid.
like (cause I ain't in the mood for love),
Annabelly
Some Background Info...
Thought you might enjoy a little background info on the dude I'm going to see tonight. He needs a name. Let's call him Miller. It's an appropriate name, and, no, you don't get to know why it's appropriate. Deal with it.
Miller and I were close friends from a very young age. Starting in junior high, we called each other every night and talked for hours. I distinctly remember my grown sister making those emergency breaks on the phone line because she couldn't get through to our parents. This was before the days of call waiting...either that or it was before my dad agreed to pay for call waiting.
Miller and I were in the same school activities. We played the same sport. We arranged our schedules so we'd have the same classes. We went to church together. We went to the lake together. We spent almost every day after school together. We told each other secrets that no one else knew. I once popped a painful zit on his back he couldn't reach. He once held my hair when I vomited. He painted my toenails for me. I rubbed sunscreen on his back and shoulders (he was a pale sonofabitch). He helped me with my tennis serve. I helped him shop for his Homecoming outfit. He was my best friend.
We never dated. For a long time, we never even discussed it even though everyone around us (especially our families) wondered why we weren't a couple. At some point, though, the same thought occurred to us - why had we never dated? We did couple-y things. We watched movies on his couch. I'd throw my legs on his lap, and he'd rub my feet. He'd put a pillow in my lap, and I'd run my fingers through his hair. Sometimes when we ended our phone conversations, we'd say, "Love you more than anyone." It remains the most intense friendship of my life. Not exactly that he's been the greatest friend I've ever had - Padma and Tamara take the cake on that - but it was definitely the most intense.
Our senior year, things really started to change...and I'll tell you about that next.
Love you more than (almost) anyone,
Annabelly
Miller and I were close friends from a very young age. Starting in junior high, we called each other every night and talked for hours. I distinctly remember my grown sister making those emergency breaks on the phone line because she couldn't get through to our parents. This was before the days of call waiting...either that or it was before my dad agreed to pay for call waiting.
Miller and I were in the same school activities. We played the same sport. We arranged our schedules so we'd have the same classes. We went to church together. We went to the lake together. We spent almost every day after school together. We told each other secrets that no one else knew. I once popped a painful zit on his back he couldn't reach. He once held my hair when I vomited. He painted my toenails for me. I rubbed sunscreen on his back and shoulders (he was a pale sonofabitch). He helped me with my tennis serve. I helped him shop for his Homecoming outfit. He was my best friend.
We never dated. For a long time, we never even discussed it even though everyone around us (especially our families) wondered why we weren't a couple. At some point, though, the same thought occurred to us - why had we never dated? We did couple-y things. We watched movies on his couch. I'd throw my legs on his lap, and he'd rub my feet. He'd put a pillow in my lap, and I'd run my fingers through his hair. Sometimes when we ended our phone conversations, we'd say, "Love you more than anyone." It remains the most intense friendship of my life. Not exactly that he's been the greatest friend I've ever had - Padma and Tamara take the cake on that - but it was definitely the most intense.
Our senior year, things really started to change...and I'll tell you about that next.
Love you more than (almost) anyone,
Annabelly
OMG...Should Have an Interesting Post Tonight...
Forget the "Things I Should Be Teaching Kids" post...because at approximately 7:00 tonight I will see a man I haven't seen in years. There were feelings...and missed opportunities...and tears...and secrets...and drama...lots of drama. This went on for years, yet even my closest friends didn't know about it at the time. I am excited and very, very nervous. I wonder if he's changed? I wonder if he'll be excited to see me? Will he hug me? Will he be nervous? Will we have anything to say to each other after all these years? And, most importantly, what should I wear?????
For those of you concerned that this is inappropriate due to my SORT OF relationship with Muscles, don't be. This dude from my past is married, and the wife will be there. I have no intention of acting or saying anything inappropriate...BUT...bet you 5 bucks she hates me.
Word to yo muthas,
Annabelly
For those of you concerned that this is inappropriate due to my SORT OF relationship with Muscles, don't be. This dude from my past is married, and the wife will be there. I have no intention of acting or saying anything inappropriate...BUT...bet you 5 bucks she hates me.
Word to yo muthas,
Annabelly
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Things I Should Be Teaching Today's Kids...
Let's be honest...how many of these kids are going to remember how to solve quadratic equations? How many of them (beyond high school) are going to NEED to know how to solve quadratic equations? However, they can still benefit greatly from my knowledge. Because, let's face it, I know things. In honor of back to school time, here are a few classes I wouldn't mind teaching.
Actually, here's just the first one...I'll post the rest after dinner. Deal.
1. Naming Your Children 101: Some of these students have some f'd up names. Trust me, people, come down off your acid trip and your wacky weed buzz before naming your children any of the following: Aquanetta (hello, the 80's hairspray standby?), Charmin (tp for your bunghole, anyone?), Chastity (trust me, she will be the one knocked up with twins by age 15 and will appear on an episode of Maury Povich's "Who's my Babydaddy?"), or Cherry (lots o virginity jokes), or Waldo (the next person who says "Where's Waldo?" in my class is getting a smack to the head. I plan on telling the principal this kid just tripped.)
Actually, here's just the first one...I'll post the rest after dinner. Deal.
1. Naming Your Children 101: Some of these students have some f'd up names. Trust me, people, come down off your acid trip and your wacky weed buzz before naming your children any of the following: Aquanetta (hello, the 80's hairspray standby?), Charmin (tp for your bunghole, anyone?), Chastity (trust me, she will be the one knocked up with twins by age 15 and will appear on an episode of Maury Povich's "Who's my Babydaddy?"), or Cherry (lots o virginity jokes), or Waldo (the next person who says "Where's Waldo?" in my class is getting a smack to the head. I plan on telling the principal this kid just tripped.)
We GOTS to Talk about Muscles...
Well, I hadn't planned on telling you peeps much about Muscles since I'm currently smooching and groping him, but...DAMN, the man is driving me crazy. He has GOT to be the sexiest, muscliest, possibly bipolarest (yes, I know est doesn't belong on two of those words. Sue me) guy ever. EVER.
He is, alternately, supersweet and supercranky. This past weekend at MainGay's house, he was fantastic. But the last two nights on the phone he clearly had his manties (male panties. duh) in a wad. A big wad. He was short with me, seemed aggravated with me, and clearly did not want to talk to me. Then why did he call me? Last night was the worst. Apparently saying things like, "yes, uh-huh, I understand" during a pause in the conversation is rude. He considers it interrupting. I was unaware he felt this way. I was unaware that anyone felt this way. I enjoy a back-and-forth banter. He does not. At one point he said, "Look, am I telling you the fucking story, or are you telling me the fucking story?" And he said it angrily. And loudly. He followed it with, "You're always interrupting. It's like you're always trying to steer the conversation."
Yikes. I did not enjoy that. I also did not agree with his assessment of my conversational skills, which, clearly, are stellar. Ask anyone. Ask Padma or Tamara or MainGay. Just don't ask Muscles. Anyway, a few hours after this lovely convo, I get a text from MainGay: "You will never believe the incredible thank you email Muscles sent me (about the weekend). Fairly long and EXTREMELY heartfelt. I'll read it to you and, trust me, you're going to officially declare "underwears" to be perfectly acceptable!"
I haven't seen the email yet, but I have no doubt that it is extraordinarily heartfelt. That's him...sensitive and observant and heartfelt. Except for when he's not. And then he's SuperCrank.
Today he called and said, "Guess what? I was an ass yesterday. I apologize. I could make excuses, but I won't because that's disrespectful to you. That's it. I was a huge ass, and I'm sorry. Also, I know I kinda griped a lot yesterday and never asked about your day. So, I'm gonna sit here and listen, and I really want to hear about it. I'm all ears. To be honest with you, it's been several days and I haven't asked about you at all, and that's wrong. You know I love me some Annabelly, so start talking, Hotness." See - ass then sweetheart.
I want to strangle him, then make out with him. UGG.
That is all,
Annabelly
He is, alternately, supersweet and supercranky. This past weekend at MainGay's house, he was fantastic. But the last two nights on the phone he clearly had his manties (male panties. duh) in a wad. A big wad. He was short with me, seemed aggravated with me, and clearly did not want to talk to me. Then why did he call me? Last night was the worst. Apparently saying things like, "yes, uh-huh, I understand" during a pause in the conversation is rude. He considers it interrupting. I was unaware he felt this way. I was unaware that anyone felt this way. I enjoy a back-and-forth banter. He does not. At one point he said, "Look, am I telling you the fucking story, or are you telling me the fucking story?" And he said it angrily. And loudly. He followed it with, "You're always interrupting. It's like you're always trying to steer the conversation."
Yikes. I did not enjoy that. I also did not agree with his assessment of my conversational skills, which, clearly, are stellar. Ask anyone. Ask Padma or Tamara or MainGay. Just don't ask Muscles. Anyway, a few hours after this lovely convo, I get a text from MainGay: "You will never believe the incredible thank you email Muscles sent me (about the weekend). Fairly long and EXTREMELY heartfelt. I'll read it to you and, trust me, you're going to officially declare "underwears" to be perfectly acceptable!"
I haven't seen the email yet, but I have no doubt that it is extraordinarily heartfelt. That's him...sensitive and observant and heartfelt. Except for when he's not. And then he's SuperCrank.
Today he called and said, "Guess what? I was an ass yesterday. I apologize. I could make excuses, but I won't because that's disrespectful to you. That's it. I was a huge ass, and I'm sorry. Also, I know I kinda griped a lot yesterday and never asked about your day. So, I'm gonna sit here and listen, and I really want to hear about it. I'm all ears. To be honest with you, it's been several days and I haven't asked about you at all, and that's wrong. You know I love me some Annabelly, so start talking, Hotness." See - ass then sweetheart.
I want to strangle him, then make out with him. UGG.
That is all,
Annabelly
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