L-bombs and F-bombs

Love

On Friday, it will be 10 official years since hubs and I dropped the first L-bombs on one another.

I’ll honestly never forget it.  We were laying in bed in my minuscule one bedroom apartment watching an episode of “Whose Line is it Anyway” on my 12″ tv/vcr combo that had come with me when I moved from college just a few months before.

Something on the tv made me laugh so hard I snorted.  And not cute dainty snort either.  We’re talking full nostril-hair-shaking-there-might-have-been-a-little-snot snort.

He looked over at me with this amazed look on his face and said, “Well fuck.”

Assuming something was wrong, or that I had inadvertently shot a snot rocket at him, I anxiously asked, “what happened?”

He replied, “yeah, I just realized that I love you.  Damn it.”

We had been playing the we’re-just-really-close-friends-who-sometimes-have-sex-but-have-no-interest-in-a-relationshp game for close to two months at that point, and I think we both had realized it was something a little more.

Kudos to him for having the balls to say it.  I sure as hell didn’t at first.

Fast forward to a little over 4 years later.  We were in Florida in my hometown for Christmas walking on a beach that I had played on as a kid.  Somehow the conversation turned to where I would want to get married, if we ever got around to it.  As it turned out, which he totally knew, if I had it my way I would get married in pretty much the exact spot we were in at the moment.

Imagine my surprise when he did the whole drop to one knee maneuver and asked me to marry him.

Need some help painting the beautiful picture?

Well, my response was “oh fuck?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Don’t you have bad knees?  What are you doing?  Fuck.  Seriously.  What the fuck?”

And you know how I know this man is perfect for me?  His response, “Well that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word.  So is that a yes?”

Fucking right it was.

** Bonus points for anyone who gets the movie reference.** 🙂

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Apparently, I am the opposite of anal retentive

Retirement at 30 is awesome.  I get to do pretty much anything I want on a given day, which sometimes includes helping hubs out at his screamingly successful business.  I get to do the fun stuff, which lately has meant helping with recruiting new employees.

The calls go something like, “Hi there.   Your resume looks pretty fancy and wouldn’t you like to make enough money that your wife doesn’t have to work anymore?  Yes?  Well then you should come in for an interview.”

I’m great at it.  Well, sorta.

It also means I’m on hand for any other odds and ends things he needs done, which he loves and I enjoy because I end up feeling useful at least once a week. I guess that’s my minimum.

Today there was an HR explosion that resulted in hubs being alone in the office without an admin, and having an appointment that he needed to get to.  Lucky him, I was here, and jumped at the chance to help out.

So now it’s just after 4 p.m. and I’m on my own answering phones until 5.

Which of course means that right now, at this very moment, I have to poop.

Figures.

The world according to my grandma

If I live to be 88 I hope that I still have my wits and snark about me, just like my dear grandma.  She’s known in my family for her hilarious stories, candid remarks, and her way of putting things.

I got the pleasure of hanging with her on Monday night and doing dinner just the two of us, so of course, I have new grandma stories to tell.

Apparently, she’s only ever gambled once in her life.  When she was a young woman several of the ladies she worked with went to a horse track.  They talked her into placing a bet.  Not knowing anything about horse racing, or betting for that matter, she made her decision as to who to place her incredibly valuable $30 on by one simple factor.

She eyed up the horses and chose the one that looked like the “biggest maniac craziod”  because she found it to be the most relatable to her, and put her money there across the board.

She walked away that night with $2500.

You learn something new every day.  Apparently crazy really does run in my family.

Since I’m not having children, you get my 30 years of wisdom

alcohol

Hey mom guess what?  I actually made it to 30!  I know, right?  I didn’t think I would do it either.  At least, not with all my limbs attached anyway.

Not only that, my teeth never rotted out of my head from all the candy.

My face didn’t ever freeze that way.

And I totally jumped off the bridge after my friends, and lived to tell the tale.

So really, I’ve had a pretty great time living these past 30 years.

Now I’m not saying all your advice was bunk, mom.  Lots of your pearls of wisdom helped me along the way.   And while you did bestow upon me the mothers curse of hoping I have a daughter exactly like me, I’m not going to give you a chance to spoil my potential little puke rotten and don’t plan to have one.

It’s a shame really, because I could totally be the cool mom who passes along the knowledge that will actually get you to 30.  Rather than let it go to waste, I’ll dispense the most important lessons and advice here to be immortalized in the interwebs.

Be warned, I’m going to give it to you straight, kittens.   Here’s the top 10 pieces of advice that got me to 30 relatively sane and unscathed… hey, I said relatively.  Stop laughing.

  1.  Wear a skirt to keg parties at frat houses.  You have a built in excuse NOT to do a keg stand.
  2. If something on their man bits looks or smells funny, do not put it in your mouth.  Under any circumstances.
  3. Wearing two condoms does not give you more protection.  It gives you chaffage and a rubber band burn inside your hoo hoo.
  4. Never, EVER play “never have I ever” in a room with more than one ex boyfriend.  Double bad if the ex boyfriends have their new girlfriends with them.  Triple bad if their new girlfriends are boring and easily made jealous.
  5. Make a few close friends that you can count on and who can count on you.  It’s not cool to have to call your mom for bail money because you got caught peeing on a wall in New Orleans when you were supposed to be volunteering to build a home for Habitat for Humanity in Pensacola for the weekend.
  6. Oh and don’t pee anywhere publicly.  That’s a big no no.  Boys too.  Whipping it out where other people can see it will go on your permanent record if you get caught.
  7. Go to Mardi Gras at least once.  Preferably when you’re old enough to drink legally but not so old that you’re the old skeezer just there to see perky young boobs.
  8. Find something classy you like to drink.  “Natty Light” might sound cool in college, but in the real world someone who knows their tequila or scotch seems just a tiny bit classier.
  9. Make decisions sober and don’t allow yourself to go back on them once you’re drunk.  I have no idea how many bad situations I’ve avoided by writing down on the palm of my hand “sleep in your own bed tonight you asshole” before leaving for the party, and actually taking my own advice.
  10. Find someone who gets your crazy and put them in your pocket and keep them forever.  I’m not saying go out and get married or fall in love or any of that crap.  But find someone who really GETS you, who vindicates and validates you, and supports you through it all.  Hell that person can be YOU if you’re super duper awesome, or it can be someone you find in someone else.  Either way, find it.  Having someone to make it to 30 and beyond with really does make all the difference in the world.

So what about you readers?  Any advice for how to make you first 30 years great?  What about the next 30?  Somehow I think the fun has just begun for this girl.

It’s as romantic as two women punching eachother in the face

ronda-rousey-miesha-tate-ufc-168-poster

Which anniversary is the one where you’re supposed to give blood?

For hubs and I, it will be this one.  I mean, it won’t be MY blood.  Others will be sacrificing it in our honor.  We’ll be like, Roman emperors or something.  I’ll have to work on my accent.  And my toga.

But I digress.

I am officially the proud owner of two tickets to UFC 168 in VEGAS!   The fight is on December 28, which happens to be our wedding anniversary.  We have long wanted to go to Vegas for the New Year, and when the Weidman vs Silva and Rousey vs Tate fights were announced, it was the deciding factor.

How cool is my husband that, rather than buy me jewelry, I get sweat and combat.

I live a very charmed life.

Mastering the Kama… eh, whatever

Weekly Writing Challenge:  Dialogue

Find the full challenge here: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/16/writing-challenge-dialogue/

Summary: Nothing draws me into a post like an opening scene with dialogue. It doesn’t matter if you’re writing fiction, nonfiction, memoir, or even journalism: Drop me in the middle of the action. Make me a fly on the wall. I guarantee I’ll be instantly engaged, wondering who these people are. Or write as if you’re a character in your own story, and you’ve pulled me along for the adventure.

“Where is my leg supposed to go again?”  I said, balancing precariously on the edge of the mattress.  It was spectacularly difficult to try to appear sexy and graceful while also trying to do what felt like advanced yoga while naked, sweaty, and attempting to keep his penis inside me.

“Um, I think it goes on this side,” he replied, gesturing as he studied the drawing in the book.

I shifted my weight.  The arm that had kept me delicately dangling on the edge of the bed gave out.  He caught me as I collapsed, falling off the edge of the bed into a fit of giggles.  His hand under my head braced my fall and he landed gently on top of me just where he belonged.

“That was a close call,” he whispered, voice husky.  My giggles disappeared and I became suddenly, beautifully aware of how perfect this moment was.

“Not close enough,” I replied.

The conversation ended there, replaced instead with the most beautiful, inarticulate symphony I could ever hope to be a part of.

Kiss the bicep… kiiissss itttttt

It's a really REALLY good thing I'm not a boy.
It’s a really REALLY good thing I’m not a boy.

Have you ever caught a glimpse of yourself out of the corner of your eye and somehow just end up staring mesmerized?

Yeah, me either.  Until last night.

While out to dinner with the hubs at our favorite sushi spot, I reached across the table for another bite of tataki.  As I did, I caught a glimpse of my bare bicep and shoulder out of the corner of my eye.

It was like a cat with a shiny object.  I was hypnotized.

I can’t believe my arms look this… good?

When have I ever thought my arms look good?

Hubs caught me oogling myself and laughed.  His response?  “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to arm wrestle you either.  I don’t like to lose.”

It took pretty much every ounce of self control I had not to tackle him to the table right then and there.  You know… to prove how strong I am.

Let me count the ways

There are a million things that might make someone “the one” for you.  According to my husband, he married me because I copped a squat on the side of the interstate on our third date.  (What?  The highway was freaking SHUT DOWN and I had to PEE like woah!)   He knew in that moment that I was the woman for him.

For me, I knew it the first time I watched him clean out his ears with Q-Tips and I didn’t instantly vomit in my mouth that I must be in love.  About 6 months into our relationship we went to Taco Bell and ordered $40 worth of food, I ate more than my share, and he still slept in the same bed as me that night.  That would be the moment that I knew we would end up together forever.

Last night, as I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling and trying to drown out his snores that sounded more like a giant tractor plowing an uncooperative corn field in the middle of our bedroom at 4 a.m., I thought about all the things I love about him.  Then, as he inhaled with such gusto that I swear my hair started swaying from the pillow in the direction of his piehole, I contemplated the things about him that drive me crazy.

In the end, I put on the “white noise” app on my phone and drifted back to sleep, reminded that good or bad, all of his qualities are just that, uniquely his.  Whether I love them or hate them, I absolutely adore him.

And earplugs.  I absolutely positively adore earplugs.

Old Time Rock n’ Roll in my underpants

drunk

Evidently, I’m super fun even when I’m not drunk.

At least, that’s what my husband told me last night.

What a relief!  And I mean that seriously.

Before starting this Whole 30 thing, I’m not sure I realized how much alcohol I was consuming.  I mean, obviously, I knew that we are really social and go out 4-5 nights a week.  I also knew that going out meant drinking beer and hanging out with our peeps.  But I’ve got to be honest, I never really sat back and processed just how many beers I was drinking per night, or how important alcohol is to my social activities.

The first few times we went out during the first week of Whole 30 were really hard.  It was instinct to order a beer, or a glass of wine to compliment my meal.  Ordering water or unsweet tea just felt funny, and the fact that the bartenders at my favorite hangout spot looked at me like I had 6 heads didn’t make it much easier.

My friends at first were understanding, but mostly because I made up excuses.  I would say I had a hard workout and was just really thirsty, or that my stomach hurt so I didn’t want to pour beer on top of it.  But after the first week when I continued ordering water with lemon, they knew something was up.

One of the “boys” called me on it while out at dinner this week.  I admitted that I was doing Whole 30 and wasn’t drinking for 30 days.

He surprised the shit out of me when he said, “that’s really cool.”  We talked more, and not only did he respect what I was trying to do (after some serious ribbing and teasing), he left me alone about it for the rest of the night.

I don’t have the juice right now to psychoanalyze the reason why I didn’t just tell my friends I wasn’t drinking for 30 days.  I’m pretty sure I don’t like the idea of being the “girl on the diet” and figured by not saying anything, I wouldn’t end up in that sterotyped role.  I’m sure I also fell into the trap of thinking I am more fun, outgoing, and exciting to be around once I’ve had a few drinks and loosened up.

Over the past two weeks of this challenge, I’ve learned that’s not the case.  In fact, last night my husband and I went out and had more fun together than I think we’ve quite possibly ever had before.  The night culminated playing pool upstairs in our home, singing along to classic rock songs in our underpants.  And laughing harder than I have in my entire life.

Sober kids.  Stone cold sober.

It’s amazing the things I’m discovering along the way.  Maybe part of this is just finding myself.

Bragging about my box

true love

I really love it when two people who I think probably look freaking awesome together naked get married.  Is it weird that I think about my Crossfit coaches naked?  Eh, if you knew them, you would too.  They’re freaking hot.

Today Pervy-but-we-love-him-anyway coach and Super-awesome-girl-coach are tying the knot, and all joking aside, I am so happy for them I can hardly stand myself.  I’ve posted more than once about how amazing my box is, and I recognize that it’s because of them that I am surrounded by a community of people who motivate, support and inspire each other daily to simply be better.  There’s only one way that happens, when leaders nurture it.  They are each other’s biggest cheerleaders, and ours as well.  It’s kind of storybook perfect (in that borderline nauseating kind of way) that they found each other and have built this life together.

My grandma always used to say, “the proof is in the pudding,” so with the permission of the authors, I wanted to share here just two samples of  posts from our members only Crossfit group.  This is the level of AWESOME our coaches foster, and the caliber of people I get to call my Crossfit family.

Posted this morning by super-motivational-guy-with-lickable-abs:
“Prescription to awesomeness; All right people WAKE UP!!! Time to be the change you wish to see in yourself. 1st step begins with how you roll out of bed. No matter what foot hits the ground, make sure it’s the “right” one that will lead you down your focused path of positive attitude. Appreciate everything today, be thankful, helpful, and lead by example. Frustration has no home in your head today.  Keep this focus throughout the day, infect everyone around you, spread this energy, and then bring it into the box and watch the sum of your focus propel you to achieve your goals. See you at the box…I will be the loud one, in case we haven’t met…and I do want to meet you!!!   STAY STRONG AND POSITIVE, WHAT YOU BELIEVE YOU WILL ACHIEVE!!!”

Posted last night by shy-new-guy-who-kicked-some-ass:
“Tonight was awesome. I’ve been a bit timid since joining not quite knowing what the hell was going on around me but went with the flow. Tonight the group I was paired up with was positive and pushed me and things just felt like they clicked into place. This is not like anything else I’ve been a part of. I’m all in. Can’t wait for tomorrow!”

If you’re part of my Crossfit circle, know that you seriously inspire me.  Every single one of you.

If you’re someone who simply reads this blog, feel free to be jealous, because I’ve got it pretty darn good.

And more than anything, if you’re someone wondering if Crossfit could be for you, drop into your local box TODAY.  I am obviously drinking the kool-aid, but this can be life changing.  For me, it wasn’t necessarily about the exercise or the fitness pieces.  Sure, I’m doing things I’ve never done before and stronger than I’ve ever been, but that pales in comparison to the strength that being a part of this group has given me.

In so many ways, Crossfit rocks.

So thanks sexy coaches.  Post your beautiful pictures and bring tears that I won’t ever tell anyone about to my eyes.  You guys deserve more happiness than I could ever figure out how to write about.  I know you will find it with each other.