Poll of Life – How Alarming!

Ever since daylight savings, my iPhone has had a glitch. When I set the alarm for 6 am, it goes off at 5 am. I’ve attempted to fix this multiple times to no avail. It doesn’t do this for any other time, just 6 am.

Last week, this worked to my advantage as I had a bunch of early morning meetings. This week, which just happens to be Warren’s first week of unemployment, has not started off so great.

I’ve discovered getting up at 6 means time to exercise before work. An alarm going off at 5 means no exercise will be done, someone will be late for work AND a discussion about the appropriate use of the snooze button will occur.

What do you think?

Super Secret Life

Well friends. This is it. This is the last Friday before The Dubs moves in. What might seem like a normal Friday (Friday, gotta get down on Friday) to anyone else is the end of an era for me. My super secret life of mystery will now be unveiled.

Ever since the boyfriend and I started dating, Friday (everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend, weekend) was a special time in my week. The butterflies of anticipation started to flutter as I awaited the arrival of my LDR and ran around my apartment shoving clothes in closets, washing dishes that have been soaking in the sink for a week and dusting the crumbs off my coffee table to make it look like I didn’t eat crackers and peanut butter for dinner the evening before.

Beginning April 1, the truth will be revealed.

I’m the messiest girl who ever lived.

Warren thinks he knows what he’s getting into. He thinks he knows how I roll…in piles of laundry and almost empty milk cartons still left in the fridge. But in the words of the MTV Diary series, he thinks he knows, but he has no idea.

I’m sure I’ll be cleaner when he gets here because….who am I kidding? He’s going to be here in less than an hour. I still have to clean the bathroom, move the ironing board from the middle of the bedroom and clear off the chair that I never sit in during the week because it’s full of coats, bags, purses and mail. I don’t have time to be delusional.

Couchless.

You think you have problems? The boyfriend is without couch. But, as you can see, Dubs is a problem-solving man.

Thankfully, he only has a few days left of sleeping in the living room. Hopefully, he only has a few days left of explaining to people that he is moving to Chicago with no job.

As you may already know from my rant, ahem, post, I’m constantly faced with pressure from my peers about getting married. Dubs gets to deal with a different type of pressure – the how-will-you-support-your-non-marriage-lifestyle-type pressure.

Below is an example of the conversation that does NOT happen.

Pleasant Acquaintance: Warren, I hear you are moving to Chicago. Tell me, have you found a job out there?

Dubs: No, not yet. I’m actually considering a career change. I see this move as an opportunity to pursue some of my other passions like improv and comedy.

Pleasant Acquaintance: Wow. That’s exciting. I can’t think of a better time for you to pursue something that makes you happy. Not to mention something you clearly have talent for. I congratulate you on your good sense and great timing. You are a handsome man, and your girlfriend is one lucky, and adorable, lady. Have you both lost weight?

Poll of Life – March Madness Edition

It’s Monday, which means poll-time!

As you should know, March Madness is upon us. For the past two years, Dubs and I have taken off the Friday of the tournament’s opening weekend to watch the games at a bar in St. Louis. This year, I drove in after work on Thursday missing most of the games. Before I left, I checked the score of my beloved’s beloved – Vanderbilt.

What occurred next was an important lesson in our relationship – and the topic of my next poll!

After voting, feel free to include your guess of what I did in the comments section.

Shrieking Violets

I heard a woman’s shriek outside my office this morning. 

No one was being attacked. Someone was being engaged.

My ears just stopped bleeding.

I have nothing against people getting engaged. I AM completely against the high-pitched shrieks from other females who learn of said engagement.

I am also against people talking about my marriage. Why, you may ask? ‘Cause I’m not married. In the past two days, I’ve received two comments regarding my non-marriage. It’s been a slow week.

As any chick who has dated anyone ever, the second you start seeing someone is the second people start asking if the save-the-dates are in the mail yet. My favorite thing to do when someone asks me about whether Dubs and I are going to take the plunge is put the attention on someone else in a relationship. These conversations go like this.

Jerkface 1: So…you guys are moving in together, huhhhhh? So, like, when are you getting married?

Me: We’re doing just fine how we are right now, but Sally, haven’t you been dating your boyfriend for a while now?

Innocent Bystander: Uh, yeah about 2 years.

Me: So you think he’s the one? Have you talked about marriage? When do you think he’s going to propose? Do you think you’ll have a church wedding? When are you going to start having kids? Will you raise them Catholic? OMIGOD! YOU’RE GETTING ENGAGED! AHHHHH!

High-pitched shriek.

It works every time.

The Poll of Life

So I have this thing about online polls. I love them and hope you do too.

Update: The Write-In options aren’t showing up in the results, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what they are! If you wouldn’t mind, please include your write-in as a comment. Thanks!

A Whole New Level of Committment

It’s the Saturday before St. Patrick’s Day. In Chicago that means throwing on some wacky green outfit, watching the river be dyed green and drinking a whole boatload of green beer. Or, if you’re me, you’re in your apartment washing your boyfriend’s underwear.

I’m not really sure how it how it happened. First, there was the toothbrush and man deodorant. Then there was space for the shaving cream and razor. Then boy movies and video games made an appearance. And before I knew what was happening, all of a sudden I hear myself saying “oh, I can do your laundry while you’re out.” Wha…wha…what? I can barely keep up with my own laundry, and now I’m offering to do his? He didn’t even ask?!

Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around? Aren’t I supposed to be making him feel suffocated by putting my girlie stuff all up in his grill? 

Sigh…time to go fold his underwear, make a pot roast and cry.

Puppies are Like Babies, Right?

Well, in my family they are. Much to my mother’s chagrin (does this word make anyone else uncomfortable? No? Just me? Moving on…), there are no babies popping out of her children any time soon. I’m the youngest of three so I feel like the pressure is off me to reproduce (though I think it would be hilarious to get knocked up out-of-wedlock just to make people uncomfortable) – (I’m totally kidding, knock, knock, knock on wood). Plus, both my brother and my sister have animals. And, in my family, that’s as good as grandbabies.

My brother texted me recently to let me know I forgot my nephew’s birthday, which was this past Sunday. My bad, bro. Here’s a picture to celebrate Dozer’s birth, and so you can see the family resemblance.

The belated birthday dog

 My sister and her husband have a gaggle of animals – two cats and a dog, to be specific. My wonderful mother loves her grandanimals and likes to send them presents on holidays.

 

As much as I love my nieces and nephews, I am unable to be a parent to anything at this time. Allow me to elaborate:

 

1. My fridge is full of beer and jelly (for to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches). I don’t even have appropriate condiments like ketchup.

 

2.I had plants in self-watering pots. As in they watered themselves. I still managed to forget to refill the water once a month, and they died.

 

3. One of my favorite things to do is to meet a friend for an impromptu drink after work. No planning, just go. I don’t want to give this up.

 

And thus, my mother will just have to get by with the grandanimals she has.    

My Boyfriend is Making Me Fat

Pay no attention to the pretzel M&Ms in my hand. This has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the fact that the boyfriend forces me to eat way too much bad (yet tasty) food. He also forces me to sleep late, work late and be emotionally and physically drained after work, making exercise completely avoidable. He does all this while living 303 miles away. I know. How dare he, right?

If you knew me, you’d know I’m always hungry. Ever since I was a baby, I ate every two hours. If I ever get really mean and start yelling at you for no reason, you should just shove a granola bar in my mouth, wait about 2 minutes and then sit back for the apology. My sister can tell by the look on my face when I’m a hot second away from a meltdown. Sadly for everyone, she lives in Arizona, has a life and cannot follow me around shoving food in my face. (I think it’s kinda rude for her not to at least offer though; she clearly has a gift).

So, it’s not my problem that I forget Dubs is a man who can eat 2500 calories a day and not gain weight. I call BS when my jeans start getting snug after I match him burrito for burrito, beer for beer. I eat like a man, dammit. Plus, I really like burritos.

Death by Home Depot

The boyfriend and I took a trip to the D-pot this weekend to make a set of keys for him. You may ask, “haven’t you two been dating for awhile now, and so shouldn’t he already have a set?” The answer is, very simply, “get off my back.”

I guess the reason we haven’t made keys yet is because there’s something I enjoy about him coming to the door, ringing the buzzer and letting him up when he gets into town.

Or…when I leave for a trip, and he calls to tell me he locked himself out of my apartment ‘cause he thought it would be nice to take out the garbage, but all of his stuff is still inside, and I tell him that I don’t know what to tell him because not only do I have my set of keys, I also have the extra set that is supposed to be at my parent’s house for emergencies but I never gave it back to them after I locked myself out the last time, and I’m about to board a plane so he should just figure it out. Not like that has ever happened…

The keys are the least of my worries though. I’m more concerned about the fact that this is the second trip we’ve taken to Home Depot in the last 30 days. As far as I’m concerned that means we might as well slap on a pair of overalls and start shopping for samples of beige paint.

Let the sweating begin

I calmed down only after Dubs assured me that we will not be beige paint people…and after he bought me some cheese sticks from the nearest fast food restaurant.