The midwest is like a smelly wet dog June 16, 2007

Monday, May 21, 2007

I’m a big fan of the demotivational posters; they’re a cynical spoof of the motivational posters which you’ll see around many offices in the DC area. My office has Demotivations. One of my favorites is a larger than life picture of french fries. The headliner reads, “Potential,” and the caption underneath says, “Not everyone gets to be an astronaut when they grow up.” After years of cyclic overachievement, subsequent burnout , and then re-focusing, many of the people I went to high school with have gone on to do impressive things and hold job titles that require a professional linguist to decipher. Some people are less impressive, yet know how to spin well enough to seem so. I’m one of those. I love my job and I’m passionate about what I do, but even though I own a t-shirt that proclaims, “I’m kind of a big deal,” in the grand scheme of things I’m really not. That said, I find it enlightening when I have the opportunity to speak with someone who is completely down-to-earth and honest about their lack of achievement. I had such an opportunity while I was back in the homeland last week thanks, in part, to the blog. Allow me to set the scene… I’ve mentioned my blog to a few people, and I have links to it on a couple of other sites. I like the attention and I aim to entertain. A few months ago someone who I had a vague association with in high school contacted me to give me props for my writing. “I wanted you to know that I have gotten the occasional kick from reading your notes/blog entries, specifically the ones about dating. You’re very jaded. It’s quite amusing. Just thought I’d let you know.” Never one to pass up a compliment, I responded.  “I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m jaded, just realistic. I tell it like it is and make no apologies. Bet you’re glad that we never went out now, huh?” Well, now we have, and now I get to write the requisite blog. Oddly enough, I told him I wouldn’t, but he requested it. Finally, someone who’s more of an attention-whore than I am. So… it’s difficult to blog about something when you care. One of the novelties about my blog, one of the reasons that I’m able to be so bluntly honest, is that I only write about things that don’t really matter to me. When it matters, when it’s personal, it’s off-limits. That being said, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. Even as I chick, there’s only so much you can read into this particular situation – ie: not much. And, so, since I don’t want you to think I’m making it too personal, and since the circumstances and the resulting impression left deem it bloggable, I’ll honor the request. (I hope you have some money on whether I would do this or not). I was stuck in Illinois for a little over a week, a chance to get away from the 24/7 rush of DC and to get some much-needed face time in with the fam. I was bored after the first day. While there, due to the wonders of Facebook and its amazing stalking capabilities (which, I will admit, I’ve taken advantage of over the years), I ended up meeting up with this guy from back in the day. The last time I saw him was at reunion last year. I didn’t recognize him then because he looked quite a bit different – ie: better – than he did in high school. (Amazing what puberty and a little weight-loss will do – I would know.) So, six years and several drinks later… No. That’s not what went down.* We talked. We talked more during a lunch we had together one day than we talked during the three years we went to school together. He’s not an astronaut. After graduating from an impressive university with an impressive degree, he’s living back home with his folks. In other times, in other circumstances, there would be a lot of condescension to be read into that. None now – it happens to the best of us. All bets aside, there’s potential, and that’s what counts. That being said, though, sanding decks and playing online poker is not what you want to put on your resume to reflect the past year’s efforts. As attention-grabbing as a business card reading “Professional Player” would be, it doesn’t quite send the right message. While hanging out with him, I had the opportunity to visit some of the fine drinking establishments in Springfield. You know you’re back in the Midwest when the beverage of choice can be sipped out of a bucket. Classy. Very rarely have I visited the area bars and I certainly haven’t missed much. That being said, it’s better than sitting at home and I’m glad I had the opportunity. I know that some people love the small town atmosphere. For them, there’s nothing better than drinking out of a bucket or being proud of the fact that they can name all of the past 4 seasons’ American Idol top ten contestants. One of my good friends who also happens to be living at home right now just emailed me and said how great it’s been. Yes, it can be good – don’t get me wrong – but my opinion is that it’s too easy to get sucked into staying within a zone of comfort. The Midwest is like a smelly wet dog. It’s friendly and fun sometimes, but if you get too close it’ll take you by surprise, jump on you and start humping your leg, and before you know it you’re left with a lingering scent and you need to put on new pants. Okay, maybe that analogy doesn’t quite work. My point is that people like the Midwest and the small-town feel, but as comfortable as it might be at times it’s difficult to leave and get rid of the permeating scent of monotony and apathy if you stay too long. That’s why I love DC. The only thing that you can count on here is that nothing stays the same. There’s always something different to do and something new to see. But this isn’t about me or my life in DC (for once). Back to the point. I feel there’s an inverse correlation between the length of my posts and their entertainment value. I need to wrap this up in a thoughtful, yet hilarious, way… (Note: This is totally only going to make sense to people who went to IMSA) So… I had a wonderful time back at home this past week, in part due to this particular person from back in the day. I’m sure you’re wondering if I’m going to name names. As tempting as I am to lie and make you piss your pants by telling you it was someone like Yogesh, I can’t bring myself to do it. Just the thought of anyone having anything happen with that guy is enough to make me cringe. Ew. As with most things, I like to tease. I’ll leave you to guess. Happy birthday. *There’s more that happened, but that my friends, is personal.

Wearing plaid to a party is never a good idea June 16, 2007

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Wearing plaid to a party is never a good idea What do we want? Ice cream! When do we want it? Now! How’re we going to get it? Umm… Yeah… apparently Ben & Jerry’s free cone day is today. Unfortunately, the closest shop is in Georgetown. You can punch me in the face and call me Sally if you think I’m going set foot in that part of town without a better incentive than that. Seriously, I’m not a fan of the area. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it (other than the fact that it’s full of pretentious yuppies who think they’re better than everybody else) and nothing traumatizing happened to me there (other than being blinded by the sight of multiple men in pink polos with popped collars on multiple occasions). I just don’t like the place. Honestly, I’ve never had anything good come from my infrequent forays there and the overall impression I get of the people gives me all the more reason to argue for mass sterilization. No one who wears leggings over a baggy hippie shirt with sunglasses that look like they could devour their face should be allowed to procreate. I know it may be in fashion, but there’s a big difference between having fashion and having style. Fashion is when you pay $100+ for the latest trend just so that you can flash your name-brand, ugly-ass bauble around and proclaim your yuppie entitlement to the world. Style, on the other hand, is a bit different. Style is when you can take your Target-boutique jewelry, pair it with a hand-me-dwon dress that used to belong to your friend, and show up to a party with more class than anyone else.  In the words of my friend, Johnny, whose party I had the pleasure of attending this weekend, “Who is this guy wearing a plaid shirt at my cocktail party?” That guy obviously had neither style, nor fashion. Maybe he was from my hometown. Don’t worry. I’m not trying to hate on the good people of the midwest. I don’t hate, I stimulate.  Plaid shirts aside, there are several important points you should take away from this blogging: - Georgetown sucks. I don’t care how much free ice cream they have – I’m not going. - Plaid is never a good idea, no matter where in the country you live. - Leggings are also never a good idea unless you’re me at age 8 and you don’t know any better. - People should throw more parties and invite me because, as we all know, I am awesome. (btw – I’m throwing one of my own either the last weekend of May or the first weekend of June, so mark your calendars)

Crazy monkey sex noises June 16, 2007

What? What was that? Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say ROAD TRIP?! Yeeaahhh, that’s right. I would’ve blogged about this sooner, but the little science gremlins at the office had me sequestered for most of the week in what shall herein be referred to as WFH 1.0 (Week From Hell, part I) and I actually had to work while I was at work. Go figure. But, last weekend’s festivities were just too good to let pass without a word, so a-blogging we go. I got invited to be a wedding date at the last minute. My friend, Kevin, had been having some relationship difficulties with the now ex-gf and I subbed in because, really, I am the most fun person to have around for road trips. The wedding was down in Fredericksburg. It very well could have been back in IL, considering all of the plaid shirts, jeans, and southern twangs. I’m suprised there wasn’t anyone there with a can of Skoal. It was not the most back-country wedding I’ve ever been to, but it certainly came close. Here’s the running commentary of what I was thinking as the day progressed: Wow, this thing sure is out in the boonies. What? It’s in the backyard? What yard? All I see is a mud pit with a pvc pipe running from underneath the house. Why, oh why did I wear heels? Everyone else is in jeans or very poorly fitting Wal-Mart garb. I should really have listened when Kevin said to dress down. Damn, there are a lot of kids here. Baby mama drama. How many of those belong to the bride-to-be? Only 2? Hmm… Wait, the pastor dude’s an hour late. This is beginning to suck. Oh, good. He’s here. No chairs, where should I stand? Doesn’t matter, huh. Guess not since they’ve already started. Is that a prom dress she’s wearing? Why does her smile look so pained? Well, if I was marrying that  guy, I’d probably be in pain too. Wait, did that kid just run out in the middle of the ceremony? There goes another one. That’s what kid leashes are for. Seriously, if they’re not going to close the gate, they should at least tie them up to keep them from interrupting this sorry excuse for a wedding. I know, I know. Some people like it low-key, but this is more than low-key. This is low-class. Okay, it’s over. Can we leave now? No, wait… the bride’s going to take a trip around the yard in her ATV. Yeah, that’s classy. I might understand if it were before the ceremony and she was trying to run away, but who ever heard of taking a celebratory lap on a four-wheeler after a wedding? Time for food. Oh no they did not. Someone put bbq sauce in the potatoe salad. I need to leave. Now. Needless to say, it was not the most romantic or enjoyable get-together I’ve ever been too, but it was interesting to see how other people do things. It also adds to my list of things not to do when I get marrried. All-in-all, it really wasn’t that bad. It was cool to meet some of Kevin’s pals and get out of town. After it was through we decided to head down to Richmond to visit our friend, Char. No road trip would be complete without a peremptory stop at the ABC store and the WaWa. Good stuff. Made it down to Richmond and hung out. It was a lot of fun. I think Char’s giant gallon-sized bottle of wine may have made it even moreso. A few things that may or may not have happened that evening: -someone repeating that they’re “warm and fuzzy” – Kevin mentioning, “I’ve got something warm and fuzzy”, crazy monkey-sex noises, lots of hilarity, apples2apples, the police being called, getting in trouble by the po’s for being too loud (not to mention warm and fuzzy), good times. So yeah… my weekends always turn out pretty damn good. How could it not be good when there’s road-trippin’ involved? Ten-four, over and out.

Life can’t always be smiles and sunshine June 16, 2007

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Maturity. Sometimes it comes with age. Sometimes it comes from a particularly sobering situation. Some people have it. Some people don’t. A lot of people, when they first meet me, notice how young I look and write me off as being one of those who lack it, one of Them, one of the pretty yet vapid 20-somethings out there who link maturity with stodginess and advanced age. However, I’m not one of Them. Ive been told, on more than one occasion and by multiple different sources, that I have a sense of maturity – even a certain clarity of mind – that most people don’t. When people realize this, it sometimes surprises them. It shouldn’t. I think there’s a certain acceptance in our society of immaturity that has become so ingrained that it makes people who exercise restraint and good judgement seem out-of-place. This is sad. What’s even more sad is that I’ve recently had to confront a situation where my own maturity was called into question. This was done by someone who I considered a friend and who, upon seeing the situation play itself out, appears to lack this same maturity that was called into question. I’m not going to go into details, because – honestly – I hate the drama and I don’t want this to turn into something for people to gossip about within the circle of friends. However, I feel the need to justify myself in a forum that I can control. So here it is, in the least amount of specificity as possible: Something happened. Extenutating circumstances that will not be discussed, because it’s not my place to discuss them. My friend, whose presence and involvement had been planned months in advance, backed out of something that was very important to me. No worries. I can handle it on my own. However, I felt it was rude and personally insulting to back out of this thing so last minute (less than a week’s notice). I told them so, in a fairly unpleasant email. They replied, in kind, with a similarly unfriendly message. A bit of back-and-forth escalated and, not wanting to burn any bridges, I tried to make light of the situation and said we should chill and that we would probably laugh about it in the future. My friend called and left an unpleasant message saying that I was “certifiably insane” if I thought we would be laughing about this later on. I called to clear the air and try to mend things, fully intending to apologize if there were some misunderstanding of the situation and reasoning. I was hung-up on. Not very mature, if you ask me. I called back and left a message, again trying to clear the air. A day or two later I came to notice that I had been un-friended from the shared virtual spaces that we both were on, as well as been un-invited to certain events that I was looking forward to. These actions are not only petty  and spiteful, but they are extremely immature. I find it ironic that this person found it necessary to question my maturity and then went on to do these things. This so-called friend even had the audacity to tell me I shouldn’t blog about this. And, honestly, I wasn’t planning to – that is, until they went and took it to the next level. Come on – are we in high school? This is ridiculous. I’ve sent one last email, imploring them to take a step back and chill the f- out (albeit, not in quite the same phrasing), so we’ll see what happens. My disappointment in my friend is seriously unnerving, and I’m not one who takes disappointment lightly. I know I have people who have my back and I think it’s clear that I’ve done all I can to remedy this situation. What goes around comes around, and I have karma on my side. Sorry this wasn’t the most uplifting or funny post. I know I try to keep it light most times, but every once in awhile I have to be serious when I have things on my mind. It’s good to have an outlet. Smiles and sunshine – keep it real, my peeps.

Partay in the hizzy June 16, 2007

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Hosted my first par-tay at my place. It was a blast. Not in the romper-room, toga and tequilla way you might expect from someone such as myself, but a much more laid back and chill get-together. It was great to have a bunch of friends just come over and hang out. It was also nice to have validation from them that, yes, my roommate is indeed, quite unpleasant. Quote of the night, uttered by Yusef, when answering his phone: “Yusef’s house of pain. How can I hurt you today?” Pic of the night: A tie between Emily Rose molesting the pinata and Kevin molesting himself (j/k) Heroes of the night: Everyone who braved the Virginian roadways and made their way to my place, and most especially John and Yusef for staying late and helping me clean to avoid the wrath of the roomie. I definitely overbought and overcooked, but luckily I was too busy running around to overeat. Great food though – great leftovers especially. I have about 6 different desserts leftover (. As someone once remarked, “Does diabetes run in your family? Because it will now.” If anybody cares to come over and partake of the deliciousness of my culinary skills, you’re more than welcome. I do believe I’ll be even more popular at work now, since I’ll be feeding the office for the next week with all the cakes and stuff. Anyway… lots of other eventful happenings of this past weekend, but none that I’ll be writing about on here. Peace out, my people.

highlights from the homeland June 16, 2007

After a long absence of an entire five months, I decided to grace the midwest with my presence yet once again. Like the appearance of a chocolate cake at a diabetic clinic, my trip back home was sweet, but over before it really got a chance to be savored. As promised… a few highlights of my eventful return to the homeland.

-I had some serious airport karma going on with my friend, Emily Rose. We both ended up on flights out of the same terminal in the same airport. AND… both of our flights were delayed to the same time. It was great to be able to pass the time with someone as awesome as myself. The return trip wasn’t so lucky, but at least I was able to go down the list on my phone and catch up on all the holiday gossip.

- My mother refrained from uttering her signature holiday catchphrase. For as long as I can remember, at some point or another she has declared, “Merry F-ing Christmas!” This year, as I waited for the shit to hit the fan, the air was unexpectedly clear with only a slight tinge of bickering. It was a merry x-mas indeed.

- I’ll be the first to admit that I’m materialistic. I’m also a bit of a braggart. But instead of listing all the wonderful things I received for Christmas this year, I’ll just say that I got everything I asked for and then some. On top of the xmas day bounty, my folks each took me out shopping for some post-holiday sales. If Illinois is good for anything, it’s defintiely gotta be the inexpensive yet aluringly wonderful apparel and accessories. Look for some new digs to go with my new do.

-Speaking of a new do, I did indeed make a change. You can check out the new pic, if you like. Shorter and lighter.

- I learned how to play poker a little better under the tutelage of  my uncles on Christmas Eve. I can definitely put the new skills to good use. Although, I expect I’ll be betting something more than poker chips if I end up playing around here.

- As I mentioned, I raked it in this holiday. However, the only thing my brother gave me was what he liked to refer to as Christmas pinches. They’re exactly what they sound like. Ouch.

-Met up with a few peeps from the old crew in Chambana on a quick jaunt one day. Though nothing’s really changed there, everything’s different… in a good way. I purposefully avoided a few people/places, but overall it was a wonderfully nostalgic trip back. And, yes. For those of you wondering, there are still a lot of hoes frequenting White-Ho, and Green Street only continues to get better.

- I spent a few days in St. Louis towards the end of the trip. There’s nothing like ice skating in Forest Park during the holidays. It felt like something out of a movie. Me in my new red coat and green scarf, gliding to the sounds of caroling over the sound system. It reaffirmed my love for that city. I also met up with some people from high school while in the city. Good times. Good times, indeed.

So… to wrap it up. It was wonderful to return home and be greeted with such warmth and rejoice. At the same time, the highlights are pretty much what I did when I wasn’t sitting around bored out of my mind in front of the tv. There’s only so much Jerry Springer and Price is Right you can watch without wanting to hurl the remote through the screen and get your lazy ass off the couch. It was somewhat depressing to realize that life used to be like that… for way too long. Makes me all the more grateful now of where I’m out now.  I hope everyone else had a great vacation!

The birthday weekend… of death June 16, 2007

Monday, December 11, 2006

Ha – not really. I just put that title in there to make you want to read it. Surprise, surprise. I survived my birthday weekend ski trip… and I have only a few bruises and a ton of great memories (and pics) to show for it. There was more skiing than falling, more powder on the slopes than up Kate Moss’s nose, and definitely more good times on this annual reminder that I’m one year closer to old than there has been in a long, long while. I’m not going to give you a minute-by-minute account of the festivities, at the risk of making it seem less awesome than it actually was. Because, really - who wants to hear about one of my friend’s ridiculously foul ass emanations or the rousing game of three-letter word Scrabble? I will, however, give you a play-by-play of a few highlights of the weekend: 1) I learned how to ski. Despite falling on my ass quite a few times, somehow getting snow up my back despite the layers of clothes and ski pants/jacket, plowing into some people at the bottom of the slope (why do they make that bottom slope the steepest part if you’re supposed to be slowing down?), and by the end of the day feeling like someone had beat my body with a stick bigger than the one stuck up the roomie’s ass, I had an amazing time. Seriously. It was absolutely exhilarating. Better than rollerblading, even, because falling on snow hurts a lot less than the gravel. I think for a first timer, I did pretty well. Who’s up for seconds? 2) I thoroughly enjoyed the company. My three favorite people from DC were there to share in the fun and we definitely made the most of it. Honestly, there’s nothing like modeling swimsuits when you’re drunk, hot-tubbing outside in the winter, or roadtripping with no worries to make for a fabulous weekend. It wouldn’t have been the same without any of them and I only hope that everyone had as wonderful a time as I did. 3) Not leaving until the late afternoon. Since when am I one to throw in the towel early? No way. Check-out may have been at 11, but we didn’t leave until after 3. Though the pool was a little too public (is that even possible?) for afternoon escapades, it was still a lot of fun  The weather outside was too beautiful to pass up a chance for a few photos, and the drive back afforded me the opportunity to jam out to my tunes without the usual accompanying embarrassment (I am definitely not the next American Idol). A great weekend… And I couldn’t end this without giving a shoutout to the people who made it all possible – you guys are great! Kevin – Thanks for pulling it together and making the dream a reality. It wouldn’t have been able to happen without you, and you’ve totally repaid me for the RedSkins puke-fest. I owe you one. Em  – You are always so much fun to be around! I love having someone around who I can be totally uninhibited with and joke and laugh about everything. I’m sooo glad you were able to come. We may not be the best at the winter sports, but we can look good trying. Scott – Have I told you how wonderful you are? Yeah…you are. You definitely made my birthday weekend one of the best, in more ways than one. And, I love the fact that you didn’t criticize my driving, skiing, or singing skills (because I know they all leave a lot to be desired). I’d like to say a few other things, but I’ll save that for a more appropriate venue. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you to everybody for making it such a great time!

Still the high school gossip June 16, 2007

Tuesday, December 05, 2006 And since I didn’t post last week and I’m a bit on the bored side right now, I’ll fill you in on a few tidbits – most of which will have relevance to only a few of you, but I find them interesting nonetheless. – I found out from one of my good friends that one of the ubernerds from high school (who, from the facebook photo, looks even more like a nerd than back in the day) has a fuckbuddy. Boo. I sense the apocalypse approaching. Seriously, how is it that someone so hideous and full of themselves can finangle a situation like that when many of my gorgeous and amiable friends cannot? Something’s not right. I’m guessing he’s plying her with knock-off Tiffany’s and roofie-coladas. Wanna know more, my IMSA peeps? Ask and you shall receive. – Speaking of people from back in the day… found out about the first person from our class to have a baby girl. His wife’s due in the spring. Wouldn’t it be weird if she ended up back there? – And finally for the high school dish – They’ve finally convinced me to donate to the Alumni Association. You know it’s a big deal when Liz parts with her ‘hard-earned’ money. How else will I ever get to sleep with Leon Lederman? lol (ewwww…).

Turkey, like your mom – best served stuffed June 16, 2007

Friday, November 24, 2006

I have to admit, this sounds bad… My first Thanksgiving away from the fam was, by far, the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had. From the minute I woke up in the morning to collapsing in bed at night after the day’s fesitivies, there’s not much more that could have made the day any better. Some highlights from the the big T-day: - Being woken up the best way there is. - Kevin’s pineapple upside-down cake. It’s like an orgy in your mouth, and everyone’s coming. - My shitty corn casserole dish. No one got sick, which is always a plus. It actually wasn’t that bad, but it would have been much better served warm. I swear, I really am a good cook. - Listening to Ray sing the banana song. Not quite as bad as Randy Travis, but it was better than my uncles’ rendition, I’m sure. - Not having any Cheez -Its - Playing Taboo and not sucking – or at least not as bad as some people - Being able to be around good people and having a great time. A big thanks to all who made the day so wonderful. I do believe this will become a new tradition.

Thanksgiving – crap on a stick June 16, 2007

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Well, kiddies – it’s that time of year again. The time of year where most families get together for a day of resentment and thinly veiled hostility, barely kept in check by self-medicated gorging on food that is bound to sit in the colon for the next three weeks. That’s right, folks. It’s Thanksgiving. Despite the somewhate negative view that I’ve just ascribed to this day of thanks, historically for me this holiday has been one of my favorites. The entirety of my extended family (on my mom’s side) rarely gets together, which is odd considering they all live within a 45 mile radius of each other. This is probably a good thing; the combination of flatulence and foul-mouthedness for extended periods of time can have unforseen consequences. Side effects of being around my uncles and their wives include an increased likelihood of: developing a distinct “trailer talk” accent,  having to choose between tea made from well water or PBR for a beverage, being witness to arguments about which chewing tobacco is better (Skoal or Southern Pride), constantly having to keep your back to a wall to avoid someone sneaking up behind you and giving you a wedgie, watching Nascar, eating some kind of unidetifiable meat on a skewer which I have dubbed, “crap on a stick,” and/or racing the ATV’s in the fields. I’m sure, by now, I’ve given you a very bad impression of how people from central Illinois are. And no – it’s not just my family. Some people are just like Britney Spears, but without the publicity. Case in point: one of my close childhood friends (not anymore, though I still hear things through the grapevine of the small town I grew up in) got married in a Salvation Army dress and tennis shoes. Her husband is a part-time dealer and a full-time fast food worker. I have no doubt that her kids eat ketchup and crackers for lunch on occasion. On the flipside, I’ve been able to break away and, I must say, I am pretty damn awesome. Sure, my accent comes out when I’ve had a little too much to drink, but at least I don’t like country music. Sure, I may not have a Master’s (yet), but I’m only the 2nd person in my family to get a college degree. But I digress. This isn’t about me; it’s about Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is a special time. My mother gets to catch up on all the family gossip and spread some of her own, usually involving me. This is especially true for this year’s fesitivities since I will be the only one not in attendance. Thank God I haven’t given her my blog. My brother gets to bask in the glory of his recent hulking growth spurt, and try to beat up my uncles. It will eventually end with him receiving an atomic wedgie and spending the majority of the evening trying to adjust his balls. My dad will eat a pie and fall asleep on the couch, snoring through the glory of Nascar. If I were there, I’d be exiled to reading a book on the couch after making everyone feel dumb for losing Trivial Pursuit and/or Scrabble in record time. I am kind of a braggart when it comes to winning – my bad. This year, however, will be different. This will be the first time that I’m not going to be there to bask in the anticlimactic aura. Instead, I’m having dinner with 21 of my closest (and not so close) friends. I’m making a casserole. If I get a little homesick though (which hasn’t happened in 4 months and counting), I know I can always grab a PBR and ask someone to serenade me with Randy Travis. Maybe we could even break out the boots and do some line dancing. Yeah…  Let’s all cross our fingers that doesn’t happen. Happy Turkey Day