Ladies and Gentlemen,
I'm pleased to announce a new blog co-written by myself and my very dear friend Ms. Linda McDonough.
To entice you into reading the new blog, which I will feature on this site along with its homehttp://observationsbyfriends.blogspot.com, I will share with you the "Forward" for the new book/blog.
If any of you know any literary agents, feel free to pass it along.
Here it is. Introducing "Observations. By Two Former Roommates."
One thing I pride myself on is how hilarious my friends are. I lived with three girls in college that could have easily been the center of their own reality show. In fact, we often talked about how we would go about making this happen. As soon as we graduated, our dreams of reaching super stardom by becoming trashy reality figures dissipated. One of us got married, one went to law school, one became a teacher and one moved home to live with her parents for a period of time before moving in with the teacher. Those two could have kept the reality dream alive, but failed to make any progress with getting a major, or minor, network to take notice of their fabulousness.
Instead, two of the friends decided to write a book/blog. This book/blog.
It all began one day when I was walking down the street. I took notice of a woman sitting on the sidewalk. My assumption was that she was homeless… This is because she was sitting on the nasty sidewalks that make up New York City. The only time you will ever see someone making skin-to-sidewalk contact is if it is a drunk woman who just can't walk in those fabulous heels (if it isn't hurting, it isn't helping) or a homeless person. As she was sitting there, she lifted up her shirt and began rubbing her gut whilst making an odd face. Pregnant? Or pretending to be pregnant in order to gain sympathy from passer biers? What do I do when I see this? I text my friend former roommate, of course.
Me: "I just witnessed a lady sitting on the side of the road lift up her shirt and rub her gut. I think she wanted us to think she was prego but I am not convinced."
Response: "That is so weird! No pregnant woman is going to lift up her shirt in public and reveal her belly. That lady you saw just sounds drunk and fat."
I laughed out loud and decided I would continue sending her bizarre things and look forward to her reaction. And then maybe make a book.... or blog.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
It's About Damn Time
As many of you may have read on twitter or facebook, I won the opportunity to meet Lady GaGa this weekend. It was all that I had hoped it would be. GaGa is a beautiful person on the inside and out, and I'm so thankful I was blessed with the chance to meet her.
Over a month ago, I read that the Lupus Alliance of Ameria's Queens/Long Island affiliate was raffling off two tickets to see Lady GaGa perform at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, NY (Long Island) and along with it, the winner would get to meet GaGa after the concert for a photo op. I bought my tickets and hoped for the best. One month later, I received a phone call that I had won.
What I did not realize is that the concert would be the Saturday before Easter... not exactly the most opportune weekend. Not only would I be missing Easter with my family, but my nephew was getting baptized and my sister-in-law was getting confirmed into the Catholic church. I called her to tell her about my opportunity and she immediately insisted I go meet GaGa. My brother was equally supportive, insisting only that I try to make it back for Easter.
I got to New York Friday night after a cancelled flight bumped me to an earlier flight only to risk waiting in Houston for 6 hours if I could not fly standby on earlier flights. Lucky for me... I landed in Houston around 3:35pm, ran to the next terminal and quickly was informed that I had been cleared for standby. As soon as I ran up to the gate, they asked if I was Madeline, handed me my ticket and boarded the plane.
Friday night I got situated at my friend's apartment and then went to a near restaurant/bar called Beauty and Essex. My date to the concert worked there and managed to get me some drinks comped. (A few hours before I got to the restaurant, GaGa's boyrfriend had been eating there with all of his friends... I've been wanting to meet him for sometime because I'm a huge fan of his blog - drunkdiet.com.) After a while, my friend arrived with her sister and we caught up on lost time.
The next morning I woke up early. I was so excited I couldn't sleep. I got ready for brunch and went shopping. Time flew and before I knew it, it was time to get ready for the concert.
My friend Jason and I had discussed what we planned on wearing... only to change our minds at the last minute without informing one another. When we met up at the train station, we were both wearing black pants and a white and black blazer. It made for perfectly coordinated pictures.
We rode the train to Uniondale and were so excited. We got to the concert and just kept looking at each other saying... "We are going to meet GaGa in X hours." The concert came and went. It was just as amazing as usual. When the song Paparazzi came on my heart started pounding. Earlier that day I received a text from Lady GaGa's team telling me that when I heard Paparazzi to head to Gate 20 where they would escort us back stage.
We went there... we were obviously the most excited. I had a little song and dance hour. I told the lady my name and she directed us downstairs. We waited at the bottom of the stairwell until more people joined us... then we were taken through double doors and directed to stand inside the yellow box... so we'd be out of people's ways.
We listed to the last song, Born This Way, from backstage. After the concert was over, we saw all the male dancers come backstage. We were standing right in fornt of their dressing room. HOTTIES! We were also next to the VIP lounge, so I got to see GaGa's dad from afar, her mother (who is adorable and looks just like her), Justin Tranter (lead singer of Semi Precious Weapons), and Breedlove (the best cabaret singer of all time). I also saw Lady GaGa's best friend from childhood - who is surprisingly normal.
Jason and I were the last ones of our group to be herded towards the hallway where we waited in line for our photo op. We waited for just a few minutes while we watched her talk to other kids and take pictures with them. Then it was Jason's turn. He was really nervous and became very soft spoken. I had told him to tell her he worked at Beauty and Essex because he told me she had frequented it in the past. (The night after her concert in February... when I was down the street.) She asked about his manager and gave him a high five. Maybe she'll request Jason as her waiter next time because she thought he was adorable.
Then it was my turn. I surprisingly kept my cool. I didn't cry. I didn't shake. I wasn't even feeling sick to my stomach. I was just excited and my standing heart rate increased somewhat. I walked up and the first thing I said (which was obvious) was that I had a lot of shit and apologized.
First, I gave her a letter that I had written her in case our meeting was very brief. When I handed it to her, she was so sincere in telling me that she would read it... repeating that several times. She even skimmed it while I was there with her. I told her that in the letter... I was pretty sure I asked for a job at some point. I then told her I was in law school and was planning on moving to NYC to finish my 3rd year and pursue a career in music. To this she responded that she just may need more people and lawyers after her next album came out. To which I told her I would work for free.
Then I gave her the tea cup and saucer I had painted for her. I had painted her tattoo onto the plate, but it had unfortunately broken on my way to NYC. I apologized and told her I was going to glue it but... and before I could finish she insisted I not worry. "We'll glue it, don't worry we'll glue it." (While giving her these items, her mother was telling Jason how amazing she thought the cup and plate were - so detailed.)
After giving her the plate and cup, I gave her a pocket Jesus. In a recent GaGavision article, a man protesting her concert gave her a "Get out of hell free card." RUDE. So I told her, the next time some ass hole tries to give her one of those cards, to tell him that she doesn't need it because she has Jesus... and then pull out the pocket Jesus. She LOVED pocket Jesus. She turned to show her mother the small figurine. She managed to get him out of the box while I was going on and on about the many more things I had.
Then I looked around... "I know I'm not allowed to do this, but I snuck it in." I pulled out a mini Jameson bottle and gave it to her. "I know it's your favorite and I've always wanted to have a glass with you." She took it and what she said next I found hilarious... She told me she was going to save it for after Oprah. Is that real life? For GaGa... it is.
At this point, GaGa's team was laughing because I was obviously not close to being finished. I heard some repeat me... "and"... because I continued between everything say... "And I have..."
"And this is my license plate..." I told her I had taken it off my car, and was hoping she would sign it. She expressed disbelief that it was in fact my license plate but I reassured her. She signed it and asked my name so she could customize it.
After she signed the plate, I told her that I was missing my nephew's baptizing in order to meet her. So I asked if she would sign a baptism card for him for his baby book. Everyone responded with an "awww..." and then some laughed. At this point, GaGa turned to those around her (more specifically her mother) and was like... "see... I don't get why people think I don't like Jesus. I talk about him throughout my show. I'm going to signt his card 'Happy Jesus'." And she did... it reads Lewy, Happy Jesus. Born This Way. Lady GaGa.
Finally, I informed her of my tattoo. I lifted up my shirt and asked if she would sign it in the event i could find a tattoo parlor open late enough to tattoo over it. She had me move so she could sign it in just the right spot... I jokingly requested she try to sign it a place that wouldn't be as tender as others. This part was slightly awkward because I may have revealed lower boob so she could sign where she wanted to. Truth be told, she picked the ideal spot and I think it will make a nice addition in the event it is still there tomorrow when I can find an open tattoo parlor in Norman.
Then it was time for our photo op. The professional photographer took our picture. In the picture, GaGa has pocket Jesus resting in the palm of her hand. Afterwards I asked the photographer to check to see if I had a double chin. GaGa laughed and told me I'd be surprised how often people will request to switch sides in order that they be on their good side. Then I realized I had just taken the picture on my bad side, but the photographer assured me it was a good one. I thanked GaGa, hugged her, and went on my way.
She could not have been more polite. Even though I was there longer than any of he previous attendees, I was not rushed away. It will be a night I will remember the rest of my life.
I've yet to receive a copy of the picture that I took with GaGa. But as soon as I get the email about it, I will be quick to post it.
I know I'll meet GaGa again in the future... (if anyone hears about any more auctions/raffles/competitions, do send the details my way.) And who knows,... maybe my luck will continue and she'll use my contact info I gave in the letter I wrote and offer me a job.
I got back to NYC around 2:00am. I went to bed for just under 2 hours only to wake up, get in a car and catch my flight. I made it to OKC before 11:00am and was able to drive to Enid to spend the remainder of Easter with my family.
Baby Lewy loved his card and plans on taking it to his first show and tell in elementary school.
Over a month ago, I read that the Lupus Alliance of Ameria's Queens/Long Island affiliate was raffling off two tickets to see Lady GaGa perform at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, NY (Long Island) and along with it, the winner would get to meet GaGa after the concert for a photo op. I bought my tickets and hoped for the best. One month later, I received a phone call that I had won.
What I did not realize is that the concert would be the Saturday before Easter... not exactly the most opportune weekend. Not only would I be missing Easter with my family, but my nephew was getting baptized and my sister-in-law was getting confirmed into the Catholic church. I called her to tell her about my opportunity and she immediately insisted I go meet GaGa. My brother was equally supportive, insisting only that I try to make it back for Easter.
I got to New York Friday night after a cancelled flight bumped me to an earlier flight only to risk waiting in Houston for 6 hours if I could not fly standby on earlier flights. Lucky for me... I landed in Houston around 3:35pm, ran to the next terminal and quickly was informed that I had been cleared for standby. As soon as I ran up to the gate, they asked if I was Madeline, handed me my ticket and boarded the plane.
Friday night I got situated at my friend's apartment and then went to a near restaurant/bar called Beauty and Essex. My date to the concert worked there and managed to get me some drinks comped. (A few hours before I got to the restaurant, GaGa's boyrfriend had been eating there with all of his friends... I've been wanting to meet him for sometime because I'm a huge fan of his blog - drunkdiet.com.) After a while, my friend arrived with her sister and we caught up on lost time.
The next morning I woke up early. I was so excited I couldn't sleep. I got ready for brunch and went shopping. Time flew and before I knew it, it was time to get ready for the concert.
My friend Jason and I had discussed what we planned on wearing... only to change our minds at the last minute without informing one another. When we met up at the train station, we were both wearing black pants and a white and black blazer. It made for perfectly coordinated pictures.
We rode the train to Uniondale and were so excited. We got to the concert and just kept looking at each other saying... "We are going to meet GaGa in X hours." The concert came and went. It was just as amazing as usual. When the song Paparazzi came on my heart started pounding. Earlier that day I received a text from Lady GaGa's team telling me that when I heard Paparazzi to head to Gate 20 where they would escort us back stage.
We went there... we were obviously the most excited. I had a little song and dance hour. I told the lady my name and she directed us downstairs. We waited at the bottom of the stairwell until more people joined us... then we were taken through double doors and directed to stand inside the yellow box... so we'd be out of people's ways.
We listed to the last song, Born This Way, from backstage. After the concert was over, we saw all the male dancers come backstage. We were standing right in fornt of their dressing room. HOTTIES! We were also next to the VIP lounge, so I got to see GaGa's dad from afar, her mother (who is adorable and looks just like her), Justin Tranter (lead singer of Semi Precious Weapons), and Breedlove (the best cabaret singer of all time). I also saw Lady GaGa's best friend from childhood - who is surprisingly normal.
Jason and I were the last ones of our group to be herded towards the hallway where we waited in line for our photo op. We waited for just a few minutes while we watched her talk to other kids and take pictures with them. Then it was Jason's turn. He was really nervous and became very soft spoken. I had told him to tell her he worked at Beauty and Essex because he told me she had frequented it in the past. (The night after her concert in February... when I was down the street.) She asked about his manager and gave him a high five. Maybe she'll request Jason as her waiter next time because she thought he was adorable.
Then it was my turn. I surprisingly kept my cool. I didn't cry. I didn't shake. I wasn't even feeling sick to my stomach. I was just excited and my standing heart rate increased somewhat. I walked up and the first thing I said (which was obvious) was that I had a lot of shit and apologized.
First, I gave her a letter that I had written her in case our meeting was very brief. When I handed it to her, she was so sincere in telling me that she would read it... repeating that several times. She even skimmed it while I was there with her. I told her that in the letter... I was pretty sure I asked for a job at some point. I then told her I was in law school and was planning on moving to NYC to finish my 3rd year and pursue a career in music. To this she responded that she just may need more people and lawyers after her next album came out. To which I told her I would work for free.
Then I gave her the tea cup and saucer I had painted for her. I had painted her tattoo onto the plate, but it had unfortunately broken on my way to NYC. I apologized and told her I was going to glue it but... and before I could finish she insisted I not worry. "We'll glue it, don't worry we'll glue it." (While giving her these items, her mother was telling Jason how amazing she thought the cup and plate were - so detailed.)
After giving her the plate and cup, I gave her a pocket Jesus. In a recent GaGavision article, a man protesting her concert gave her a "Get out of hell free card." RUDE. So I told her, the next time some ass hole tries to give her one of those cards, to tell him that she doesn't need it because she has Jesus... and then pull out the pocket Jesus. She LOVED pocket Jesus. She turned to show her mother the small figurine. She managed to get him out of the box while I was going on and on about the many more things I had.
Then I looked around... "I know I'm not allowed to do this, but I snuck it in." I pulled out a mini Jameson bottle and gave it to her. "I know it's your favorite and I've always wanted to have a glass with you." She took it and what she said next I found hilarious... She told me she was going to save it for after Oprah. Is that real life? For GaGa... it is.
At this point, GaGa's team was laughing because I was obviously not close to being finished. I heard some repeat me... "and"... because I continued between everything say... "And I have..."
"And this is my license plate..." I told her I had taken it off my car, and was hoping she would sign it. She expressed disbelief that it was in fact my license plate but I reassured her. She signed it and asked my name so she could customize it.
After she signed the plate, I told her that I was missing my nephew's baptizing in order to meet her. So I asked if she would sign a baptism card for him for his baby book. Everyone responded with an "awww..." and then some laughed. At this point, GaGa turned to those around her (more specifically her mother) and was like... "see... I don't get why people think I don't like Jesus. I talk about him throughout my show. I'm going to signt his card 'Happy Jesus'." And she did... it reads Lewy, Happy Jesus. Born This Way. Lady GaGa.
Finally, I informed her of my tattoo. I lifted up my shirt and asked if she would sign it in the event i could find a tattoo parlor open late enough to tattoo over it. She had me move so she could sign it in just the right spot... I jokingly requested she try to sign it a place that wouldn't be as tender as others. This part was slightly awkward because I may have revealed lower boob so she could sign where she wanted to. Truth be told, she picked the ideal spot and I think it will make a nice addition in the event it is still there tomorrow when I can find an open tattoo parlor in Norman.
Then it was time for our photo op. The professional photographer took our picture. In the picture, GaGa has pocket Jesus resting in the palm of her hand. Afterwards I asked the photographer to check to see if I had a double chin. GaGa laughed and told me I'd be surprised how often people will request to switch sides in order that they be on their good side. Then I realized I had just taken the picture on my bad side, but the photographer assured me it was a good one. I thanked GaGa, hugged her, and went on my way.
She could not have been more polite. Even though I was there longer than any of he previous attendees, I was not rushed away. It will be a night I will remember the rest of my life.
I've yet to receive a copy of the picture that I took with GaGa. But as soon as I get the email about it, I will be quick to post it.
I know I'll meet GaGa again in the future... (if anyone hears about any more auctions/raffles/competitions, do send the details my way.) And who knows,... maybe my luck will continue and she'll use my contact info I gave in the letter I wrote and offer me a job.
I got back to NYC around 2:00am. I went to bed for just under 2 hours only to wake up, get in a car and catch my flight. I made it to OKC before 11:00am and was able to drive to Enid to spend the remainder of Easter with my family.
Baby Lewy loved his card and plans on taking it to his first show and tell in elementary school.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
GRADUATION = PARTY
My college graduation was scheduled for 8:00am. Awesome. That’s real nice. Some people got an 11:30am graduation; some got a 2:00pm graduation. Not me. I got the one bright and early. The early bird catches the worm… well the early morning graduate catches a hangover.
I didn’t drink very much the night before. I knew that if I were to go out, I’d end up either being extremely tired (to the point that I wouldn’t wake up) or slightly hung over. I opted for neither. At the time, this idea was responsible and slightly genius. Stay at home and hang out with your roommates, or risk missing graduation. Truthfully, I would not have missed missing it. Due to the swine flu epidemic (aka the student government’s giant FAIL) we had no speaker. When my brother graduated, he had General Tommy Franks speak. When I was a freshman, those seniors got the President. G-DUB!!! When I graduated… I got a DVD directed to incoming freshman. Thanks. One of the most important days of my life and you are using it as an advertisement, love you too. However, had I actually missed graduation Mom and Dad would have been less than thrilled.
I felt great during graduation. I was a tad cranky prior due to the early hour, but other than that, I felt awesome. I praised myself for my good health. Then that evening came. The thing about behaving yourself is it only lasts so long. You can be good. But after a period of time, it runs its course and its time to move on. That night was epic. To be honest, I don’t really recall the bars. What I do recall is insisting the party not end and heading to the nearest house where I knew the party would continue. I ended up at a big party house… my dear friends at the corner of 5th and Duck. I had fun. I didn’t go crazy and do things regrettable, but I had fun. However, when the night came to an end, I found myself without a ride. I called my roommates, no answer/even had they answered they’d not been able to drive. I thought of all the under-aged friends I’d made… they weren’t in Stillwater/even had they been in Stillwater they’d not been able to drive. I had the opportunity to hop on a DD ride and they left without me because they were full. The cabs in Stillwater that night? Less than dependable. Next logical choice? Stealing a bike. I had to steal a bike. I spotted one. I ran up to it. I hopped on. I began peddling. And then I heard it… I heard yelling. “Maddie, don’t take my bike…. Maddie, please… stop. Don’t take my bike.” Did I listen? No? I was like the muthaf*ckin honey badger! I wasn’t gonna stop for nobody.”
Next Morning. Slightly hungover. But not bad. All of my roommates were packing up their things and one roommate was straight up moving out. She had rented a U-Haul and was moving all over her belongings where her fiancé lived. By the time I got the call about the bike, it was nearly 1:00pm. I assured the bike’s owner that it was downstairs and I’d bring it over soon. I went downstairs, I packed up my car, I ate lunch, and I went to get the bike…. I went to go get the bike… Where the hell is the bike? I looked in the garage. I looked in the basement. I specifically remember placing the bike my living room and locking the door. Who took it? I asked my roommate if they packed in the U-Haul by mistake. I interrogated my other roommates about the time they returned and if they locked the door behind them. Nothing. There were no clues about what happened to the bike.
I procrastinated. But eventually I had to make the call. I texted my friend and asked for a my other friend’s number, then I texted that friend and asked her what her boyfriend’s number was…. I went by his house (I had partied there before), he wasn’t there… I could only leave a message.
“Um, I know you told me to not take your bike… but I was drunk and I tend not to listen to anyone when I’ve been drinking. However, as sorry as I am about taking your bike… I’m even more sorry about what it is I’m about to tell you…. I can’t find your bike. I specifically remembered bringing it inside with me and locking the door behind me. However, this morning when I woke up, it was no where to be found.”
He called me back. I informed him again of the circumstance. He told me how he’d hope that I didn’t have to pay for the bike because it was so expensive and that he’d just hope it’d turn up.
For nearly two weeks, I just knew I was going to have to shed out about a grand in order to pay this guy back for his bike. While I was on vacation in the Bahamas I received a text:
“Hey Maddie. Good news. The bike showed up down the street from you house in front of some of my frat brothers’ yard.”
My first reaction was excitement. Yay… I don’t have to give this kid money. My second reaction? I’ve been played. What are the odds of an expensive bike ending up in the garbage? Um… none. It immediately dawned on me. He had the bike the entire time. He was simply punishing me for my transgression. He never expected me to pay for the bike; he only wanted me to think I needed to pay for it. I felt horrible for a good 2 weeks and I just knew I was going to have to pay for his bike… boy was I wrong.
The moral of this story is don’t borrow things without asking. You never know when it will come back and bite you in the ass.
I didn’t drink very much the night before. I knew that if I were to go out, I’d end up either being extremely tired (to the point that I wouldn’t wake up) or slightly hung over. I opted for neither. At the time, this idea was responsible and slightly genius. Stay at home and hang out with your roommates, or risk missing graduation. Truthfully, I would not have missed missing it. Due to the swine flu epidemic (aka the student government’s giant FAIL) we had no speaker. When my brother graduated, he had General Tommy Franks speak. When I was a freshman, those seniors got the President. G-DUB!!! When I graduated… I got a DVD directed to incoming freshman. Thanks. One of the most important days of my life and you are using it as an advertisement, love you too. However, had I actually missed graduation Mom and Dad would have been less than thrilled.
I felt great during graduation. I was a tad cranky prior due to the early hour, but other than that, I felt awesome. I praised myself for my good health. Then that evening came. The thing about behaving yourself is it only lasts so long. You can be good. But after a period of time, it runs its course and its time to move on. That night was epic. To be honest, I don’t really recall the bars. What I do recall is insisting the party not end and heading to the nearest house where I knew the party would continue. I ended up at a big party house… my dear friends at the corner of 5th and Duck. I had fun. I didn’t go crazy and do things regrettable, but I had fun. However, when the night came to an end, I found myself without a ride. I called my roommates, no answer/even had they answered they’d not been able to drive. I thought of all the under-aged friends I’d made… they weren’t in Stillwater/even had they been in Stillwater they’d not been able to drive. I had the opportunity to hop on a DD ride and they left without me because they were full. The cabs in Stillwater that night? Less than dependable. Next logical choice? Stealing a bike. I had to steal a bike. I spotted one. I ran up to it. I hopped on. I began peddling. And then I heard it… I heard yelling. “Maddie, don’t take my bike…. Maddie, please… stop. Don’t take my bike.” Did I listen? No? I was like the muthaf*ckin honey badger! I wasn’t gonna stop for nobody.”
Next Morning. Slightly hungover. But not bad. All of my roommates were packing up their things and one roommate was straight up moving out. She had rented a U-Haul and was moving all over her belongings where her fiancé lived. By the time I got the call about the bike, it was nearly 1:00pm. I assured the bike’s owner that it was downstairs and I’d bring it over soon. I went downstairs, I packed up my car, I ate lunch, and I went to get the bike…. I went to go get the bike… Where the hell is the bike? I looked in the garage. I looked in the basement. I specifically remember placing the bike my living room and locking the door. Who took it? I asked my roommate if they packed in the U-Haul by mistake. I interrogated my other roommates about the time they returned and if they locked the door behind them. Nothing. There were no clues about what happened to the bike.
I procrastinated. But eventually I had to make the call. I texted my friend and asked for a my other friend’s number, then I texted that friend and asked her what her boyfriend’s number was…. I went by his house (I had partied there before), he wasn’t there… I could only leave a message.
“Um, I know you told me to not take your bike… but I was drunk and I tend not to listen to anyone when I’ve been drinking. However, as sorry as I am about taking your bike… I’m even more sorry about what it is I’m about to tell you…. I can’t find your bike. I specifically remembered bringing it inside with me and locking the door behind me. However, this morning when I woke up, it was no where to be found.”
He called me back. I informed him again of the circumstance. He told me how he’d hope that I didn’t have to pay for the bike because it was so expensive and that he’d just hope it’d turn up.
For nearly two weeks, I just knew I was going to have to shed out about a grand in order to pay this guy back for his bike. While I was on vacation in the Bahamas I received a text:
“Hey Maddie. Good news. The bike showed up down the street from you house in front of some of my frat brothers’ yard.”
My first reaction was excitement. Yay… I don’t have to give this kid money. My second reaction? I’ve been played. What are the odds of an expensive bike ending up in the garbage? Um… none. It immediately dawned on me. He had the bike the entire time. He was simply punishing me for my transgression. He never expected me to pay for the bike; he only wanted me to think I needed to pay for it. I felt horrible for a good 2 weeks and I just knew I was going to have to pay for his bike… boy was I wrong.
The moral of this story is don’t borrow things without asking. You never know when it will come back and bite you in the ass.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Do It Even If It Kills You
Spring Break was amazing. Hit up yet another Lady GaGa concert, which was epic as usual. Then I hit up sin city with my my parents. This was the first time since turning 21 that I got to go to Vegas with my parents. To sum up my trip... I love gambling with dad. By far my favorite game to play is "Dealer Bust," most commonly referred to as Black Jack. However, if you yell "DEALER BUST" every hand, studies have shown you are more likely to win. Studies are accurate.
As fun as Vegas was, I am now home in bed and in need of a vacation from my vacation. When I got home, I was planning for reading for all my classes and behaving... however, I caught up on TV, emails and much-needed relaxation. Hey... gambling can be stressful.
Now that I am back in the real world, it has dawned on me that the Oklahoma City marathon is in 41 days. I was planning on running it. Not the half... the full. I started training in January, then the snow hit. Then I wen to NYC... obviously didn't run there. I tried to pick back up in February, but due to the snow days and NYC I wasn't as far along as I should be... I kinda got discouraged by that and became lazy. Then I got sick. I got a cold that lasted about 3 weeks and that I still have a pretty nasty cough from.... but I told myself I was running the OKC Memorial and by God... I'm going to.
The problem I immediately encountered... How am I supposed to train for a half marathon in 41 days? What did I do? I went to my favorite fitness guru Mr. Luc Carl from drunkdiet.com He is a runner and regularly blogs about his training. I asked if he thought I could do, told him where I was at distance wise now, and he responded with the following:
"Do it. Just do it. Even if it kills you." He gave me a plan for this week, which consists of a pretty slow 9 mile run on Wednesday. Truth be told, I have not run 9 miles since October. The farthest I've gone in the last two months is probably 6 miles, maybe 6 and 1/2.
I already know it's going to hurt. In fact, I told him it was going to hurt... to which he said it's supposed to, you have to set goals and beath them. He's right. Nothing in life worth something is meant to be easy. If it was, would it really be worth it because everyone would be doing it.
I'm probably going to take every precaution necessary to avoid screwing my knee up. A lot of times if I jump into a long run without working up to it, my left knee prevents me from any further training. Not just, ouch my knee hurts, but literally sharp pains will shoot up the outside of my left knee up to my hip and my leg will almost give out. I'm going to stretch to no end, pop some ibuprofen, and ice my knee after running for a good 30 minutes, then follow it up with a hot bath.
Chances are... my knee will be a little sore, but chances are... it's going to be worth it.
As fun as Vegas was, I am now home in bed and in need of a vacation from my vacation. When I got home, I was planning for reading for all my classes and behaving... however, I caught up on TV, emails and much-needed relaxation. Hey... gambling can be stressful.
Now that I am back in the real world, it has dawned on me that the Oklahoma City marathon is in 41 days. I was planning on running it. Not the half... the full. I started training in January, then the snow hit. Then I wen to NYC... obviously didn't run there. I tried to pick back up in February, but due to the snow days and NYC I wasn't as far along as I should be... I kinda got discouraged by that and became lazy. Then I got sick. I got a cold that lasted about 3 weeks and that I still have a pretty nasty cough from.... but I told myself I was running the OKC Memorial and by God... I'm going to.
The problem I immediately encountered... How am I supposed to train for a half marathon in 41 days? What did I do? I went to my favorite fitness guru Mr. Luc Carl from drunkdiet.com He is a runner and regularly blogs about his training. I asked if he thought I could do, told him where I was at distance wise now, and he responded with the following:
"Do it. Just do it. Even if it kills you." He gave me a plan for this week, which consists of a pretty slow 9 mile run on Wednesday. Truth be told, I have not run 9 miles since October. The farthest I've gone in the last two months is probably 6 miles, maybe 6 and 1/2.
I already know it's going to hurt. In fact, I told him it was going to hurt... to which he said it's supposed to, you have to set goals and beath them. He's right. Nothing in life worth something is meant to be easy. If it was, would it really be worth it because everyone would be doing it.
I'm probably going to take every precaution necessary to avoid screwing my knee up. A lot of times if I jump into a long run without working up to it, my left knee prevents me from any further training. Not just, ouch my knee hurts, but literally sharp pains will shoot up the outside of my left knee up to my hip and my leg will almost give out. I'm going to stretch to no end, pop some ibuprofen, and ice my knee after running for a good 30 minutes, then follow it up with a hot bath.
Chances are... my knee will be a little sore, but chances are... it's going to be worth it.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Safe Word
In my evidence class, the professor requires two students to stand up every class and discuss all the cases for that day. I sit in the second row, so I had yet to be called on until today. He started in the back and has snaked his way up. Wednesdays we are only in class for 50 minutes, but Thursdays and Fridays we are in class for an hour and 25 minutes.
This Wednesday we watched clips of movies that had to do with character evidence of witnesses. So the two students up just got to hang loose for most the time. They only managed to get to two cases before the bell rang. I, however, was graced with the opportunity to present on a Thursday. A full hour and 25 minutes. Lucky me.
Thus far, we have only discussed boring things. We have learned rules of relevance, probative value and prejudice, what can be used to impeach witnesses, what information can be introduced about the defendant's past, things like that. On my particular day, we were discussing Rape Shield Laws.
Rape Shield Laws are made to prevent the alleged victim's past being brought up to humiliate, thus preventing her from being raped again... but this time by the system. Back in the day, a victim's past sexual history was used to prove she was unchaste and thus, it was less likely that she was raped and more likely that she consented and was lying. Because only sluts lie, duh.
As if I did not have a perverted enough mind already, the first problem we were asked to discuss had to do with a sadomasochist. Awesome. I did not even know what that word meant until yesterday. This sadomasochist met another sadomasochist and they began emailing back and forth. In the emails, the lady that alleged to be later raped, discussed how she was a "Pushy Button," this meant that she enjoyed pushing the dominant partner to inflict greater pain... despite her being the submissive one who is supposed to keep her mouth shut.
This was to good. While the professor was trying to teach the class about whether or not this should be admitted at trial, I was making faces at my friends and pretended to push buttons. I realize how mature I am... and I realize the seriousness of the issue. I would not laugh it was an actual case, but it was a hypothetical, so I felt as if I was allowed.
After the professor was ready to move on, I decided to ask my question. We decided that this probably would not be allowed because it had to do with past sexual encounters, and those are not allowed. But I asked whether or not it would be allowed to go towards the defendant's state of mind. I made the point, that if he knew she was a "pushy button" he may have felt her response was actually in effort to get him to inflict greater pain... and then I made the remark, they must've had a safe word.
Everyone laughed... except my teacher. He liked what I had to say and continued teaching the class without even a laugh or smile. You can imagine my surprise.
Towards the end of class, we came to another interesting case. THis time it had to do with a man that claimed his alleged victim and him were having consensual sex until he pissed her off. What did he do to piss her off? The book said that while they were doing it doggy style he said, "You like it like this don't you... that is what Todd told me." Oh no he didn't. The court wouldn't allow the specific words be admitted, only that he did something to piss her off. The whole case was whether or not he was allowed to tell his count of the story in its entirety... i.e. could he tell the courtroom that she liked it doggy style... but didn't like people to know this.
The professor took one look at me, identified the smirk on my face and quickly said, I'll cover this one fast since we don't have much time left.
He gets me.
He knew I would not be able to recite this case with any serious tone. And would probably, again, make a laughing stalk of a very serious issue.
I'm taking the liberty of canceling class tomorrow due to all my hard work today. I felt I owed it to myself.
So have a good spring break everyone... and remember to use your safe word.
This Wednesday we watched clips of movies that had to do with character evidence of witnesses. So the two students up just got to hang loose for most the time. They only managed to get to two cases before the bell rang. I, however, was graced with the opportunity to present on a Thursday. A full hour and 25 minutes. Lucky me.
Thus far, we have only discussed boring things. We have learned rules of relevance, probative value and prejudice, what can be used to impeach witnesses, what information can be introduced about the defendant's past, things like that. On my particular day, we were discussing Rape Shield Laws.
Rape Shield Laws are made to prevent the alleged victim's past being brought up to humiliate, thus preventing her from being raped again... but this time by the system. Back in the day, a victim's past sexual history was used to prove she was unchaste and thus, it was less likely that she was raped and more likely that she consented and was lying. Because only sluts lie, duh.
As if I did not have a perverted enough mind already, the first problem we were asked to discuss had to do with a sadomasochist. Awesome. I did not even know what that word meant until yesterday. This sadomasochist met another sadomasochist and they began emailing back and forth. In the emails, the lady that alleged to be later raped, discussed how she was a "Pushy Button," this meant that she enjoyed pushing the dominant partner to inflict greater pain... despite her being the submissive one who is supposed to keep her mouth shut.
This was to good. While the professor was trying to teach the class about whether or not this should be admitted at trial, I was making faces at my friends and pretended to push buttons. I realize how mature I am... and I realize the seriousness of the issue. I would not laugh it was an actual case, but it was a hypothetical, so I felt as if I was allowed.
After the professor was ready to move on, I decided to ask my question. We decided that this probably would not be allowed because it had to do with past sexual encounters, and those are not allowed. But I asked whether or not it would be allowed to go towards the defendant's state of mind. I made the point, that if he knew she was a "pushy button" he may have felt her response was actually in effort to get him to inflict greater pain... and then I made the remark, they must've had a safe word.
Everyone laughed... except my teacher. He liked what I had to say and continued teaching the class without even a laugh or smile. You can imagine my surprise.
Towards the end of class, we came to another interesting case. THis time it had to do with a man that claimed his alleged victim and him were having consensual sex until he pissed her off. What did he do to piss her off? The book said that while they were doing it doggy style he said, "You like it like this don't you... that is what Todd told me." Oh no he didn't. The court wouldn't allow the specific words be admitted, only that he did something to piss her off. The whole case was whether or not he was allowed to tell his count of the story in its entirety... i.e. could he tell the courtroom that she liked it doggy style... but didn't like people to know this.
The professor took one look at me, identified the smirk on my face and quickly said, I'll cover this one fast since we don't have much time left.
He gets me.
He knew I would not be able to recite this case with any serious tone. And would probably, again, make a laughing stalk of a very serious issue.
I'm taking the liberty of canceling class tomorrow due to all my hard work today. I felt I owed it to myself.
So have a good spring break everyone... and remember to use your safe word.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Karma is a Bitch.
Monday night was faculty and staff appreciation night at a local lounge. I say lounge because it is neither bar nor restaurant. It is a restaurant with a bar, thus it is a lounge.
I sat down with some friends and we began discussing the appetizers, which then lead to a discussion of food allergies. I have a friend allergic to avocado and peanuts, another who is allergic to red wine and dried apricots. I on the other hand, was allergic to nothing so I took it upon myself to brag. And brag I did. I threw my arms in the air and proudly announced how I was allergic to nothing and laughed obnoxiously.
The evening when on, I had some more wine, I ate dinner, then I went home, popped two mucinex and went to bed. I had been taking mucinex for my mucus problem, but stopped taking them on Sunday because I was feeling better. It was also making me lose my appetite and feel rather odd, so I decided to just stop early.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, I felt VERY strange indeed. I was rather drunk.... and my eyelids were swollen. Great. I chugged a bottle of water and went back to bed. When I woke up several hours later, my eyelids were even more swollen. I thought I had an allergic reaction to the mucinex. I called my mom freaking out about how disgusting I looked, she recommended I go get some benadryl. I picked it up on my way to school and popped two before class. Big mistake.
WIthin 30 minutes of class, I stopped taking notes and was doing everything I could to keep my eyes open. By the end of class I was slurring my words and my friends were laughing at me. I went home and went to bed. I woke up 2 hours later because I had class and I was getting called on. So I went to class and surprisingly did alright. Meanwhile, my eyelids remained somewhat swollen. I ran some errands, grabbed lunch, then made it home to rest.
I popped some more benadryl and laid down around 5 oclock. I woke up 3 hours later. During my sleep I was really confused thinking I had gone to bed for the night... so when I woke up later and saw that it was only 8 oclock, I thought I was screwed. How was I going to get to go to sleep if I had napped for almost 5 hours that day. I started reading for class and soon realized how tired I still was. So I washed my face, put vaseline on my eyes and went to bed.
I woke up this morning and my eyes were even more swollen than they were yesterday. I'm allergic to something... I just don't know what. And until then, I'm popping steroids from the doctor and putting antihistamine eye drops in my eyes.
Moral of the story... Don't brag and just remember, karma is a bitch.
I sat down with some friends and we began discussing the appetizers, which then lead to a discussion of food allergies. I have a friend allergic to avocado and peanuts, another who is allergic to red wine and dried apricots. I on the other hand, was allergic to nothing so I took it upon myself to brag. And brag I did. I threw my arms in the air and proudly announced how I was allergic to nothing and laughed obnoxiously.
The evening when on, I had some more wine, I ate dinner, then I went home, popped two mucinex and went to bed. I had been taking mucinex for my mucus problem, but stopped taking them on Sunday because I was feeling better. It was also making me lose my appetite and feel rather odd, so I decided to just stop early.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, I felt VERY strange indeed. I was rather drunk.... and my eyelids were swollen. Great. I chugged a bottle of water and went back to bed. When I woke up several hours later, my eyelids were even more swollen. I thought I had an allergic reaction to the mucinex. I called my mom freaking out about how disgusting I looked, she recommended I go get some benadryl. I picked it up on my way to school and popped two before class. Big mistake.
WIthin 30 minutes of class, I stopped taking notes and was doing everything I could to keep my eyes open. By the end of class I was slurring my words and my friends were laughing at me. I went home and went to bed. I woke up 2 hours later because I had class and I was getting called on. So I went to class and surprisingly did alright. Meanwhile, my eyelids remained somewhat swollen. I ran some errands, grabbed lunch, then made it home to rest.
I popped some more benadryl and laid down around 5 oclock. I woke up 3 hours later. During my sleep I was really confused thinking I had gone to bed for the night... so when I woke up later and saw that it was only 8 oclock, I thought I was screwed. How was I going to get to go to sleep if I had napped for almost 5 hours that day. I started reading for class and soon realized how tired I still was. So I washed my face, put vaseline on my eyes and went to bed.
I woke up this morning and my eyes were even more swollen than they were yesterday. I'm allergic to something... I just don't know what. And until then, I'm popping steroids from the doctor and putting antihistamine eye drops in my eyes.
Moral of the story... Don't brag and just remember, karma is a bitch.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Smack the Shit Outta Life
The Honey Badger don’t care. Honey Badger don’t give a shit, it just takes what it wants. The Honey Badger is pretty bad ass and has no regard for any other animal… including lions.
The most fearless animal in the animal kingdom is the honey badger. A small, weasel type creature that looks harmless. But don’t let the look of the honey badger fool you.
The honey badger gets its name from it’s taste for honey. The honey badger will break into a beehive and eat the larvae. Although the honey badger will get stung thousands of times, he is not phased. It doesn’t give a shit. It’s hungry. It doesn’t care about bees, nothing can stop the honey badger when he’s hungry.
Honey badger also has an appetite for King Cobras. When the honey badger gets bit by the cobra, it passes out for a couple minutes then wakes up, like nothing happened, and continues his meal.
I encourage you all to be like the honey badger in life. Take what you want. If something stings the shit out of you… keep on keepin’ on. Just remember, the Honey Badger don’t care. Honey Badger smacks the shit out of it… so be like the Honey Badger and go smack the shit out of life.
Do yourself a favor and check out the following link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
The most fearless animal in the animal kingdom is the honey badger. A small, weasel type creature that looks harmless. But don’t let the look of the honey badger fool you.
The honey badger gets its name from it’s taste for honey. The honey badger will break into a beehive and eat the larvae. Although the honey badger will get stung thousands of times, he is not phased. It doesn’t give a shit. It’s hungry. It doesn’t care about bees, nothing can stop the honey badger when he’s hungry.
Honey badger also has an appetite for King Cobras. When the honey badger gets bit by the cobra, it passes out for a couple minutes then wakes up, like nothing happened, and continues his meal.
I encourage you all to be like the honey badger in life. Take what you want. If something stings the shit out of you… keep on keepin’ on. Just remember, the Honey Badger don’t care. Honey Badger smacks the shit out of it… so be like the Honey Badger and go smack the shit out of life.
Do yourself a favor and check out the following link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
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