I Know, I Know…

Forgive me peeps, it’s been 13 days since my last blog post.

I was recently scolded by Anne, one of my peeps, that it’s been too long since my last blog post. She is currently addicted to my blog which may rivals her addiction the soft drink, TAB. 

I have nothing but excuses and here they are:

·         My computer contracted the “blue screen of death” and has gone on to the big CPU in the sky.

·         Subsequently, the computer I was using to write my blog was attacked by malware and has been wiped of all its programs. I’m thinking this isn’t a good omen.

·         Nothing worth noting, Bachelorette included, has happened to me. Shocking, I know.

·         Some things have happened, but no amount of “the names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty” would disguise the circumstances. Not everybody can know. I know, elitist.

·         Since June 26^th, I have been homeless. I’ve been taken in by my kind friends, Tracy and Travis. Why this is an excuse? Well, it just is.

·         Not posting a blog for 13 days is my way of saying “Bueller? Bueller?”  Guess what? That worked. You like me. You really like me.

I pledge to thee, my peeps, that I will make a more concerted effort to put myself into more calamitous situations that would and could warrant more blog posts. Deal?

Epic Debacle of the Wizarding World Kind

Thursday night was the premiere of the final installment in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2. Allison, Kevin, Alex and I made plans to see the midnight showing. Now before I proceed any further with telling the tale of Thursday night’s events, I must say that the burden of this calamity lies squarely on the shoulders of Kevin.

The facts are these. I missed seeing the midnight showing of HP7, Part 1 because of a work thing, but the others charged on without me. They saw the movie at the swanky CineBistro which is a movie theater where you can pick your seat, have a fancy dinner and adult beverages. Kevin took issue with having to sit on the second row (probably because they waited until the last minute to purchase their tickets) and having to crane his neck back to see the screen.  It was because of this that Kevin was adamant about not returning to the CineBistro to see HP7, Part 2. Allison and I relented to Kevin which I hope he enjoyed because it will probably be the last time.

Instead, we made plans to see the movie at the Centro Ybor Muvico in Ybor City. We picked this location because, for the most part, no one ever goes to the movies there and the only people who frequent Ybor are people who live in the area or college types, especially hipsters. We figured hipsters may think they’re too cool for HP. We purchased our tickets online for the 12:02am showing and decided that we’d get a late dinner before the movie.

We arrived at Centro Ybor around 9:15pm and pull up to the valet. The valet attendant was the first to inform us that there was no electricity in the Muvico. A mild case of panic set in.

However, we decided that we’d wait it out because there was 3 hours to go before the movie and we were assured by a Muvico employee that Tampa Electric was already on the scene.

We ate dinner and then went back to the theater at 10:15pm to discover that the power was still out. We were reassured by Lisa, who had clearly drawn the short straw as she was the only employee out in front of the movie theater, that Tampa Electric was still working on it. It was then we made a poor choice. We left the theater and went downstairs for ice cream. Unbeknownst to us, there was a horde of people gathering above us where we could not see. From our spot inside the ice cream/coffee shop, it looked like a small peaceful mob was forming, but we couldn’t have been more wrong. At 10:45pm, we left the shop to discover the line in the movie wrapped around the courtyard of Centro Ybor, so to the back of the line we went and stood.  We tried our best to make light of our predicament.

At 11:45pm, the lights inside the Muvico finally came on which caused an eruption of cheers from the gathered crowd. It was 1:00am when we got into the theater and headed for our seats. Now what blows my mind is that people who had stood in line for as much as 4 hours went straight to the concession stand for popcorn and beverages, but not directly in a “Don’t pass GO. Don’t collect $200.” fashion to their seats. Didn’t they make the correlation that at this late hour the movie wouldn’t start before they were in their seats? Guess what? Didn’t. Meanwhile, it is getting later and later and people are getting more and more agitated.  

If you're putting 2 and 2 together, then you know what happens next. Those crackers lost their ever lovin’ minds. Allison and Kevin were the ones to get the best vantage point of the chaos. After sitting in our seats for a time, they went out to get some refreshments. They returned with tales of yelling and the imminent outbreak of fighting. Kevin commented that he wondered if this was anything like Katrina. I assured him that this was probably only like 1/32 of what Katrina was.

Another hour later, the lights in the theater finally dimmed and the previews started. Guess what? No sound. We held out hope that no sound would be limited to the previews, but again, we couldn’t have been more wrong. The movie started and there was still no sound. It was now 2:15am, so we decided to cut our losses and left the theater. Harry Potter was not getting in my brain that night. We were going to try to get refunds, but thought we’d be there for a while since everyone trying to get a refund felt the need to cuss a blue streak at the manager before taking the refund.

So, at 2:15am, we left Centro Ybor with no enjoyment of Harry Potter. Moral of the story kiddos, always overthrow the thoughts and opinions of Kevin.

Bachelorette Post-Mortem: Week 7

First, I’d like to thank the Bachelorette producers for taking last week off for 4^th of July.  Celebrating our nation’s birthday was a welcome distraction from having to watch this train wreck.

I say with no reservations that this is the very first time that I can’t wait for this show to be O-V-E-R. I don’t even care how it’s going to end. I’m not going to win our game. I may have already been mathematically eliminated. The only thing that keeps me going is the previews have led me to believe that she may end up with no one and whoever she does pick doesn’t pick her back. As much as that will be just awful for her, I won’t be able to contain my glee.

Winners

None winners. This is torture. Grammar Police:  I meant to say none. My little buddy, Will, used to say none instead of no when he didn’t have anything. None money.  None ideas. I stole it from him. I like it and actively use it.

Losers

Ames – In a “what were you thinking” move, Ames showed up to the group date in a pair of raspberry sherbet colored pants. Come on, man. You’re trying to date a girl. I didn’t notice until I was trying to get this screen shot that he had a matching watch. Really?!?!

You May Have Missed It

If you couldn’t wait to turn off your TV after the tearful interview of Emily, you may have missed the best moment of the episode. Constantine and Ashley were sitting on a bench and they had placed their love lantern on the ground next to them. Entering screen left was no other than a street dog and you know instantly what is about to happen. The dog approached the lantern, triumphantly lifted his leg and relieved himself on the lantern. In a fit of awesome, Constantine says “That dog pissed on our lantern.” It was a great bit of television.

Loss of Life Hour Count

That would be 7 episodes at 2 hours a pop equals 14 hours of life we’re not getting back. Deal with it.

Bachelor Game Standings

104 – Allison

  98 – Kevin

  94 – Vicki

  94 – Alex

These post-mortems are becoming very tedious, but I’m determined to see it to fruition.

They Liked It, They Liked It

I told you last month that I was asked by iMOM to write some material for an Espresso Minute. Well the moms really liked it. Nancy told me the article I wrote content for was on the list of top 10 views for the week it was posted. Wicked! If only those moms knew.

So, Nancy has asked me to write again. This one may be a little harder, but I’m going to give it the ole child-less try! Stay tuned.

The Best Break-Up

July 4th Week, 2011 will mark the 6th anniversary of my break-up with the Pothead. I will, for the duration of this story, refer to him as the Pothead. For once you are no longer a boyfriend of mine, you cease to have a real name. I’ll give you one guess why he’s called the Pothead. This name is predicated on the fact that if this boy’s eyes were open, he was smoking pot. It was not a redeeming quality of his, obviously, but he had made certain promises and I had hoped he was planning on keeping them. Guess what? He didn’t.

One promise was that he would try to quit smoking and in taking steps to do that, would only smoke at home. Receiving that in the spirit in which it was given, I accepted that as a reasonable compromise. It wasn’t until I’d finally talked him into visiting my Mother that I realized he had no intent of keeping that promise. We made the trip from Tampa to Panama City and stopped at almost every rest stop so he could smoke. I know what you’re thinking - that’s not very safe and you are so right. I thank God everyday for keeping me from harm’s way during this relationship. We charged on and finally made the 5 and a half hour trip in about 7 hours.

Once we got there, the Pothead preceded to mentally and physically check-out of the visit. I didn’t know until later that he had gotten some vicodin to help facilitate that. He would make trips out to his truck to smoke and it was getting to be a little awkward. The first day, my Mother asked, “Why does he go out to his truck so much?” My reply, “He has to talk to his mother.” The next day, Mother says, “He talks to his mother a lot.” My next reply was, “MAMA! He’s smoking pot!” Needless to say, my Mother was furious. She wanted to call the police right then, but I persuaded not to. I wouldn’t be able to get home if he was in jail, plus we were living together at the time and that wouldn’t make for a very happy home life.

We hatched an exit strategy. I would stay in the relationship until the end of our rental lease, which was December (just a reminder, this happened in July). And when it would come time to renew, I would say to him, “I’m going this way and you’re not. Peace.” So it was settled and at the end of our visit, the Pothead and I headed back to Tampa. Once there, I had the rest of the week off, but the Pothead had to go back to work. I spent the better part of the rest of the week thinking about how the next 5 months would go down. I couldn’t even fathom having to go on with this sham of a relationship. I was no longer interested in seeing him, being near him, much less all the other things that you do in a relationship. I had to get out of it, but I knew there would be consequences. The biggest one being that we were probably going to have to still live together for the next 5 months. Thank God we lived in a 3 bedroom house. Side Note:  We were living with the Pothead’s friend, who is now my friend, Niki, too.

I’d like to state for the record that I am not usually the one to do the breaking-up. I’m usually the dumpee, but in this case, I did the dumping just in the nick of time and, if I do say so myself, in the grandest of fashions. Once I decided this had to end, I went about making the Pothead’s favorite meal. It was pot roast with potatoes and carrots, gravy, green beans, and biscuits. I alerted Niki to the impending occasion and told her it might be better if she wasn’t there, but not to be gone all night, in case I needed reinforcements. When the Pothead got home, he showered and then made his way to dinner. The place settings were in place and the meal was all laid out. We sat down to dinner. He was seated at the head of the table and I was seated to his left. The conversation was the normal “how was your day” type stuff. It definitely wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, when I couldn’t take it anymore. I loaded my fork with roast and potatoes and as I lifted it, I said to him, “I’m breaking up with you” and quickly inserted the fork into my mouth. He immediately said, “What?” To which I said, “This is happening. I’m done with you.” With that, he went into a tirade, “I can’t believe you fixed this nice meal just to break up with me.” Again I said, “This is happening.” From that point on, as you can imagine, the meal went downhill. He got up and we continued to argue through the putting away of the leftovers and the washing of the dishes. If I’d thought better about it, I should have served the meal on paper plates, that way I could have thrown them away and maybe used it as a visual so that he would understand what was happening. “You are this used, dirty paper plate and I’m throwing you away” but, I only just thought of that.

The meal did, in fact, have the desired effect. It was the nicest way I could send the Pothead off, but he didn’t deserve it.

I’m sure I will write about the next 5 months of that year over time. There are a few other gems from the Pothead Chronic-cals still to be told.