Hillbilly pranks

I don’t know why people think April Fool’s Day sucks. It is the only day of the year where you get to be really mean, slightly evil, and conniving without any sort of punishment as long as you eventually tag on the “April Fools!” I tried to come up with something to fool my boy toy. Sadly, I think we burnt them all up when we were first dating in our attempts to flirt. All of these pranks ended horribly.

Example One: My friend and I tied a doe (that’s a girl deer) decoy to the top of Mike’s jeep during hunting season. I’m not a complete hick though because I didn’t know it was currently the hunting season for the bucks not the does. Oops.

Example Two: You know by now that I love animals a little too much. I still eat them, but I avoid placing faces on what I am eating. Once, I thought Mike was duck hunting alone with someone else’s truck. Again, my friend and I thought it would be funny to put trash all over the truck and a big sign that said “DUCK KILLER” on the windshield. Of course he was not alone and the truck belonged to his step-dad. Oops. Later that week I got drunk and had a lovely episode of sitting in a bath tub crying because I knew Mike’s parents would hate me. I was officially the bad news girl.

Example Three: Mike walked my mesmerized self out to my car when it was time for me to venture home. I am sure we just ended one of our first hot make-out sessions so I was completely off in my own world trying to stay super cool. I sat down in my car and Mike was laughing and laughing. I was still trying to be cool. Finally, Mike had to point out what he did. He placed a dead duck (Damn duck killer!) on my front seat and I was sitting right on it completely unaware with all my concentration on coolness. Mike was amazed that I could not feel his duck. I interpreted this as he did not like my Beyonce booty.

Lesson: Pranks are meant to be on April 1st and are not good methods for flirtation any time of year.

They're cold sores not...

I was unblessed with cold sores. You can call it herpes. I refuse. They are cold sores, which we all know are located on the lips…of the mouth. I get cold sores far less as an adult than when I was a teenager though getting them still sucks just as much. Yesterday I got a cold sore and my period. Yuck. This situation brings about a horrible memory and a guilty thought.

Memory: In college I took a sex class. It had more of an official title, but everyone knew it as sex class. It was where anal sex was discussed all of the time. In the first class everyone had to write down three questions and every class they would randomly be picked and answered. Well, apparently everyone had questions about the backdoor.

And then there was herpes, which really is not all that bad unless like me you have a whopping throbbing cold sore on the day you discuss herpes. In sex class it is nice to feel like you could be a potential sex partner, but this definitely gets shot down when you have a big STD on your lip. Thanks mom. I tried really hard to awkwardly position my hand over part of my mouth to avoid being asked to stand in front of the class as a demonstration of what a herpe might look like. It was the longest three hour class I have ever taken.

Thought: Poor Mike. Talk about a long weekend.

My slight guilt quickly went away this morning when I discovered that after clipping his most disgusting dirty foul creepy Gollum toe nails he did not pick up the ewwwww. Clearly, my stress induced cold sore occurred out of prescience.  As usual it’s his fault.

Twice is nice

As a couple that has lived together for five years we have definitely figured out the unspoken bathroom rules. There is no getting around our body’s need to excrete…waste products.

1. Mike leaves a…
2. I just need to use the bathroom…for whatever reason.
3. It’s ok for Mike to pee with the door open or while I am trying to brush my teeth.
4. I just need to use the bathroom…for whatever reason.
5. If Mike is spending extra reading time I can ask him a question if needed.
6. I just need to use the bathroom…for whatever reason…no disturbances allowed.
7. Twice is nice no leftovers allowed.

While these rules may seem a little rigid they are not that uptight. Discussion about intestinal failure, sickness, etc., is perfectly fine. After all it is no fun to not being feeling good and then not be able to tell someone why.

However the rules are not supposed to be broken which is why I was quite alarmed when #6 was violated for the first time by Mike. It was not even violated because there was an emergency. He violated the rule while on the phone with his mother discussing our wedding dress code.

Knock

Him: Hey

Alarm. Is the door locked?

Me: Yea…

Him: S wearing a suit is fine right?

Seriously?

Me: Yea, yea. Fine.

Go away.

So much for my womanly attempt at bathroom mysteriousness; or maybe that is what our gendered bathroom rules are: weird, strange, and ridiculous. Still, I am not ready to give them up just yet…

Opposite days

I am not sure which is more disturbing. My fiancé exclaiming he is definitely team Jacob or his dream that my wedding dress was a white ruffled tube dress complimented by white thigh highs and white “pumps”. Some days Mike says the oddest things.

The team Jacob declaration really is just another piece to our all out opposite war we have going on. Although, he wavers since he does not have a firm clue of what he wants in life. That is what I tell myself to cope with our opposite days.

Mostly, I’m more adventurous and when planning my adventure schemes I find myself feeling even more carefree when I picture Mike with me. As if we could be anywhere in the world and he would make it so much better because I’m shy, he’s not, and people tend to love him. Thus he has the capability of helping to open up the world more for me. I crave this, which is why our opposite days kill me.

I might consider this opposite problem as a balance solution. I help Mike realize there are other options and Mike helps me to slow down and examine my schemes to make sure they actually are adventures. However, with our marriage quickly approaching we find ourselves examining the type of marriage we seek more often. What will we do together? What will we do apart? Will compromise be the solution or a sacrifice?

For now, I know we both can be comfortable with my loyalty to team Edward and a wedding dress without the white thigh highs and complimentary white pumps.

Sunday Suppa: getting our Irish on?

For several years now my fiancé and I have enjoyed eating yummy and frequently new recipes together on Sunday. I have had more time on Sundays to make a longer meal and it always leaves plenty of leftovers so on Monday nights we could always sit on our asses and relax. I’ve decided to dedicate Sunday blogs to our Sunday Suppas.

Today I decided it would be a good idea to try something a little Irish as a nod to St. Patrick’s Day this week. I’m sorry corned beef lovers, I did not choose to make corned beef as honestly I’m not even sure what it includes. I searched the web for the obvious and came across a recipe for Soda Bread, which I have also never had, and Beef and Guinness Stew. Stews I can totally rock out on; baking, well, I’m still practicing.

The process of creating the Soda Bread went as expected except thankfully my cat didn’t do his usual jumping on the floured counter spreading his lovely hair protein on everything. As soon as I started to knead the bread I knew that this was not going to be as pretty looking as it should be. I popped the knurly bread into the oven anyways as I dislike wasting food and with the thought that maybe it would taste better than the way I have made it look. The bread ended up being very dense. It tasted ok and was suitable for soaking up stew juices however, there was plenty leftover and it will stay that way.

I modified the stew recipe by adding baby potatoes and some beef broth. The stew turned out as it should, but the flavor was really subtle. It definitely did not have the POW that stews with wine can have. While sipping the Guinness beer we decided that this was not a super flavorful beer and that maybe using a different dark beer such as a chocolate stout might have amped up the stew a little more.

I was trying to create a festive Irish mood, but tonight’s dinner just didn’t do it. I am looking more forward to turning our milk green and setting up an elaborate booby trap to try to catch a leprechaun. Traditions must live on!  Stay tuned.

The girl gangs of Remember Me

A 13 year old girl walks by looks at my fiancé through the window and starts smiling and waving frantically. I should have known this was going to happen on the opening night of Remember Me. I sip my wine and Mike takes another gulp of his porter. Then the girl comes back and starts waving again and this time starts hitting on the glass window. I burst out laughing and Mike is really embarrassed. I say, “I didn’t know I was actually out on a date with Robert Pattinson.” This girl definitely thinks Mike is someone else.

I thought I would wake up a little hung over from Robert Pattinson exposure in Remember Me, but the gangs of pre-teen girls kind of ruined it. They completely missed the funny college nuances in the film as well as the complex family relationships. We were lucky enough to sit next to a group of girls who (and I’m not exaggerating) would start gushing in a frenzy every time Mr. Pattinson would come on screen. I think the only time they were silent was during his sex scene where they acutely became very...interested. I was very grateful that I was not a girl anymore. At the end while we were leaving one girl said, “I really thought that it was just going to end happy and it would cut to years later where they would be married and have kids.” Clearly this was not the type of movie they would normally watch.

I can remember a time though when I too was infatuated with an actor. Aww, Leonardo DiCaprio. In my girl gang days we once paused Romeo and Juliet just to take a picture of our Romeo. I feel like I should be embarrassed about that, but I can just blame it on my raging hormones. I wonder though about all of the things that led to my changing from girl to woman. I’m not talking about the puberty days, but the changes that now cause me to perceive the world as an adult woman.

Today I am definitely thankful that I am a woman and not a girl as at least for me, it means that I get to have a little bit more self-control when cute actors are on the big screen

Sexing up the honeymoon

I can’t decide. Writing about my future honeymoon and Victoria’s Secret or the movie Precious…? It’s Friday, so I think I will keep it light, but you should check out the movie Precious.

My fiancés parents have generously offered us their timeshare points so that we may have a honeymoon – without it we surely would end up on a “beach” enjoying the frigid waters of Lake Champlain in Vermont. We started to peruse our options, which I actually found overwhelming. Argg! No more wedding stuff. After my brain went dead from scrolling through the options I went to go numb out on the couch and was delighted to find yet another Victoria’s Secret catalog that I had not gotten around to flipping through. Then the light went on!

Me: Oh! Yah!

Mike: What?

Me: It’s our honeymoon. I get to buy new sexy lingerie and swimsuits!

Mike: (He rolls his eyes and goes back to playing his Xbox)

Ok so it is true I buy a new…or rather a few new swimsuits every year. But I swear it is because I have not found the perfect swimsuit and I figured I should enjoy my youth why I can. But wait. Shouldn’t he maybe kick up the sexy factor for our honeymoon too? Why is it often the woman’s, and/or in my soon to be case, the wife’s sole job to make sure the heat gets turned up? It is true that I enjoy the acquisition of Victoria’s Secret probably more than either Mike or our joint checking account. Nonetheless, I do not want this weird gendered role where I am the sole keeper of sexy. Women unite! We must demand the Victoria’s Secret for men. Why does this bring a weird catalog to mind where the primary shoppers are gay men and middle age women shopping for their husbands?

Oh well. I am not sure I am going to be able to settle this one now. I will just enjoy my new acquisitions and of course the look on my fiancés face. Not the one where he see’s our checking ledger; the “I cannot contain myself” one when I come strutting out in my new come-hither lingerie.