Dear God, What is This Post Even About?

Me and my purse

So last night, our night at the Country Club actually turned out really well. I didn't embarrass myself too much. I did drop my purse and spill its contents maybe six times, but that wasn't really my fault. I like to say that it's Joel's, because he stuffed his cell phone, wallet, and sunglasses in there at the last minute. I typically need a duffel bag to carry my stuff alone, so it was simply too much sh*t stuffed in there, thus, making it impossible for me to carry it and my drink(s) all at once. For good measure, I dropped it one last time in the parking lot before we left sending our stuff flying all over the parking lot and even under the car. At which point, I made sure to let Joel know this was all his fault. He actually apologized too, which was awesome, because my clumsiness is totally not his fault, but a girl will take an apology when she can get one, so I was smug all the way home.

Totally happening in December, b*tches

That was a complete rambling mess, so let's start over. First I used all my free time yesterday afternoon looking up Carnival Cruises and planning an awesome trip for Destiny's  30th birthday in December. Jamie is going on one in October and was telling me all about how awesome it is, so I decided that was the best possible way to spend my time. Not cleaning my house or unpacking my things or sleeping, but yet planning a vacation for December. Folks, that will make one vacation every month for six straight months. That is, if we take one in August which we decided today will definitely happen and one in November, which I'll be sure to annoy Joel into taking me somewhere so that I can say we vacationed every month for six straight months before I turned 30 and was too old to travel with my bad hips and incontinence.

Dear Kevin and Pablo, bullying is no joke

(Back to yesterday afternoon) Then I went to have a drink and an appetizer with Kevin, Pablo, and Emily. That was super fun, because Kevin and Pablo think all they can do around me is make fun of me, and I try to fend off their comments with quippy comebacks but I feel too much pressure and usually end up saying things like, "YOU are!" and feeling completely ridiculous. Pablo couldn't order anything at the restaurant, because they didn't serve Mexican food and also because I interrupted him every time he tried to order. Because I kept having to change my order. What can I say? I'm the most indecisive person ever.

The Country Club, once again, ended up being pretty fun. At first, I was at a table full of stay-at-home Moms, which made me feel 100% completely domestically inadequate, so I just sat there nodding my head and drinking my Mich Ultra and White Zin simultaneously. Then I found my friend, Jill, who is awesomely hilarious, and then my keeps-sh*t-real friend Amy, and then I met Chris's boss's wife, Annie, who is awesome and had a baby at 38, which makes me feel like my life might not be a complete waste. They entertained me for the rest of the night, and I either entertained them a little bit or completely embarrassed myself. I'm not sure which.

Also, I decided that apparently only married people can come to the Country Club. Last weekend, at the wedding reception, I was asked four times--by people I know--if Joel and I were married. Then, to both of us, someone asked when our wedding was, because of course, we're engaged. My face turned red, Joel spit his beer out like a cartoon, and we shamed our poor friend into just walking away. Then, last night, people kept asking me which one my husband was and how long we'd been married. I finally just started saying, despite my pale skin, I'm of Indian descent, and that, some day, my parents will arrange my wedding, so please don't bring it up to my boyfriend, because it's a sore subject for both of us.

Me and my future husband. Thanks, Mom and Dad

This morning, we slept until we no longer could--somewhere around 10am, and I was strangely motivated to get tons of stuff done. So Joel and I cleaned the house and the cars out and arranged all of my work materials for my busy season--which starts tomorrow and lasts for the next 89 weeks. While we were outside, one overzealous mosquito sent out a call to all of his asshole mosquito buddies, and they all came to the Clark/Osborne driveway for an all you can eat Casi buffet. When I got inside, I was so covered by the biggest mosquito bites I've ever seen that I took it as my cue to just get back in bed where it's safe. Later, I got motivated to work and worked for a full two and a half hours until I finally turned to Joel--who was mesmerized by some boring movie--and said, "What's that, honey? You think I'm working way too hard and should stop and get back in bed with you, because you miss me terribly? Okay, if you insist." And crawled back in bed with Joel, who'd heard none of what I said.

Our drive way

Then I got kinda bored and began to annoy Joel, which is not uncommon on days that we spend all day together in the house. Because I know he loves it, I started asking him really obvious questions like, "babe, are you going to the bathroom?" when he'd get up to go to the bathroom. Then I said, "baby, are you really into this movie?" when I realized he hadn't blinked for a full 72 seconds. (I knew this because I'd been staring at his face a mere two inches away, willing him to pay attention to me.) And when he got up to get a shower, I waited until he was mid-soaping and pulled the shower curtain back to say, "Honey, are you getting a shower?" He really, really loves when I do that. And I crack myself up by doing it. So I keep on.

Mmmmmmmmm

A big thing happened about twenty minutes ago when Joel and I decided not to have our typical Sunday night dinner (also, Wednesdays, sometimes Tuesdays, and often Fridays) of a thin crust veggie pizza from Pizza Hut. Instead he's going to make me eggplant parmesan, because we have been eating like we're on death row lately and are afraid we'll have heart attacks at the exact same time while we're each eating a McChicken and Quarter Pounder a piece (ahem, last night), and then no one will take care of our dog or realize we're dead for several days.

Wow, this blog really got out of hand. Clearly I'm bored and needed to just tell you every ridiculous moment of my day. But don't worry, this week I have three 12+ hour days, and I work every Saturday for the rest of my life, so you won't have to read my ramblings, and maybe I'll actually write about something meaningful and serious. But probably not.