Tuesday Night Done Right

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My life is good.

Sure, sure…I’m burnt out at work and worried about money and about a bajillion other things, but you know what…my life is good.

I come home to Grace every night.

The all-elusive McRib is around for another five days.

I work with a bunch of my best friends.

I get to see my family and The Boys in like four weeks.

I still have a whole-big-bunch of the fruit and yogurt parfait I made yesterday.

Taylor Swift still occupies roughly 93% of my iPod playlist.

Jenna Fischer. Enough said. Seriously, y’all… enough said.

GLEE was f*ckin’ awesome tonight and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a crush on every single chicky-babe on that show. Dianna Argon (ie: Quinn…yeah, baby!), Lea Michele (ie: Rachel), Heather Morris (ie: Brittany) and Naya Rivera (ie: Santana…heck yeah!) are just about every kind of gorgeous and it’s totes ridiculous. I freakin’ love this show.

Grace made crescent rolls—awesome—and a big ole kettle‘o’soup. It doesn’t get much better than that…now does it?!

Oh yeah, it does…because then Grace hooked me up with a Maker’s Mark and Vanilla Coke.

I’ve since had about three more Vanilla Coke and Maker’s and/or Ginger Ale and Maker’s to polish off my wonderful evening whilst I watch re-runs of The Office and giggle at pictures of cats on the interwebs.

For instance, this one right here…

…you’re welcome, friends.

You are so very welcome.

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Writing Prompt: It WAS Meant to Be!

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I completely spaced on posting yesterday. Well, I thought about it at work and right before I ate supper, but I didn’t think about it again until well after midnight.

On to my prompt.

I generally work out in the mornings. I wake up around 5:40, eat breakfast, drink two glasses of water, and wait until around 6:40 before I start my workout [if I don’t wait close to an hour for my food to settle, I’m a sick, sick mess during and after my workout]. Because the condo I currently live in is super small, I was unable to bring my treadmill with me, so I’m forced to work out with the commoners in our building’s workout room. While I consider myself a woman of the people, I really prefer to workout in solitude. Most mornings, I’m only joined by another soul for the first 15 or 20 minutes of my run, then I’m alone for the rest.

However, there are some mornings when there are a number of people and you have to suffer the pain of watching another person’s morning show – like CMT or ESPN (eek!). Yesterday was one of those mornings. Even worse, it was a morning where everyone in there decided to use a treadmill, which means I didn’t get one. I tried to wait them out by riding the bike for 10 minutes. When I saw that no one looked to be slowing down or cooling off, I gave up.

I was so annoyed. I had gotten up at 5:40, when I would have much rather slept until 7, and wasted an hour sitting there waiting for my food to settle, when I could have been showering and getting to work early for once. Instead, now it was almost 7 and I hadn’t done anything.

I made a pit stop on my way back to my place at the mail room. When I turned my key and opened the door, there was one letter. Who was it from? The IRS! This was a huge surprise, because I wasn’t expecting an update letter on my first-time homebuyers credit for another 30 days. I tore open the letter right there in the mail room because I couldn’t wait.

Low and behold, they were notifying me that they had decided to recognize me as, in fact, a first-time homebuyer and they would be providing me with my refund check in the next two or three weeks! I honestly couldn’t have been happier. Well, maybe if the check had been in that letter. But honestly, I don’t care if it takes the whole three weeks to get that  money – I have been waiting since March for that notice. I basically floated on clouds of happiness all the way back to my condo and for the rest of the day. Nothing was going to ruin my day.

And that’s what I believe that everything happens for a reason. If I had talked myself out of running that morning, I wouldn’t have picked up my mail and wouldn’t have seen that wonderful letter. If the workout room hadn’t been full, I wouldn’t have gone to get my mail so early. Who knows if I would have even stopped to pick it up? It was meant to be!

Writing Prompt: Night Owl

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Today I’ve chosen a writing prompt—yes, it’s another writing prompt kinda day—that I could go one of two ways with and I’m still not sure which way to take it.

The question is…

What keeps you up at night?

Now I could keep it all serious and let y’all know that I sometimes toss and turn for hours thinking about how I don’t make enough money to stay on the east coast unless I get a new job, get an additional job, rob a bank or move out of my totally bitchin’ apartment and into the burbs or something.

I could mention that I spend a lot of time obsessing over bills (I told y’all, money sucks) and debt. Granted, most of that is because I absolutely LOATHE being in debt to anyone or anything. I want my college debt to go bye-bye so badly it hurts.

I could mention that some nights I stay up thinking about how much I miss all of my friends and family back home and how much I absolutely hate that my brother and some of my best friends all have kids of their own now and I’m totally scared of being that totally random uncle who shows up once or twice a year, but really has no connection with ‘em at all. Lately I feel like I’ve been absolutely abysmal about keeping a connection with anyone from back home and now my buddy Ryan is living even further away in Utah and I’m barely keeping in contact with him either. I feel like an absentee friend/brother/son/uncle/etc… and I absolutely hate feeling that way.

I could mention that I often think about going back to school, but none of the things I’m actually interested in doing (ie: writing, baseball stuff, and/or police profiler—yep, that’s right Criminal Minds has me thinking I’m BUILT for that shit) ain’t really all that plausible of a career choice.

I could mention that I do legitimately spend numerous nights just staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing. I’m damn near 27 and I’m doing essentially the same thing I was doing as a freshman in college, only now I’ve got about a thousand times more work and responsibility, but all-in-all, I’m still just a library bitch. I was supposed to be rich and famous by now, not toiling in a job that is just a job to me and not even remotely something I’m passionate about.

I could mention that I do, in all reality, spend many a night laying in my bed thinking about baseball and what a beautiful game it is, those nights are drastically less stressful and taxing than the aforementioned nights. I can sit in bed just letting my mind wander about baseball for hours and it’s a glorious thing. Every year, right around Spring Training, when all of the free agents have signed, I like to do the whole “counting sheep” thing by mentally naming every player on every big league team’s roster. It’s nerdy, but it’s incredibly relaxing.

So there are some of the ways I could go with this little prompt, but rather than go into any sort of real depressing depth about all of that crap, I’ll let y’all in on another little thing that keeps me up late at night.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Are you ready?!

…ZOMBIES!!!

That’s right, Imaginary Readers, I have found myself zoning out and wasting countless hours imagining elaborate zombie apocalypse (and/or generic apocalypse – thanks The Stand) scenarios.

Generally, the scenarios involve me and Grace and a small army of friends (the actual “players” in the scenario changes from time-to-time to spice things up in my noggin) trying to escape out of Boston after it has been overrun by the undead.

This generally works in one of two ways…

The first option is that the scenario is pretty solid and it ends up playing in my head as a movie that keeps me up for a few more hours as I try to lead my band of peeps out of the city and across the country to the safety and awesomeness of parent’s place.

The second option is that the scenario is all good, but I get stuck on a fact, often it’s how and where would be the easiest and most accessible place to locate guns and ammunition without risking the entire group to get it. This usually leaves me pretty stumped as I don’t think I’ve seen a gun store the entire time I’ve lived out here and I can’t imagine anyone with multiple guns and/or lots of ammo is going to be itching to share with me. When I run into problems like this I generally drift off trying to solve the problem and wake up the next morning all confused and still in the midst of my own ponderings.

Anywhoozle…that’s the crappolla that keeps me up at night.

Feel free to drop a line in the comments to say what keeps all y’all up at night…

Writing Prompt: You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling (and/or You Never Even Had the Aforementioned Feeling)

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I just had a gloriously lazy day. I slept in. I futzed around on the interwebs. I watched TV. I called my family. I ate a pair of McRibs. I hung out with Grace. All-in-all, it was a pretty swell day.

As such, I’ve got nothing cool or exciting to share with y’all (because I’m a totally boring dude) so it is—once again— writing prompt time.

Yay or nay: Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?!

This one is a toughie, folks.

You see on the one hand, living life never knowing love would suck some serious donkey balls. As a sad, pathetic, pre-emo high schooler I wasn’t exactly lighting up the scoreboards with the ladies, if you know what I’m saying.

I was that scrawny guy who made jokes and was everyone’s friend, but not the dude the ladies wanted to get funky with, if you know what I’m saying.

With that in mind, it makes perfect sense that I totally had a crush on a number of ladies, most of which never panned out…in any way…at all, if you know… wait, scratch that…it doesn’t apply here, y’all know what I’m saying.

At the time, I totally thought it sucked. There was nothing worse than loving someone—and this was high school, mind you, so it was obviously true love—and having them just view you as that funny guy who always listens and dressed up like Britney Spears during Homecoming week.

…actually, you know what…I don’t really see where this example is going.

There is no “loved and lost” because I was largely invisible as a sexual entity to most of my high school. I was more like a floor lamp or a pleasant down comforter, nice to have around, but definitely not something you wanna be caught making out with in the bed of a pickup truck.

There’s also no “never have loved at all” because, let’s face it, this was high school. None of that shit counts in real life. Unless you married your high school sweetheart or you got VD from the quarterback, most of us have long since left high school in the rearview mirror.

Lemme try a scenario that makes more sense and that I think we can all relate to…the McRib.

I have loved and lost the McRib. I lost the McRib for damn near five years before my love returned to my open arms (and mouth) a little more than a month ago.

It was a rough go of it and honestly, there were many times when I thought I’d never have another McRib again. It left me emotionally wrought and there were many nights that I’d lie in bed, just thinking about the McRib and how great it’d be if we could see each other, just one more time.

Oh yes, Non-Existent Readers, I’ve loved and lost. It is no good. No good at all.

Would it have been easier to have never eaten a McRib, like so many of my poor east coast peeps?! Maybe, maybe not…who can really say?!

They seem to think that they’re better off having never tasted that sweet ambrosia nestled on a corn-dusted bun, but I think they’re all a little hollow inside.

Whereas they don’t suffer through the same broken heart that I do when the McRib vanishes into the ether, they do suffer from the lack of knowing just what an awe-inspiring event—yes, I said event—the McRib can truly be when it is loved the way it is meant to be loved.

With that in mind, I would say it is a thousand times better to have loved and lost than to have never known love at all.

If I’d lived my entire 26 (dang near 27) years on this earth without having eaten the McRib, I’d never feel the anguish and torture during its many lengthy absences, but I’d suffer another pain; the pain of never really knowing and that sounds like a far, far worse fate.

Blankity Blank Blank

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I swear I had at least three halfway decent ideas for posts tonight, yet they’ve all escaped my mind. I hate that! I desperately need to write things down. Seriously, I’m not old enough for this to happen as often as it does.

If I happen to remember ANY of my ideas, I’ll write a better post tonight. If not, then oh well.

Writing Prompt: Top of My Wishlist

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Much like Jeremiah, I am mostly focused on paying off my student loans and making my mortgage payment. Other than that, the only thing I’d want are clothes, which I don’t need. More importantly, I wouldn’t have the patience to “ask” for the clothes I want — I would just buy them, feel guilty about buying them, and return them. So I’ve told my parents that gift cards (preferably to Target for groceries) are all I want, or cash. The last thing I need is something fun, like clothes. I truly only need money with which I can pay off debts or purchase groceries for me and Dan.

One thing I would really like is a letter from the IRS saying that they’re going to give me the first-time homebuyers tax credit. That would make my life, especially the part where I pay off debt, much easier.

Dan and I agreed not to buy each other gifts after a joint purchase of a white noise machine for our bedroom. Based on previous experiences, however, this agreement means nothing to Dan. When we made this agreement last year, he purchased a dresser for our room that I had really wanted. I knew he would do that, so I got him a fancy mattress pad with extra cushion. This year, I ordered the box set of Ancient Aliens (Dan’s a big fan — I have no comment) and the newest book by an alien expert. You can laugh at me right now, or nod and smile, whatever feels right.

Other than that, I’d like a toaster with extra wide and long slots — we buy bread that’s a bit over-sized and I have to cram it into the current toaster or turn it sideways to toast one half, then flip it around to toast the other. Of course this burns the middle, so it annoys me.

I wouldn’t turn a 2010 Saturn Sky away, either.

Writing Prompt: All I Want for Christmas

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My life is really, really boring lately. I feel like all I do is wake up, go to work, come home, and then go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

This isn’t to say I’m unhappy or anything. I just feel sorta disconnected from any sort of normal life right now. I’ve been going a mile a minute since last spring and lately I’ve got some downtime and it’s like I have no idea how to fill it.

I feel like I’ve been an awful friend to all The Boys back home and now to Ryan and just about anyone else who I don’t see on an everyday basis because I’m so bad about calling and emailing. I just come home and plop down on the couch and stare at the television for a few hours before calling it a night.

I’m enjoying all of the extra Grace-time I’ve gotten lately and I’ve enjoyed feeling more…um…“important” (or maybe “essential”) at work lately, no doubt about that, it’s the first time in years that I’ve felt like more than just a cog.

I guess what bugs me is now that it’s getting cold and softball is over and things are just sorta slowing down, I feel like I’m very, very boring. I’ve got nothing to write about and I’m not really doing anything cool or interesting or even remotely worth blogging about.

Being boring is NOT a good way to bust out of writer’s block, that’s for damned sure.

Anywhoozle, this super long, super rambling introduction is all my way of saying, that you’ll all be suffering through another writing prompt today.

As always, the prompt is courtesy of the fine peeps over at Plinky.com.

What’s at the top of your gift wish list right now?

Honestly, I’m not even sure.

Whenever my family asks what I want, I just tell ‘em to pay off my student loans, or pay my rent, or buy me a new bed or something like that…clearly I’m lame. Dare I say, super lame…yes, yes I do dare say it. I am super lame.

I worry way too much about bills and always assume I’ll never have enough money to do anything. I know this drives Grace nuts, because she wants to travel and I’m always all “sorry dude, no cash.” This is retarded, because in reality—barring us winning the lottery—I’ll never have “enough” money.

My hope is that I’ll get a decent raise in the near future and I can loosen the ole purse strings just a bit.

Anyway, I’m getting off-track here.

Christmas list, what’s at the top?!

Right now maybe one of the following…

-Gift Certificate to Threadless.com
-New Softball Bat
Scrubs: Seasons 1-7
The Office: Seasons 4-6
How I Met Your Mother: Seasons 3-5
Community: Season 1
30 Rock: Seasons 1-4
The Stand: The Complete Uncut Edition by Stephen King
-New Big Screen TV
-New Queen-Size Bed
-A Handgun (don’t tell Grace)
The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks
The Walking Dead: the graphic novel
The Stand: the graphic novel
-Nerf Guns!

…um, that’s really all I can come up with off the top of my head.

I generally have to produce a list for my family every year, so this’ll probably be a pretty good start. I almost always ask for a ton of gift certificates, because it’s just easier that way—in terms of bringing it back to Boston and whatnot—but rarely do they hook me up with ‘em.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now, folks. It’s time to close the library and kick out a bunch of crazies…you know what, scratch that, now I know what I want for Christmas…a tazer. That’d make my job SOOOOOOOOO much easier.

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