No, not my wedding day, crazies. My brother's. That's right. He tied the knot last Sunday with the Evil Bitch. My sister and I had to keep reminding each other (and ourselves) that we are happy because our brother is happy. Easier said than done. Especially since The Evil Bitch had us and our men setting up everything for her - from the tent and the tulle swags to reconfiguring the deck from ceremony to dinner. And did I mention that it was raining like ass? K and my brother-in-law got soaking wet trying to put the sides of the tent down because she insisted that it stay open even though it rained earlier and looked like it was set to continue. When the wedding photos are developed, they'll see the ridiculous contrast between the slave labor (that's us) and her family. My sister's husband and K were soaking wet, and she and I were sweaty and red-faced from running up and down the stairs hundreds of times taking care of the details for her (oh, did I forget to mention that their wedding was on the roof?). Meanwhile, her family was relaxed and fresh-faced, having lounged around in the air conditioning enjoying beverages and each other's company. My sister and I were so pissed off about it.
But what really annoyed me was that The Evil Bitch did the bouquet toss even though I was the only unmarried female over the age of 6 present. And she did it in a sneaky way. There I was, telling K and my brother-in-law that the table cloths were in a box that was being rained on, when she calls out, "Hey Missy, catch!" I had no clue what she was doing, so I turned and held out my arms, catching the bouquet. K was looking for the box, but when he got back, you could tell from the look on his face that he was not pleased. Neither of us is keen on being pushed into marriage, and my family is definitely the pushy sort.
Aside from all that, the wedding was nice. The ceremony was short, the food fantastic (if a little snobby). They had these super yummy cupcakes with mango-caramel icing and passion fruit cream centers that were phenomenal! I should have brought one home...
So, my douche-bag of an ex-boyfriend emailed me again last week:
Hi Melissa (I wanted to say Missy, but if I remember correctly, you don't like that anymore),
I tried sending you an email a few months ago (nothing inflammatory, just saying hi) but I did not hear back from you. I am wondering if this is still your email, or if you maybe didn't get my earlier email.
Anyway, I hope to hear from you. I hope all is well in the world of international business.
His previous email actually was also an inquiry into whether or not I was still using the same email address, and a few statements about how he missed me and wanted to update me on his life. Why, in god's name, would you email me if the last 4 times you've emailed me I haven't responded to you? Why?! It doesn't take a freakin' Nobel Laureate to realize that I don't want to talk to you. My friend Rachel, who regrettably introduced the two of us, thinks he knows he has the right email address, but is hoping that somehow the result of this email will be different than that of the last ones. Seriously, this guy is pathetic. We broke up almost 3 years ago, and I've been dating someone else (which, granted, he doesn't know, but still) for 2.5 years, so I really have nothing to say to him.
Throughout my entire 1st semester in grad school, he would call me a few times a week, which was fine at first, because I thought we could be friends. But then, when I got really busy with work and hanging out with new people (and dating K), he couldn't understand why I answered my phone less and less frequently. It all came to a head one night when I was out with K and our friend Oscar and his girlfriend for their birthdays. My ex called earlier in the evening, but we were leaving for dinner, so I told him I'd call him later. The restaurant was loud, I was having fun, and we didn't get back until something like 1 in the morning. Calling him back was the last thing on my mind. I looked at my phone before K and I went to sleep, and I had missed calls and voicemails from the ex. And that was just on my cell phone. He'd left another 3 on the phone in my dorm room. Whatever, it was 1 in the morning, meaning it was 4am East Coast time, so I just went to bed. But get this: the psycho called me again at 2am. I KNOW! And then he just kept calling back. Finally, I picked up the damn thing and told him to stop fucking calling and I'd talk to him the next day.
When I did finally call him back, he could not understand why I was mad at him. He actually thought his actions were reasonable, and certainly no psychotic or stalker-esque. There were 2 ensuing yelling matches, and then I told him to go the fuck away. Clearly, he's not so good with the listening. Even when I was in Armenia he emailed me a few times, and when I sent back very short, neutral notes, he shot back this angry diatribe about how I'd changed and he didn't like who I'd become and the old me would never be so stand-offish. Loser.
Anyway, the question really is, what do I do? K thinks I need to send him back and email that says, "look, I haven't talked to you in years for a reason - I don't want to. Leave me alone." However, and Rachel agrees here, I think that were I to email him at all, he would, in his twisted mind, take that to mean that communications were now open and he possibly had a chance with me. (He really does think this way - when we were dating, he still sometimes would have lunch with his ex Tracy, and come back and ask me if something she said meant that she wanted to get back together. I should have known to stay away from him.) A friend of mine from college thinks I should email him back and say, "Hi! I'm married with 2 kids now! Fuck off!" That would be pretty funny, but he'd probably think they were his kids and try to get back into my life for the good of the children.
For those of you keeping count, K and I moved into our house about 7 months ago. Last week, I sort of drove into the front corner of the garage. This is not as stupid as it sounds, and here's why: K bought himself a motorcycle (more on that later, probably) and when he takes it out, he has to move a bunch of stuff, like the garbage can, into the clear spot where my car goes. Though he usually gets home before me, he doesn't always put the stuff back where it belongs and out of my way. So last week when I was coming home, I was looking inside the garage to make sure my spot was clear, and hit the garage door frame kinda hard. I managed to push that teeny bit of wall off its foundation, bend the track for the garage door, and bust up the stucco. No one can say I do things half-assedly. But you want to know what the kicker is?! My fucking car didn't get even the tiniest of dents! All it got was paint from the trim on it. I'm so annoyed.
Found this over at For Your Entertainment (which by the way, is very entertaining, at least by my standards...) Now if only my REAL job paid me this much (out of bed, naturally)
K and I want to adopt a dog. We've been mulling over what kind for weeks, but didn't really start looking until last weekend. All we want is a medium-ish sized dog who doesn't bark a lot, likes to go to the park but also likes to lay around on the couch, and is housetrained. Is that an impossible list of traits? It sure seems that way. We've seen a bunch of dogs, but none have really connected. There have been a bunch of cute dogs, but there's always something not quite right about them. I personally have my hopes pinned on a little mutt we found on Craig's List, but we won't be able to see him until next weekend because he's being fostered way far away from the city. But K has a feeling about the Boxer rescue group. Either way, I have a few reservations, not the least of which is do I really want to get up at 3am to let the dog out to pee? Plus, what will my family say? My dad will KILL me. KILL. It's not like I could tell him, it's not mine, it's K's. And, I feel just a little bad that it'll be home by itself for a majority of the day. K seems to think this is fine, but I don't know.
I'm home sick from work today, which is equal parts awesome and not-so-much awesome. Awesome because I'm not at work and I slept until 10:30 for the first time in about 6 months. Not-so-much awesome because the lower half of my body is freezing while the upper part (particularly my head) is hot, with the exception of my hands, which are frigid.
Anyway, I was reading Neatorama (love to you Neatorama people!) and they have a post about a guy who writes his own personal annual report. Check it out at Feltron Eight. Talk about an awesome way to sum up the year! The site looks pretty basic, but when you click on the links, prepare for great photos and some wacky stats, like his travel kit (complete with abandoned, unused, and lost items) and longest number of days without email (8). What I want to know is how did he keep track of all that information?! Nicholas Felton, you are my hero, please share with me how you do this!
Merry Christmas!
After K got back from a business trip last week, he really wanted some Chinese food. We haven't had any since my mother left, so we went to Mak Chin's, which is across the street from our gym. Expecting the place to be packed at 7:30 on a Friday night, we were really surprised to find the dining room almost empty. The menu looked really good, and the prices were quite a bit higher than your average Asian restaurant, so we our expectations were pretty high. Talk about a let-down. We ordered salmon in a coconut something sauce with mango salsa. For $18, I expect a decently sized piece of salmon. Instead, the portion on my plate was about 1inch by 4 inches. That's $4.50 per square inch. And it was terrible! The sauce overpowered what little fish there was on the plate, and the mango salsa was basically chopped up mangoes with a bit of cilantro thrown in. K's was by far the worst, though. He ordered the steamed vegetables, which when constituting a dish on their own (and for $10 no less) usually have a bit of flair to them. No. He received a small bamboo steamer partially full of plain, unseasoned steamed vegetables. They weren't even salted!
So, what can be learned from this? Don't go to Mak Chin's. Don't listen to the people on CitySearch who say it's such a wonderful place. The restaurant tries too hard and has terrible food.
Week 6. Still not totally unpacked. Possibly not even half unpacked. But! Last Saturday, we managed to get through about 15 boxes! Seven or 8 of those ended up trash and another 4 are going to be donated (maybe more, I haven't decided on some stuff) so the good news is that I'm getting rid of more than I'm keeping, which makes K very happy. I think one of the issues is that we are lacking storage-type furniture, like dressers and bookshelves. If we had those, I think it might be different. (who am I kidding, of course it wouldn't)
Texas is crazy, by the way. CRAZY. Take yesterday. When I left for work yesterday morning, it was 85 degrees out. When I got out of work, the temperature had fallen. To 56 degrees. That's a 29 degree temperature change for those of you keeping track. Dude, how does that even happen?
K is a consultant, so he's generally not home during the week, which sucks. I always feel like just when we're getting into the groove of living, he has to leave again, so last week when he got to stay in town, I was so happy. Having him there in the morning to make me coffee, and getting to fall asleep on the couch with him was great. But alas, he's off in Minnesota this week.
Oh, we're heading back to Glentucky for our school's rugby tournament at the beginning of next month. Can't wait to see everyone.
on Tokidoki Zucca