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It’s been a pretty ridiculous week. My usual Tuesday night escapades were enhanced by the addition of Joker and London. She’s Joker’s new girlfriend. I like her a lot and really hope it works out between them. She and I have only hung out twice but already we’ve become close. They joined me for karaoke and were going to bring AngryGinger and Irish, but as is the usual, that failed. We had a pretty great time just the three of us though. And it allowed me to talk with them about things I would be unable to if Irish were present. Since none of us had to be up early the next day, we stayed all night and partied and danced. Joker even got up there and sang. I was ecstatic. We were still a bit foggy when we left at 1am, so I suggested we walk to Sheetz and get subs. It’s only 10 blocks. Well they got halfway and wanted to turn back, swearing it was more than the 10 blocks I’d claimed. I then explained that 10 blocks in my town is not the same as, say, DC blocks, which are distinct and uniform (hah). But it was less than a mile and the military should’ve hardened Joker for that sort of thing. Admittedly though, even I was cold on the way back after getting foods. And I was wearing my leather coat. We parted ways when we returned and I went to my parents’ house to sleep off the booze.

At about 330am, my phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number and the half-asleep me didn’t answer it. Turns out, the number was for the hospital and it was Irish calling me. I woke up again at 530 and saw the voicemail message. He had dislocated his shoulder in his sleep and took an ambulance ride to the hospital. Apparently he called because he knew I’d be upset if he went to the hospital and didn’t tell me. Well that’s the least I’d be. So it was a good call on his part. Of course my first course of action was to call the hospital and locate him and find out his condition. He wasn’t there. He had been discharged not 15 minutes before. So I texted him, surprisingly got a response, and was informed he was home safe and in pain, but fine and was not going to work because he would need a ride and I was an hour away.

I freaked out a bit, to say the least, but in reality I knew he was okay and that if he needed me, he’d let me know, right? Oh, the lies I tell myself. I told him I’d try to get home earlyish to take care of him later, hoping to stay true to it.

Well, as is the norm, things got crazy and I didn’t get home til around 630. I walk in and he’s on the couch, shirtless, and has the most complicated looking sling I’ve ever seen. The look on his face said it all. He was miserable, tired, hungry, and just all around torn up. I could tell he needed some attention, but didn’t want to dote on him since he hates that. That didn’t last long.

We ordered pizza for dinner since he could eat that with one hand and I set him up with an ice pack and anything else he needed. Then he says to me, “you’re gonna have to drive me to work tomorrow.” Which, first off, was not a request, it was an order, and secondly, way to assume I’d do that. Well I would. And I did.

I drove him over an hour to work then came home, waited til 4, then drove back to pick him up and brought him home.  The next day, he didn’t have work because he was getting laser eye surgery, right next to his office. So I had to drive all the way back again. Then the next day for a followup consult. The surgery made it so that he was even more hopeless helpless and I had to continue to wait on him, hand and foot. Not that it was that bad, since he slept most of the time. I had already planned on baking him a cake to celebrate his new eyesight, so I did that while he was asleep. However, I realized I’d hard boiled all the eggs I bought and had to get some from Gunnie, as he was the nearest friend and I didn’t want to leave Irish alone in the house with one arm and no eyes. Well, Gunnie talks a bit loudly, and he hung out to chat for awhile, which meant that Irish woke up earlier than I expected and caught me mid-cake-baking. He wasn’t all that thrilled it seemed, but honestly I don’t think I’ve ever seen him thrilled for anything. Or even all that excited. The most excitement I’ve seen from him was because of his eye surgery, and that’s because he was fixing something that he’d been dealing with for about 20 years. I wish he’d get excited for anything involving me…sigh…anyway, that’s not the point I was making. Granted, after I had taken the cake out of the oven, he kept asking if he could have a piece, but it had to cool off before I could frost it and then cut him a piece. He seemed pretty happy about it though. Over the next few days, he occasionally said in the cutest, most helpless voice “Can I have a piece of cake?” even if it was for breakfast. And yes, I gave it to him. I gave him anything he wanted all weekend and then some. Of course, I also had to take what I wanted from him, refuting his “but I don’t think I can do anything without it hurting”. I proved that to be wrong. Heh. Anyway…

Monday rolled around and I drove him to/from work again, but told him I couldn’t do it Tuesday/Wednesday since I’d be at my mother’s house working on my halloween costume. He almost freaked a bit, and I said “Look, if I didn’t think you were capable of driving yourself, I wouldn’t make you or even let you do it.” So when he got in his car on Tuesday morning and drove off without me, I knew I’d been right. Otherwise, he would’ve come back to make me drive him. Right? Again  with #theliesitellmyself. I texted him later and he said he was alive, which was not what I wanted to hear, but it was acceptable, and meant that he managed to get there unscathed and it wasn’t an issue. So I was off the hook, right? Nope. I forgot that he has to go back for another post-op consult on Saturday morning, which means I’m driving to DC again. Joy. Then another at 30 days. Why he can’t just do these on his lunch break, I have no idea. It took literally about 10 minutes.

Oh well, at least he gave me some gas money to compensate. Though I did inform him that he owes me serious lovings when he stops being injured and that he’s still backlogged for missing the wedding ceremony. He doesn’t understand why that’s such a big deal to me, but I can’t really explain it to him well enough. I mean, I wanted pictures of us together, I wanted pics with the happy couple, I wanted him to see me walk down the aisle, and I wanted to catch his eye when he first saw me, seeing his reaction to my temporary beautifulness. I didn’t get any of that. When he finally did show up, he was so frustrated with traffic and the whole situation, that all he could say was “you look nice”. What the hell is that?! I’m in a $300 dress, with $150 of hair and makeup, and all you can say is I look “nice”?! Ugh! I have not been called “beautiful” by anyone besides my parents and family friends. Never a boyfriend. What is wrong with this picture? I mean, I’m not ugly, from what I can tell. I’m no supermodel, but I’m not ugly. He repeated says “you’re very pretty,” but does it in a very derogatory way, while patting my head. Just once, I’d like to be beautiful.

I even talked to him recently about his lack of affection toward me, and that he’d done a few and it always makes me melt, so why not do it more. The response I get: because if I did it all the time, it wouldn’t be special. What?! It shouldn’t be “special” it should be normal. Dealing with him is like pulling teeth sometimes, I swear.

And yet, I put up with all of this crap and more, all because I love the boy. I must be the best girlfriend in the world.

“Kinky sex is a hobby like model train building — people labor for years in their basements to get good at it, and though most people don’t want to hear about it, other aficionados happily visit to check out their work. Vanilla sex is like running — it doesn’t take much equipment, it’s supposed to come naturally, it gets harder as we age, and it’s socially approved, but few people really work at it.”

Holly has done it again. Just wow. And though it was not of her creation, I find so much about this quote to be amazing. Just thought I’d share that real quick. Here’s s linkback for ya:
http://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2010/10/wrestling-and-model-trains.html

“the idea that there’s a The One out there is less likely than vampire unicorns.”
~ Pervocracy

Oh Holly, how you brighten my day with random ridiculousness. Also, this concept is something I’m coming to realize. Even if you don’t think he’s “the One” (if you believe in its existence) it doesn’t change the fact that he loves you. So why not say “que sera, sera” and just let it happen. It’d be stupid to end a relationship just because you don’t think you’re fated or true love or something. Cuz really, any love can be true. So as long as he loves you, keep loving him. It’s really that simple. Kinda.

They toll not for me. My brother got married this weekend. It was a beautiful ceremony and I was a bridesmaid, so I was made up all girly and prissy. It was weird, but awesome. The event lasted all weekend and was quite a huge deal. I’m very impressed with how it all came together so well and, as I told the happy couple, I couldn’t have thrown a better wedding myself. It was everything I could have imagined and more. I told my brother at the reception that I’m very proud of him. He was confused and asked me why. I smiled, saying “if my big geeky brother can find true love and happiness in this world, it gives me hope that I can too”, then sipped my champagne and just grinned. It was nice to have a brother/sister moment there. I think it also gave him a clue to my uncertainties about my status with Irish, but also my hopes that it’ll work. Honestly, at this point I can’t say for sure either way of how I think it’ll go. I’m just going with the flow. But back to the wedding stuffs, here’s a breakdown of the weekend.

Saturday – Rehearsal/Dinner:
We parked at the Rusty Scupper then walked up to Federal Hill to do a run-through of the ceremony. I finally found out which of my brother’s friends would be walking me down the aisle and when we did our rehearsal walk, we both started strutting with this silly walk, with no prompting or collaboration at all. It was pretty amazing. We both were giggling about it afterwards. Dinner was at the Rusty Scupper, which sounds terrible, but was actually pretty good.  Open bar and good crab soup. And then chocolate fondue for dessert. So full of win. Except for the fact that the fondue fountain got way too hot and burned the chocolate. But oh well. Twas still good.

Sunday – Prep/Wedding:
Woke up around 7 to go to breakfast at Miss Shirley’s Cafe. The selection there was amazing, but I just wasn’t that hungry. I ended up with sweet tea(with a sprig of mint), Cinnamon Danish pancakes, and bacon. Ate about half the pancakes before I just couldn’t do it anymore. It sucked a bit because I’ve learned that to me, pancakes are like Chinese food – I get hungry again an hour later. And it messes with my stomach too. Which on a day where I am going to be in a wedding and outside and nowhere near civilization for awhile… sucks. And it did. I felt fluky all day, but was also hungry. I ended up grabbing a slice of pizza that the boys ordered, even though it was after the girl did my makeup.

I finally got my hair done, then the hairdresser said I looked like a movie star. Meh. I did look pretty good I guess. After prettying up and getting dressed, we did pictures all around the hotel, then piled into the limo to head to the ceremony. It was beautiful. My escort and I joked quietly about the strut walking, but decided we shouldn’t do it for the actual ceremony. Hearing my brother’s vows made me cry though. I had no idea he was capable of such strong emotion. Just… wow. The geekyness was definitely there too, because there were a lot of video game references and such. Very cool.

After looking around the entire ceremony, I got my phone from my father and found out that Irish had not made it. In fact, at the time of the ceremony’s start, he had given up trying to find the hotel to catch the shuttle and had gone back home to get better directions. I lost it. It was the most beautiful wedding ever, and I was all dolled up, and I really wanted him to see it, and I wanted to get pictures taken with him. And none of that got to happen. I texted him back, saying that it was over and that cocktail hour starts at 7, so be there. By the time we got back to the hotel and I had a glass of wine in my hand, I felt a bit better, even though I still had no confirmation of his status.

Around 7:15, he showed up. I took him around and introduced him to my family and friends. He hated it, of course. But the free beer and snacks seemed to placate him slightly. The loud music was really bugging him, which I had apparently tuned out, since I didn’t notice it til he mentioned it. Then when I told him it was time for dinner, but that he wouldn’t be sitting with me, he got huffy again. There was nothing I could do about that though. There wasn’t enough space at the bridesmaid table for him to eat there, but he did get seated with my cousins, who he had just met and with whom he had sorta hit it off.

We lined up in our bridal party order and made our entrance. My escort and I once again strutting and being silly, this time while carrying champagne. Delicious. The happy couple did their first dance to Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars”, which coincidentally we had heard at breakfast that morning. It was beautiful. Then we headed upstairs for dinner, which for me consisted of caesar salad, filet mignon and scallops,  and more champagne. The filet was tiny as hell and I knew that Irish was going to end up complaining about it later, since I signed him up for that too. Which he did. The scallops were odd tasting, so I didn’t bother to finish them. I went straight to mingling and getting more booze.

When I walked over to the table with Irish and my cousins, the first thing my aunt said to me was something about asparagus pee. We had watched an episode of Good Eats where Alton Brown was talking about it, and apparently Irish had decided to talk to them about it. So weird. Within the next few minutes, my cousin had coerced me into drinking a cable car, some sort of orangey martini, and turned into a huge enabler, telling me to drink more, though I clearly didn’t need it.

The father/daughter and mother/son dances started, so we watched them from the balcony. I was recording them, but apparently my phone’s memory was full and it didn’t save the longer of the two recordings, which sucks. Especially since there wasn’t a videographer at the wedding, just photographers. Hopefully they got some good shots though.

Then came the dancing. I actually got Irish to dance with me. I was very surprised and honestly, after the stunt he pulled by not showing up to the ceremony, he owed me. Plus, I had already forcefully requested that he dance with me at some point in the night. We did some fast dances, rocking out and being silly, then took a break for awhile, grabbed another drink and chilled on the couch a bit. I got up a few times to mingle and dance randomly, but Irish just stayed on the couch. At the end of the night, I finally grabbed him and got him to dance again, then a slower song came on, although it was “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey. We did the classic middle/high schooler arms-around-the-neck, swaying dancing. He was trying to move his feet to dance us around in a circle, but I was entirely too drunk at that point to be able to maneuver that and told him to just stand and move. I vaguely remember assaulting him on the dance floor with makeouts. In front of my parents. Ugh. But thankfully my mother has no recollection of it, or just didn’t mention it if she did.

Irish and I ran up to my parents’ hotel room real quick and I got changed and grabbed my stuff to go back home, leaving my parents to have the room to themselves and that way I’d be there to wake Irish on time in the morning. We wandered back downstairs and said our goodbyes to those who remained, saying we’d see them at brunch. I also vaguely remember a conversation with Irish that was basically “Am I coming home with you or staying here?” and after getting no real response, saying bluntly, “Will I be getting sex tonight if I come home with you?” Even though the answer was “no” because he was too tired, I still wanted cuddles. Not that I got them. *harumph*

Monday – Brunch:
Woke up roughly on time and got myself ready before hauling him out of bed to do the same. We were at brunch by 1030, so only an hour late, and there was still plenty of food. Bacon, sausage, french toast, eggs, potatoes, fruit, juice, and coffee. Om nom. Worth the drive just for a free meal in my opinion.

We said our goodbyes and congratulations again, then came back home to nap, since we were both exhausted from the weekend and the early mornings. We didn’t end up doing a whole lot the rest of the day besides being lazy, but that’s what holidays are for.

It was a good weekend and I’m so happy for my brother and my new sister. Also, the date, 10-10-10 was perfect for the wedding. He should never forget the anniversary and it is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Plus, if he does forget, the next day, 10-11, is National Butt-kicking Day, so she’s got that to look forward to. Heh.

Well, this post took entirely too long to write over the course of a few days, but i’m finally heading to bed for the night. I’ll post more about my recent exploits tomorrow or Saturday.

Laters.

Grapple took me to Mongolian Grill today for lunch. Well, a late lunch. 2 o’clock really. But that was my bad, not his. He said he’d come pick me up at 2, but then showed up at 1:20 when I hadn’t gotten showered and ready yet. He called me lazy, but I had been doing chores and such all morning and was just about to jump in the shower when he showed up. Anyway, so we get there and realize their lunch stops at 230. We ended up not leaving til about 330 and they didn’t care. So I think I just found my new favorite place. And it’s only $10 for all you can eat lunch.

I had a really great time and it was great to catch up with Grapple after so long. Sure, we went to Rennfest together and hung out all day then, but we couldn’t talk freely about things. It’s always nice to talk to him because he listens to what I have to say and actually cares about me, which is more than I can say for some people I try to talk to. Sigh.

We hung out a bit longer and talked some more. But it was kinda sad how good it felt when he randomly reached over and hugged me at a red light. It just felt so warm and so much stress just started melting away from me, softening my shoulders and my heart. It was almost overwhelming. It made me realize how much I’ve been missing in my daily life. While Irish is getting better with the showing of affection, it’s not yet nearly enough to meet my needs. I keep forgetting that.

After he brought me home, we talked for awhile and I made him listen to Voltaire, since he had never heard it before. It was really great to just chill on the couch comfortably with someone who genuinely wanted to hear what I had to say. And who isn’t afraid to hug on me and stuff, knowing that it’s totally cool by me for him to do that. I’m a very friendly person and also a very physical person. I get the most satisfaction, emotion, and intimacy from physical closeness. Even with people that are just friends. I’m not afraid to admit that I love to cuddle. I love hugs and snuggles and being intertwined and just hanging all over each other for the hell of it. It’s because of this concept that Grapple and I have discussed how he is a better boyfriend, without being a boyfriend. He’s just that awesome of a friend. He and I operate under the same principle: give all you can. And that stays true no matter if the other is giving back an equal amount or zero. We both keep ending up with situations where we’re not receiving nearly enough in return to satisfy our wants and needs. Fittingly, we seem to have gravitated to each other to fulfill at least the hugging quotient that we both have.

Small amount of irony, when Irish got home I was doing dishes and when I finished up he walked by me and stopped, his face really close to mine, then leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. It was adorable and great. Don’t get me wrong, the huggings with Grapple were awesome and very much needed, but there was something missing that I couldn’t put my finger on. Apparently that was the intimacy bit I needed. Whether that’s because it was a kiss, or it was cute, or because it came from the boyfriend, I’m not sure. Regardless, it was nice.

10:30pm
So the reason I actually got to write a nice long post this time is because I’m actually using my laptop. It still sucks and I have the power cord taped to it just so it won’t come unplugged and die, but it’s still a full keyboard and not my iphone. Also, the boys played poker tonight and are finishing up now. Gunnie, Curly, Musicman, and AngryGinger came this time. It’s now down to Irish and AngryGinger. There’s talk of doing some Guitar Hero: Warriors of Rock after this which I have mixed feelings about now. It’s getting kinda late and I’m tired. Wow, I feel old. Maybe I will play some GH then, just to spite myself. Heh. And now I’m having a conversation with myself, about myself, and about what I’m going to do in like 10 minutes, merely because I don’t want to do it. Ugh, that was a really confusing sentence to type. I don’t know if you, the Reader, caught any of that, but if you did, kudos to you and welcome to madness. Ahahahahahaaa! *maniacal hand gestures*. Um…ahem. Anyway…. I’m just waiting for the poker game to end.

Also, I know that Grapple reads this blog but I don’t know if he’s the only one so far. I had 8 page views yesterday and no comments were left so I have no idea. So basically, feel free to leave comments, I’d love to hear what you think. Though this is my ranting outlet, so I know most of the posting is negative in connotation, I hope to eventually be posting happier things.

“Yay we’re finally done, thank Christ!” – AngryGinger just now

So Irish’s grandmother died recently and we’re currently at his parents’ house with them trying to book their flights. It’s a pain in the ass. I mean, I guess I’d be more accommodating if I were coming with him, but he doesn’t want me to come. And every time I try to say anything at all he just glares at me or puts me down. In front of his fricking parents. I actually had to stifle a cry once already. Oh wait, now we’re leaving abruptly and I’m getting muscled out of here. Bah.

I want to write more, but not right now. For the time being, I just have to get this out. Thanks to Holly. Again.

“…parking cars is apparently a very masculine occupation. God knows I couldn’t do it; my vagina would get caught on the stick shift and I’d menstruate everywhere and then I’d probably start crying.”

Read the whole post here: http://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2007/12/everything-you-always-wanted-to-know.html

Hehehehehe…. I can’t stop giggling every time I read that excerpt.

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