Monday, March 31, 2014

Road Trip: An Inner Monologue

Ok. A four and a half hour drive. That's cake.
...getting to Southern California at Rush Hour Prime Time... super.
Time to leave. WAIT I NEED TO GET GAS.
I would really appreciate it if gas would be lower than $4/gallon, please. Sheesh.
It's a good thing Bruce Wayne gets good gas mileage.
Ok. On the road.
I FORGOT DIET COKE. Oh well. I can make another stop because this definitely qualifies as an emergency.
Mmmmmmmm nectar of the gods.
OMG SNACKS. I need to stop again.
Mmmmmmmm sour apple rings.
And Bubblicious bubble gum.
HOW did this Twix bar get in here?
OMG I've been driving for FOREVER ALREADY.
...or for 37 minutes. Cool.
I'm totally cruising and nobody is going slow, this is the best.
"BEHIND THESE HAZEL EYEEESSSSSSS!" I should be in a music video.
Holy mother of goodness I'm passing an In N Out in 7 miles. It's 5 o'clock, I've been driving for 90 minutes, dinner is justified.
Why the hell is everybody and their mother's dental hygienist in the drive through line of In N Out right now.
I'm gonna time how long this takes.
Oh yes, I DO need another Diet Coke.
Twenty three minutes. Was it worth it?
Oh it was DEFINITELY worth it.
It's a good thing I'm so good at driving and eati--
Eff. Sauce on my pants.
Whatever. That's why God invented napkins. And washing machines.
Oh em eff gee why is everybody going so slow?
WHY are there so many brake lights??
...probably because it's 6pm on a Friday in Santa Barbara, you moron.
NO EXCUSE. There is NO excuse for this.
This is taking fooorrrreverrrrrr.
Is that guy next to me READING A BOOK?
Ugh good, we're FINALLY moving.
If you can call going 28 mph on the freeway moving.
WHEEEEEEEEE traffic lifted! That was the worst 4 minutes of my life.
Why were we even going slow?? I saw no accident and absolutely no reason for that traffic. I hate everyone.
People say Taylor Swift is annoying but her music is SO easy to sing along to.
Maybe I should try out for American Idol?
Now that Simon isn't a judge it's not as scary.
OMG this idiot in front of me is going 57 and the speed limit is 65. I'm staring at him when I pass him.
Mouths: I hate you.
WHEEEEEEEE we're cruising again!
Shit. More brake lights.
No. It's just a jerk driving a Crown Victoria.
Shit THAT is a cop.
Nothing to see here, officer. I was not speeding and I was not just checking how many likes my In N Out picture got on Instagram.
It's 7pm. I've been driving for over 3 hours and I still have almost over 100 miles to go and I still have to pee and my car smells like burgers and cheese and I am out of Diet Coke why is life so hard?
Ooooooooh another In N Out! I'll pee there. And get more Diet Coke.
Ahhhh... so much better. And Diet Coke is my crack.
I wonder if they really did used to put cocaine in Coke?
If I write "cocaine" on my blog will I get weird search terms leading to me?
I totally sound like Idina Menzel.
OMG only 40 miles to go!
Oh look, the Disney studios!
I'm still bitter toward Disneyland.
Great, I have to pee again.
Maybe I should get Starbucks?
Holy eff there is so much traffic.
WHAT THE HELL YOU STUPID AUDI!? Just because you're driving an expensive car does NOT mean you get to just cut me off. BE PATIENT AND USE YOUR TURN INDICATOR. I'm sending you hate from Bruce Wayne right now.
I am going to pee my pants.
Thank God for GPS.
I'd be so lost without this electronic map thing.
OMG I'm here. NOW I CAN PEE!
What goes through YOUR head when you drive?

Thursday, March 27, 2014

When I sent a text to my ex

During the four years that Kevin and I were broken up, I was sort of a crazy person. I know, you'd never guess that by looking at me, right? (That's a joke, get with the program.) Basically I was just really sad all the time and spent way too much time reading through old texts and looking at the mementos from our relationship. I wrote in my journal constantly and then drank champagne and wrote even more because I wanted to be all deep and artsy like Peyton Sawyer. One night I talked one of my roommates into prank calling him and barking at him when he answered the phone. Barking. Like a dog. For no reason. And on the year anniversary of our breakup I had a party, where I drank more champagne, wore a tiara, burned some pictures, at an In N Out 4X4, and cried.... because if there's one thing I'm not, it's dramatic. Winkety wink.
One day I decided enough was enough and it was time to get rid of anything "Kevin" related. I ripped up every single letter, broke some CDs, burned some pictures, and destroyed my "box of Kevin." I even deleted his phone number (which I never forgot). I tried to make it incredibly symbolic and worthy of an emotional scene in a movie, but what it ended up being was me drinking a mimosa out of a plastic cup walking barefoot out to the dumpster and throwing a shoebox of ripped up paper into it. I hardly even cried, and it was not an Oscar worthy performance. Plus it was daytime and it wasn't raining and I didn't have Nora Jones or Adele playing so it clearly wasn't symbolic.

There were flames, though, and I did take a picture.
One day in June 2012 a switch inside my head was flipped and I was finally able to think about him without getting sad, without getting angry, and without desperately wondering if we would ever get back together. When I thought of him I wished for his happiness and I tried to think of him fondly instead of reliving the bad times and wanting to go Carrie Underwood on his pretty little souped up four wheel drive. I knew I'd never forget him, and it seemed much healthier to be able to think of him without so many negative feelings. Though, if I'm being honest, there has always been a tiny voice in the back of my head whispering, What If?
I ignored that voice, but I couldn't ignore my desire to talk to him, catch up, and see how he was doing. So one day, I stopped ignoring it, and I sent a text that changed everything.
Hey [Kevin], it's Juliette. I know it's been forever, but I was just thinking about you and wondering how you've been? (Maybe not exactly this because there's no way I'm going back in my phone history that far to see what I actually wrote.)
WAITING FOR HIM TO TEXT ME BACK WAS THE WORST HOUR AND A HALF OF MY LIFE. But thankfully I had a mimosa to calm my nerves. Except it didn't work and my nerves were fried while I was waiting.

Finally he responded, and it was worth waiting for. You know how sometimes you text somebody and ask how they are and they just say, "I'm fine, how are you?" and then the conversation dies?
This was nothing like that. He sent me one of the longest texts I'd ever received, filling me in on the last four years and asking me multiple questions about my life. And we texted for about 4 hours that night and I think I smiled myself to sleep (feel free to vom from the cute, I know I am). When we said goodnight we didn't make plans to talk any time soon, but I was happy that we had caught up and I wasn't freaking out over when we would talk next.
Which is why, when he texted me early the next morning, I nearly peed my pants from excitement [and too much coffee]. We talked all day, but it was just friendly conversation... until in the middle of a stream of texts about the search and rescue team he's a part of (hot), I got a text saying:
Do you ever think about us getting back together?
I hardly thought before I responded: yes. And that yes changed the entire course of our conversation. That yes turned into phone calls that lasted 6 1/2 hours about more serious things than how much of a hiker I'd turned into (crying laughing emoji). That yes turned into visits, labels, and plans (and maybe some kissing). It was unexpected. It happened fast. But I'm not nervous. I am happy with him, but my happiness is not defined by him. And I wouldn't change a thing.

SUMMARY: When we broke up I was sad and made my roommate prank call him and bark at him. Then I sent him a text and the rest is history.

Have you ever prank called an ex? How do you deal with break ups? Have you ever gotten back with an ex? Have you had a friend who did? How did you react? Is this too many questions?

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Theater Wine

Last night I saw Divergent. Divergent? Divergent? "Divergent"? I always forget if titles of moves are supposed to be italicized, underlined, in quotes, or something different. Whatever. You know what I mean. So last night, I saw Divergent. At 5:45pm. And it was uhhhhhhhmazing. Or amazing, take your pick. Basically, I was sitting there watching everything happen and since it's been well over a year since I read the book I didn't remember what was going to happen and it was awesome.
And at the beginning I was like OH MY GOSH FITZ FROM SCANDAL IS TRIS'S DAD! AND HE STILL DOESN'T HAVE EYEBROWS! Seriously, somebody help that guy out. I feel like he really needs eyebrows.
And then I was like, wow, Tris's mom looks super familiar. Why? It's Ashley Judd, in case you're wondering, but that meant nothing to me. I think maybe she looks like Catherine Zeta Jones and I was just thinking of the movie Chicago, maybe?
Also, Kate Winslet was in the movie and she definitely did NOT look like Rose like, at all. And it just made me want to go watch Titanic.
And then every 3 minutes I was like WHOA SOMETHING COOL IS HAPPENING. And Shailene Woodley has beautiful eyelashes and I would like them. Also she made me want to get a tattoo on my collarbone.
And Theo James.
And at the end I was so happy with the movie that I basically looked like this girl from ANTM when she almost got kicked off but then Tyra had a heart and kept her.
Ok, but let's back up a little bit. Have you guys ever heard of Theater Wine? It's probably not what you think. Or it might be, depending on what you're thinking. It is NOT when you go to a theater that serves wine and drink it legally and out in the open. Theater Wine is when you smuggle wine in to the theater in a purse. But not in the wine bottle. You hide it, like they did on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia when they poured the wine into Diet Coke cans. (That was smart because they got to drink Diet Coke and then wine, which are both the drinks of the gods.) I used a 32 oz. PowerAde bottle... which can hold more than just one bottle of wine. You should definitely take Theater Wine with you the next time you go to a movie. Just make sure you have a DD blah blah blah.

One thing I did NOT enjoy were the ignorant sluts seated behind us who insisted on talking and laughing loudly during the entire movie and making me think of this clip from Mad TV:

Except it wasn't funny. And I most definitely turned around and shushed them more than once, and then took a sip of my Theater Wine and felt like an old crotchety grandma who should have been at home soaking her dentures and angrily waving her cane at the kids to get off of her lawn.
It was lovely.
And then I was in bed by 9:30.
Have you seen Divergent? Do you sneak alcohol anywhere? Can I have yo' number?

Friday, March 21, 2014

When I thought my boyfriend died

It was Wednesday evening, and I was meeting with some friends, so I told Kevin I was going to be ignoring him for a couple of hours. Around 8:15 our meeting ended, so I called Kevin on my way home because I'm a good girlfriend and not clingy at all. He didn't answer, and I was like, that's weird, he always answers when I call because we're still in the honeymoon stage and can't get enough of each other. But I convinced myself he was probably just busy or away from his phone (what's that even like, to not be attached to your phone?). When 20 minutes went by and he hadn't texted or called me back, I started to get concerned, because what else could he be doing with his life other than waiting anxiously to hear from me? So I sent him a text saying something cute and flirty (obviously). And then I didn't hear back from him. So I texted him again. And then I texted him again. And then once more, for good measure. That's four texts, in case you were counting.
So I called him.
And he didn't answer.
So then I saw that Facebook said he was online, so I messaged him.
And at this point it had been like, a good hour, so I did the most reasonable thing: I started thinking of reasons why he could be ignoring me. Guess what my first thought was?
Yes. His death was the first thing that went through my mind. In my mind it was perfectly plausible that this healthy man just keeled over in his living room while watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and playing with dogs and just died. And then my thought process went something like this...
Ok, if he IS dead, what am I gonna do? I don't know any of his friends' phone numbers so I can't ask anybody to go check on him. At least the last text he sent me was really sweet. But that was too long ago. An hour of silence is too soon to call the police and ask them to go to his house, probably. Plus there is only a sheriff in his town so he's probably busy... or not, I mean, it's a small town. I wonder if he has a deputy like they did in Mayberry? FOCUS. Realistically, he's probably not dead. Maybe he's just in the shower... the longest shower of anybody's life, ever. Or maybe we're in a fight and I forgot about it? No, I would definitely remember that. Maybe this is a test to see how long he can ignore me before I freak out? I'm probably failing. No, he would never do that. He's not that kind of guy. Ok, so logically, he's probably dead. That's the only explanation. I could google his city and see if there are any articles about a man being found dead in his house tonight? No, they probably haven't put anything on the internet about his death yet. Ok, THINK. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?
So I decided I'd call him once more, and then, if I didn't hear from him by the time I got up for work the next morning, I would be actually concerned. So I called, and the phone rang, and then FINALLY...
"Gfhulloeuowr?" His voice was groggy. But he answered.
OMG did somebody break into his house and hit him on the head and he was unconscious and now he's coming to??? .......Oh... wait a second...
"...were you sleeping?" I asked warily, feeling badly that I'd woken him up, but also elated that he wasn't actually dead.
"Uh yeah... I'll call you back in a few minutes, ok?"
"Oh yeah, totally. That's fine. Take your time. Go back to sleep if you want to."
He called me back and laughed when I told him my thought process, and then he said it reminded him of this one time in college when he was driving down to visit me and he wasn't answering his phone (because he was DRIVING and talking on the phone while driving is illegal) so I freaked out and googled car accidents on the freeway he was taking and thought he was splattered on the freeway and I sobbed and told all my friends my boyfriend had had an accident because google told me so.
And that is why I need to stay off the google after dark, and also I need to just calm down and be a little more practical and stuff.
Do you ever panic because you're overly dramatic? ...or am I just crazy?

Thursday, March 20, 2014

I went shopping: an inner monologue

Okay Old Navy, let's do this. I just need some workout pants. Please have some on sale. Ugh, but like why do they always have to put the itty bitty shorts and sundresses right at the front of the store? Thanks a lot OLD NAVY, you're setting me up for a loss already. Ooooh! Chambray! I wonder how you're actually supposed to say it? Sham-bray? Shame-bray? Clam chowder? I could go for some clam chowder right now. Why is that girl carrying enough clothes to feed all of the Von Trapp children for a year? Why does she need all of them? I wonder if she'd buy my clothes for me if I asked her to? I wonder if she won the lottery? I wonder what my chances of winning the lottery actually are? *Googles it* 1 in 175 million. Huh. I should probably not buy lottery tickets and buy Starbucks, instead. Oh, that girl works here. That makes sense. I wonder if she hates her job? I would hate my job if I worked here, I think.
Ohhhhhh, here we are. Pants, we meet again. Okay, let's see... compression... active compression... yoga compression... I hate yoga, it makes me have to fart... compression mesh... shorts... NOPE NOPE HARD PASS...
Track pants... compression leggings... tennis skirt (what?)... compression zip leggings... active control max pants (makes me think of maxi pads and no thanks)...
For the love, Juliette, just pick some and try them on! Ok. Active Compression Mesh Capris... in a pretty seafoam green color. Is that seafoam green? I hate the word seafoam. Sea foam is gross. And it's not even green. It's a nasty dirty white color. The Color Police clearly know nothing, or they've just never been to the beach. Ok... sizes... WHAT THE CRAP who can actually wear an XS? What are these, capris for ANTS?
Whose idea was it to hang sizes L and XL in the very very back?? My arms are getting sore from trying to move everything... oh I get it. It's like a workout... in the workout clothes section. Touche, Old Navy. I hate you. Go play in traffic.
FINALLY. $22.94, not bad I guess. I GUESS. Oh! Sports bras! Does that sign say 2 for $10?? Because if it does this is the best day of my entire life. Oh of course it doesn't... it says BUY two and they're $10 EACH. Tricksy hobbitses, these Old Navy people. Whatever, I need a new sports bra. I could probably get away with a medium. My boobs aren't THAT big. I'll get a large too, just in case.
Whoever decided to use fluorescent lighting in dressing rooms probably makes other questionable life choices. It's just rude. This is the worst lighting ever. And why is this room so small?? I don't need to be all up in the mirror's grill. Don't these people know the most flattering angle is when the mirror is slanted and you're checking yourself out from at least 7 feet away?
(gotta take a break because I'm tired from trying to get these pants over my honkeytonk)
Hmm. They don't feel that bad. Time to look in the mirror. Let's face the music.
Ummm... I guess it's not that bad... I mean, when I'm standing on my tip toes and sucking everything in (why can't you suck in your thighs I mean seriously that would help so much) it doesn't look that bad I guess... turn to the side... now the back.... oh shit.
I feel like I am seeing every french fry and breakfast burrito I have ever eaten. They don't feel like they're going to fall off though... and they don't have any holes in them... definitely a step up from my current workout pants. Ok fine, I'll get them, even though they make me question every food choice I've ever made.
Medium first. That's what "start small" means, right?
Oh... um... I may have made a mistake. I ... can... get ... it... over. ... these... knockers.
*Out of breath* WHY WAS THAT SO DIFFICULT? WHY CAN'T I BREATHE? I don't think the medium fits me right now. How the eff am I going to get this off??? Pull... don't rip it... oops. Oh well, keep pulling ... *gets stuck on face* uhhhhhh great now I'm that asshole who got makeup all over the clothes. It's not my fault and at least it wasn't a white bra.
WHY WAS THAT SO DIFFICULT. Well clearly the large is the way to go. I'll get two larges because of the sale.
Get me out of this tiny room with the fluorescent lights. I mean seriously, this could be a form of torture. Like, the next time I think I want to eat cheesy bread with a side of bacon I think I'll come into Old Navy and stand naked in a dressing room for 5 minutes. It's enough to question every life choice I've ever made.
No time for jewelry. Need to get out of here.
Somebody needs to tell this girl ringing me up that she doesn't have to ask me 11 times if I want an Old Navy credit card. SSSSHHHHHHHHHH.
That was exhausting. I think I deserve a Diet Coke.
And some pretzel M&Ms.

Monday, March 17, 2014

So much sweat

Something magical happened last night: I drank lots of wine and I don't feel like death this morning! Don't say anything to the hangover police though, I'm sure they'd hate to know I somehow skipped out on that. They're probably out taking care of everybody who celebrated St. Patrick's Day over the weekend which, to be honest, irritated me so much because St. Patrick's Day is 1) just an excuse to get drunk and who needs an excuse for that?, and 2) SPD is TODAY and it was NOT Saturday night so I tried my very hardest not to double tap any premature SPD posts on Instagram on principle. But if I messed up and double tapped your SPD post then you can blame this giant glass of wine I drank on Saturday night.
Actually you can blame the second one. Or the third. It was delicious and I have no regrets.
I felt like I did a whole lotta nothing this weekend and you guys probably don't really want to hear about it but guess what, I'm going to tell you anyway! I ate my weight in tri tip and sausage on Friday night and I have no regrets. Oh and there was wine. And Cribbage. And It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. My life is full of wine right now which is probably why I started out talking about Saturday and now I'm backtracking and talking about Friday.
Let's go back to Saturday. I know a lot of you are still experiencing winter (what exactly is that though?) but we almost hit 90 degrees over the weekend and despite the heat I STILL got my butt outside to "run." I'm a horrible runner. I checked myself out in the windows of buildings I passed and I'm just really shocked that nobody stopped me to ask if I was ok or if I would like them to call me an ambulance because I looked like I was about to pass out. I get all hunched over and I'm so slow and I TRY to have good posture but sometimes I forget because I'm mostly just focused on, you know, not dying. But anyway, it was so hot and I was the sweatiest person in the world and it sucked and then I took a picture for the internet. (Actually I took it for Kevin to show him how lucky he is but now you all get to be lucky also.)
I also went through some old pictures and found this gem... and some others of my 13 year old self rocking a gold bikini that will never see the light of the internet because as much as I'd like to think I resemble Princes Leia, I really just resemble a teenager trying to impress Tyra Banks and failing hard. I'm on the left with that cool camo hat and this is the only time I will bare my midriff online. Never again. I'm 99% sure I was trying to be one of the Backstreet Boys here. Or maybe a Spice Girl. I never knew anything about either of those groups except that Baby Spice had blonde pigtails. Totes nailed it. Juliette just stop talking... and stop saying totes.
Let's skip forward to Sunday. Kevin's parents were in town visiting their family and I saw them at church which would have been really awkward and uncomfortable if he and I hadn't gotten back together. We talked for a while and they failed at masking their excitement that he's in my Facebook profile picture. Also, his grandma said my picture gives her "the fuzzies." I'm not quite sure what that means but I don't think I hate it. Then his parents said, "If you ever want to stay at our house when you visit him you're more than welcome to. You know, if you ever feel like you just need space from him." I smiled sweetly and said "Thank you" but in my head I was like hahahahahahahahahahahahahahhaah like that's going to happen.
So after I rekindled my relationship with Kevin's parents, Cristen and I decided to go be active and we walk/jogged 5.25 miles to and from the beach and it was hot and we didn't run very much but Cristen totally could have run the whole time because she's a badass runner. And I decided that when I'm wearing a headband and my hair is pulled back I look like a boy.
The beach was more crowded than I've ever seen it, which isn't saying much because 1) I hardly ever go to the beach, and 2) it was almost 90 degrees so obviously people would go to the beach.
Are you regretting clicking on this post yet?
Are you even still reading?
Also, do you have any suggestions on where I should go to buy running/hiking clothes? Because the capris I usually wear have a hole in them from my hiking escapade with Kevin and my sports bras are really old and not very supportive at all and the girls are not very happy with me about their lack of support. And I just keep telling them to DEAL WITH IT but they're like, dude, when you have saggy boobs at age 40 you'll be regretting your life choices and I feel like I should pay attention to them.
And to make up for the sweaty pictures here's one of me from this morning with my Farrah Fawcett hair. Rawr.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

It's been four years

March 12 holds some serious significance for me. Let's talk.

On Christmas Eve 2008, my junior high Sunday School teachers and high school youth leaders hatched a brilliant plan to set me up with their nephew. Long story short, we met, talked via Facebook wall posts until 4am every night for a week, spent New Year's Eve together, and then two weeks later we were Facebook official.

Facebook Official. It's such a big deal that both words need to be capitalized.

We took a blurry first picture together on New Year's Eve while we were making Oreo balls (giggle giggle) at his aunt's house. That night he helped me break my record of how long I'd been awake by bringing me poison Mountain Dew and shaking me whenever I started to doze off. I kept inching my hand closer to his on the couch, doing that girl thing where you're like "here's my hand why aren't you holding it, can't you take a hint, dude?" thing. We sat next to each other on New Year's Day and watched the Rose Parade and the Rose Bowl, and talked and talked and talked. And he didn't even care that I had stayed awake for 24 hours and hadn't brushed my teeth or my hair since the day before. When he left that evening I was miffed because he hadn't asked for my number.

But apparently he already had it, and if you asked me I could recite verbatim the very first text he ever sent me. Don't worry though, I won't put you through that.
We lived four hours away from each other, but we made it work, driving to see each other on as many weekends as we could, taking full advantage of our time together. When we weren't visiting each other, we were texting, Facebook IMing, or talking on the phone for 8 hours at night (yeah that happened)(more than once)(go ahead and vom).

We said "I love you" for the first time on a beach at midnight after wishing on a shooting star.

He was there for me during one of the darkest periods of my life.

He got me into It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I got him into Bridezillas.

When he got an internship that summer in a city 30 miles away from where I lived, it felt like the heavens were opening and angels were singing... but in Southern California it can take 3 hours to go 30 miles on the freeway, so sometimes it still felt like we were dating long distance.
He was a Giants fan, I was a Dodgers fan, but somehow we worked through our differences, and I will always be thankful that the Giants never won the World Series while we were together, because I most definitely wasn't mature enough back then to handle his gloating without pouting in a corner over how royally Russell Martin was sucking.
We went mini golfing with his family and I hit his mom in the crotch... you've heard that story.
You've also heard the story about when I met his dad... remember the hickey/scarf incident?

Everything was great for a long time (or what felt like a long time in college), and our families were constantly talking about when we would be getting married. We were both still in school so we didn't feel the pressure to take that step any time soon (or maybe we did, I can't remember) (yeah no, we totally did).

The last time we saw each other when we were together was Valentine's Day, 2010. I had been bothered about something and it sort of ruined our weekend together, and when he left to go back to school we were kind of mad at each other.
Then, on March 12th 2010, I called him and broke up with him. And then I cried. And I cried. And I cried.
I could write post after post after post about why we broke up, how it affected me, and what I learned in the four years since I made that phone call. I could tell you all the reasons I had for breaking up with him, and I could tell you about how much it sucked going to church and hearing his grandparents talking to me about him.
But I won't.
I have other things to tell you about.
Like how we've been going hiking together.

That I told him about my blog. He still doesn't get it, by the way. But he's coming around to the idea.

And I've already told you about how I drove 4 1/2 hours to visit him over the weekend... and how I actually like his dogs. Which, if you've been reading for a while, you know is a big deal because I am not a fan of dogs.

Four years ago today we broke up.

Four years ago I didn't think we'd ever talk again.

But here we are, dating long distance yet again. Another time I'll tell you the story of how we got back together, but for now let's just all say hi to Kevin, and keep your fingers crossed that one day I'll tell you his real name.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

A Proposal?

So yesterday I got home from work and immediately dressed in my hiking gear and climbed a mountain (are you getting sick of hearing about the mountains yet?), expecting to come home and go to dinner and have a margarita with Jacey. Totally normal evening, right? It was. Especially because I fell a little down the mountain. Like I said, normal, right?
When I came in all hot and bothered sweaty, Jacey and I talked for a few minutes and then suddenly said, "There's a piece of paper on the computer desk I need you to look at." Immediately I was afraid, because I figured she had found another page of my journal where I wrote embarrassingly emo entries about my ex boyfriend. But that's not what I found.
I found a receipt that her boyfriend had left there. A receipt for an engagement ring. And we may or may not have gone a little tiny bit Bride Wars upon my realization of what I had just seen. MAYBE.

It's not even like he tried to hide it, so she totally didn't go all Kate Hudson in Bride Wars and go searching through his stuff looking for it. It's just sitting there on the desk out in the open. It's not even trying to hide. We went to one of our favorite places for dinner and discussed proposals over a margarita. A deliciously strong margarita. Also fries.

There are some ways I would not like to be proposed to. These ways include but are not limited to:

-skydiving. Because I will never go skydiving.
-with the ring hidden in a cake. Seriously, I will probably end up eating the ring because I'll be so excited about the cake. Hello, it's CAKE.
-with a flash mob. No thanks. Too many people. WUHAYYYY TOO MANY PEOPLE.
-by making me think he's breaking up with me but instead he's proposing. That's a surefire way to get a swift kick in the family jewels. And then get dumped.
-By taking me to some kind of insect/arachnid zoo and making me put my hand into a bowl full of spiders. If you do that then I know you're not the one because you clearly have no idea how I feel about insects/arachnids. And you're an idiot.
BUT, I do know some ways I wouldn't mind being proposed to. So if anybody ever asks you for ideas, please refer them to this post:
-by giving me a cat (I WANT A CAT) and tying the ring around the collar. But don't name the cat for me. I need to name the cat. I may name it Voldemort.
-by taking me to Tiffany's like McDreamy did to Reese in Sweet Home Alabama and saying, "Pick one." But I could do without the crazy mother-in-law, thanks.
-by doing it like Jim and Pam and getting down on one knee in a gas station parking lot in the rain. But only in the rain. And it will only work if we're dating long distance and we've met in the middle because we just HAD TO SEE EACH OTHER ASAP.
Ok, I'm done talking about this. So if you need me I'll be looking at that receipt and googling everything possible until I figure out what the ring looks like. 

Monday, March 10, 2014

The one where I climbed rocks with a boy

You guys like pictures, right? Good, because I have pictures of rocks to show you. And also pictures of dogs and some pictures of a boy so just stick around and if you're lucky the next few minutes of your life will be so amazing (optimist over here). If you remember from Thursday's post, I drove 4 1/2 hours to Southern California for the weekend of hiking with the hiking boy.
All I'm going to tell you about the drive down is that I only almost crashed three times and none of them were my fault, and also at one point I heard a huge BANG! come from under my car and I knew I ran over something, but I figured it wasn't anything to be concerned about. But then I heard a sound that I worried was a body being dragged under my car, so you can imagine my trepidation when I pulled into a Walgreen's parking lot to check out the damage and found ...
...a stupid piece of wood. Stupid wood, what were you doing on the freeway? If you screwed up the undercarriage of Bruce Wayne, I will CUT YOU. Or something.
Let's see, let's see. What else do you want to hear about? DO you want to hear about how I found two dogs that I actually like?? Because I did. I let them crawl all over me and I let them lick me (gross, it didn't last long), and I let them sleep in bed with me, and I played with them, and I even gave them goodbye kisses. WHO HAVE I BECOME??

This is what happened on the 27th time I told the girls to "just sit still and look at me for one second so I can take a picture of you two to put on the internet!" Such pretty little listeners.

Kevin lives in the mountains near Lake Arrowhead (if you don't know where that is, it's ok, I didn't either), and oh my gosh you guys... it's beautiful. You like scenery, right? This is what I got to look at when I drove back down the mountain on Sunday.

I think three pictures is enough torture for you. Let's talk about the hiking.
Kevin is an actual hiker. He volunteers for a search and rescue team where he lives so he goes to training weekends and rappels down mountainsides and hikes for like 12 hours at a time and for a measly 90 minute hiker like myself, that was intimidating. BUT I SURVIVED. And he said I redeemed myself from when I was the worst hiker ever 4 years ago, when this picture was taken. I'm rambling so much. I have stories from the hiking, I hope you're ready.

Kevin is adventurous. Like, if you give him the option to stay on the trail or go wandering off in the brush and jumping all over boulders, guess what he'll choose? Duh. So we wandered off the trail (he does search and rescue so I wasn't worried. He's like a Boy Scout, all prepared and stuff. No really, he is. He had Clif bars and Gatorade) and went rock climbing. We crawled under huge rocks (see above) and I was completely terrified that 127 Hours was going to become our real life and boulders would come crashing down on top of us and we'd have to cut our arms off with a pocket knife. Kevin told me I was being crazy. So sweet.
Every 5 minutes I was like, "Hey will you take a picture of this so I can put it on the internet?" And he obliged because he's the nicest. He even took some random pictures of me being adventurous and going out onto some rocks to take some cool pictures for you guys. JUST FOR YOU. ENJOY EVERY SECOND.



I made it out on to the rock. Guys, it wasn't easy and I could have fallen so easily. BUT I DIDN'T, and for a total klutz like me, that's impressive.
On the way back I had to jump from one rock to another, and Kevin was on the rock I was jumping onto, and I lunged and accidentally lunched directly at his thighs and we both went down. We went down hard. It was a good thing he was there because if he hadn't been he said I would have smashed my face on the rock and then he wouldn't have wanted to hang out with me (awwwww). But now I have a huge bruise on my knee and thigh and everybody is going to know about the time I tried to tackle him on a boulder.
Is this the longest story ever? Maybe.

So we made it to the top and then we took a nap on some rocks. Rocks aren't that uncomfortable when you're exhausted, did you know that? Then we looked at the view.

If you don't like nature pictures, sorry. Just keep skipping.
On the way back I definitely jumped across a little creek and completely ate it. Like, I was on my hands and knees in the dirt. Don't worry though, my ego was bruised more than my body.
That night, he cooked. I have pictures of that too. You are so welcome.
It might not look very appetizing but you guys, it was the most delicious meatloaf and cheesy potatoes I've had in my whole life, and that's not just because I'd only eaten a banana and a Clif bar that day. It was SO GOOD. And you can't have the recipe, because I don't know it.
The next day we went on another hike. Compared to the four hour hike (!!!) the day before, this 45 minute one felt like a walk in the park. We took the dogs and got bombarded by about a dozen children (AT ONCE) on the trail who just wanted "to pet your doggies." It's hard being popular, said the dogs.

The trail took us to "Heart Rock," which is appropriately named. I wanted to go down there but my body was sore from being so badass the day before so we settled for just looking. Then one of the kids spotted some shirtless guys traipsing around in the creek below and he casually said, "Oh look, three naked people," and I almost died laughing.

THEN we walked around a lake. And it was beautiful. 

And then I ate the biggest slash best burrito of my entire life. Actually I only ate 1/3 of it.
Other than the hiking and the eating, here's a quick list of what we did. Ping pong, Jeopardy (which was great because we're both good at opposite categories, like he's good at geography and science and politics and I'm good at food and the Bible and food and food and pop culture), the Olympics which were weeks ago but he recorded them and promised not to watch them until I visited, and then we almost missed church because the time changed and we didn't change any of the clocks and that's why you should always use your phone for your alarm because phone times change automatically. And also I kept playing with his dogs which is just the most surprising thing ever.

And also one night he had to fight raccoons but that's another story for another time.

And if you want to know more about Kevin, stay tuned, because the whole "Kevin and Juliette" story is kinda great. Almost as great as all these pictures of rocks.