Here’s some pictures of my recent vacation with Kayphore and her family. That’s their boat. And we were in Puget Sound and the San Juan Islands. Dolphins, Orcas, Bald Eagles, Seals, High-speed Dinghy Adventures, Beautiful Sunsets, Awesome Fireworks, etc.
I’ve had enough of this weekend. It’s a good thing that it’s now going on midnight Sunday, so I can put it behind me. Have you ever had one of these where everywhere you go, everyone seems to be under some enormous pressure to be as weird as possible? Maybe one of you will tell me there’s some astrological event happening, and I’ll think it’s a coincidence…..or maybe not.
It all sort of started with me deciding to try to put Object of Crush behind me. At this point, it seems pretty clear that it just ain’t gonna happen. I’m ever more aware of the fact that he’s seeing someone else, and I just don’t do that “steal them away” thing. So, Friday night, out with friends, seeing The Phenomenauts, and there’s this adorable guy that I’ve known for some time, and well, I went for it, only to be slapped with the cold hand of rejection.
SIDE NOTE: I would like to take this opportunity to tell all of my friends who tell me that I just need to let guys know more bluntly that I’m interested and I’ll suddenly be getting my pick of the litter to Eff Off Real Hard! I now have proof that you are wrong. I will now go right back to chatting with the bean dip.
Any rate, top that off with a dessert of old friend telling me that some day he wouldn’t be so wrong for me, and when that day came, he was going to come for me, and I better watch out. (paraphrasing) He was kind of very drunk, so I don’t know how much truth there was to that, but it was sort of adorable. And then there was a whole lot of odd directed at Kayphore as well.
In between all these ups and downs, we danced, and that part at least was good. I still say that dancing is my favorite thing ever. Moving my body in a rhythm can almost always save me from anything. Also, sometimes I forget myself, and I dance like no one is watching and that is probably the most free I have ever felt.
Anyway, as I was saying, the evening was weird, so Kayphore and I didn’t waste any time in Busting a Move out of there, and made sure to fall asleep back at her place before any more “fun” could find us.
Saturday evening was even more fun, and involved some serious forced attention on someone dear to me who didn’t want it, some false information being spread about me, and then some bullshit guilt trip forced on me because once again, I did not know where to stand or what to say to just about anyone. I can’t say it was all bad. That bit about comparing making out to me with my new braces (oh yeah, by the way, I totally have a mouth full of metal and look even more like I’m half my age now. Score!) to kissing a toaster was genius.
So, today Kayphore and I decided to make that all up to ourselves with a shopping spree to Ikea.
And then we ate Indian curries, because that’s our idea of comfort food.
So, yeah, so glad that’s over with, and now I get to go back to work tomorrow.
Just sayin’.
After everything that’s been going down, it was a fortunate thing that this last Sunday, Kayphore and Cookie and I had planned a little night out for ourselves. Of course, we had the typical evening of female bonding and enjoyed the traditional entertainment for such an occasion … Professional Wrestling. WWE Smackdown to be exact.
I am not a regular girl who likes regular things. I attract other girls with eclectic tastes. And by eclectic, I do mean, “of course I want to see overly muscled, nearly naked, poorly acting, greased up dudes roll around on the ground with other similar dudes.” Because really, who doesn’t love that?
Now I know what you’re thinking. I know because I hear it often enough. And I hear it often enough that I usually don’t mention that I enjoy the wrestling, like, ever…. to anyone. This has been a carefully guarded, deep, dark secret for quite some time. I’ve decided to bring it out into the light and show it off a little, because it really doesn’t make any sense to me that anyone could be befuddled by my enjoyment of such a thing. I mean, it’s gaudy. It’s ridiculous. It’s goofy. It makes no sense at all. It’s over the top. It’s laughable. It’s horrible. And damn it’s funny! I like professional wrestling like I like all those damn Bring It On movies. And The Cutting Edge franchise, as well. I’ve paid good money to go see Cool as Ice starring Vanilla Ice. And I’ve read those damn Twilight books and seen the movies, not because I’m on Team Jacob, or like things that Sparkle, but because they’re just bad.
Why, you ask? Because I’m a unique sort of person who gets enjoyment out of things that are, by definition, god awful. I love the things that are so bad that they’re good. I like not liking them. I like not being the least bit fooled by the pratfalls of professional wrestling. I like that Stephenie Meyer can’t write her way out of a paper bag. And yet, there’s something about it that’s sort of pure. I think that what really draws me to Crap is its lack of pretension. Bring It On is not aiming for high-brow, not trying to win a seat at the cool kids’ table, or looking down its nose at anyone. It just is what it is, and its ease with itself is infectious. When you’re watching WWE Smackdown at the Arco Arena, screaming at the Villains and hollering for the Good Guy, well, you can just be who you are.
All the better if you’re able to be with two of your best friends in the world, too. Two girls who love me for who I am, all my imperfections, my insecurities, my loud mouth, or my quiet, bashful, and nervous times. The ones who not only understand, but who share a few of my idiosyncracies.
And above all else, they can tell when I’m Acting Normal from when I’m being myself.
Of course I love professional wrestling. It’s so fake that you can’t help but be yourself when you watch it.
Just sayin’
So, if you’ve been paying any attention at all to me or my blog, you know that I’m really great at making conversation at parties…..or not. Since I usually localize my awkward around some sort of food spread, I have been referring to this for some time as “chatting up the bean dip.” Usually I’m standing there, eating way too much bean dip, and screaming at myself in my own head, “THINK OF SOMETHING TO SAY TO ANYONE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” I like to go real easy on myself like that.
Anyway, so since yesterday was the 14th of March (3.14), Kayphore put on her second annual Pi Pie Party. You know, because Π is roughly 3.14. It’s a math pun. Get it? No. OK, well, just go with me and keep in mind that we’re all nerds.
The annual Pi Pie Party involves two things, making a pie and then eating a whole lot of pie. It’s a pie baking contest combined with a contest with your own will power to shove as much pie into your pie hole as possible. I know that eating a bunch of pie just sounds like fun, but trust me when I say that it can be a lot more complicated than that.
But it’s a party. And that is its own challenge. So, I decided to sort of combine my awkwardness with the theme to make a joke that only I would really get. Why? Because I’m a nerd. A shy nerd. A shy nerd who is too easily amused.
I conceived of the perfect pie to sum up (hahaha ….more math puns) my party induced social awkwardness – the Vegan 5-Layer Bean Dip Pie with Fritos Crust. I chose to go with a vegan pie so that every possible party goer could sample some. I didn’t want to limit my audience. And after last years massive sugar crash, I decided that a savory pie was the way to go. I looked for a recipe for a corn chip crust, and found one that was pretty basic. Crush up the corn chips and mix with butter, form into a pan, and bake. However, since I was going to be going for vegan, butter was out. I opted for olive oil. I have to say, the crust did not turn out the way I wanted it to. Other pi party attendees commented that I had not crushed my chips enough. Next time, I’ll have to try finer chip crumbs, and also some sort of binding unit to add to the mix.
In the pie shell, I layered refried black beans, chopped black olives, salsa, guacamole, and vegan “sour cream”. If you ever find that you can’t come across vegan “sour cream”, try vegan “cream cheese” mixed with lemon juice. I topped the whole thing in a sprinkling of green onions and served it with Fritos scoops on the side.
I actually got a few compliments on it, so it wasn’t a complete disaster, or anything. Of course, once again, I did not win any of the prizes. But the party did end up being fun, and I did manage to carry on a few conversations with a few actual human beings. There were many more attendees than last year’s pi, which was equally fun and nerve wracking. I think I made a fellow nerd giz in his pants when I told him where I work. That never gets old.
So, now I have two imperfect pie recipes under my belt. It might help if I started making pies in-between pis, but honestly, I’m not that sort of well prepared type of person.
Just sayin’.
Friday evening, Hepcat played with Flogging Molly at The Fox in Oakland. It was my first time seeing a show there. Kayphore came with me, and we spent a lot of the time during the opening act discussing our new band, what kind of band we want to be, and how we would like to get it off the ground.
However, before I had gone out on Friday, I had slipped into my I Don’t Give A Shit Attitude. So I feel as though I may have some amends to make.
To the German girl who’s feet I absolutely clobbered while dancing to Hepcat – I’m really sorry. I’m almost as sorry that I don’t speak a lick of German, and so couldn’t even express my regrets to you.
To all the people I wrote on – you’re probably realizing now that that was a medical grade marker that I was using. I nicked it from the hospital when my dad had his surgery. It’s not washing off is it? Sorry about that.
To the guy who I made buy me that drink because he interrupted my conversation twice – your girlfriend didn’t seem to happy when she found us talking at the bar. Sorry about that. I hope you’re not in too much trouble.
To the guy I called “sweetheart” on the street – I don’t normally behave so informally towards strangers. I’m sorry . .. but seriously, call me.
Uh, and too anyone else who might have been offended or startled by my frankness, my verbal diarrhea, or my complete lack of any kind of internal censor, I apologize.
Just sayin’.
Yeah, so I’m still waiting for my dad’s surgery next month, and at times, it seems like my whole life is just sort of hanging out waiting for that to be over. I feel like I can’t really make any plans, because I don’t really know when I’ll be back to California. Also, it’s just kind of put me in a foul mood, in general.
So then, last week, my Kayphore broke her face in a bicycle accident. Like, she literally fell off of her bike and landed face first on the street. She broke three teeth in the process and has to go through all this dental work now, not to mention the busted knees and black eyes. So, I’ve been trying to do as much as I can for her, and been trying to think of ways to cheer her up, be there for her, and distract her. It’s the least I can do after all the time’s she’s saved my ass.
But while all this is going on, I can’t genuinely say that everything sucks. I mean, I do have my moments where I certainly feel that way, but then I also have moments where it’s the last thought on my mind.
This Saturday, I’m going to Reno with The Happy Couple. I’m going to get a spa room all to myself and have a lovely soak. Also probably going to spend a bit of time out on the town. Life can’t suck too much with a cocktail, hand of blackjack, and a jacuzi, can it?
Also, there’s something very interesting going on at home. We have a pair of house guests from Turkey. They sort of ended up in California without anywhere to go, and ended up at our house. It’s a long story that I don’t want to go into about how they got here. Let’s just say it involves some employment policies involving visible tattoos. It’s kind of fun, though, and the house definitely feels lively with them there.
And today is The Wiz’s birthday, and we’re all going to see Harry Potter. This is despite the fact that I’ve never really seen the other movies and/or read the books. I shall be quite lost and confused throughout. But whatever, it’s her birthday and that’s what she wants to do. When it was my birthday, and all I wanted to do was ignore it, they all obliged, after all.
Finally, there is a little cuteness being directed my way, and I can’t say that I mind. But as you know, if you ask about it, I’ll only get dodgy, so don’t even think about it.
So yeah, that’s what I’ve got. That’s what’s up.
I’m just sayin’.
Yeah, so remember what I was saying about leaving that door open. About how you leave yourself open to the experiences of life, sometimes you get the good. Sometimes you get the not so good. And sometimes you get the just plain strange.
My weekend started out pretty good and normal. Kayphore and I went out to see some bands and karaoke. By the way, best karaoke performances of my life, and you missed them. Anyway, it was all good. And then . . .
Kayphore and I were kidnapped and held hostage by a Rockstar. On accident.
At least, I hope it was an accident. He’s a nice enough guy, and I don’t know that he would be trying to make me panic with a desire to fling myself down on the floor, kicking and flailing my arms while sobbing. “I . . . want . . . to . . . go . . . home!”
It was certainly the most interestingly random thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And I can’t say that it was awful, but it was definitely not how I planned to spend that evening. Any evening, really.
We finally made it out of there Saturday morning.
And that was just the start of my weekend.
Wowzer!
So, yesterday being 3.14, Kayphore decided that she would like to have some friends participate in a bit of healthy competition of baking, and have us bake and bring a pie to her place for sampling, conversation, and drinks.
I had never baked a pie in my life. I decided I wanted to try a caramel apple pie. And then, because I am an over-achiever, I also decided to make a banana chocolate cream. Of course, I went the super cheating lazy route and I bought my pie crust. If you take issue with that, well, all I can say is Suck It.
I would definitely call this a learning experience. If I had it to do over again, I would have used about half as much caramel in the caramel apple. It was just way too gooey. And I learned that when you’re making a pie with pudding, you only need the small box. So, you know, good to know.
At any rate, there were a total of 10 different pies at the party, and I sampled them all. I have to say, that was a bit rough on the system. We weren’t even taking full slices, but about three slivers in, I was already full.
All in all, it was a very delicious day, but I’m glad that Pi only comes once per year. I still have a bit of a headache. I went to the gym this morning to try to help burn off some of those excess calories, too.
Oh, and I didn’t win any prizes, either. Lame.
Oh, but I did end up taking home a sock monster. His name is Bob. He’s my new companion.
Man my head hurts.
Just sayin’.
Last Thursday, I kicked off the marathon of Holiday Festiveness! The Struts were playing at a local dive, The Stork Club. I picked up Kayphore, and we skipped off to the club, dodging cat calls along on the way. (“You both know you’re damn sexy!” YES! Of course we do.) We got there, bellied up to the bar to have a libation while the opening band warmed things up.
I was really hoping that Agent 99 and all her roommates would show up, and they did!!! Also, she brought us Strange Manor Christmas Volume 3 CDs. I jumped up and down and shrieked at the top of my lungs in the middle of that bar and everyone, and I do mean Everyone, turned and stared at me. I didn’t care. I love those CDs. They pretty much make the holidays for me.
Anyway, soon The Struts took the stage. I danced my ass off, and took some pictures, too.
We were having a blast; The Struts always put on a great show, and never fail to get me dancing. When the band was done, Kayphore and I decided we should bail. We didn’t want to stick around to see how dumb things could get.
“This party is Awesome. Let’s get The Fuck outta here!”
That was a great way to kickoff the holiday shenanigans, dancing with good friends, and many giggles amongst the girls.
Just sayin’.
Last week, I mentioned in passing that I had joined a bike gang, which is a bit of an exaggeration. I mean, can two people be considered a ‘gang’. We’re more like a dynamic duo on wheels – two each.
It all started early in November when Kayphore was having car trouble. She went out to get in her car, and it just wouldn’t start. While it was in the shop, she decided that she needed an alternative form of transportation. She mentioned to me that she would like to get a particular brand of bike that is sold through a shop nearer to my place than to hers. Since I had also been thinking of acquiring a bike of my own, I accompanied her to the shop. I stood by and eavesdropped as she went through all the details of what she wanted on the bike, and how she was going to use the bike. Her main objective was to have something that would make her seven mile commute and that she could attach everything she would need to it. I watched as she selected the bike, lights, rack, locks, helmet, etc. It really inspired me, and I wanted to get a bike of my very own, too.
But I had just dropped a grand on having every belt in my car replaced. It was one of those things where it was just time. I knew that I couldn’t drop any money on a bike then and there. However, I knew I was going to have to come up with some cash. I was so jealous watching Kayphore get fitted out.
Then, that week, my life got picked up and dropped on it’s head. I found myself confused and adrift and in need of . . . something.
So Kayphore hauled me to the bike shop, and I bit the bullet. I got paid that week, too, so that helped.
HELLO Beautiful!
So, I’ve been riding to and from work every day, about three miles each way. And every chance we get, Kayphore make mundane trips to the pizza parlor or piano bar into excursions. All of life has become an excuse to ride. And while I do enjoy doing it alone, it’s even better with a friend.
Also, who knew being sore day in and day out could feel so wonderful. Plus, if you could see my butt!!!!
It’s kind of funny how you can find something, quite by chance, that can make you so freaking happy. Like, giggling your ass off and bellowing out “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield kind of happy.
Exactly how does this qualify as a “Crazy Single Girl” story? Because I wouldn’t have done it a year ago, and because it’s something I’m doing for myself and with my friend. Also, it reminds me just how free and independent I am, and why I love that more than anything in all the world now.
Just sayin’.
Peggy Lu Who's Just Sayin' 