So........often times I wonder the line between sharing too much of my personal life versus simply sharing things funny that have happened. I'm going with option B ---> in the spirit of sharing some humor, I throw myself on my own sword.
A couple nights ago I had a date with a guy (Brian) with whom I've been out a number of times. No 'relationship' going on, but I will concede that he's a really great guy, we always have a fun time together, and he repeatedly demonstrates he knows how to handle me. All pretty significant plusses, for sure.
We were sitting at a bar, having a rousing little chat over a few beers. Mister Brian had been a slight bit of a jerk with a couple incidents - and I was giving him a little talking to. I needed to be sure this guy knew where the lines in the sand were drawn. :) He kept trying to throw me off my game by telling me I was cute when I got all feisty ... but I was not at all swayed by this attempt to disarm me. Please. It takes a little more than just being charming to make me miss a beat. I kept my eye on the ball. :)
Then, all of a sudden, the game winning play.
I was jabbering on .... blah blah blah .... ready to put the proverbial nail in his coffin with our argument, when out of nowhere he grabbed my face and planted a huge smooch on me as I was mid-sentence!! Uhhh...??? Hpmft. I was not expecting that. He completely derailed my train. :) I had a blank stare on my face, admittedly slightly taken aback (and impressed) that some guy was actually able to one-up me, and then laughed as I said, "You can't do that. I'm supposed to be mad at you." He smiled and said, "Are you mad now?" I smiled back, "Not after that!" And we laughed. The guy totally knows how to handle me, that's for sure.
Damn him. He threw my game... :)
Moral of that story ---- MEN, need a little tip how to win a battle with your woman? In the midst of her mania and crazy speech - just grab her and kiss her. She won't be expecting it and she'll probably think it's so gallant that she'll forget why she was mad at you in the first place. This will work for 90% of us ........ and for the women for whom it doesn't work - well, at a minimum you've shut her up for a few moments. That can be worth more than her weight in gold. :)
Trust me. This is a good tip.
April 30, 2011
April 28, 2011
Unabashed Enthusiasm!
I’m not really the person to ask about popular music.
After all, I'm in love with Springsteen (c'mon - he's a Jersey boy, what's not to love?) and have been for many, many years ... and anytime a James Taylor song comes on the radio, I am cranking that thing UP, always singing at loud decibels. Music by JT is always relaxing and happy to me, and Springsteen can make me dance in my living room in spastic, uncontrollable fashion. "Dancing in the Dark"?? Does it every time!, and "Fire" makes me sway my whole body, snapping my fingers and grooving out. What better way to entertain my neighbors than letting them watch the idiot (me) dance around through the third floor windows?
But the modern stuff - I just can't get into it. I try. Really I do. It’s just I get confused by some forms of music. I spend the entire length of the song thinking about the circumstances that had to occur to get this moronic representation of the human race a recording contract and by the time I’m done with my thought process, the song is over times four. Not all of it is bad, obviously. Take the 'popular' music stations, for example. Some of the music is good, inspiring what I like to refer to as my non-death-metal head-banging antics. Some of it even makes me wish that seats didn’t have to cup your posterior so closely, thereby preventing the posterior from shaking it like a salt shaker should so obviously be shaken.
But the names, UGGGGGG, the names. A few years ago I was totally thrown off by a grown man who went by the name of Chingy. Maybe this is a perfectly acceptable moniker to you, I have no idea. But Chingy sounds an awful lot like dinghy (wee little boat) or dingy (see also: ding bat). Probably not what he was going for.
It's difficult for me to not chastise some of the more amusing songs, ones that verbally express their undying love for strippers with big, brown eyes who twirl around the pole. And then there's Fergie with her inexplicable lyrics about going down on her London Bridge. And now I have a new one to add to the list, per yesterday’s drive home from swim practice: the song about a man who’s trying to get to you and that monkey. I’m assuming that, per usual, the never fully described “monkey” is referring to female 'parts'. ?? Of course, he could actually be referring to a real live monkey, because he’s just kookoo enough for coco puffs. I seriously doubt he has such animal-preservation motives, however, because the line right before the monkey bit professes how he’s trying to get to you and that booty. This line I totally understand. He’s enthralled with a young woman’s backside and he’s been overcome with the need to get to it, like, right that very second. Classy.
Ug. Can't I just get a little Taylor favorite: "Something In The Way She Moves", perhaps? .... ahhhh......... Or - how 'bout this. You've gotta check out what's on my desktop. I keep this handy and hit it (at least once a week) every time I need a little six-minute pick me up. Even if you're not a Springsteen fan (are you on crack?), you can't resist getting into this high-octane performance. Having seen Springsteen in concert, I can absolutely attest to him being one of the greatest PERFORMERS out there. He can work a crowd like few artists I have ever seen.
After all, I'm in love with Springsteen (c'mon - he's a Jersey boy, what's not to love?) and have been for many, many years ... and anytime a James Taylor song comes on the radio, I am cranking that thing UP, always singing at loud decibels. Music by JT is always relaxing and happy to me, and Springsteen can make me dance in my living room in spastic, uncontrollable fashion. "Dancing in the Dark"?? Does it every time!, and "Fire" makes me sway my whole body, snapping my fingers and grooving out. What better way to entertain my neighbors than letting them watch the idiot (me) dance around through the third floor windows?
But the modern stuff - I just can't get into it. I try. Really I do. It’s just I get confused by some forms of music. I spend the entire length of the song thinking about the circumstances that had to occur to get this moronic representation of the human race a recording contract and by the time I’m done with my thought process, the song is over times four. Not all of it is bad, obviously. Take the 'popular' music stations, for example. Some of the music is good, inspiring what I like to refer to as my non-death-metal head-banging antics. Some of it even makes me wish that seats didn’t have to cup your posterior so closely, thereby preventing the posterior from shaking it like a salt shaker should so obviously be shaken.
But the names, UGGGGGG, the names. A few years ago I was totally thrown off by a grown man who went by the name of Chingy. Maybe this is a perfectly acceptable moniker to you, I have no idea. But Chingy sounds an awful lot like dinghy (wee little boat) or dingy (see also: ding bat). Probably not what he was going for.
It's difficult for me to not chastise some of the more amusing songs, ones that verbally express their undying love for strippers with big, brown eyes who twirl around the pole. And then there's Fergie with her inexplicable lyrics about going down on her London Bridge. And now I have a new one to add to the list, per yesterday’s drive home from swim practice: the song about a man who’s trying to get to you and that monkey. I’m assuming that, per usual, the never fully described “monkey” is referring to female 'parts'. ?? Of course, he could actually be referring to a real live monkey, because he’s just kookoo enough for coco puffs. I seriously doubt he has such animal-preservation motives, however, because the line right before the monkey bit professes how he’s trying to get to you and that booty. This line I totally understand. He’s enthralled with a young woman’s backside and he’s been overcome with the need to get to it, like, right that very second. Classy.
Ug. Can't I just get a little Taylor favorite: "Something In The Way She Moves", perhaps? .... ahhhh......... Or - how 'bout this. You've gotta check out what's on my desktop. I keep this handy and hit it (at least once a week) every time I need a little six-minute pick me up. Even if you're not a Springsteen fan (are you on crack?), you can't resist getting into this high-octane performance. Having seen Springsteen in concert, I can absolutely attest to him being one of the greatest PERFORMERS out there. He can work a crowd like few artists I have ever seen.
April 26, 2011
Is it too soon to get EXCITED????!
Few things get me more fired up than North Carolina Basketball. I always go through a bit of malaise in April when the NCAA Championships are actually over because I know I have 8 months to endure before my light blue blood gets happy again. The colder months always signal the return of college hoops.
However, a few days ago.......a lit match got ignited into my spirit. I felt a slight flicker....
Check out this link:
LOVE IT!!
Bring on 2012 season, baby!
However, a few days ago.......a lit match got ignited into my spirit. I felt a slight flicker....
Check out this link:
LOVE IT!!
Bring on 2012 season, baby!
April 24, 2011
Showing the private side.......
On this blog 99% of the time I show my "public" side with my writings - the (hopefully) funny, passionate and feisty side. Sometimes, though rarely, I'm moved enough to reveal the private side that few get to see - the more vulnerable, introspective and deeply feeling side. Today is one of those days, and for Julie I will be brave enough to publicly show it.
Today is a little shout out on Easter to one of my dearest friends - Julie Price - on our friend anniversary. :)
Jules and I met the first year I was living in Los Angeles. I was 23 years old. I'd been there only a few months, was still trying to feel my way around a new city and state, I didn't really know anyone, I was job hunting, living out of my car, and was completely alone. It was Easter and, having nothing else to do, after Mass I went to the gym in Manhattan Beach for a workout. While at the gym I struck up a conversation with a sweet girl about my age named Maggie who was wearing a light blue UNC t-shirt. (Clearly this had to be a person of quality wearing such a shirt!) After hearing I had no plans, Maggie invited me to her apartment across the street where she and her roommate, Julie, were having a casual Easter brunch... "Turkey and Pie", Maggie had said.
I confirmed several times that she didn't mind bringing a stranger to her home ("Do you need to call and ask your roommate if it's ok that I come over?") ... I mean, this was Los Angeles after all. Maggie must have sensed I wasn't a serial killer and, bless her heart, insisted I come with her. I was appreciative of the invitation; I was admittedly feeling pretty lonely.
We strolled into the apartment and there was Julie pulling a huge bird out of the oven. (The ongoing joke we have about this day is that we actually had "turkey and pie" - nothing else. No side dishes. No veggies. No potatoes. Just turkey, and pie for dessert. Classic.) Little did I know this gal was going to become my friend for the rest of my life.
Jules and I connected instantly. She was bubbly and extremely friendly, and I don't think said a single sentence without a smile on her face. She was (is) the nicest person, ever. That night Julie and I totally bonded. We stayed up talking until after Midnight -- and frankly never stopped. She was one of the people closest to me the entire 8-years I lived in LA, and we have remained in each other's lives since I left. We don't get to talk as often as we'd like, but when we do, we always resume right where we left off as if no time has lapsed and no distance has separated us. I love that about us.
....and each year, no matter which respective state we're living in (she is now in FL, I am in CO), there will always be a message on one of our voicemails on Easter day - she will call me or I'll beat her to it and call her, reciting our phrase: "Happy friend anniversary! I love you and miss you!" We are both reminded of this fateful day, more than 15 years ago, when we met and became lifelong friends, over turkey and pie, in a small apartment in Manhattan Beach, CA on Easter.
Today I am giving her a very public shout out: Julie - you are one of the best friends anyone could be lucky enough to have. You were my faithful partner in crime - more than saving my sanity, counseling me through different jobs & boyfriend breakups & my varied goals & life's daily ups and downs, while always making me laugh - when we lived in Los Angeles....and you continue to be a shining light of love in my life as our years go on.
Happy friend anniversary, sweet you.
xo.
Today is a little shout out on Easter to one of my dearest friends - Julie Price - on our friend anniversary. :)
Jules and I met the first year I was living in Los Angeles. I was 23 years old. I'd been there only a few months, was still trying to feel my way around a new city and state, I didn't really know anyone, I was job hunting, living out of my car, and was completely alone. It was Easter and, having nothing else to do, after Mass I went to the gym in Manhattan Beach for a workout. While at the gym I struck up a conversation with a sweet girl about my age named Maggie who was wearing a light blue UNC t-shirt. (Clearly this had to be a person of quality wearing such a shirt!) After hearing I had no plans, Maggie invited me to her apartment across the street where she and her roommate, Julie, were having a casual Easter brunch... "Turkey and Pie", Maggie had said.
I confirmed several times that she didn't mind bringing a stranger to her home ("Do you need to call and ask your roommate if it's ok that I come over?") ... I mean, this was Los Angeles after all. Maggie must have sensed I wasn't a serial killer and, bless her heart, insisted I come with her. I was appreciative of the invitation; I was admittedly feeling pretty lonely.
We strolled into the apartment and there was Julie pulling a huge bird out of the oven. (The ongoing joke we have about this day is that we actually had "turkey and pie" - nothing else. No side dishes. No veggies. No potatoes. Just turkey, and pie for dessert. Classic.) Little did I know this gal was going to become my friend for the rest of my life.
Jules and I connected instantly. She was bubbly and extremely friendly, and I don't think said a single sentence without a smile on her face. She was (is) the nicest person, ever. That night Julie and I totally bonded. We stayed up talking until after Midnight -- and frankly never stopped. She was one of the people closest to me the entire 8-years I lived in LA, and we have remained in each other's lives since I left. We don't get to talk as often as we'd like, but when we do, we always resume right where we left off as if no time has lapsed and no distance has separated us. I love that about us.
....and each year, no matter which respective state we're living in (she is now in FL, I am in CO), there will always be a message on one of our voicemails on Easter day - she will call me or I'll beat her to it and call her, reciting our phrase: "Happy friend anniversary! I love you and miss you!" We are both reminded of this fateful day, more than 15 years ago, when we met and became lifelong friends, over turkey and pie, in a small apartment in Manhattan Beach, CA on Easter.
Today I am giving her a very public shout out: Julie - you are one of the best friends anyone could be lucky enough to have. You were my faithful partner in crime - more than saving my sanity, counseling me through different jobs & boyfriend breakups & my varied goals & life's daily ups and downs, while always making me laugh - when we lived in Los Angeles....and you continue to be a shining light of love in my life as our years go on.
Happy friend anniversary, sweet you.
xo.
April 22, 2011
Nighttime Aerobics
This morning was one of those mornings I woke up being really grateful I wasn't married - namely because I would have most likely beaten the poor guy up who was sleeping next to me during the night.
I woke up .... and it took a few moments to orient myself. Understandably so. My head was at the foot of the bed, my feet on a pillow, and I had rolled myself into a cocoon in my down comforter. I sat up, startled, looking around -- and tried to recall WHAT dream(s) I had to cause that sort of violent, crazy movement during the night. :)
Sheesh. :)
I woke up .... and it took a few moments to orient myself. Understandably so. My head was at the foot of the bed, my feet on a pillow, and I had rolled myself into a cocoon in my down comforter. I sat up, startled, looking around -- and tried to recall WHAT dream(s) I had to cause that sort of violent, crazy movement during the night. :)
Sheesh. :)
April 14, 2011
2 Sharks and a Manatee
Joining in the fray is the newest member to the pod, former U of AZ swimmer friend of Denton's, Nate Rothman. Nate has decided he wants to get back in swimming shape too, he also lives just outside Denver, so he's joined in our swimming fun. (Fun?) It's actually been great hanging out with these two. They tease and harass me like a little sister, they look out for me, and the jokes are rampant between us. Thanks to them I've started to enjoy swimming much more than I have in probably decades. Truly.
Our last swim was pretty comical. I jumped in right away and got to it. Those two were like chatty school girls on deck, standing around, while I was busy warming up. 10 minutes or so went by. As I neared the wall where they were standing, I lifted my head as I continued swimming in and yelled, "HEEEEEEEEEY!!!! You ladies want a latte' or something?! Maybe a scone??" and then buried my head back in the water and kept going. On the following lap as I'm heading in to the wall again where they were -- they both cannonballed right in on me, causing huge waves and splashes, not to mention scaring the crap out of me! I popped up, coughing, and we were all laughing. Those jackasses! ;)
We did a pretty long warmup set - not that there is really much distinction for me between warmup and harder sets. I don't have a lot of variance on speed yet. I have zero top end (which is not to be confused with having zero rear end - I have plenty of that!). Eventually we got to a kick set and were offfset such that I was a 25 behind them; we'd be facing each other on each lap. As we passed in adjacent lanes, Denton yelled, "Sharpie, join our social".
Social = swimmer speak for talking during a kick set. Since our heads are out of the water with kickboards, these are the only opportunities swimmers get to talk during pratice, thus dubbed "social".
I flipped around mid-pool length so I was now going in their direction, kicking like a madwoman, max effort, to stay with them. They were chatting away... blah blah blah.....while I was struggling so hard to keep up. Nate said, "What do you think, Carole?" in reference to their discussion. All I could do was grunt a response, totally winded. They laughed.
Soon we began the main set. I had my pathetic, slow intervals and those two maintained something I would have attempted in 1986 (yes, I am old). Denton and Nate bombed by me in the next lanes, lap after lap, like scud missiles. When we're amid a tough set those two are all business - and I am inspired. It's good motivation for me. I tried mooning them underwater on occasion to break their concentration but NO DICE. That's discipline.
Every once in a while I'd be on a tougher set while they were recovering - Denton always tries to help. He'd pull up to me in the next lane and I could tell he was trying to create a wake so I could ride the wave a bit. I moved towards him and hugged that lane rope as tightly as I could, you'd better believe it. Like a dolphin next to the boat, I felt the pull and I almost yelled out, "weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
After practice was over we were standing in the shallow end. Nate said, "Carole, coming with us for lunch?", and said the name of the place. Denton quickly followed up with, "It's all you can eat!" as if trying to convince me to go because of that fact. I laughed at that. Swimmers are notorious eaters, especially the guys, and I laughed at how everything felt so familiar, in a deja' vu sort of way. All-you-can-eat meals? I remember.....
Later, I was thanking Denton again for letting me swim with him and told him how helpful he was being for me.
Denton: You're good company Carole. Nate and I love you.
Carole: I appreciate that. You guys are awesome.
Denton: I hate swimming with triathletes...
My eyes grew wide and I smiled.
Carole: I guess I'm the exception?
Denton: You're not a triathlete. You're a swimmer!
I looked at him and smiled....
April 5, 2011
Doing it BIG
Anyone who knows me will agree - if I do something, I normally do it BIG.
If I order a pizza, it will be a large one, and I'll eat all of it (and unbutton my pants after to make room for my expanded gut). If I crash, I will break bones (sometimes a lot of them!). If I teach high school, I'll be nominated for "Teacher of the Year" (I was!). If I'm watching a North Carolina Basketball Game, I'll be screaming louder than anyone (although that's not necessarily reflective of me - anyone who went to UNC is screaming louder than anyone). If I fall in love, it's madly and passionately (my poor heart). If I want to relocate, it won't be to a neighboring city, it'll be to a whole new state (several times across the country! oye - I am exhausted). If I'm your friend, I'm fiercely loyal and steadfast (and almost annoying), and I'll have your back in the heat of battle, every time. If I do a triathlon, eventually I will turn professional (where were my friends to talk me out of this?). My point is, rarely is there a middle ground with me - with anything. I'm in or I'm out. It is nonexistent or it is grandiose. Those are your Carole options.
Yesterday I wore the skirt that my friend Kristen once paid me a hundred dollars to never wear again, except when cleaning the house. Because it’s okay to look like a bag lady when you're cleaning. But the thing is, it has big deep pockets. And it’s all big and flowy and a nice greenish beige color, which doesn’t sound like a nice color but really it is. So I may or may not have broken our deal by possibly wearing it to the grocery store yesterday but it’s been over 2 years since that deal was made and I think the deal was made in an effort to make sure her friend stopped wearing the Duck pajama pants too (shout out to JZ, Lara and Billy!).
After a long day yesterday, I met up with my friend Ashley in the jeans department of Nordstrom’s because we had an hour to kill before the NCAA Final Four Championship Game and they were having a sale. I’ve been looking for a killer pair of jeans for over a year now and I’ve come to equate jeans shopping with the Prince Charming fairy tale. I keep thinking that when I see it, I’ll just know. Unfortunately this has not worked out with the whole jean shopping thing. Or the Prince Charming thing. Which is why I’ve decided it’s a fairy tale because OBVIOUSLY the perfect pair of jeans that fit me just right does not exist. It still doesn’t stop me from shopping for it, however....
So as we’re leaving the store, another jeans shopping expedition thrown to the dogs, I was walking up the flight of stairs that lead up to the parking lot. Maybe I was tired from the day or maybe that skirt was longer than I thought it was, but about halfway up I got my foot caught in the front of my skirt and I went flying through the air, arms flailing, screaming a violent "WOOOOAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" and landing on the stairs with a loud THUD (!!) .... apparently trying to also rip the skirt clean off.
Thankfully, my ass got in the way. Luckily I did not moon half of the city of Denver who witnessed this lovely display. (No Jamie, you perv, this would not have been my goal!) Once Ashley confirmed I was ok, she about died laughing.... It was quite a sight, even I have to admit.
If I am going to fall, it's going to be BIG.
As usual I am quite a show. Please tip your waitresses and bartenders.
If I order a pizza, it will be a large one, and I'll eat all of it (and unbutton my pants after to make room for my expanded gut). If I crash, I will break bones (sometimes a lot of them!). If I teach high school, I'll be nominated for "Teacher of the Year" (I was!). If I'm watching a North Carolina Basketball Game, I'll be screaming louder than anyone (although that's not necessarily reflective of me - anyone who went to UNC is screaming louder than anyone). If I fall in love, it's madly and passionately (my poor heart). If I want to relocate, it won't be to a neighboring city, it'll be to a whole new state (several times across the country! oye - I am exhausted). If I'm your friend, I'm fiercely loyal and steadfast (and almost annoying), and I'll have your back in the heat of battle, every time. If I do a triathlon, eventually I will turn professional (where were my friends to talk me out of this?). My point is, rarely is there a middle ground with me - with anything. I'm in or I'm out. It is nonexistent or it is grandiose. Those are your Carole options.
Yesterday I wore the skirt that my friend Kristen once paid me a hundred dollars to never wear again, except when cleaning the house. Because it’s okay to look like a bag lady when you're cleaning. But the thing is, it has big deep pockets. And it’s all big and flowy and a nice greenish beige color, which doesn’t sound like a nice color but really it is. So I may or may not have broken our deal by possibly wearing it to the grocery store yesterday but it’s been over 2 years since that deal was made and I think the deal was made in an effort to make sure her friend stopped wearing the Duck pajama pants too (shout out to JZ, Lara and Billy!).
After a long day yesterday, I met up with my friend Ashley in the jeans department of Nordstrom’s because we had an hour to kill before the NCAA Final Four Championship Game and they were having a sale. I’ve been looking for a killer pair of jeans for over a year now and I’ve come to equate jeans shopping with the Prince Charming fairy tale. I keep thinking that when I see it, I’ll just know. Unfortunately this has not worked out with the whole jean shopping thing. Or the Prince Charming thing. Which is why I’ve decided it’s a fairy tale because OBVIOUSLY the perfect pair of jeans that fit me just right does not exist. It still doesn’t stop me from shopping for it, however....
So as we’re leaving the store, another jeans shopping expedition thrown to the dogs, I was walking up the flight of stairs that lead up to the parking lot. Maybe I was tired from the day or maybe that skirt was longer than I thought it was, but about halfway up I got my foot caught in the front of my skirt and I went flying through the air, arms flailing, screaming a violent "WOOOOAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" and landing on the stairs with a loud THUD (!!) .... apparently trying to also rip the skirt clean off.
Thankfully, my ass got in the way. Luckily I did not moon half of the city of Denver who witnessed this lovely display. (No Jamie, you perv, this would not have been my goal!) Once Ashley confirmed I was ok, she about died laughing.... It was quite a sight, even I have to admit.
If I am going to fall, it's going to be BIG.
As usual I am quite a show. Please tip your waitresses and bartenders.
April 3, 2011
Meat in the cart
"In the opening to the Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary's in the supermarket, hurrying through the aisles. She pauses at the meat case, picks up a steak and checks the price. Then rolls her eyes, shrugs and tosses it in the cart. That's kind of how I feel. Sure I would have liked things to be different. But, 'roll of eyes' what can you do? 'shrug' I threw the meat in my cart and moved on."
— Augusten Burroughs (Running with Scissors)
— Augusten Burroughs (Running with Scissors)
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