It Must Be Friday.

FIRST Friday.  I went by myself last night in an effort to just spend some time with myself and wander around.  I started the night, though, at my office's monthly karaoke party, which honestly turned out to be a huge mistake.  I left karaoke about an hour and a half after I should have, leaving me stuck in traffic and desperately looking for a place to park downtown when I finally got to the festival.
I did rock two songs from my standard repertoire at karaoke (Joan Jett - "I Love Rock and Roll" and Blondie - "One Way or Another"), but really...I ended up not giving myself enough time where I really wanted it and I am a little disappointed.

Anyway....
I was lucky enough to find a parking spot (not anywhere NEAR my usual place).  I walked over to the Arts Factory first.  I wanted to stop in to see an artist whose work has recently caught my eye (it's very dark and much more powerful in person than online. the characters literally seem to be staring at you wanting your soul. slightly un-nerving) and to use the bathroom...porta-potties are scary and the Arts Factory has actual toilets to use.  I was minding my own business, waiting for the crosswalk sign to change, when I hear: "Hey! Southern Belle."  He introduced himself as JR and as soon as I said "Yes", when he asked me if I was there alone, I regretted it.  He offered to buy me a drink and I declined, saying that I was just there for the ladies' room.  He laughed at me and said that he would see me around and that I needed to stop and see his friend who was playing the guitar around the corner.  I didn't plan on it, seeing as though I am not much into ghetto fabulous with gold chains, smooth come-ons, and bling.  "Oh shit" was what I mouthed when I spotted them on the sidewalk on my way into the heart of crowd...but I saw them too late.  There was no avoiding it. "This one is entitled Southern Belle! Just for you!".  JR was laying it on thick.  I told him I had a man and that I wasn't giving him my number. Regardless of JR's lack of tact, his friend was talented.  I was willing to put up with JR to listen to his music for a minute.  He had CDs on sale for $2, which really is a steal, considering I can't get a good coffee for that price.  He assured me it was enjoyable...just acoustic guitar that he composed himself...no singing, no screaming, no rock n roll...just light, chill music.  I got one.  I listened to it at home later last night with a beer while I was going through some pictures.  It was everything he promised.
Mike had told me about a booth that he had come across with a guy that illustrates these cards with sarcastic, hilarious cartoons on them.  I fell in love with them.  I picked up a couple for Mike, then headed over to Cornerstone Gallery to see my friends' artwork.  It was a circus theme.  Here are some examples of the amazing work they did.

This one was my favorite.

This was so creative. My friends from Red Handed Tattoo Gallery.

I didn't get pictures of them all.  There were a few others that I really liked and am thinking of purchasing.  I hung out with a few friends for a bit outside the gallery.  I had to get home at a decent time to relieve my mother of her babysitting duties, so sticking around and going downtown when I was invited was out of the question.  I really wish I had had more time to walk around and enjoy myself without the constraint of a schedule.  Maybe another time. I really did enjoy my night alone, though, and relaxing with a beer, the windows open, and some guitar was the perfect ending.

Tonight, the kids and I are going to a BBQ.  It's that time of year again...beer, good food, friends, and jacuzzi!  I can't wait.  It seems like forever since I've just kicked back with friends and enjoyed an evening together.

Stroking the Furry Wall

I was going to say you need to google the title if you don't know what it means, but you'll probably also come up with a whole slew of other nasty, tasteless images.  Let's google, shall we? :)

This is what I'm referring to.

Anyway, I feel busy.  I feel busy (according to Aldous Snow, stroking a soft furry wall will ease my tension...if you haven't seen "Get Him to the Greek", you must!). It's probably the jellybeans I just ate.  My head is racing, filling with all these things I've got going on, but in reality...I'm sitting at my desk bored out of my gourd.

I finally tried Zumba last week and it totally kicked ass.  The teacher was awesome and the class was filled with fun people, cool music, and great dance moves.  It was a titty rubbing/shaking, gyrating, ass-slapping good time.  I am not exaggerating on any of those points.  We did all three...several times.  The teacher slapped my ass a few times and we all know that if the class totally sucked, I'd probably go back just for some more of that.  I made a friend who was also just joining the class and I can't wait to go back.  I don't know when I will be back though...because I broke my toe...or jammed a few really bad...I don't know what the hell I did, but my foot hurts and my toes are all black and blue.  Pretty damn disgusting.  I can move my toes, but it hurts like hell to have my foot in a shoe and walk.

Here's what happened:  I wore flip flops and I'm clumsy.  The End.

Actually, I took Mike for his birthday to see the Cubs play this weekend.  I was walking down the cement steps to our seats, when all of a sudden, my foot flies underneath me and I'm landing on my ass trying not to spill my beer all over myself.  It was comical.  Embarrassing.  I wasn't even drinking yet!  What was even more comical was that I almost did it AGAIN after a bathroom/beer break.  Flip flops will be the death of me.  We had a great time, regardless.  We went downtown afterwards and walked around, until I just couldn't take it anymore and had to go home to put my foot up.  We spent Sunday having coffee, reading the paper, and watching movies.  It was gloriously lazy and I enjoyed having him around.

On the agenda of possible blog-worthy life moments:

Wednesday night I will be baking (yes. baking.) Irish Car Bomb cupcakes for some of my favorite people.  I'm not a baker, but a recipe with Guiness, whiskey, and Bailey's in it cannot be passed up.  Truly.

Thursday is St. Patrick's Day.  I'll deliver cupcakes and do a little drinking with some industry peeps (HOA industry...NOT entertainment industry) and Mike at a local event.

I should be getting a new hood for my truck this weekend. Woot!

There is a certain young and sassy person's Mardi Gras themed birthday party coming up in a few weeks as well.  Beads + Margaritas = Good times!

Luckily, I have a new battery on order for my camera.  I need to incorporate some photos, I think!

This is a test. It is only a test.

I am not religious and I'm not going to get into a debate over religion.  But...if I were...I would definitely say that God is testing me right now.  I would also occasionally say that Jesus probably drinks himself to sleep when he hears me talk the way I do, but that's a whole other story, isn't it?

So, I was given a test today.  After I just wrote a blog about holding out in order to find the right guy (namely a single one), I received a friend request from married guy on Facebook.  I accepted it.  I accepted a friend request from a guy that said some extremely colorful things to me during our first meeting, one of which involved snorting certain illegal substances off my inner thigh.  Stupid.  I got a private message this morning...very casual at first...along the lines of "How you doin' girl?".  I was surprised that he had even requested me, because he is overly paranoid about his wife finding out about his extra-marital activities.  I told him that in my response.  He wrote back that basically he was over it and had "been thinking about kicking it and has been craving a good time".  I'm sorry, did I miss something?  Am I an escort?  A hooker?  Of course, he offered no money during this transaction, so I guess that just makes me a whore, then??  I say that now, because I have some clarity.  At the time, when I was looking at the email trying to think of a response and he IM'd me...I went along.  We conversed.  We talked about sex...a lot of sex.  I won't lie and say it didn't turn me on.  It totally did - like biting my lip, squirming in my chair, thinking of sneaking off to the other room and taking care of myself turned on.  The heat from my loins was clouding my rational thinking.  He wanted to meet up...soon.  I didn't say no, but I am going to.  I am going to be the "tease" and change my mind.  The worst that will happen is that he will delete me as a friend on Facebook and will completely avoid me if we are ever in the same room again.  I can handle that.  I'm not willing, however, to find out what bad things will happen if we do get involved.  I will be the one who ends up getting hurt in the end, not him.  Like I said in my last blog, I am worth more than to be kept a secret.  I need a man I can do things with...that I can go in public with. A regular, normal boyfriend-type person.  Ok, maybe not normal.  I like things a little away from the norm (psst: I have someone in mind!), but come on!  Please, God or PBR drinking Jesus or Universe or Whoever...send me a real relationship and I promise I'll be good.  I promise I'll say no and pass this test.  There is no threat to my success other than my inner-slut emerging, and I can damn well control that little bitch.  I think.  I can at least subdue her until I find said boyfriend and unleash that minx on him...becoming the best girlfriend on Earth...ok?
Thank you, Amen, Namaste, Blessed Be and all that.