Lone Star State of Mind

Dallas was awesome.  I loved every minute of the trip, and I had the best time with some crazy fun people.  I have lots of pics (of course) which I hope will be up very soon, but for now I'll just share with you a few of my favorite things about the trip.

The Top 10 Things that Made Dallas Awesome

10.  Yogurt.  I don't remember the last time I ate so much frozen yogurt, and I know for a fact I've never had any like this.  It was seriously the freshest, most amazing thing I've ever put in my mouth.  OrangeCup and Yogalicious are divine establishments.

9.  Solving all the world's problems.  Becca and I solved the majority of them on the drive to Dallas and, with some help from Kathleen and Anna, had them all solved by the time the weekend drew to a close.  If the world would just give us fifteen minutes and a bull horn, we could have it all set straight.  Easy enough, right?

8.  Becca's numerous traffic-related anxiety attacks.  You haven't lived until you've seen Becca have a freak-out meltdown in the middle of traffic.  It's classic, really.  There were several throughout the course of this weekend, and one or two even took place while Becca wasn't even the driver.  Oh, yeah, and there was the time she made us park in the next-to-last spot of a huge lot just because "driving around the whole place just isn't worth it."  Um, speak for yourself, Bec.

7.  Living through a visit to Sam Moon and the Rock 'n' Rollercoaster ride from hell it took to get us there.  I thought on numerous occasions that I was going to see my lunch reappear, yet no one else in the car took me at all seriously.  (Probably because most of the attention was going to Becca... see #8.)  I risked my life and rolled down my window in a particularly seedy part of the ghetto just to gasp in the cool air.  And don't even get me started on Sam Moon, this mega-store jam-packed with discount purses, jewelry, etc and about a zillion people scrounging around for the most sought-after bargain.  I wanted to start pushing people down and run for the exit more than one time while I was there.

6.  Liar's Den.  This bar had it all.  A dance floor where Kathleen could cut a rug, a rooftop bar with an amazing view of the skyline where Becca and I could make new friends, and a staircase connecting the two that Anna could run up and down eight million times. 

5.  Four inches of snow on the ground and not one article of appropriate clothing.  Friday when a lady told us it was supposed to snow the next day, we walked out in the 75 degree sunshine and immediately proclaimed her insane.  The next day, however, when running through the fattest snowflakes I've ever seen dressed in the heaviest pieces of clothing we brought (mere cardigans), we thought perhaps we should have paid her a little more attention.  Saturday night I slept under four blankets (one of which was a bedspread), and Anna's dog was dressed more warmly than me.

4.  Meeting a sweet boy who reminded me that all men are not, in fact, neanderthals.  My faith in the male race has been marginally restored, at least temporarily.

3.  Problematic sleeping arrangements.  One night I slept upright like Abraham Lincoln.  Becca spent a night on the hardwood floor, waking up saying it felt like "a bed of nails on concrete."  Anna curled up in the tiniest ball ever imagined and perched on the end of the couch.  I could feel the cold air of the snow coming in through the window even underneath my scores of heavy blankets.  Kathleen, however, somehow managed to end up in the warm, comfortable bed every night... how did that happen, Kat?

2.  The most awesome concert ever.  I was beyond pumped to see the Peas, but I was just pretty pumped to see Ludacris.  Let me tell you, Luda blew it out of the park.  He was unbelievable, and his back-up dancers shaking their moneymakers would blow your mind.  The Peas were just as off-the-charts amazing as I had hoped they would be, and I never wanted the concert to end.  I've never really understood watching a concert on DVD, but I wish I had a recording of this one I could watch over and over and over again.

1.  Laughing my head off.  Whether it was the car that smelled like a frat house, the inappropriate things we seemed to constantly be saying, the recaps of the night before, or Becca's outfit on the ride home, we were constantly in stitches.  I know the people around us wished we would pipe down and chill out, but we just couldn't do it.  We were just having too much fun.  I can't wait to go back to Dallas again soon and laugh until I can't breathe all over again.
 

One Week of Life

This past week has been a really great one.  I was planning to write this post over the weekend (yes, I sometimes often plan my posts...), but I was too busy doing fun stuff to stop and compose my thoughts.

I'll start with last Tuesday, when Lindsey and I headed to Birmingham to see John Mayer.  We started off with an amazing sushi dinner at Sekisuri Pacific Rim in 5 Points.  I love that neighborhood, and our sushi was delicious.

After dinner, we headed to the concert, which was so, so good--just as I expected.  I saw John Mayer in Memphis my freshman year, and he was just as fabulous as I remember him being.  Yes, he makes a lot of weird faces while he sings, and, yes, he has lots of tats, but I don't care.  I think he's gorgeous and super sexy.  I think he has mad, mad guitar skills.  I think his concert is the perfect chill concert.  In addition, he was super sweet to this couldn't-have-been-more-than-twelve-year-old girl who was front row center.  He kept talking about how cute she was and how she was singing along with all the songs; he gave her his pick, and he edited one song a little bit, saying, "I'm not gonna curse in front of you, cutie."  Although he didn't sing a few of my favorites, I found a fell in love with a few new favorites, namely Half of My Heart.

At the concert, however, I saw some funny stuff.  High school girls are funny to me.  First off, they were everywhere.  They practically ran over Lindsey and I walking into the coliseum, and I truly thought they were going to push us down getting inside.  Also, they were wearing the most fantastic clothes and taking millions of pictures with their Nikon/Canon super-nice cameras.  Seriously, when did this happen?  When did high school girls turn into sophisticated, self-assured, polished grown-up women?  My inner high school girl, complete with frizzy hair, ill-applied make-up, uncoordinated outfits, and nonexistent self-esteem, still cowers at the sight of them.
After the concert we had a little snafu finding the way home, for Bernice--my GPS--was determined to send us awry.  We outsmarted her, however, and finally got started in the right direction.  After stopping at a super scary, super ghetto gas station, we finally arrived home about 2:30 in the morning.
Wednesday morning I was blasted out of bed by the upstairs neighbor playing Pretty Fly for a White Guy at earsplitting decibels.  He becomes the bane of my existence more and more everyday.  The day was quickly saved, however, when I watched the most amazing episode of Criminal Minds, where Hotch pretends to beat the snot out of Reid so that they can distract an un-sub and Reid can shoot him between the eyes.  Wednesday night I finished the most amazing book, Garlic and Sapphires, and finally watched a true classic of American cinema, Rear Window.  Both were seriously awesome.
Thursday the talk was all about the weather.  Snow was expected for Friday, possibly ice, as well.  Of course, Friday morning dawned with no snow, which further solidifies my belief that meteorology is more a game of chance than a profession.  There was a little bit of snow midmorning Friday, but hardly even enough to make a proper dusting.  I did, however, manage to snap a few quick snow pics, just to document that we got anything at all.

Friday afternoon, I went to see Valentine's Day, which, for the most part, I really enjoyed.  After the movie, I was pretty much glued to the opening ceremony of the Olympics, which I simply couldn't get enough of.  I am not too proud to admit that I might have sobbed cried a little while watching it...

Saturday morning I headed to Columbus for the night.  I started off my visit with a manicure at Eden, which I thoroughly enjoyed because it was almost completely silent.  I am not one of those people who wants to chat with their manicurist, I just want to relax in silence.  Is that weird?  I followed that up with a fun lunch with some of my favorite hometown ladies, solving all the worlds problems and causing a scene in the restaurant, of course.  Saturday night Lindsey, Hope, and I went to an unbelievably fun engagement party for Florence and Mark.  The food and drinks were fabulous; the house and flowers were gorgeous; the company was spectacular.  I had an absolute blast.

Sunday mom and I went to a very nice shower for Florence, and I enjoyed a quiet Valentine's Day glued to the Olympics--my newest obsession.  I don't really understand myself, for I hate sports and have never really been immersed in the Olympics like this.  I just can't turn it off, though.  I have major crushes on Apolo Ohno and Graham Watanabe, and I'm sure I'll find a few more Olympians that catch me eye, as well.  I don't really understand why there are so many soul patches, though?  In addition, I wonder if there could be a more unflattering, unattractive costume outfit uniform for a woman to wear than thecomplete-with-hood unitard worn by speed skaters?  It is truly unfortunate.

Dude, what a random post.  

Happy Monday; hope you all have a great week!

The Upstairs Neighbor

I think my neighbor may have been placed on this earth solely to torture and test me. 
Seriously, this guy is unbelievable.
I have written about said neighbor before, but last night/this morning/whatever time it was took things to a whole new level.
It appears my neighbor has discovered the joys of sex.
Awesome.
Way to go.
Congratulations.
Happy for you.
What-ev-er.
The more innocent of you out there may ask how I know this to be true.  I'll just put it like this:  it's like that episode of Friends where Phoebe is in Ross's apartment and, through the window, sees Monica and Chandler hooking up and screams out "My eyes!  My eyes!"
Except mine is like "My ears!  My ears!"
Why yes, you're right, it is disgusting.  (And rather disheartening, too, but that's off the subject at the moment.)
And here's the real clencher of it all:  aside from "all the sex" (another Friends reference, of course) there's also all the talking.
From a little after one until about six this morning, it was just blah... blah blah... blah blah blah blah...blah blah blah... blah blah, interrupted only by, well, you know, the aforementioned sex.
And for all that talking I could decipher hardly any of what they were saying.  Most of it sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher, and the little I could make out was something about dogs walking on their hind legs.
Totally idiotic.
It really comes down to this:
I couldn't care less what he does up there.  He can learn thai chi.  He can stick household objects up his nose.  He can count the revolutions of the fan blades.  He can whittle small horses from blocks of wood.  He can install a revolving door and let every girl in Oktibbeha county stream through.
It matters not to me.
If he would just. shut. up.
Honestly, and I shudder to even write this, but I think I could almost deal with the sex if all the other junk that constantly seems to be going on up there--the talking, the blasting of the music, the sounds I can only speculate on (moving furniture, perhaps?), the apparent learning of another language that, from what I can tell, involves him repeating phrases back to some sort of mechanical voice--was kept to a minimum.
Is that so much to ask? 
Am I being unreasonable and tyrannical?
Ugh, whatever.  I don't care.
It's 7:03, and I'm exhausted.
Wait... what is that I just heard?  Are you serious? 
After the sex and the talking and the talking and the sex, when they finally go to sleep... would you believe he's sawing logs up there, snoring so loud the people up the street at City Bagel can probably hear him?
Nice life.
Seriously, nice life.

Neighbors

So, I have this pesky neighbor, and he's the worst kind of pesky, too, because he picks the most inconvenient and maddening times to drive me insane. For example, it is now 4:07 in the morning, and he has once again been blasting his music for the last hour. As per usual on weekday mornings, I have to get up at 6:30, so this nocturnal unrest puts a serious cramp in my rigidly followed schedule.
Now, let me clarify what I meant when I said he was "blasting his music." I don't mean that I can hear the occasional strain of a song once in a while; I don't mean this is the first time that this has happened; I don't mean I can wake up for a minute, roll over, and fall back asleep. What I do mean, however, is that I can hear every word of every song he plays (soothing middle-of-the-night picks like Wagon Wheel, Love Lockdown, Paper Planes, Bombs Over Baghdad, and anything by Red Hot Chili Peppers); I do mean that this will inevitably go on for hours; I do mean that I have tried everything from drowning his music out with my own to practically suffocating myself with a pillow over my head, but his tunes still manage to infiltrate my brain; I do mean that I stare up at my ceiling, willing the music to stop, praying I don't tear out my own hair.
If you still don't have a clear visual of what this might be like, picture waking up from a dead sleep in the middle of Club LaVela.
It's pretty similar.
I know what you might be thinking: why don't you say something to him? Well, it's simple, really; I would do just about anything to avoid confrontation. Including, apparently, deprive myself of much-needed sleep just to avoid the inevitable awkward meeting at the mailbox. It may sound silly, but it's true. I have seriously contemplated the Friends method of dealing with loud neighbors (aka hitting the ceiling with a broom handle, courtesy of Mr. Heckles), but I even wimped out on doing that.
So, it looks as though I've inadvertently bought into my mother's advice, which is to "just go ahead and get up and start your day when that happens," for I guess I can only lay there through Dani California so many times. Who cares that I just heard someone drive up outside, undoubtedly just now arriving home from a night of debauchery? Who cares that it's pitch black outside and no one but airport workers and garbage men are being productive at this hour?
It obviously matters not to me, for, at 4:33 in the morning, as I longingly look at my bed and shake my fist at the guy upstairs (not the guy upstairs, mind you), I'm about to start working on my taxes, and I'm hating every minute of it.

Quiet Happiness

I had the most relaxing night in Starkville last night. Low-key, good weather, good friends, cold beer, good conversation. There's few things in the world I love more than a night like that. I must admit, though, that the visit did not start out quite so pleasant.
First of all, my hair looked like I had taken a shower and forgotten to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. I did, however, rinse the shampoo, so I'm not quite sure just what the problem was.
Second, it rained for about twenty minutes in Starkville yesterday. I know... doesn't sound like a problem, right? Well, as would be expected, the twenty minutes it rained (and by rained I mean monsooned) were the exact twenty minutes I was trying to move some things into my apartment. Therefore, my moving was a little more difficult than I had originally imagined. Add in the previous notion of the problematic "shampoo-head," and it seemed that my visit was not off to the best start.
It turned around rather quickly, though, because I got to spend some time with two of my favorite people in the world. I had a great time talking and catching up with Katie and Megan, and then Meg and I had a fabulous sushi dinner. I felt like I hadn't gotten to see or catch up with her in such a long time, and it was great to get to relax and have one of our great talks. I'm looking forward to regular sushi dates with her this year! :)
After dinner, Katie, Megan and I headed to the bar. After a few minutes at Mugshots, Meg and I decided we were in more of a "Bin mood," so we headed over there for awhile. There weren't many people there, but it made for a really relaxing, laid-back night, and that's just the way I like it.
As cheesy as I already know this is going to sound, I'm going to say it anyway. As I've grown, I have started to really grasp the value of a quiet night with good friends; of course I remember the crazy nights, but, for me, the quiet ones are what provide substance, definition and meaning. I live for the quiet nights.

On the Move

Over the last few days, I have turned into the biggest sap.
Seriously.
Yesterday I got teary-eyed watching both Legally Blonde: Red, White and Blonde as well as The Perfect Man. Humiliating... I know. And today I got a little choked up just listening to the soundtrack for Mamma Mia!; I think I'm suffering from some sort of chemical imbalance.
I have been quite the busy bee this weekend, doing everything from painting furniture to packing boxes and buying cookware. Move to Starkville '08 officially starts tomorrow and will continue for the next few weeks until school starts. Why do in a few days what I can spread out over a few weeks, right? Anyway, I'm going tomorrow to start getting things into cabinets, etc. and trying to do everything I can before my big furniture comes next week.
Not to mention the fact that I have been helping my mom get her school room ready (one of the things in life I loathe above all others), and there is an army of workmen at my house everyday painting and doing some repairs. It seems that they arrive practically before the sun rises, and it is impossible to sleep with them banging around outside my window and stomping around on the roof. I swear sometimes they bang extra hard just because they know I'm asleep.
Jerks.