Day #161: Too Tired to Think of a Title

The Story:

Four or five “We’ll need a few more minutes, sorry”.

One hastily ordered entrée, I’ll have the eh, uh… steak thingy… yeah that one (turned out to be pretty dang tasty).

Three glasses of pinot grigio sipped slowly- drained a good deal earlier than the conversation.

One waitress who performed an impressive disappearing act around hour two.

At least three “hold that thought, I gotta pee”.

Eight or more stories that began with “So what ever happened to…?”

An entire childhood, two in fact, to reminisce about.

12 years too long between chats.

      days until our next get together?

Dear Jess, please don't hate me for dusting these off... mkay thanks.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Sorry guys, but I’m gonna make this one short and sweet since the majority of my energy has been devoted to a long awaited reunion with a high school friend that I haven’t seen… well, since high school. Since the days we used to be inseparable, since the days we played in her parents game room, talked about boys till we couldn’t think of anything else to say, the days where we learned about Biggie Smalls being shot down and we went to my first concert (The Wallflowers, thank you very much). It was awesome catching up with her, I mean we basically lived at each other’s houses, and talking about all those people from the past that made up our world when we were 15 -18 years old. Needless to say, we had a lot to talk about and unfortunately, due to adult (gag me with a pitchfork) responsibilities had to cut short (after only three hours, can you believe it?!?). Anywho, I hope this is the first of many reunions, and Jess- see you soon?

Ah... such innocence, such youth...

Love & Squirrels.

Day #157: Lied Patient-ly

The Story:

“Whatever Heather, there is no way that’s true. You know what, I’m really sick of all your lies. Why don’t you call me when you’ve figured out how to go for more than twenty minutes without lying,” Joel shook his head in disappointment and turned to walk away before his girlfriend’s tears could persuade him to stay.

Heather just stood there, dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe he had actually done it. He had actually walked away. He had been threatening it for a year now, ever since he discovered her little secret. Ok, it wasn’t a little secret, who was she kidding. Heather was a compulsive liar.

Heather lied about everything, big stuff like where she went to college, everyday stuff like what she ate for lunch, even trivial stuff like her favorite  color was magenta (when it’s actually green). She couldn’t help herself; the lie seemed to produce itself before she could rein it back in. And now, she has lost the love of her life because of it, which was ironic for several reasons. One, she had been seeking counseling now for six weeks to help her curb her tendency towards fibbing in order to prevent this very thing. Two, the ‘lie’ that sent Joel over the edge and out of her life was in actuality- the truth. Wasn’t it? Heather ran through the story she had just told, perhaps a lie had snuck in without her knowledge, something that hadn’t happened in several weeks but wasn’t completely unlikely. Perhaps she had had a ‘relapse’ or something.

Thinking back now, she could definitely see how Joel could believe that she wasn’t being truthful; it was a pretty unbelievable story. That and she hadn’t had chance to tell Joel the key element of her story which would have made it at least plausible. At that moment Heather’s phone chirped, alerting her to a new text. Desperately hoping it was Joel wishing to talk to her, Heather lost no time whipping out the device and scrolling to her messages. It was from her boss, Natalie. With a sinking feeling, Heather went ahead and read the message: “Hey Heather! Thanks again for helping out today. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t played ‘patient’ for the exam. See you on Monday!”

Heather suddenly smiled as she finished reading the text. Grabbing her keys from the wall, Heather ran out of her apartment and hopped into her car. Driving like a crazy person, she arrived at Joel’s house in record time- in fact, she had beaten him home. Turning off the ignition, Heather got out and decided to wait for him sitting on the trunk of her car. Swinging her legs like a little girl who has just been told she’s getting a pony for her birthday, Heather was running through what she could say to make Joel listen to her, and believe her.

Looking up at the familiar sound of his car (he really should take it in for an oil change), Heather hopped down and waited while he drove into her driveway and disembarked from the driver’s side. “Heather, I told you, I’m tired of the lies. There’s nothing more to talk about since I know that anything that comes out of that mouth of yours isn’t going to be worth a damn,” he said sadly.

“Ok, then I won’t say anything, at least until I show you something,” Heather said pertly and handed him her phone, with the text from Natalie still displayed. Seeing his confusion at the message, Heather took the opportunity to explain.

“So what you didn’t let me tell you before you took off, is that all those things I said I did today at work, hung out in a wheelchair, be an frail elderly woman with no mobility, that I was almost suffocated, and I was dressed up like a ghost- all of that is true. I was asked to be a ‘patient’ for my boss’ class midterm. Her physical therapy students had to treat me like I was an elderly woman and put me in a wheelchair, they put pillows all around me so I wouldn’t fall over and covered me with a sheet, something called ‘draping’ so my ‘character’ wouldn’t get a chill. Oh and one kid made me lay face down so that my face was stuffed in a sheet and I couldn’t breathe. All of it is true, Joel,” Heather smiled, sure that Joel would believe her now.

Joel looked like he had swallowed a bug. He looked like he had stepped on a tack during a funeral. He looked like he had sat in a heap of warm spaghetti. He did not look like he was relieved to discover he was wrong about his girlfriend lying to him.

“What’s the matter? You can’t say that you still don’t believe me?” Heather said with growing outrage.

Hanging his head a little, Joel kicked at the ground and heaving a giant sigh, dug his hands in his pockets and said, “No, I believe you”.

Heather’s smile vanished before it had time to develop- there was something not right in Joel’s reaction. “What is it?” Heather’s tone was flat and hard. A sinking in her stomach told her that whatever it was, it was not going to be anything pleasant.

“Thing is, ehhhh…” Joel sighed and swiveled his neck so that it popped and cracked like bubble wrap- a nervous tick of his, and further indication that the news was going to be unpleasant. “Thing is Heather,” he started again, “there’s someone else”, the phrase was said in a rush of cold air that seemed to rob Heather of her ability to exhale. Now that the worst had been said, Joel didn’t seem to know how to stop himself and continued, “I met her two months ago at this show and well, we just hit it off I guess. I didn’t mean for anything to happen, I swear I didn’t but…” he spread his hands in front of him in a gesture to illustrate his apparent ‘helplessness’ to not cheat.

Heather stared at him, dumfounded for the second time that day. Finally, after several more awkward minutes of silence, Heather without a word, nodded her head once and left. “So that’s what it feels like,” she said to herself. Thinking of all the lies, all the half-truths, all the embellishments she had told over her lifetime she almost felt like she was even now, like the world had paid her back and they were back on level terms. It was almost a relief in that way, like a clean slate. Of course she was heartbroken- that went without saying, but a little piece of her knew she would eventually be ok, better even. Cranking up the radio, Heather thought to herself, “Lesson learned” and almost smiled. Almost.

Guess liars must burn through a lot of (under)pants...

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Today I played physical therapy patient at work for about three hours. This is something I have been asked to do every year since starting as the coordinator for the program, and no, it wasn’t in the job description. It’s always a little awkward for me to transition from my usual role of advisor, coordinator, deadline giver and form collector to ‘frail elderly woman with no mobility’ as was my character today. That, and getting touched and prodded even, by a bunch of veritable strangers makes the experience just a tab bit awkward for someone who’s catch phrase in college was “don’t touch me!”. But, duty calls, and if the students need a patient, if the faculty need a volunteer… I’m there. Happy (ish) to help. So during my ‘patient’ role today, I was placed in a wheelchair, laid out on a table, covered with sheets, surrounded by pillows and towels and at one point denied the ability to breath (which was quickly pointed out… eventually, haha). I just always think it’s funny on these types of days to think about having to explain my day to someone who has no idea what I do, “Yeah, I got pushed around in a wheelchair, covered in a sheet like a ghost, a towel was stuffed in my crotch and apparently I have no pulse in my foot. So, what did you do today at work?” Makes for an interesting Friday, that’s for sure.

My work outfit today.

Love & Squirrels.

 

 

Day #154: What Do You Want to Eat Tonight?

The  Story:

“I swear to God, woman! If you don’t make a decision for once in your life I’m going to… I’m going call this whole wedding off!” Bernie slammed his hand on the steering wheel and cut his eyes at his fiancé, Gia, sitting in the passenger seat.  Gia shot Bernie a hurt look and quickly turned to face the window and the lanes of traffic beyond.

You wouldn’t know it by the current conversation, but Bernie and Gia were the couple that everyone wanted to be. Meeting in graduate school, the two instantly felt sparks, he was an energetic idealist with a hankering for good chocolate and she was an introverted artist who could whip up one hell of a chocolate soufflé- they were a perfect match. Now, three years later they were less than two weeks from walking down the aisle and spending the rest of the lives together… maybe. Like many couples, Bernie and Gia had one topic that always seemed to spin into a fight- deciding on dinner. For the majority of their relationship this had been the one thing that always got them in hot water. The conversation would always start innocently enough with one of them, usually Bernie asking:

What do you want to eat?

The response was almost automatic:

I don’t know what do you want?

Things only got worse from there:

How bout Italian?

Nah, I had pizza for lunch.

OK, how about that little Cuban place?

I’m not in the mood, what about Chi Chi’s?

You know I hate that place…

…and round and round it went until someone blew up at the other and they ended up eating buttered noodles at home in silence.

Tonight was turning out no different. After a marathon day spent registering for wedding gifts, Bernie was operating on a very short fuse, and a very empty stomach. To top it off, Gia was being especially unhelpful in the ‘what are we going to eat’ department, eventually pushing him to threaten something he’d never actually do. Quickly apologizing, Bernie pulled into a parking lot to cool off- driving aimlessly without any destination in mind was only further infuriating him. After a few silent moments, Bernie heard his beloved fiancé utter one word, “Lasagna”.

She: "I want a hotdog this long." He: "Just pick a place... wait what?!?"

Snapping to attention, Bernie whipped his head around and saw that Gia was staring right at him, a look of conviction on her face. “You want Lasagna?” Bernie asked almost timidly, afraid that he may spook her from her moment of decisiveness.

“I want Lasagna,” she replied, holding his stare.

“Great! Where can we get lasagna?” Bernie asked, mostly to himself.

“The Olive Garden,” Gia said with resolve.

“We’re there,” Bernie said as if he had just accepted a mission from God. Throwing the car into Drive they squealed out of the parking lot and made a B-line to the nearest Olive Garden. Fifteen minutes and 25 seconds later they were seated in a booth by a window and asking for waters- no lemon.

“I have to tell you, Gia. You making a decision like that, it’s pretty sexy,” Bernie said and playfully nudged her with his foot under the table.

“Oh?” Gia coyly replied, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “Well, I guess I’m just going to have to start being a little more vocal in the future,” she said before flashing the minxy smile Bernie couldn’t resist.

“Seriously though, I can never get you to make a decision on where we should eat. And tonight, I was really getting frustrated. Then when you said that one little word, lasagna, it was… awesome,” Bernie laughed a little at the word awesome, but it was the best word he could think of to describe his jubilation at that moment.

“Well, I felt like lasagna… usually by the time we decide to get something to eat I’m so hungry I can’t think straight, but I’ve been craving lasagna for days so…” gia said, spreading her hands as if to say so here we are.

“Okay, here are your waters, guys. Now, have you decided on what you would like to order or do you need a few more minutes to look over the menu?” their server said as he set their drinks in front of them and readied his pen for the impending order.

“I think we’re ready. Babe, you wanna go first?” Bernie said, motioning to Gia.

“Sure. I’d like the lasagna, please,” Gia said without an iota of anticipation.

Their server bit his lip and made a sucking noise with his teeth before responding, “Ooo… yeah, sorry folks. We’re out of lasagna tonight”.

Except for Lasagna... they're fresh out.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Okay, so anyone that’s ever been in a relationship for any amount of time can relate to the age-old ‘argument’ about what to eat. After all, it was the undoing of the first couple Adam and Eve… Eve wanted an apple, Adam wasn’t feeling it, Eve lambasted the poor dude until finally, due to a serious case of grumbly tummy and in a final effort to shut the nag up he ate the damn thing.

Anywho, while Andy and I were out and about this evening, I began to feel a teeny tiny little bit hungry (read: my stomach was eating itself). As we were leaving the last store Andy asked the question, “What are you hungry for?”. The moment of truth. I knew I had several choices to make in answering this seemingly innocent question. I could say, “I don’t know, what are you hungry for?” and get kicked in the shin for it (apparently I have an annoying habit of answering a question with a question, who knew?). I could claim not to be hungry and then hope that I could scrape something to eat together at home (hello buttered noodles!). Or, I could say the first food that popped into my head. “Lasagna!” I almost shouted. We then decided, again due to my prompt, to head to the nearest Olive Garden for the dish of my desire. Relieved that we wouldn’t have to play the “What do you want to eat tonight?” game, we both slid into our respective sides of the booth and waited patiently for the server to arrive.

And guess what? Olive Garden, that’s right the Italian restaurant chain of choice for the comfort-food-seeking middle American masses, was  OUT OF LASAGNA. The horror. The humanity. I was speechless. After finally making a decision about what I wanted to eat down to the very dish I craved (I can be very passive and indecisiveness might as well be my middle name… Samantha Indecisiveness Moya) and wouldn’t you know, they were fresh out. I’m sorry, but can someone tell me how the Olive Garden manages to run out of lasagna at 7:30pm on a Tuesday? For shame. Oh well, I ended up ordering something that was pretty tasty, and it gave me a fun story to write. Yay for silver linings (and chocolate mints with the bill)!

Apparently a tubby orange cat snuck into the Olive Garden kitchen... GARFIELD!!!

Love & Squirrels.

 

Day #143: What a Bunch of Bull…frog

The Story:

“It’s gibberish… it doesn’t sound like anything to me,” Claire declared.

“Shhh! I’m trying to listen!” Freddie replied as he continued to scribble in the little green pocket notebook he always carried with him.

Claire let out a very loud sigh and sat back on the park bench and folded her arms, obviously annoyed. Up to that point, the date had been going quite well. Claire had had her initial reservations about accepting Freddie’s invitation- he wasn’t exactly her type. But her horoscope that day said to ‘accept an unusual offer and unexpected happiness would reward those who were brave’ so here she was, on a first date with the new graphic designer from her office, despite the ‘creepy’ vibe he put out. As she looked over at her date, who was now squatting in the wet grass with his ear pointed towards the lake, Claire made a mental note to delete the horoscope app off her phone as soon as possible.

“Why was it that there was always something, something about every man she had dated in the last few years that was an immediate deal breaker? Was it her? Was she becoming too picky, a cynic destined to be an old maid? Maybe she just needed to lighten up, try to open her mind a little” Claire mulled the idea over a little. Deciding it couldn’t hurt matters, she walked over to where her date still crouched in the grass.

“What was that? One more time, if you please? Biddy? Oh! Baby! Yes, now I got it.”

Claire couldn’t believe what she was seeing; Freddie was actually talking to the frogs. By the sounds of it, he was engaged in a complete conversation with them!

“That’s it!” Claire blurted out. “I’m outta here!” and without another word she tromped back up to the sidewalk and took off towards her car.

“Well, that was awkward, sorry about her. Now, where were we?” Freddie said into the humid night air. As if in reply to his question, the chorus of frogs began their chorus of croaking and chirping almost immediately. For years, Freddie had dedicated a large portion of his life to unearthing the truth behind the urban conspiracy theory that basically claimed that during the cold war, Russia had somehow used bullfrogs to pass codes through enemy lines. The theory claimed that Russian scientists were able to engineer the frogs to learn a static amount of words and then repeat them on demand when a key word was spoken.  There weren’t many who put any stock into this theory, and only a few, like Freddie, took it seriously enough to investigate.

It had been, more or less, a hobby for Freddie, a way to combine his love of amphibians with his tendency to get caught up in conspiracy. But he had had a breakthrough tonight while walking around the lake with his date. Claire taking off was regrettable, but it paled in the wake of his discovery. He had found a way to ­understand the frogs, and more- to talk back to them. He had so much work to do, so many things to prepare! Finally, he had validation for all those years spent hovering over his frog tanks and habitats.

—

HEADLINE OF THE NEXT DAY’S NEWSPAPER:

Missing for 31 Days, Mentally-Disabled Man Found Talking with Frogs- 
Ending Search

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      After gorging ourselves on some delicious Hibachi, Andy and I thought it might do us all some good to take the dogs for a walk. Following a pretty thorough soaking from a recent thunderstorm, the evening was actually quite nice as we strolled around a small lake nearby. As we reached a certain point of the lake we were overcome by the singing of what must have been hundreds of frogs on the shore of the lake. So as we continued to walk we started to guess at what they were saying. I personally heard what sounded like, “Baby, Baby, Baby!”, “ME, ME , ME!”, “Beep, Beep, Beep!” and something that sounded like the impersonation of an alarm clock. It was a fun little game and I thought it would be neat to take it to the next level… not sure if you’ve noticed, but that’s kinda my thing.

Come on... anyone who's watched Sesame Street KNOWS frogs can talk. Duh.

Love & Squirrels.

Day #137: Dr. Mario in the House

The Story:

“No, no… move it a little more to the left. Ok, now back a bit to the right. Ok, right there,” Julie tilted her head and gave the couch as scowl. “I don’t like it,” she said with almost a tear in her eye.

For the past two hours Julie and her ever-patient husband Xavier had moved and rearranged their living room furniture and had yet to settle on a pleasing set-up. Either the TV was too far away, or the couch was too big or the love seat looked like it was floating in space. Nothing seemed to look like the “put together” living room Julie was determined to make a reality.

“I thought this would be easier,” she said in a huff as she collapsed onto the sofa that was presently living in the dining room. “I could see it, you know. I could see it all in my head and it worked!” she said with frustration.

Handing his discombobulated wife a glass of ginger ale (something that always seemed to soothe her) Xavier took a look around their chaotic living room. As his eyes swept past the television console, a smile spread across his face and he said, “Come on, I have an idea”.

Pulling the love seat in front of the television, Xavier motioned for Julie to take a seat before walking to the hutch where they kept their videos and gaming consoles. Blowing off some dust from the original Nintendo game console Xavier had had since childhood, he quickly set it up and after the obligatory “blow” into a game cartridge inserted it into the player and pressed START.

Julie couldn’t help but laugh when she saw the screen light up and reveal the game her husband wished the two of them to play-

“Just hear me out,” Xavier said with a chuckle. “A have a theory. Maybe we’re just rusty on our Dr. Mario skills and after a few games are skills will come back and we’ll be inspired. You know, that whole life imitating art imitating life or whatever,” he said as the familiar theme song filled the house.

“This may be the most ridiculous idea you’ve ever had, honey… you are freaking awesome!” Julie laughed and picked up her controller.

The two played the game for several hours and couldn’t remember having so much fun. Playfully competitive they tried to outdo the other with doubles and triples, egging on the other with taunts and overzealous celebrations when one was victorious over the other. They were like teenagers again. Finally, though he game a good showing, Julie was triumphant and danced around the living room, jumping on the couch and jugging around end tables.

All of a sudden, in mid-jig, Julie stopped and looked around, as if a thought had just struck her. Without a word, Julie ran out of the room. Returning seconds later with a notepad and pen, she quickly began scribbling on the pad, holding up a finger to Xavier’s inquests. Then, with a look of absolute joy she leaned back, nodded at the scribble and turned to Xavier. “What about this?” She said in exaltation and she showed her husband her work.

Looking over his wife’s drawings, Xavier quickly recognized the rough layout of their living room. By some clever thinking and reworking, it appeared Julie had figured out how to position the furniture for her perfect ‘put together’ living space. The two of the got to work and quickly positioned the furniture according to Julie’s sketch. After everything was in place, they took turns sitting on each piece of furniture, adjusted a table by an inch or too and then stood back to look at their handiwork.

“I knew I married you for a reason. You’re idea worked, babe. It’s perfect,” Julie beamed happily at her husband.

Xavier looked from his wife’s smiling face back at the living room and after another brief inventory of their work said, “I guess so. Then again, I thought it was fine the way it was”.

Julie’s eyes almost bulged from her sockets and just as she was about to chew her husband a new one, she noticed his ill-concealed smile. “Oh my God! I’m going to kill you!” she shouted playfully as she sprung for him and tried to wrestle him to the ground.

Laughing as he easily batted away her attempts and finally wrapped her in a bear hug. Falling together onto the newly positioned loveseat, he asked once they had calmed down, “So, what to play another round?” and nodded his head towards the Nintendo.

“You’re on!” Julie laughed.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      It really blows to be under the weather. It uber blows to be under the weather on a holiday weekend. Alas, I am still suffering from le stomach issue, and have therefore been resigned to spend today indoors and close the le potty. To break up the monotony a little, I decided to break out our Nintendo console and engage in my favorite game, Dr. Mario. Man, that game takes me back, reminds me of being a 5^th grader and fighting my brother over who gets the 1^st controller. Epic battles, let me assure you. Anywho, things were going well, (I BEAT MY HIGH SCORE!!!) when Andy had the idea to rearrange the living room so the large couch that we are always perched upon would have a better view of the TV (for our NCIS marathons, of course). So, after much consultation, and a lot of heaving we decided upon an arrangement… kind of. Let’s just say Sammy isn’t so great with sudden change, even on the living room scale. It takes me time to adjust and contemplate and having all my furniture being moved seemed to wig me out more than I expected it to (I blame it on the stomach issue). Finally, we arranged things in a way I think I can grow to be happy with… we’re taking tonight to decide.

This gal looks about how I did today... thrilled, I'm sure.

Love & Squirrels.

Day #135: Un-BARE-able

The Story:

I tried to go on without you. I thought I could. After what you did before, embarrass me like that, I thought you deserved to be left behind. After all, people do it all the time, or so I hear.

So off you went, and off I went. I felt bold, I felt, well… I felt a little wild. This new sense of freedom was going straight to my head. I walked out the door, tipsy on the newness, I must admit there was a bit of swagger in those first few steps.

But as I headed further down the street, the weight of my decision began to dawn on me. Suddenly, it felt as if every pedestrian strolling by, every motorist idling at the light, every set of eyes was on me. Feeling self-conscious, no bare, I tried to keep my head high, reminding myself that this had been my decision. The street yawned out in front of me, it seemed to have added a few blocks since the last time I walked this route. I wasn’t making any headway towards my destination. My swagger was now more of a shuffle as I looked away from the peering eyes that seemed to hone in on me from every direction.

God, what have I done? This was a mistake; I should have never gone out like this- all alone. This is awful. I couldn’t imagine how people did this on every day. It only took a few city blocks before I was missing you. I know now that I need you in my life. Every day. Thinking of you now only seems to make things worse so I try to hurry along.

Perhaps, if I’m lucky, I can reach my destination and upon completing my errand speedily return, where you will still be waiting. I whisper a silent prayer that you will be there still and turned my attention to the task at hand.

Feet! don’t fail me now! One foot in front of the other, I can’t move quickly enough. This whole episode has been a fool’s errand. What was I thinking? I try to avoid eye contact from all who pass me by, it’s as if they know and I cannot risk facing them to confirm this suspicion.

And then, my doorstep. I reach for the handle- there’s no time for second guessing I’m sure of myself now. I lunge through the threshold and immediately seek you out. There you sit, quietly, patiently; you knew I wouldn’t be gone long. Not without you. Relief spreads through me and I know I am whole again, I know all things are right and decent in the world once more.

You are like a second skin, how I thought I could go on without you seems ridiculous now. Never again.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Ok, this may be a bit awkward for any family members reading this, so let me just say… um… sorry? Today I was in the mood for wearing a dress to work. I really like dresses, they are very comfortable and really help cut down on those ‘what to wear today?’ decisions that I struggle/obsess over every night before bed and again every morning. Sadly, embarrassingly, I have added a few extra pounds to my figure as of late and did not take this into account when dressing this morning. Now the particular dress in question is a cotton A-line dress that usually falls quite nicely and doesn’t really ‘hug’ any curves… that is it didn’t used to. Now that I’m in my pre-workout-gonna-start-exercising-again-I-promise phase, it is not so forgiving. Especially in the backside area. So after spending a good three of four hours at work, walking around thinking I was hot stuff, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and gasped in horror. Oh. My. God. I was sporting full on VPL. For those of you not familiar with this tragic phenomenon, VPL stands for Visible Panty Line and it is one of my MAJOR pet peeves.

The ever-offending VPL

Quickly rushing back to my office, I contemplated feigning an illness so I would be spared any further humiliation thanks to my inexcusable wardrobe malfunction. Just as I decided I would just have to stay seated for the remainder of the day, my stomach let out a giant growl. Great. I didn’t bring my lunch today. Which meant I would have to trek all the way over to the student union to get something, and in so doing risk my VPL being seen by hundreds of students. The thought alone was giving me heart palpitations. Rather than skip the main meal of my day (trying to eat a bit lighter at dinner time) I had a brilliant idea- I’d just slink out of the offending undergarments, hightail it to the union and no one would be the wiser. Feeling like a very smart cookie, I dropped my drawers and started the walk across campus for some grub. About five steps in- I knew I had made a mistake. This suspicion was further confirmed upon walking outside- and into the wind. Holy cow, what was I thinking? I’ve never been so self-conscious in my life. I felt completely exposed and it seemed that every student I passed knew that I was going free and easy. I walked as quickly as my feet (and modesty) would allow me and after grabbing something to eat, I rushed back to my office. I’m not sure if anyone actually noticed (probably not) but the whole experience left me a bit traumatized. The panties went immediately back on and miraculously, I didn’t need to use the Ladies Room for the remainder of the day and stayed safely seated until the day’s end. Whew. I know, I’m a mess.

Love & Squirrels.

Day #134: Keepin It To Myself

The Story:

I’ve got a story but I cannot speak it

I’ve got a secret but these lips are sealed

I want to dance for joy

But my moves might betray me

I want to stomp in jubilation

But the vibrations would rat me out

*

Today was a good day

And tomorrow will be better

Don’t ask me why

I cannot tell you

*

My cause for joy could be misconstrued

My elation might not be understood

So I’ll keep grinning and hide my smile

I’ll keep jumping and jiving, but only in my head

So don’t ask what the fuss is all about

I’ll only shrug and feign confusion

*

Just as some things demand to be told

And we will bare them out with jostling abandon

Some things must be revealed cautiously

And we will wrap them in tissue and put them away with cedar

Presenting them at a later hour, or not at all

*

But in the confines of my four walls

I will do a little jig

Cloaked within the folds of my confidants

I will laugh and giggle

*

Because I have a story that won’t get told

And I have a secret that shant be discovered

 

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      So a common problem I’ve come across since picking up this project, is experiencing something during my day that really bares revealing, but in light of the public nature of this format I dare not write about it. Sucky, I know. But I refuse to write about a subject that may run the risk, however small, of hurting someone I know or worse make me look like a jerk (which I sometimes can be, I fully acknowledge). Today was such a day. It marked something significant that happened, not to me, but it greatly affects me… if that makes a lick of sense. So this is my backhanded way of celebrating AND writing about it without actually… writing about it (see how that works?). Anywho, it was a good day, and like the poem said I expect the days to follow to be even better. And, if you are just dying to know what in tarnation I’m yappin about, feel free to message me on Facebook, I’ll let you in on it… maybe.

Ooooo.... sooo mysterious

Love & Squirrels.

Day #129: Sofia’s Soundtrack

The Story:

“What are you talking about? I’ve never even spoken to him before, how could he possibly be in love with me?” Sofia whispered across the cubicle partition to her ‘cube mate’ Daria. After three years of working within five feet of each other, separated only by the recycled particle board and plastic panel lovingly referred to as the “Berlin Wall”, Sofia and Daria had grown to be quite close. So it can as quite a shock when Daria let fly that William, the dark-haired enigma located in the corner cubicle, chose to break his monkish silence last week to confess to her his unrequited adulation of none other than Sofia.

“I swear, Sofia, he was quite adamant. It was actually very touching,” Daria whispered to her friend who had yet to pick her jaw up off of the floor.

“What I can’t understand is how you got him to talk at all, let alone profess his love for me,” Sofia stole a glance over to the corner cubicle that, thankfully, was empty at the moment.

“That’s actually kind of a funny story,” Daria admitted raising her voice a bit. “I was in the mood for sushi, so I went up to that little place around the corner and who should I see but William. There he was, sitting all alone at the sushi bar so I figured I’d grace him with my presence,” Daria batted her eyes and gave a pin-up pout- a show of self-mockery at her usual brazenness. “So there we were me and Mr. I-probably-don’t-know-the-sound-of-my-own-voice. Well you know me I couldn’t shut up, poor man. Even if he had wanted to I doubt he could have gotten a word in. All my chattering must have made him nervous though because before you could break a pair of chopsticks he flagged down the little girl serving us and ordered a bottle of Sake. Well that stuff certainly loosens the lips, boy howdy! It wasn’t fifteen minutes before he told me about his crush on you. He was actually a little surprised that you didn’t know actually,” Daria continued.

“He was? But how would I have known? I pass his cubicle every time I need to visit the Ladies Room and he’s not said word one to me in three years,” Sofia said with obvious confusion, after all she had noticed him right away and even tried to flirt in the early days. When her signals went unanswered she chalked it up to disinterest and stopped trying.

“Well I don’t know about all that, but he did say something like if she would only listen or something weird like that; I don’t really remember all the details, on account of the Sake. But I tell you what, once I got that boy atalkin’, OOO EEE! He practically talked my ear clean off!” Daria said with a flourish causing the other members of the office to pop their heads up over their cubicle walls like disgruntled prairie dogs.

“I don’t know, Daria. It looks like both of your ears are still tightly secured to your head from here,” a voice like cool water said from behind the women. William allowed a playful smirk to wander into the corner of his mouth as he looked from Daria to Sofia and said, “Good morning, Sofia”. Smiling again at the stunned women, William continued on to his corner cubicle.

“Oh my God!” Daria whispered through the Berlin Wall. “Can you believe that just happened? You have to go over there and talk to him, Sofia,” Daria basically yelled through the particle board.

But Sofia was not there.

“Hi William,” Sofia released each syllable as if it were a precious gift she was unsure of bequeathing.

William turned slowly in his ergonomic chair and blinked a few times before trusting his eyes that yes, in fact, there stood Sofia, speaking to him. Cripplingly shy his entire existence, it had only been a few short months since he had begun a regiment to prepare him for this moment. Smiling (a sensation that still felt foreign on his face) William held up one finger and with his other hand turned up the song that was playing from his computer speakers.

With a single prompt, something as subtle as a forefinger touching an ear, Sofia understood that William had asked her to listen. And so she did, even allowing her eyes to drift closed. With the noisy florescent lights now dimmed to a red glow behind her eyelids, the words almost leaped out at her,

“…I know it’s kind of strange

But every time I’m near you

I just run out of things to say

I know you’d understand

Every time I tried to tell you

The words just came out wrong

So I’ll have to say I love you in a song…”

Opening her eyes in wonder, Sofia would have sworn up and down that the lyrics sung by Jim Croce through those staticy little speakers were spoken lovingly by William himself.

Seeing that she understood, William felt emboldened and spoke to the object of his affection for the first time, “I played that every day, hoping you would hear it. Well, actually I played that and some other songs too, but they all were speaking directly to you”.

Thinking for a minute, Sofia began to recall all those trips to the Ladies Room and sure enough, there was a soundtrack to go along with it. “Did you by chance play Junk of the Heart, by the Kooks?” Sofia asked, her voice taking on an ‘other-world’ quality.

Letting a chuckle of released tension and relief escape, William nodded excitedly.

“That’s one of my absolute favorite songs,” Sofia said in somewhat disbelief. “Would you like to… that is if you wanted to- would like to go to lunch with me?” Sofia half expected him to decline thanks to her obliviousness for the last three years.

“I’d love to,” William smiled, noting that his facial muscles might as well get used to the sensation… he had a suspicion they’d be getting a lot more use in the future.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      So this one kind of took on a life of its own (that seems to be happening a lot lately, hmm). Anywho, while counting down the minutes to the weekend and finishing up some things in my office, a song came on my 8tracks.com mix that got me really jazzed. I was bobbing my head, bouncing in my chair and really a-tapping my toes. Then another, equally fantastical tune came on, a little joint called “Junk of the Heart” by the Kooks. As some students walked by the lyrics “I just want to make you happy” danced out of my speakers and for some reason that gave really struck me as funny. I don’t know, somehow my brain took that incident and spun it into the story of a shy cubicle worker using song lyrics to profess his love for a fellow worker, unable to get up the nerve or find the right words to tell her himself. I really liked that idea, talking through someone else, using music to literally communicate with someone, not a far stretch if you ask me- music speaks to us all in a way, doesn’t it?

Love & Squirrels.

Day #119: Tonight’s Another Night

The Story:

“I just don’t know… last night when you kept leaving, it really messed me up,” Julie stared at her feet and bit her lip- desperately trying to keep the encroaching tears at bay. Wiping away the first assault of enemy tears with a violent swipe of her hand, Julie took a deep breath.

“And when you came back this afternoon, I’ll admit, it was nice… really nice, actually,” Julie smiled in remembrance before angrily creasing her brow- upset at her mouth’s disloyalty. “But we both knew that it wasn’t going to last, and it didn’t- you were gone again in a matter of hours,” Julie looked at her folded hands, feeling haggard and wrung out. She continued, “And I know it’s not all your fault, believe me I get it. I know that sometimes you have to leave and it’s not because you want to but because you are forced away, sometimes by outside events and sometimes even by me… I know that”. Julie was beginning to gain a little more composure, a little more courage.

“The thing is, I deserve better. I want better. And I’m not willing to settle any longer. No more late nights left wondering where you are. No more lying in bed alone without any sign that you are even going to show up. I need something stable, something I can count on, something consistent,” Julie said with her head held a little higher.

“So that’s it then. You know how I feel. If what I’ve said sounds like something you can get on board with, then I would really like to give it another go with you. If not, then I’m just going to have to figure something else out… without you,” Julie said the last two words a little softer than she would have liked but overall felt good about her ultimatum.

Climbing into bed, Julie turned off the bedside light and smiled as she felt her eyes growing heavy. “So glad you decided to join me. I’ve missed you,” she said into the dark as she allowed sleep to wrap her in its sweet embrace.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      I have a love/hate relationship with sleep. Always have. I love sleep (maybe a little too much) and hate how little of it I seem to be getting lately (weirdly my lack in sleep has coincided with picking up a particular writing project… hmmmm). Anyway, last night was a rough one for Sam. My dog, Joey (the mini dachshund) has been suffering from a stomach issue since coming home from his stay at the vet last week. And when I say ‘stomach issue’ I mean diarrhea… so much diarrhea. Without delving too far into the details, I was forced from my bed just about every hour last night to deal with the results of this ‘stomach issue’ leaving me with precious little shut eye time (rounds about 3 hours to be exactly inexact) and the need to burn every scented candle in my home. The story above is a conversation I can definitely see myself having with my finicky love- senor sleep. He really needs to stop messing around, I am getting tired of being told how tired I look (don’t you just love those kinds of comments?).

Some girls have all the luck (and I'm not referring to Prince Smarmy).

Love & Squirrels.

Day #74: The Saturday Switch

The Story:

“I can’t take it anymore! Out of my kitchen. RIGHT. NOW!!!” Paula screamed as she shoved her husband out of her once-sparkling kitchen.

Carl tried to hide his I-told-you-so grin and sauntered out of the kitchen. The weekend had started out like every other weekend before it but over coffee, Carl and his lovely wife began conversing about the gender roles of the 21^st century. The conversation had soon turned into a debate and finally a challenge, Paula irately charging her husband that for the day they would ‘switch’ roles. Always up for a challenge, Carl agreed and asked his wife to outline the rules…”just as soon as you stop breathing like a water buffalo, dear” he added just for a bit of fun.

Scowling at him, Paula folded her hands calmly in front of her and sat quietly for a second. Then, reaching out for a pen and the morning paper her husband had finished reading, she started scribbling. “Ok, smart guy. We’ll set up just a few ground rules and by the end of the day, we’ll just see who’s breathing like a water buffalo then!” Paula said in her iciest tone. After a few minutes of discussion, the couple came up with a few basic rules for their day.

The rules included one basic grooming habit, one general area they had to stay out of for the day, the switching of each other’s weekend chores and one main task that the other partner was hoping to complete that day. Satisfied they each set to getting started, both confident that they would have the last laugh at the end of the day.

Paula started out fine, she was actually relieved that she wouldn’t need to worry about doing her makeup for once. Washing her face and patting it dry, she looked at her reflection and tried not to shudder. “Well, one down… that wasn’t so tough,” She thought to herself. “I wonder if it counts if I just put a bit of concealer around my crow’s feet,” she wondered out loud as every blemish seems to magnify magically in front of her. “It counts!” Carl yelled from the hallway. Paula tsked and quickly shut the bathroom light off.

Looking at her list she thought she would tackle one of Carl’s chores first, yard work. Over two hours later, Paula hobbled inside and collapsed on the couch. Sweaty, scratched up and sporting a few welts from a hornet’s nest she had discovered in one of their azaleas, Paula was ready to throw in the towel on the whole day. After a few panting minutes, Pala opened one eye to scan for where her husband might be, the house was too quiet. “Carl? Where are you?” She called.

“Back here!” she heard a muffled voice call from the guest bathroom. A minute later, Carl appeared from the hallway with a big grin on his face. Or what Paula thought was a big grin. It was hard to tell behind the camouflage makeup Carl had covered his face and neck with. “What in holey cheese have you done?” Paula screeched in alarm.

Through his goofy grin Carl said, “What? Don’t you like it? The rules said I had to wear makeup but they didn’t say how. I think it really brings out my eyes, what do you think?”

Paula huffed out of the room in outrage. “Ah come on, sweet cheeks! You’re takin this way too seriously!” Carl called after her still smirking.

Spending the remainder of the day completing Carl’s other chores, Paula was on the brink of complete exhaustion as she stood and stared at the fence that was in desperate need of repair. “How the heck am I supposed to fix this?” she moaned a little pathetically. Still, she refused to let Carl win and began to hammer a few nails in a sagging post.

As the sun was setting, Paula entered her home completely worn out for the second time that day. Walking straight to her bathroom and into the shower, Paula only noticed the faint burning smell once she had toweled off and was putting on her sweats. Chuckling to herself she thought, “Guess Carl is having as hard of a time in my world as I’ve had in his.” Walking into the living room, Paula plopped down on the couch for a quick nap and yelled to Carl in her most sugary-sweet voice, “When’s dinner, honey?”

“Um… looks like it’s gonna be a little while. Why don’t you take a little nap and I’ll let you know when it’s time to eat?” came Carl’s somewhat shaky reply.

Paula closed her eyes and smiled to herself. She might just win this thing.

Not ten minutes later, Paula felt someone nudging her shoulder. Peeking through sleep-blurred eyes, she saw Carl bending over her with something in his hand. “Dinner, my lady,” he said as he offered her a bowl. Sitting up a bit as she took the food, Paula took a curious look at what Carl had thrown together for their meal. “Cereal? Seriously, Carl? Now that’s just a plain cop out. The rules plainly said to cook dinner, this doesn’t count!” she said insistently. “If you didn’t cook anything? Then what was that burning smell earlier?” Paula said with a bit of concern in her voice.

“Oh that. I turned the grill on to burn some of the drippings off of it from the last cookout. And as far as cooking dinner. I did. It’s just not edible. So, tonight, we eat cereal!” he declared like a lord addressing his hall of raucous men.

The two dug into their bowls of LIFE cereal and between milky mouthfuls (actually during them) Carl asked Paula, “so how’d the fence turn out?”

Paula looked away guiltily. “Uh, fine. The fence is fine.” Seeing that flimsy answer wasn’t gonna fly she continued, “Ok fine. I had one of the neighbor boys come over and fix it. Oh, and you owe him $20.”

Carl laughed and started walking back into the kitchen for a second bowl. Getting up to put her bowl in the sink, Paula was about to declare defeat and crawl into bed when she stopped short. “What… what have you done in here?!?!” she looked wide-eyed around her beautiful kitchen that was now almost unrecognizable.

“Oh, I thought I’d do a little cleaning, but I couldn’t find the cleaning spray. Then I thought that the drawers might need to be better organized so I emptied everything onto the counters. I was about to put everything back when I realized it was time to start making dinner. Don’t worry I’ll clean it up, plus you’re not allowed in here until the bet is over, remember?”

Paula’s face was crimson going on magenta as she assessed the damage to her precious kitchen.

 

“I can’t take it anymore! Out of my kitchen. RIGHT. NOW!!!”

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      While Andy and I didn’t exactly do a role-reversal today, there were some comical variations to our usual routine that could be considered a bit ‘outside the box’. It being the weekend and I had nowhere of import to be, I went au natural with the makeup today. Can I just say how nice it is to rub my eye and not worry about smudging mascara all over my face to the point of looking like a 1930s bank robber or a raccoon? Ahhh…. So nice. Andy on the other hand, spent about 3 hours doing his makeup today. Ok, yes it was for a film, and yes it was camouflage / burn victim makeup but I have to bust his chops a little bit at the prima donna attitude that seemed to grow more intense with each layer of foundation.

The HORROR! The HUMANITY!

A few other switches to mention, I spent the majority of the day working in the yard while my lovely boyfriend spent his day in the kitchen… cooking up a batch of monster-movie makeup with gelatin and glycerin. He did bust out his culinary talents and whipped us up some delish hot wings for din din, though.  Yummo.

Love & Squirrels.