Tornado Warning

Above is a map demonstrating the delicate and slightly scary situation Liz and I found ourselves in on our way home yesterday.

HOLY MUTHER FOCKING TORNADO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After surviving the Boji Boys this weekend (stories to come...) I thought that I was invincible and that I can hang with the best of them. Mother Nature saw how cocky I was getting and she had to throw down an effing tornado in my lap to put me into Check.

Damn, Mother Nature. One minute you're sunny outside and I am thinking that I am going to make good time even after the Phone Fiasco* and the next minute it's pitch black outside and the menacing clouds have moved in. I barely had time to kick my windshield wipers into high gear to turn on my hazards... because I should probably turn them on since the car 10 feet in front of me has them on and I can hardly make the guy out.

After debating for a few minutes on the merits of which is safer (driving 5 MPH on a highway vs. pulling onto the shoulder of the highway), I pulled over. And stayed there for an hour. We were FINALLY able to find a radio station that was giving weather updates. Actually, they didn't really update us on anything; everything they were telling us we already knew! "It's raining really heavy outside. Stay inside! There are strong winds. Take cover immediately! The environment is ripe for tornadic activity. OH, THIS JUST IN... There has been a confirmed tornado touchdown in Stone State Park. More Weather after God Smack!!!"

No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not God Smack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*We were 30 minutes out and I realized I had left my phone....

Home Safe

I am just in from my completely awesome and poor-decision riddled weekend in Okoboji, Iowa. "Boji," as the locals call it, is the home town of Liz. She took me up there to meet her family and I am now an honorary member of the Boji Family.

There will be stories to come about all the Boji Boys, because well, if I didn't have really fantastic stories behind my 4 dozen bruises, 3 cuts, 1 burn and a head bump, you would think I didn't have any fun at all!

An Iranian, a Jew & a French Canadian Walk Into a bar...

... and the Iranian got drunk.

Thank you "Steffell" for taking care of me and getting me home safely.

To Stef - I am now in love with Honky Tonk Dancing - or whatever the hell I was trying to do is called. Let's go again!

Everyone have a safe and fun (both CAN exist simultaneously) holiday weekend. I'm headed to Lake Okoboji in Iowa.

Gonna Make You Sweat!

There are times in one's life when you achieve such quiet reflection over who you are as a person and you are able to finally put everything together about why you're here, who you are supposed to be and what is important in this life.

And then your tits fart.

That's right boys and girls, Friday night I went to Hot Yoga. I'll get to the flatuclating breasts in a moment, but for those of you who are not aware, Hot Yoga is 90 minutes of yoga done in a room that is kept at a balmy 105 degrees. Sticking me in a room that is that hot COUPLED with an intense work out was a definite lack of judgment on my part. I've done Regular Room Temperature Yoga before and should have realized that there were going to holds and grabs and extensions that even with dry skin, are difficult for me to hold. To paint an accurate picture of what Friday looked like, I am going to fall back on a timeless analogy:

It was like wrestling an effing greased pig.

And losing.

The instructor often, mockingly, instructed us to wipe off our hands to dry them. Unless she meant I was welcome to wipe off on her pant leg, I wasn't sure what dry surface area she was talking about. Every square inch of me was covered in sweat. YES, even there. And let me tell you, nothing feels more bizarre. Who knew you could sweat IN your ears.

And now back to why you’re really reading. So, I’d say we were about half way through and the instructor had guided us into a pose that left us bent at the knees and the instructor wanted us to put our chin into our chest and move as close to our knees as possible. I’m holding this position, KNOWING that I can reach nirvana. I envision myself reaching this pose, knowing that my spine will allow me to move into position. I take a deep breath and push my chin towards my chest.

The effect was nothing less than performing a “razzberry” on a toddler’s stomach. The angle of my chin and the force behind it hit at the right angle, causing a loud “ripping” sound. At the same time, the (substantial amount of) liquid on both surface areas were hit with this vibration, causing a “shower” of sorts to rain onto my face.

Needless to say, I lost my focus.

Oh well, there is always the next life to achieve Nirvana… who else can say they made their chest cut the cheese?

Commited

I wouldn't characterize myself as commitment-phobic. Rather, I'd say that I'm just really, really open to change and want to be able to change at a moments notice. A lot of people would say that people who are unable to commit are insecure and unable to think for themselves; always relying on others or changing their minds at the last second due to their flaky nature. I say I just have a short attention span and really have no clue what I am doing this Saturday so why bothering asking on a Wednesday!

With that being said, I will be making a commitment. With a guy. I know this may come as a shock for most of you, and for those of you not shocked yet... the guy in question is gay.

Now you're shocked. And maybe confused.

My gym membership is month to month. I like it this way. There is no contract to sign, no membership fees or dues and no cancellation charges. Wham-Bam Thank-You Ma'am. Nice and easy. We're still talking about my gym membership.

However, there are other options. A two-some can go month to month at a discounted rate. And a two-some can buy 6 months at an even more discounted rate. I've been asked to be someones gym two-some. This is both an honor and completely frightening. Do I see myself going to this gym in 6 months time? Yes. Do like the idea of saving about $75? Yes. Do I like the fact that I am now part of a "couple?" No. Though, it is befitting that one of my most significant relationships at this point in my life BE with a gay man, I just don't know if I am ready yet. I know I can trust him and I know that he'll always honestly tell me how I look in my workout outfit.

I suppose that this is good practice for me to not be so afraid of making commitments. Going through this could make me less prone to anxiety when making plans more than a week out. Or choosing an outfit to wear in the morning. Or ordering lunch.

So, wish me luck everyone. Hopefully this will all work out for the best. The good thing is that we're both aware that this is a relationship of convenience, nothing more is excepted of either of us. A commitment with low expectations is hopefully one that I won't eff up.

Over Achiever

The new job is awesome. It's really laid back and casual. Today I took a yoga class over my lunch hour. It's a different way of life for me now...

I suppose I just wanted to get the formalities out of the way. I have already accomplished "farting at my desk on accident*" and "getting sexually harassed" here. You're impressed, I know.

The first one was, obviously, on accident. I coughed a little too hard. You're welcome Shannan.

As for the sexual harassment, I have made it clear that I do not need anyone (especially him) watching me do yoga and that I will NOT go stand in the rain in my white shirt regardless of how nice he asks. I will keep you updated if he requires a mouthful of my fist.

*Who else here is surprised I didn't fart in the Yoga class? ::raising hand::

Sunday (literal) Rundown

Thursday night, the Tripod (Lizzie, WhittyWoo & I) made an appearance at Davey's Uptown. In part to celebrate the job offer I received (and accepted) but also because we were invited by Ben. Ben is a member of The KC Pimp and he invited us there to enjoy a funky (11 member) jazz band. The music was great, dancing and grooving to the 5 horns, 2 drums, keyboard, guitar, bass and huge beaded noise maker thingie was good times. And mad props to that old, old black guy with half a set of teeth and a walking cane for getting all us whities to get our groove on.

Ben wasn't even a special kind of crazy/weird. At least that is what I thought. His eyes were a little buggy and toward the end of the night, was dancing a little too close for comfort. I lied when I said I'd call him sometime.

Seeing how underwhelming (either way) this meeting was, I wasn't even going to mention it. Until he chased us down Sunday afternoon. LITERALLY.

The 3 of us were doing some window shopping in our neighborhood shops and boutiques and had just popped into a local card and gift shop. I was busy looking at the coFFee staiN card collection when I hear someone walk in and say "THERE you girls are."

I look up and see Ben all sweaty and out of breath. WTF? WhereTF? HowTF? WhyTF?

Liz and Whitney start the small talk, thankfully, since I am still looking at him in disbelief that he chased us down the road on his bicycle and followed us into the store. Upon interrogation he admits to being in the neighborhood since we spoke so highly of it. Um, weird dude. That is actually a form of stalking. I don't do jack to keep a conversation flowing, hoping he'd get the hint and leave. He doesn't.

He finally leaves and the store owner asks if we know that guy. Groaning "yes"es, we admit to it and she responds that she's seen that guy around from time to time and he is weird. Liz asks if we're going to talk about what just happened and I told her, just like the giant zit on my forehead; we are ignoring it.