Getting Older (and Wiser)

Saturday was a blast from the past...and it was a little unsettling. My beautiful 17-year-old cousin had a starring role in her (and my former) high school production of Peter Pan. So being the good family member that I am, I drove down to Chattanooga on Saturday to see it.

Just walking through the doors of the auditorium--and smelling the all-too-familiar smell--gave me chills. Not much had changed about the place, but I'd changed so much since I'd last been there.

The last GPS spring musical I saw was with my high school sweetheart our senior year. I remember feeling so old and superior sitting in that auditorium, just weeks away from graduation. The world was spread before us. We knew everything. Nothing could touch us.

It was so odd to sit there again on Saturday, waiting for the show to start, and look around at all the current students. I remember how old and cool I felt at that time--but these self-conscious teens were not matching up to my inner image. Did I really used to look like that? Did I honestly swoon over these pimply faced pubescent boys with disheveled hair and torn-up New Balances?

My first thought was that kids just get younger and younger every year. And then it hit me--no, we just get older and older. Eighteen-year-olds will always look the way they do, it's just our perception of them that changes.

You can worry yourself to death about getting older and the fact that kids who look 13 are zooming past you in souped up cars...or you can just be happy in whatever stage you're in. Every age has good and bad points. It's up to you to focus on the good.

Because although I envy those high-schoolers their fresh-faced innocence, I'd rather have my self-confidant, drama-free self any day.

XXX Spring Cleaning XXX

Here's an idea: we all rise up and demand that three-day weekends be a regular occurrence. Because who in their right mind would complain about working several more hours each day if you could have EVERY FRIDAY OFF?! Think of how much traveling, tanning, partying, shopping, sleeping, etc. could get done! Who wants to draft the petition?

I took advantage of my extra day off and actually did something productive--I completely cleaned out and reorganized my closet.

Being the neatnik that I am, the stunning after-effects of complete color coordination give me an indescribable rush. It makes the four full hours spent absolutely worth it.

And in the process of digging out my stored summer clothes in the basement...I stumbled upon an entire box full of my landlord's porn. After a little shriek of surprise, I drug Jennie down to look at my discovery. We then hauled the thing upstairs to giggle over it's contents and show our friends.

That night, we had a bunch of people over to officially break in the karaoke machine and after several drinks, started to dub lyrics about porn into the songs. There is NO way he didn't hear them...but that's just what he gets for putting "Fantastic Fucking 4" on top of my effing tanktops.

Failed Mission

Jennie and I were driving out of our driveway yesterday (heading to "Body Sculpt" which is taught by a scary man with a crew cut and handle bar mustache) when we were flagged down by our landlord/neighbor/resident creep-o.

(window rolls down to prevent him from peering at us through the open sunroof)
Landlord: So...I see you got a new toy...
(My first thought: You are such a perv.)
Landlord: I've been enjoying the fun you have with it...
Me: Uh, what are you talking about?
Landlord: Your karaoke machine!! At first I thought you were listening to the TV really loudly, but then quickly figured out that it was YOUR voices.
Me: (awkward laughter) Yeah, we've been having quite the time. We'll try to keep it down...
Landlord: No problem! I enjoy it! It's getting to the point where I can figure out which one of you is singing!
Me: Um, okay. Well... Late for class! Got to go! Bye!

AH! I thought for sure that the karaoke machine would provide the ultimate amusement for us while causing the ultimate annoyance for him! But it appears as if we're entertaining him as well.

But if he thinks for one second that he's going to get an invite to SingFest 2K6...he's going to suffer quite a staggering blow of disappointment.

She Thinks [Nothing About You] is Sexy...

I've been living in this city for almost a year and have officially seen a grand total of THREE celebrities up-close. (Quite pitiful, really.)

On Monday morning, I was on my way to work and got stopped at a red light. I look over, and my very first thought is, "I recognize that funny little dude from somewhere!"

Two seconds later, it hit me that I was sitting next to none other than Kenny Chesney...driving an expensive Mercedes convertible with the top down. Looking like a country-fried leprechaun in a big-boy car. And I laughed out loud at the fact that I actually found him attractive back in high school.

Sadly, I couldn't exactly take a picture while driving...but the image of his shrunken self in that macho car would be a real gut-buster for you if I had.

Later that same day, Jenn and I briefly closed up the office to walk around the CMT Award Show venue and took a picture in front of the red carpet entrance as they were setting up:

Because hey, we might technically LIVE in this city...but it doesn't mean we can't act like cheesy tourists every now and again.

You Can Call Me "Badass"

Last night, I finally overcame my fear and went to my very first spinning class. Cody convinced me to go with him...and it truly wasn't as horrible as I'd imagined...

Meaning I managed not to have a coronary aneurysm halfway through the class.

Apparently spinning classes are quite popular at the Y because there was a line at the door 15 minutes before the class even started (to the point where I expected people to start throwing 'bows in an attempt to get a bike). We waited in an anxious herd for the previous class to finish up and then proceeded to stampede into the room like refugees at a Red Cross food tent.

I found my perfectly placed bike (halfway towards the back, against the far left wall, out of the instructor's eye sight) and laughed out loud when I discovered that the damn thing actually had foot clips. I'm sorry, but if you're hardcore enough to CLIP YOURSELF IN to your exercise bike...you need to just buy some colorful spandex, find an outdoor bike lane and stop annoying me with your lame-ness.

But the fun and games were over the moment Marcus-the-drill-sergeant walked in the room. To paint you a clear picture, I'll start off by saying that ONE of his legs was bigger around than my waist. And he was outfitted in head-to-toe Tour de France style spandex...with a Britney Spears head mic.

Everything started out easy enough. We were trucking along at a light resistance when all of the sudden he started screaming at us to get out of the saddle, turn up the resistance and peddle through our calf burn at a constant 105 RPM.

I swear I wanted to shoot him. Especially since he kept this up for 45 minutes straight. And made us go longer because someone cracked a smile.

But when the class FINALLY ended, I felt an incredible sense of pride (that I hadn't died). And that Cody was as equally sweaty and red-faced (if not sweatier) as me. And talk about some exercise-induced endorphins! I was thrumming with them. So, crazy as it sounds, I'm thinking about going back next week. Because it's the best workout I've had in a long time (and it can only get easier from here). Who knows, I just might turn into quite the spinning enthusiast...

Just promise me that if you EVER see me in padded spandex shorts and bicycle clips, you'll give me three swift punches in the throat.

My Life Has Officially Changed for the Better

Last night, I broke down and actually bought my very own karaoke machine. I've been thinking about if for a while now...then yesterday's post made me think about it some more. So I impulsively drove to Toys R' Us after work and bought one.

Once there, I marched straight up to a man in the "electronics department" and asked him to show me the karaoke machines. He gave me a strange look (which did not phase me in the least). I mean hey, he's 30 and still working at a Toys R' Us...he has NO right to judge my entertainment choices.

It only cost me a cool $50--which I'd say is more than worth it for the potential years of joy it will bring.

Jennie and I busted it out of it's box as soon as I got back to the house and hooked the little sucker up. (It's best feature by far is the fact that it plugs right into your TV set for optimum viewing/listening enjoyment.)

We popped that CD in and were captivated for the rest of the evening. We invited Andrea over, cracked open some beers and sang (and laughed hysterically) for three straight hours. No lie. I realized around 10 that I never stopped to eat dinner.

It's now Day #2 of "life with a karaoke machine" and I've already added 5 more CDs to my collection. We're up to 100 different songs to choose from. This is BIG TIME...we're talking super parties in our near future.

And an ADDED karaoke machine bonus: annoying the shit out of my landlord through the air vents. But no worries there...if he DARES to say something to us about it, I'm just going to politely ask for my panties back. And THEN we'll see what more he has to add to the subject!

Taking Requests...

I don't feel very good. As in that groggy-underwater feeling you get right before you get sick. I knew the moment I stood blankly in front of the fax machine wondering why it didn't resemble the water cooler (which is one room over--just like it's always been) that I need to go back to bed for three days.

This past weekend flat wore me out. (Which makes me feel incredibly old to say.) Friday night, Jim and I went out in Nashville. Well, we started out at Cody's house because he has his very OWN karaoke machine. Of which I partook heavily...because it's nearly impossible for me to resist both a microphone and a captive audience.

We wound up at Decade's downtown where I danced my heart out. And requested numerous Michael Jackson songs (because despite his creepy sexual tendencies, he knows how drop a mad beat). And before we knew it, it was 3 a.m. and we were forced to go home.

Which was a good thing considering that Jim and I had sworn up and down that we'd get up at 9 the next morning to hit the road to Oxford. Which was NOT fun. Especially since my eyeballs resembled those of a rehab patient...but things improved greatly after our pit-stop through Sonic.

The one night I spent in Oxford was fabulous. Especially because most of my girls were back in town for an impromptu reunion. We all had dinner at Two Stick and then went out on the square. Because the bars (horribly) close at midnight on Saturdays, we headed back to Adrienne & Moni's for a late night. Which entailed the girls piled on Moni's bed gossiping and the guys doing who-knows-what idiotic things in the den.

I had such a content feeling just sitting there talking. A good portion of the people I care about were gathered in one place and it just felt safe. I wish we could do that all the time. I miss them all so much...

Sunday, Moni and I went to Julie's bridal shower at the DG house. Talk about a blast from the PAST. I felt completely foreign in a once-familiar environment. Not much about the house had changed (except for Mrs. Mattox's now blonde hair), yet almost every aspect of MY life is different. Scarily, we'd somehow become "those older girls having a shower in the chapter room" that we had whispered about just two years ago.

I absolutely loved seeing everyone again, but it was a tad bit uncomfortable to sit and pretend I give two shits about china patterns and pyrex sets. Because let's be honest, there are two distinct types of young 20-somethings:

1) Those who yearn for Wedgewood china.
2) Those who would kill for THIS.

I DEFINITELY fall into the latter category.