Thnks fr th Mmrs

Little break from the Epic Road Trip of 2021 to talk for a bit about memories.

Maybe not just memories, but also memory.

Me trying to find my keys on the daily.

Memories are images and feelings recollected from your past.

Memory being your ability to store and remember those images and feelings.

(BTW, this is clearly no substitute for Webster's definition of these words, you should probably GTS if you want to know the difference instead of relying on my loose explanation here.)

Anyway, I got to thinking about both this morning at 3:30 AM when I was working on budget revisions and delinquency trackers while listening to Janis Joplin.

Bobby McGee came on, of course, and I started thinking about the 60's and Woodstock and Kent State and the Freedom Riders and Marilyn and burning bras and Nehru jackets and all the fun and fury that the people who lived through those days experienced.

I wish...

I literally started crying.

I have always been obsessed with that era and wished that I had been born sometime between 1945 and 1950 so I could have lived through those days.  

Anyway, it got me thinking about memory, memories, nostalgia, regret, and how we store and sort our experiences.

Pretty deep shit for 3:30 AM, but sleep deprivation does weird things to one's brain, no?

I am pretty sure I have spent more nights in hotels this year than I have in all of my previous years combined.  Travelling for work is nowhere near as fun or exotic as I imagined when I was a little girl sitting at the top of Charlie, the cedar tree across the street that was my best tree friend, or prancing about in my manzanita fort draped in items purloined from my sister's closet as I pretended I was Alexis Carrington.

I find it kind of weird that, nearly every time I have woken up in a hotel room this year, the first thing that comes into my mind is FG.  FG is someone I barely know.  I mean, we used to have lots of funny, weird, slightly narky convos.  There was a lot of laughing out loud - in person and in text - and a lot of inside jokes, but no real depth of knowledge about each other, and that was entirely intentional on my part.

If FG isn't the first thing that I think of, it's LD.  And LD is like part of my own skin, so it makes sense that my thoughts would go to him first.  Regardless, whichever one I first think about as I roll over and stretch and smell that clean, sterile hotel-room-sheet smell, the other one pops in rather quickly.

Which is odd because I have dozens of memories of LD, whereas FG is more of a memory than anything else, but I have hung out in a hotel room with FG twice as often as I have with LD. (BTW, for you moralists tsk-tsking at me - that ratio is 2:1, so stuff it.)

(PS - the exception here is when I am on an Epic Road Trip with C and D.  THOSE mornings I would wake up, like, how am I even alive?  where am I?  who am I?  why is there an industrial washing machine clanking and crashing behind my left eyeball? why are those bottles empty? am I going to make it home? is that piece of paper on the floor a Dear John letter from my liver, pancreas, or similar?)

Seriously, guys??  What. The. Fuck.  I'm going to McDonald's

ANYway, as I was mulling over my capricious memory, I realized that - never once - have I thought about MG when I woke up in a hotel room, even though MG and I used to meet up in hotel rooms on a sporadic basis over a period of years.  Even more odd is the fact that I haven't thought about MG in months, even though I considered him one of my best buds for about a decade.

SIDE NOTE:  I am sure some of you are calling the IRS and asking them to review my taxes and possibly emailing my relatives to let them know I am most likely a hooker or something, but I can assure you that is not the case.  The fact is that, as a single mother who has, er, needs and has no intention of getting involved in a relationship, I won't ever bring a dude I plan on -erm- banging (sorry!!) into my child's space.  Her home is just that - her home.  It is sacrosanct to me to keep her space hers and to never put her in a position where my...extracurricular...activities cause her any discomfort or embarrassment in her space.  So while you may be questioning my morals, or simply cringing, you can't deny that I have a point in this matter. 

Okay, now that I got that out of the way, I need to explain that my rambling about hotels and memory in conjunction was because I woke up (alone, pinkie swear!) in a hotel this morning and it set off a spiral of ruminations on what we keep with us as we go through life and how it affects our days, our lives, and the days of our lives (haha, was watching FRIENDS while working at 3:30).

Happy Thanksgiving!

Why do some people or events stick with us for days, weeks, months, years, and even decades and we have to reminded of other people, places and things that used to be so important to us because they fell off the plateau of our existence?

How can you talk to or work with or commute with someone every day for years and then one day realize you can't even remember exactly what they look like or why you found them so necessary?

How can you miss talking to someone you barely knew, but not mind one bit if you never again set eyes on someone you thought was your best friend for years?

Back on the FREINDS tip, I can remember where I was and who I was with the first time I saw any of the shows that roll in in constant rerun.  It is a bizarre sensation sometimes, but other times I am grateful for the memories and glad my memory held onto that.

Speaking of memory...sometimes I think I either have early-onset Alzheimer's, or I am just a remarkable revisionist.  My memory is like a sieve that has caught some of the most random things, and let other super-important things slip.  

And memories... man, those will do you in every time, yeah?

Unless you can't remember them, that is.

I journal a lot (and blog, obvs), but sometimes I am surprised when I go revisit them.  Like, THAT happened??  Oh, wait, yeah it totally happened and you stepped on glass on the way home and had to hop half a mile in a flip-flop until it broke and then you just made your BFF give you a piggyback ride home in spite of the fact you outweighed her by 20lbs.

So, like, the only people - besides the Russian bots - that read this thing are my friends - old and new - and random Insta dudes, so I can't imagine how this is going to go down with such a random demographic.

Imma close this out by saying that, if you are one of my friends and you are reading this, thanks for the memories.  I am sure we had a lot of fun, and you can bet I cherish all of the fun we had.

If I remember it, that is.

Ya'll remember these?  I want one and, like, 12 D batteries!

Also...LD?  Jealous.  So, so jealous.

Eat It

I loved Weird Al so much when I was a kid. LOVED HIM! I mean, I still do, but I don't sit around listing to his tapes on a boombox and snickering while eating Smurfberry Crunch on a Saturday morning.

BTW, I miss Smurfberry Crunch sooooo much! I reeeeaaaallllllyyy hoped some marketing genius would resurrect it when the Smurf's enjoyed a brief cinematic resurgence several years ago but - alas! - nope.

Can someone PLEEEEAASE make this a thing again?? I don't care if I am fat forever! 

Anyway, as I am titling all of my blogs with songs titles, I couldn't decide whether this post should be titles "Eat It" or "Fat", as they are 2 of my favorite Weird Al songs. 

 Fat is my favorite of the 2, only because of the verse "And my shadow weighs a-42 pounds let me tell you once again, who's fat". 

 However, I decided for this particular post, to use "Eat It" since I WAS skinny at the beginning of Day 5 of the Epic Road Trip, and we deliberately drove around to eat everything J had ever seen on TikTok.

We start the day not hung over, which is a relatively new experience for me this particular week, and it feels great. 

 D has proved himself the Best Chauffer On The Planet by having a piping hot pot of coffee brewed when we get up, and J busts out her phone to show us a series of Tiktok videos that are a roadmap of the groovy places we are going to be eating at today. 

 Step One: Downtown Disney. We hit the road, counting Jeeps the whole way, natch, and arrive in Anaheim ready to nosh. Beignets. Panko Pickle Dog. French Toast Churros. 

 

Beignets were yum!

French Toast Churros > Regular Churros all day long.

This.  Is.  Everything.  If you fed me one every day for the rest of my life, I would never ask the universe for anything again.

All were delish but...  a word about the pickle dog, if I may.

HOLY FUCK, YA'LL. 

 Okay, that was 3 words but, I MEAN! 

 Pickle, hot dog, corn-dog batter, panko, and peanut butter. 

 This thing was fucking glorious and I could have easily eaten 3 all by myself but they took, like, 4 years to cook and we had 412 other places to visit for food by 5:00 so I restrained myself. 

Incidentally, I am THE BIGGEST bird nerd ever, I frickin' love birds and could watch them do bird shit (not literal shit, BTW) for hours. 

These Downtown Disney birds, tho? 

 Fuck these birds. 

 Seriously. 

 They pretty much walked up and were like, YO, give us some of your food. And I was like, nah fam, I don't share food. And they were like, No worries you greedy bitch, you look clumsy AF so we gonna post up here until your sloppy ass gets crumbs everywhere. 

 Which they did. And I did. 

This guy and his friends were very persistent!

 Next stop: Brew Hawg BBQ. Um, yes.

We got an unsweetened, soft waffle cone stuffed with house-made mac and cheese, topped with smoked meat - I got tri-tip, but I am pretty sure the rest of our crew got pulled pork, brisket, belly, chicken, or hot links - I don't remember because I was in food ecstasy at this point.  ANYway, this was topped off with an ice-cream scoop of homemade mashed potatoes and a drizzle of BBQ sauce.  

Um, remember that pickle dog?

I don't.

LOOK AT THEM!

"Cheers!"

We decided to head to Requiem Coffee, but they were closed, so we roamed Downtown Anaheim for a while until we saw Por Vida and thought OF COURSE WE NEED TACOS, I mean - who doesn't ever?

Anyway, we ordered some chips and salsa, some pico fries, and a fried chicken taco with kale slaw and a frickin' smoked paprika Coca Cola glaze.

Did you read that right?

Did I spell that wrong? 

That is actually real, ya'll, and I offer you proof:

I love those people that are genetically incapable of eating cilantro!  MORE FOR ME!

Did you read the part about the smoked paprika Coca Cola glaze??  It was heaven!

We wandered back to Requiem Coffee, considerably heavier than we were an hour before, but in spite of the fact that they had a Monokuma Waffle cone, none of us got anything.

Instead, we headed back north and went to Krazy Cup Munchies Bar, where J and A got the KRAZIEST smoothie/slurpy/slushy/whatever, and I debated whether or not my recently-expanded-by-tacos form would conceal the life-sized Darth Vader statue, were I to attempt to smuggle it out the door.

I didn't steal the Vader, and I didn't get anything from the Lebanese bakery next door, although I did wander in and narrowly avoided drooling on the display cases as I perused their wares.

We then returned to the Disney side of the road to hit up Tortilla Joe's for guacamole and margarita flights but - in spite of Google's assurances to the contrary - they were closed.  So we walked around, Jim said hi to me, and then we decided to return to SD and see what N was up to.

Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyy, buddy!

After a lovely sunset walk on the beach and a remarkable case of brain-freeze from a $14 6-oz "Miami Vice" (half pina colada, half strawberry daiquiri) that C and I were forced to chug because "no alcohol on the beach", we returned to the Z's home and spent a little while eating, drinking excessively (DUH!) and plotting our next adventures.

*SWOON*  I frickin' love San Diego!

Which I will share with you tomorrow.

Or a month from now - who knows?

***PS - I started writing this on 8/14, hours after C and D and I rode Sisu down to Long Beach for a day of food and fun - NO drinking, although I reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaallllyyy could have used a cocktail or 7 before we drove over the bridge to Astoria!! 

ANYway, when I was trying to decide between "Eat It" or "Fat" for this blog title, I decided to watch both videos for fun.  In the beginning of "Fat", one of Weird Al's homies pulls a piece of pizza out of his pocket, and I couldn't help laughing because my fat ass literally had been carrying a piece of pizza in  the pocket of my overalls for at least an hour that day -- for the crows, of course -- before I chucked it onto the beach for the seagulls.  

'Fat', indeed!  🤦‍♀️

San Diego Song

 Day 4.

OMG….

WHY AM I AWAKE?

WHY DOES EVERYTHING HURT?

 

I am alive, apparently, because my back feels like a bag of QuickCrete that got left out in your Uncle Jim’s back yard for 3 years.  

My head feels like there are a bunch of toddlers in there, letting loose in a bounce house.  

My nasal cavity feels like the Holland Tunnel at rush hour – a sure sign I was snoring all night.  

I would feel sorry for C except I can see that she is still totally  unconscious, and I bet she was snoring just as loud as I was. 

I am sure John Lennon meant the whole “girl with kaleidoscope eyes” thing as a compliment, but as I haul my butt nekkid (gross, sorry!) meat suit into a siting position I have to squint through the rainbow fractals clouding my vision to see that it is, apparently, morning.

 

We only like this view after taking mushrooms.  If you see this after a near-miss at alcohol poisoning...NO.

UGH.

UUUUUGGGGHH.

Eventually C comes to life and we shuffle around the room and get ready to human again.

D comes to get us and haul our pained, dehydrated, barely animated selves to the Zeez.

It is too bright there.  Too many people – 4, actually – are awake, talking, breathing, and apparently living their best lives.

I just want a blood transfusion and a back massage, but I will settle for the bomb-ass breakfast bagels that a WAY too-chipper N fixes for all of us.

I miss Bruegger's so much!!

What are we doing today?  WHY ARE WE EVEN DOING ANYTHING??

Oh, WAIT! 

Today is Beach Day, so YAY!!

I could definitely use some Vitamin Sea.  Actually, at this point, I could use any and all vitamins, but being in the ocean is definitely the one thing that could make Zombie Mary human again.

We pack snacks, sunscreen (well, C doesn’t), towels, etc. and head out.

I lay my head against the window, sunglasses on, mask discreetly placed so that, should I zone out and start drooling, there will be no evidence to incriminate me.

We go on base, and then go to a store.  UGH.  I don’t want to be in a store, I want to be in an ocean.  It’s too bright out, people (by people, I mean C and D and N and J) are talking too much, and I don’t want to walk or talk or even pretend that I am a middle aged adult human and not the alcohol recycling plant I have morphed into.

Sigh.

We buy a shit-ton of alcohol and snacks.  WHY?  Why all the alcohol?  Apparently being on vacation means that my liver, which was previously used for detoxifying (although this doesn't apply to male humans) shit I put in my body, is now forced to step up and man the ship this week. 

Poor Larry.  (Larry is my liver, BTW.  I picture him as a hard-working little guy, wearing a clip-on tie, one of those weird green eye-shade-thingies from the 50's, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, frantically manning a wall of incomprehensible dials and switches as he, manfully, struggles to keep me corporeal).

Anyway, we finally get to the beach, where we set up J’s super duper cool shade thingie – not a pop-up, those are trash! – as soon as I get the all-clear that I have done my part in setting up shade and chairs, I sprint for the water.

I fucking love the ocean, you guys.

LOVE IT.

As soon as I hit the water, I am restored to being a functioning human. 

OMMGGGG...I need to be here always.

I have spent the last 20 years in the PNW and will get into that grey, frigid, biting water that is our stretch of the Pacific Ocean at the drop of a hat.  You literally cannot keep me out of the water.

THIS ocean, though…

OMG, I am moving to San Diego as soon as I get home.

I think I spent 30 minutes just hopping and playing in the waves with A.  It was fucking glorious.

Beach Buddies

N and J came down to play with A, and I went back to kick it with C and D in the shade.

The rest of the day was just heavenly.

D and N made a giant Happy Mother’s Day sign for us ladies (HA!) in the sand, we chatted and plotted what our next few days were going to be like.

Awwww...so cute!

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous.

We left the beach, went to the store again (what? Why?)  Because we did not get enough alcohol, apparently.  D and J decided to stock up on enough Truly to last us until the next millennium because they could.  

BTW, Truly is this toxic waste that is attempting to hop on  the seltzer bandwagon.  Even though it is vile demon juice.  D and J cleared the store of their inventory.  Which meant I was going to have to drink it...because VACATION!!

Truly gross.  Truly intoxicating.  Truly drank about 50 gallons worth in May.

Larry hid behind my uterus, begging to not be noticed by the alcohol.

C brazenly ignored the store’s commands and collapsed on an outdoor couch to relax.

Rebel with a major cause.

We got back to the Zees and relaxed, made dinner, made poppers, drank some alcohol (sigh), and went to bed.

I was going to try to cram Monday's shenanigan's in here, but our TikTok food adventure demands its very own day, so...

Anyway, this chipped seashell summed up our day quite well.

<3

 

(More Bounce In) California

Tres. 

We got kind of an early start, probably because D wanted to get out of the window seat/bed-thingie before his back gave out or something. 

We stopped to gas up Sisu, and I went into the store and had to buy deodorant because I left it, along with my platinum blonde wig, in Sacramento. 

So long, Daenerys-head! 

Because it was gas station deodorant, I had one choice: Baby Ass. 

Hooray! I LOVE wearing deodorant that smells like a baby ass…especially in the heat. LOVE IT! 

Anyway, as I returned to a newly-full Sisu, I saw 3 heads-up pennies sitting on top of the trash can. 

Hmmmm…trash pennies? 

Or good-luck pennies? 

Why not both? 

AND there were 3 of them. 

And there were three lucky, trashy (ok that is just me) humans on this trip. 

So, I took the pennies off the gas station trash can, cringing at the feel of COVID, hepatitis, cocaine, and spilled Slurpee that tickled my palm as I did so. I immediately coated the pennies in hanitizer foam, wrapped them in an In N Out napkin, and stowed them under the seat. 

More on the pennies later – it’s hella wholesome! 

Anyway, on the road again, our final sprint to sunny San Diego and the Zeez!! There was music, gossip. shit-talking, snacks, some tap dancing (again, just me), and lots of laughs. We started counting Jeeps – THEY ARE EVERYWHERE, BTW, it’s like a fecking invasion – something we would do over and over on the trip. 

The lack of jeeps in this photo is not representative of our drive, but the gorgeous scenery deffs is!

 I thought it was cute when I started to do it that day, but by the end of the trip I would rather have counted anything but MFing Jeeps. 

 (I still love you Sisu, Togo, and whatever the hell N finally decided to name his Goldfish Cracker-colored baby) 

I think we were just past LA when these totally pimped-out cars started appearing ahead of and around us. 

Custom paint, airbrushed skulls and comic villains, and cool rim$. 

It was pretty cool watching them out the window as we went through the lovely SoCal stop-and-go traffic, but I tried not to stare too much because all of the mamas behind the wheel looked like they were in a bad mood. 

But that may just be because of the way their eyebrows were drawn on. 

One of my favorite things about our trip was all of the people-watching I got to do. 

 I am the driver 98% of the time I go anywhere, so sitting in the back of Sisu as D piloted us hundreds and hundreds of miles over the surface of the planet was rad bc I got to watch all the other humans in their cars. 

 People eating – one lady was deadass eating a whole entire pizza – talking on their phones, texting, making Tik Tok videos, fighting, smoking. 

 It was wild. I am sure somewhere out there on I-5 someone was getting road head, but I never saw that, in spite of my optimism that I would, so I could record them and make a Tik Tok video. 

FINALLY, we reached San Diego, took our rapid COVID tests, raided the liquor store whilst awaiting the results – negative, obvs – and then met the Zeez at Rubio’s for tacos and a lot of salsa. 

D before cautiously doing his swab.  For whatever reason, I chose to clean my prefrontal lobe with mine. My eyes watered for an hour.

 We then went to the Zeez house, where I am pretty sure we started drinking immediately, even though it was, like, not 5:00 anywhere near us. 

(Ok, that was probably just me) 

Buzzed and basking at, like THREE IN THE AFTERNOON. 

 The rest of the afternoon was fun and chatting and catching up and just basking in being relaxed with our friends, knowing we had days to relax and hang out and make the Super-Duper Best Road Trip Ever memories. 

 It was glorious. 

We then went and checked into our hotel, where it was clear that they had either just varnished the furniture, or their sanitization process involved turning all of the ‘wood’ surfaces into the same gunk that is in the La Brea Tar Pits. 

No Bueno. 

A quick room change, and we were off. 

Uh, this is basically what happened next. 

 I am not sure if I was the ‘friend’ or the ‘me’ in this scenario or which one C was. 

 I think both! 

 There was more dancing, I believe I tap danced to All that Jazz in the living room, an entire bottle of Absolut Something-or-Other was consumed by C and me, and a shit ton of sushi was delivered with tobiko on, like, every roll even though I wrote NO EGSS all over everything. 

 I ate it anyway, but DAMN I HATE FISH EGGS! 

Finally, D decided he was going to stay at the Zeez instead of spending the night in a hotel room with 2 “walking bottles of vodka in human form.” (Thank you, Chandler Bing), so he took us back to the hotel and went to get his bags while we loitered outside smoking 

(I know, I know, DO NOT @ me, please!). 

We went inside and were immediately lost. 

 Since we were unable to remember the number or location of our room (I know, I KNOW!), we made the brilliant – if terribly obnoxious decision to run around the hotel, calling D’s name down the halls and sticking our key cards in every door we went past. 

I know. 

IknowIknowIknow. 

 Like, I have been having to travel for work a lot over the last couple of months, and every time I am woken in my hotel room by an obnoxious, inconsiderate a*hole either in the halls or above me, the flames of indignation are immediately smothered by the torrent of shame at what C and I did that night. 

Terrible. 

Just awful. 

I am sure all of the poor humans in that hotel would have rather met these 2 in the hall than C and me.  

Anyway, C either went to the front desk and drunkenly convinced the clerk to give her the room number or D found us. 

In any case, we jumped on the beds and danced around for ages and then eventually passed out. 

I am not sure if C snored, but since I fell asleep intoxicated, you can be sure that I did.

 I woke up with the swollen and sore nasal cavity– among many, many other ailments – to prove it. 

Sleep tight, drunkies!

California Dreamin

 God, I love California.

People who hate California, i.e. PNW dwellers, are the dumbest people alive.  I mean besides people that shoot off into the atmosphere in a giant dildo.

But, seriously, California is so beautiful and every time I go there I am, like, 'Screw you guys (PNW dwellers), I'm going home."  If you didn't read that in Eric Cartman's voice, please go back and do it again.  If you don't know who Eric Cartman is, please stop reading this and go do something else.  Seriously.

ANYWAY, Day 1 of the Waxed and Vaxed road trip came to a close after a rather lovely, pastoral trip through the Central Valley of CA at sunset, and we arrived in Sacramento.  

It was about an hour after dusk, the sun had set but was not done casting some light into the sky, so our setting was still pretty fucking fabulous.

 We checked into our room, I jumped on the bed for a bit, checked for bedbugs, almost broke my foot trying to jump on the mattress of Dale’s fold-out couch, and then got ready for dinner.

 EEEEK!

 Dinner in a restaurant was still pretty stressful to me.  I mean, I had spent previous weeks with M, wining and dining on bar patios in NoPo, but INSIDE??  With all the people and germs and Coronavirus just waiting to latch onto me in the enclosed space and suck me into Hades? 

I am a warrior, of course (translation; didn't want to look like a dork in front of my friends who know exactly how dorky I actually am), so I adjusted my mask, added Lysol wipes to the arsenal of hand sanitizer in my purse, and set out into the warm night with my friends.

We roamed around, dodging hobos and frat boys on those rent-a-bike thingies, put our name in at the restaurant, and then wandered through a groovy tunnel filled with art and discarded rent-a-bikes and then up an escalator, only to see this:

 

Thanks, Jimbo, for showing up.

Literally a jab from my buddy telling me, ‘Chill the f out and enjoy your night with your friends or I will give you bad tacos and food poisoning.”

 

So I did.  We sat down, ordered drinks, ordered food and I hanitizered (Harlowspeak for ‘hand sanitizered’) everything around me.  I looked around at all the unmasked, unafraid humans eating out in an enclosed space and thought, ‘I can do this.  I am with my friends and nothing bad is going to happen to me.”  As my shoulders relaxed, I looked around more and saw this:

Hi, cow!  <3

  

Like, WHAAAAAT??  Clearly the universe was in my corner and had placed my spirit animal and twin flame right behind me to watch over me as I ate and drank with my friends. 

(ISTG, if I ever get a tattoo, it is going to be cow-related!  Cows are everything!)

After dinner we went to our room and passed tf out, and while my roomies’ dueling snores did not keep me from sleep, they both went out of their way to let me know I was the quietest snorer ever when we got up in the morning.

Um, WHAT?  Pssshhhh!  I don’t even snore, so…

 

AND THEY WERE ASLEEP AND SNORING SO HOW WOULD THEY EVEN KNOW?

We left our room, making sure to commandeer a luggage cart for all the shit we brought in for our one night stand with Sac-Town.

There is an actual picture of a human taking a shit in this post, but this isn't it..I was just tired.

We wandered around the Downtown Commons, which was clean and gorgeous (City of Portland, you should probably be taking notes here) and full of plants and music, for a bit and then hit up Old Town where I found a stuffed raccoon and C took an extremely unflattering picture of me on the dock.

This is Chad the Raccoon, I did not buy him because his name was Chad and also because he can't sit on the couch and watch Game of Thrones and eat salami with me.

 

After a fantastic lunch out in the sun, we decided to hit up the Rose Garden at the Capitol on our way South, but there were too many gates and no parking, so we got gas and I took a picture of a random dude taking a shit in broad daylight next to a building and sent it to my child.  BYE, Sac-Town!

This is that picture...sorry, not sorry.

We put more miles on Sisu, talked an awful lot about Jeeps (owning a Jeep is, like, a way of life, BTW.  Like, seriously.  They wave or salute at each other on the road, duck each other – more on that tomorrow – and probably have bizarre pre-purchase initiation rituals that non-Jeepers are not privy to), danced in the backseat – ok, that was just me – and waved at all the wildlife and livestock.  That was just me as well.  Mooooooo!

On our travels south, we stopped at Fields Family Winery in Acampo for a tasting, where D and I proceeded to annoy the shit out of C by talking about wines’ top notes and berry flavors and acidity the way annoying people do on TV.  Also, she hates wine and there was no vodka so she talked a lot of trash while I got a buzz and then a splitting headache from the wine and sunshine combo.

D bought, like, ALL the wine at the end of our tour, and we hopped back into Sisu to roll South again, until we got to our hotel.

Southern CA sunset, Seen from Sisu.

 

I regret to inform you that no one saw fit to record what happened next, but I can assure you it was funny as hell.

We get to our room, 2 queen beds, and I notice that the window has a cushion in it, so I fling myself onto the window-bed-thingie and announce I am sleeping there for the night.

I get up to jump on the beds and check for bedbugs, and D proceeds to test the window cushion and declare it HIS space for the night.  He would not listen to any arguments in favor of him sleeping in a bed like a normal human (which he is soooooo not), and spent the night in the window sill.  I still maintain to this day that, had I clambered into the armoire and declared it comfortable, he would have slept in there instead.  Possibly upside down, like a bat.

 

I was so tired and so full from the IN N OUT BURGERS that I fell right asleep like a giant starfish in the middle of my queen bed and neither heard the Dueling Chainsaws, nor my own – practically inaudible – snores.

My God, I missed you!

Tomorrow: Day 3.  Or The One Where We Counted Jeeps, Cruised With the Vatos, and C and I Drank an Entire Bottle of Vodka and Lord Knows How Many (barf) Truly’s

Evermore

 Those of you that know me know that I love Taylor Swift more than I love most humans.

Sooo...

Evermore.

Yeah, this song undid me the first time I heard it in November 2020.

Gray November
I've been down since July
Motion capture
Put me in a bad light

I spent all of 2020 being scared of dying, being scared of leaving my girls...just being scared.

And very down.

Yes, I look old and half dead.  I was, so...

The only thing that kept me sane was my weekly chats with my friends.

Ugly Sweater, Christmas, New Years...Random Saturday nights.

You guys kept me sane.

Okay, you also kept me ugly and fat -- haha!!  Oh, wait, that was just me.

Those calls and our silly group chats kept me grounded.  Reminded me that I was not totally alone in my inability to completely wrap my head around our 'new normal'.  (ISTG, I loathe that phrase even though I catch myself using it all the time!)

Hey December

Guess I'm feeling unmoored

Except I wasn't exactly unmoored, because I had the best humans ever giving me a safe berth whenever I needed one.

Thank you guys for that.

Ugly Sweater 2020, starring my chins!

I hope you get that, I hope you know how important you all were to me.  I mean, you still are, obvs, but between trying to negotiate my own fear, work, Roo's (lord have mercy) "schooling" and her isolation, me missing the Twin Terrors and all the other littles....Ya'll saved me.

Getting my ass (and chins) kicked in the best way.

The 'Holiday Season" was absolutely saved by being able to connect with my friends in that way.  My heart was saved a bit too, as well as the few vestiges of sanity (ha!) that I have been able to carry with me through the years.

In 2021, we stopped the calls, and them some friends moved away.

2nd to last or very last call with all of us.  :(

Anyway, we planned a road trip to see those friends in 2021, the first non-family, non-kid, no obligation, all-for-fun friend trip I have had in my entire life,

I hung onto the thought of that trip through weeks -- through weeks of absolutely insane Tinder dates, through shitty work days, through all of it,  

I could not wait.

Road Dawgs planning 'waxxed and vaxxed 2021' road trip! <3

Our trip started with some hitches, but once we were on the road, it was salami, nuts, me mooing at cows and shrieking at crows and tap-dancing in the back of Sisu - the best Jeep there ever was.

C and D and I sang, laughed, and talked our way through Washington, Oregon, and half of California.

Why, thank you!

It was gorgeous.  If I could have recorded us to save us for the rest of my life, I would have.

Instead, all I have are the memories of those hours of us laughing and trashing and car-dancing.

Glorious Mt. Shasta

Plus, there was that amazing rest stop in Shasta where we stopped to smell the roses (there is literally a spot for you to do that there! - and let I had to take my shoes off and walk in the CA dirt and yank some pine needles out of trees just to have.

To be continued....

Spoiler - we had the most fun ever.

On Mill Plain, ready to head South!!

Oh, can we just get a pause?
To be certain we'll be tall again


2 things about this post:

1 - I hope we start doing calls again - not because we need to, but bc we can.

2- none of these lyrics from "evermore' were used with permission.  Oooops. 

Heat Waves

I am back on Song Titles as Blog Titles because movie titles don't do the trick. 🤷

Soooo, I have very clearly detailed all of my awful "dating-app first dates".

So many so, that I have had a few of you ask me if I am ok.

The answer to that is YES.

YES

Yes, yes, YES.

I didn't go on Tinder to find a husband, a boyfriend, or anything other than...

?

Plainly put, I went on Tinder to find a FWB that would not cause me to lose any more friends because it sucks to have to end friendships because too many lines were crossed.

Far better to make new friends with the express purpose of...benefits with no strings, yeah?

YAWL...In spite of all of my previous "swing and a miss" stories...

I hit the jackpot.

Like, CHING, CHING!!

Stacks on stacks

I know I have previously detailed my atrocious first dates and bad matches, and it makes for great comedy.

I like it when things are funny.

Funny takes feelings out of the equation.

I can do funny allllll day long.

Feelings?

NYET.

Not so much.

So, when I have a Tinder experience that is gorgeous and fun and alllllll the things everyone on Tinder that doesn't want to get married (NO MARRIAGE!, as gorgeous G once wrote me when I asked what his Tinder goals were-more on him next week), I don't want to share it because I am better talking about my disasters than my success.

However, "M" needs to be celebrated, just so you singletons can grok that - every once in a while - you can hit 'pay dirt' on a dating app.

I already disclosed that I quit Tinder and have 3 humans I still talk to.

2 of them are really fun to chat with and we talk about all sorts of wild, improbable things that will, most likely, have no bearing on any of our real lives.

The third..."M".

Oh, boy.

Tinder opened my eyes about a lot of things.

Everyone lies about their height, weight, and hair follicles.

Everyone eats ass.  (I know, I know...*CRINGE*)  This has to be said, though, because it comes up alllllll the time and is part of the reason I dipped out on that app.

Like, WHAT????

Also, everyone is ENM.

ENM.

I learned that phrase in December.

It means, "Ethically Non-Monogamous".

To me, in my rather adventurous 20's, that just meant sleeping with anyone you fancied and calling it 'just for fun'.

Or, "I like that you bleached your hair so you look like a Wal-Mart Eminem, so Imma bone you but also never call you again."

These dudes are the same when wearing beer goggles. JS.

Nowadays, it means that you have multiple relationships that have nothing to do with the others, but it is done very respectfully in terms of emotions, safety, and boundaries.

I ignored all ENM people until, in March of this year, then I met 2 people that interested me to the point that I swiped the good way, in spite of the ENM tag.

Guy 1 was adorable, sweet, and funny.  Unfortunately, he bore such an uncanny resemblance to the love of my life, that I had to explain my problem and delete him.  I mean...If I can't have my LD, why would I ever settle for a pale imitation?  Nope!

Guy 2 was "M".  Gorgeous, funny, sardonic, and actually used the word 'sapiosexual' in his profile.

LIKE, SWIPE ALLLLL THE CORRECT DIRECTIONS FOREVER!!

We messaged and then texted and talked and talked.

We decided to meet on a Wednesday at 7.  After a very adorable day-of-the-month mix-up, of course, because I can't have nice fucking things - right? - we met up.

It was one of the first gorgeous Springtime PNW evenings.  Sunset, soft air, birds, etc.

We meet at the cutest bar in NoPo.

There was banter, and laughing, and pool, and craft cocktails.  

Hot bartender that recommended the best pizza anyone ate in April 2021, and she was hyper-vigilant about masks, so I wanted to marry her in spite of my not being a lesbian.

ANYway...

There was kissing and hand-holding and some earlobe interaction...  I mean, that kind of thing can happen to anyone, anywhere, yeah?

Also, there was an epic goodbye kiss that lasted for about 200 years - or 20 minutes - they can sometimes feel the same.

Literally the best first date with a stranger that anyone ever had on the planet.

Like, I got home and IMMEDIATELY messaged him. 

 I never do that.

Not because I play it cool...as if!!  Have you even met me??

Simply because I just don't ever do all the things that make dating NOT awkward if given the chance.

In fact...

The opposite.

However...this time?

I went to bed buzzy and kind of goofy, and I made sure he knew about it.  He was super appropriate and - dare I say it? - sweet and very into the whole vibe.

It was quite swoony to be honest.

There is no way I can caption this without making it a cringe-fest, so let's just not say a f*cking thing.  The sentiment was real AF tho!

Like, SWOON, swoony.

Work happened, life happened, and then we decided to meet on another Wednesday at 7:00 a few weeks later.

Second verse, same as the first.

Kisses, laughing, hand-holding, and allllllll the talking and laughing and kissing and just having the best second date ever.

At this point, I am kind of wondering when the other shoe is going to drop..

Like,  I could meet this dude at NoPo bars and kiss him on patios and have drinks and burgers and fries and pizza forever and never even try to do any single thing besides those things forever and it would be great.

Until...

I mean, it's ME, so you know it just doesn't go that smoothly, DUH!!!

Date #3.  Another Wednesday at 7.

PNW Spring night.  Kissing, hand-holding, walking, talking...Listening to French music al fresco.

Lots of talking.

Like, allllllll the talking.

We get on a subject that makes me SUPER sad and also uncomfortable.

Like, SO UNCOMFORTABLE.

I sort of  try to convey my discomfort without taking up too much space because I always try to do that when I feel weird.  Like, I get as small as possible.

I make a joke that allows the uncomfortable talk to continue..  Like, I was being sarcastic, but the tone wasn't right, so it sounded like I wanted the convo to continue...

Finally, after misreading each other's tone and body language for about 10 minutes,  I...

Welll...

I left.

He was being a gentleman and walked me outside.

Not knowing that I had locked the door behind me.

I LOCKED HIM OUT OF HIS OWN HOUSE.

This is not a bad first date story, people.

We are on date THREE and I locked dude out of his own house at 9:00 at night.

CRINGE WITH ME, PLEASE!!

Anyway, owing to a well-placed unlocked window, he got into his house and I got home without spontaneously combusting with shame - it was a very near thing  -and we had a conversation and all was well and we decided we would hang out as soon as I got home from my EPIC ROAD TRIP (tomorrow), so all was good and he even fielded a very drunk phone call while I was on my trip with admirable aplomb.  [I am not unaware of the length of that sentence. If you have ever heard me talk, you get it.]

When I got home, we talked a bit, but something came up on my end, so Date #4 on a Wednesday at 7 was postponed -- I mean, like, is that even surprising??

So Date #4 is Monday.

How do I feel about this?

Like, this dude makes me allllllllllllll kinds of swoony.

He is funny, well-read, articulate, definitely not trying to push past my boundaries.

I don't have time or space for a dude in my life.

He doesn't have time or space for a Mary in his life.

Like, this is perfect, yeah?

Annnnd, now I am so effing nervous about this next date that I can't even think about what I am wearing or how I am going to act or anything.

Like, he isn't my boyfriend, he is just my new friend.

We aren't exclusive, rather we are very inclusive of his person and any person that I choose as my person.  And I very definitely have 2 persons in the queue.

Like, he isn't some rando I met at a bar or a sporting event (hello, COVID!) or a hot but inappropriate Uber driver - ya'll won't EVER get that one out of me!

This is a real human that I have real feelings about that has a real partner that is not me and I am supposed to be super blasé about all of this and just keep moving forward because this is what we do, right?  I mean, I am fine with all of it, but I am also feeling very weird about the fact that I am fine with that.

ANYWAY, this was supposed to be a story about how Tinder isn't total trash, about how you can actually get exactly what you are looking for if you release all interest in outcomes, about how sometimes the most random interactions can turn out to be so not-random, but I think I got sidetracked.

I do that.

A lot.

Story of my life, and exactly how I ended up right here.

Okay, so not EVERYTHING we want, but close enough!