T minus 4 days

That’s right folks – we’ll be opening our doors to welcome our friends and family for a poker tournament this Friday.

(If any legal entities are reading this, we will be playing purely for the fun and enjoyment of one another’s company. Duh. Sheesh!)

Anyway, while I usually haven’t fared very well in the past, I’m hoping for an underdog surprise this time around (with hopefully the above hand, if possible!). We haven’t had a chick win a tourney yet, but that’s all about to change. Clearly I do not lack the necessary confidence or the sweet, sweet poker lingo talk. Unfortunately, I lack the necessary skills. Crap. I’m banking on some good luck. I better start scrounging up a rabbit’s foot, 4-leaf clover, and a wishbone now.

Oh, and when I say I possess sweet, sweet poker lingo talk I really mean I string together random poker words into a sentence that makes zero sense. It’s pretty awesome. So you better watch out before I “go all in with my boat after I re-raised your bitch ass after the turn cuz I’m pot committed.” Yeah, I said it. And nope, I don’t know what I mean either.

I’m also banking on my secret weapon.

Eric.

Although, I guess he’s not really a secret anymore since he’s won a few tournaments. C’monnnn Sugar Daddy! Mama needs a new pair of shoes! I’d even settle for Kohl’s shoes. Seriously. I’ll even throwing in a Kohl’s coupon towards them. Ha!

Other wisdom to bestow upon you? I’m going to be “telling a story” with each hand I play so you best be listening or I’ll snatch up all your chips. Truth. (At least that’s what I’ve been told by a veteran.)

In other news, we’ll also be having a friend from out of town visiting so it’ll be a busy weekend. And as such, let the cleaning begin! Oh – gotta go…I’m being beckoned…“cinderella, cinderella!” No rest for the weary.

~as

Woman seeking good therapist

It feels like it just ended, but believe it or not, it’s baaaaaack! No, not the weird rash on my finger that required ‘roid cream. (Hold on…that IS back again! wtf?!?)

Wait for it…wait for it…bowling! Yup, the seemingly never-ending bowling league that Eric’s a part of has once again started. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun league and he’s got some good friends on his team, but the league is 8 months long! Longest. League. Ever. And before any of you start thinking we’re bowling freaks, it’s so long because it’s an every other week deal. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a bowling freak. I’m minimally the freak part…

Anyway, I’m not technically part of the team although I do consider myself the resident cheerleader. Why don’t I play, you ask? Well, besides the fact that they have enough players, I will forever cringe when I think back to the first time I ever bowled with Eric (which has scarred me for life). It was about five years ago this fall and I really wish I would've been wearing this shirt:

It was a dark, stormy night. Okay, it probably wasn’t, but just go with it. Eric and I had been dating all of a month at this point and things were still very new. He’s all, “Want to go bowling?” and in the midst of just trying not to blush, stutter, or completely lose myself in thought trying to figure out how I managed to successfully rope this hottie into dating me, I’m all “Sure!”

Bad Anne! Bad Anne! You know this won’t end well!

So I geared up with the sweet neon orange rental shoes and my borrowed bowling ball and was all set. One of the first things I was thinking as I approached the lane for the first time was obviously, “Oh crap – I hope I’m wearing jeans that make my butt look good!” Because let’s be honest – anytime someone bowls you check our their rump. But it’s not entirely on purpose. That’s all there is to look at while someone’s getting ready to throw the ball! Anyone with me on this?? Anyway, little did I know that worrying about the appeal of my derriere was the last thing I needed to be concerned with.

The exact set of circumstances that transpired next are a little fuzzy and I’m still trying to work through them with my therapist, but all I know is that I went to throw my ball and it…flew backwards. Yes. BACKWARDS! Really?!? I mean honestly – who does that?!? Except me, that is. Seriously. SERIOUSLY! Talk about the epitome of embarrassment. Having to run after your ball in the opposite direction is something I will not likely forget anytime soon. :)  I have absolutely no idea why Eric didn’t head for the hills then. Little did he know that would be the first of countless ridiculous things I do. Poor guy.  And that’s why when people say they suck at bowling, I just chuckle to myself and think “If you only knew…”

~as

Fire in the hole!

Oh, D-Day. The day I NEVER look forward. And nope, I’m not talking about June 6, 1944. I’m referring to my dentist appointment last week. I’m pretty sure some of the sounds I heard throughout my appointment, though, rivaled those of the Invasion of Normandy, especially the multiple f-bombs I mumbled to myself after the appointment was over.

We all have our idiosyncrasies and one of mine is part of the reason I hate going to my dentist. I’m petrified of the stairs that lead up to his second floor office. No lie. They’re the no-riser type stairs and they absolutely freak me out! The riser is the vertical board that connects one stair to the next and it’s that itty bitty one board that I find such comfort in. :) Here’s a pictorial for those like me that need a visual:




I know in my head they should be perfectly safe, but I can’t get over the fact that I feel like if I walk too hard or have that extra bite of cake at dinner, I might break one and fall to my death! Ugh. And because of this, I’m always faced with two options as I enter the building: do I run really fast up the stairs and to get to the top ASAP, or do I gingerly step on them in hopes of not putting too much quick movement on them? What to do, what to do…maybe find a new dentist??

And now that my anxiety level is soaring after finally making it to the second floor, why not push it completely off the charts by getting a cavity filled?! Joy. Here’s just a few highlights of the chaos that ensued:

• As I’m hearing the drilling, buzzing, and swishing around of water in my mouth, my dentist quickly stopped for a second to turn his head…..and sneeze. Ummm…yeah. Because I close my eyes the entire time I’m in “the chair” (even for cleanings) I don’t know how he sneezed. But I’m guessing it’s better I don’t know. Do you think he sneezed into his elbow like Obama and the H1N1 people want us to? Or did he sneeze into his latex gloved hand that returned to my mouth seconds later? Definitely better off not knowing…

• Once the shrill of the drill and accoutrements settled down for a second, all I could focus on was this weird ticking noise I could hear. No joke – sounded just like a ticking time bomb! This went on for the duration of the appt. Nothing like helping my anxiety, doc.

• As the pain got more intense I thought to myself, “Anne, don’t let this guy off easy!” So mainly because I had nothing better to do, I contorted what facial muscles I still had control of into what I thought would be the most gruesome look on my face to express my general displeasure of the situation. And it worked! I got an immediate “I’m sorry! I’m trying to hurry.” Gotcha! But just in case he was yanking my chain and he wasn’t hurrying, I kept my face contorted until the procedure ended. I may have just given myself a few extra wrinkle lines, but it was worth it. Two can play this game, doc.

• FINALLY, I was done. As I’m hurrying to gather my purse and get the hell out of dodge, the perky hygienist was all, “Go enjoy the sunshine!” and I’m all, “How about some cocktails instead?” I got a strange look and an awkward chuckle. Score.

Pity party of one, your table is now ready…

• And last, because my mouth/lips went through the Invasion of Anne for the previous 30-45 minutes, I went to put on some of my trusty Chapstick in the car. Bad part? My whole bottom half of my face was numb so I’m fairly certain I completely overshot my lips and got some cheek action, too. Sweet. I probably looked like this (minus the red color since mine was thankfully clear):

Note to self: Begin flossing more regularly IMMEDIATELY to avoid a repeat of this event.

~as

Safety glasses required

Nothing kicks off a Friday morning like jamming to some old school ‘NSync on the way to work. Oh yeah! And because blaring the classic tunes of Pop and Bye, Bye, Bye at ear piercing levels wasn’t enough, I added car dancing into the mix. I can only imagine what I must look like. Wait, what am I saying?!? I'm sure I looked awesome!!! Arms flailing and head bopping, I’m surprised my sweet moves didn’t cause a collision. Speaking of which, I better tame down my slick moves. I would hate to get arrested for being so sweet that I cause a distraction. (In all actuality, I’m more surprised that my uncoordinated ass doesn’t somehow manage to poke out my own eye…) Good times. Oh, and check out JT’s interesting apparel choice…ohhh, back in the days before all this Viking nonsense happened.




In other news, it’s that time of the month again. No, not THAT. Sickos. It’s the Blood Center of Wisconsin’s blood drive in our office building. Despite almost fainting on multiple occasions, I’m still a loyal giver. But as I walked past their entourage of gurneys, needles, and blood thirsty nurses this morning, I had to wonder:

Is it bad that 60% of the reason I donate is for the altruistic gesture of giving to others in need while the other 40% is because I salivate when thinking of the post-donation scrumptious chocolate chip muffins, soda, and other random goodies I will be given to bring my sugar levels back up to normal?

Nah. I’m 60% good! We’re a democratic society, right? Majority rules and non-donators drool.

And why do 80% of my postings revolve around food? Huh.

I went out last night for some good friends’ birthday. Yes, I said friends (plural) – they’re twins. And NO they will not have a twin sandwich with you nor have they tried to do the old switcheroo with one another ala Parent Trap style. Knowing them for as long as I have, even I am getting tired of hearing them field these questions. HA! Anyway, one thing I realized last night is that although I might be 30 years old now and not happy about it, I will always be younger than my friends. Suckers! Those dirty dogs gave me hell the first 21 years of my life for always being the runt of the litter. Now what’s up. I’ve finally got the upper hand. :) Other lesson? Sombreros are nothing but trouble.

Peace out for now, homies.

~as

Just a number? The jury's still out.

*tear* I’m thirty freakin’ years old. Jeez. I might as well make my “arrangements” now. I think eventually I’ll warm to the idea of being old as molasses, but for the moment it’s still an open wound.


Other birthday news? I didn’t chicken out! I chopped off about 6 or 7 inches of my hair! (See this post for details.) I meant to have another one or two inches chopped off, but my stylist stopped after hacking off that much. Either way, it totally worked out. So far, I’m really glad I went through with it. Now this might come as a shock to you all…brace yourself…but a lot of things I say I’m going to do don’t actually come to fruition. I’m a big thinker with big ideas, but I need to work on my follow through. Ha! Score one for Anne for following through on something I said I was going to do! :) Speaking of big ideas…

My get rich quick idea of the week? Well, it’s not really “quick” per say. I should write a book! (Insert your own eye roll here.) I like writing. Check. I would LOVE to get published. Check. Now I just need a good idea…hmmm…I knew there would be a roadblock somewhere. I’m going to ignore that roadblock much like I ignore my school loan debt. Hey, there’s a thought! My book proceeds could pay off my school loans! Score. After all, college is where I learned my mad writing skillzzzz. It would only be fitting, right? AND I could write it on my snazzy new laptop Eric just bought me for my birthday!!! Oh, book ideas…where are you???

P.S. – poor Eric. I think he knew he had to “go big or go home” with my bday gift this year. I was in a fragile state of mind this year with the whole turning ancient thing and whatnot. I think he knew my birthday happiness this year could definitely be bought. :) Solid choice with the laptop, Eric, solid choice.

~as