Cracks kill

I swear, I could write a book on the overwhelming amount of embarrassing moments I go through on a weekly basis.

The latest occurred as I was sauntering down the streets of downtown Milwaukee as I made my way into work the other morning. Actually, let’s be honest – it’s late October in Wisconsin. No one saunters anymore. It’s a rapid walk to/from anywhere in hopes your digits don’t turn into purple icicles in 2.2 seconds.

To give a little background on this incident (and Eric will most definitely agree), I usually make terrible decisions when it comes to sensible footwear in the fall/winter months. I’m the girl that wears open-toe shoes throughout October until I can’t stand the numbing and purple tint my tootsies get. I’m also the girl that you see roaming around in 15 inches of snow with four inch heels on. Like I said, awful decisions. And I know I should be more sensible, but I’m not, which probably entitles me to a few of the ridiculous events that transpire.

Anyway, I was rounding the corner at a major intersection and was about to open the office building door. All was looking hunky dory. Suddenly, before I know it, I’m walking…left foot, right foot, left foot…and I go to step with my right heeled foot and my heel cements itself into a HUGE crack in the pavement! And my momentum was going with such force that I continued to take another two steps forward…WITHOUT MY RIGHT SHOE before I could stop. Eeks!

And because I also put off wearing socks for as long as I can, poor “righty” landed smack dab on the cold, dirty pavement…all NAKED!  Here's the closest visual I could find.  This chick looks like she's on some sort of grate, which I was not, but you get the idea:

Oh, and not only was I now sans one shoe in the middle of downtown, the heel on my pump got so wedged into the f’ing crack that I had to use both hands to pull the sucker out! For a brief millisecond, I panicked thinking about what my plan would be if I couldn’t get the shoe out of the crack.

Possibly run home and hide under the covers in my bed?

Luckily, it came out of the crack a second later…minus the leather the stupid asphalt tore off the heel. Guess I didn’t really want that leather piece anyway. Looks like the black Sharpie will need to fix this boo-boo…

To make matters worse, this all went down right in front of glass doors which are next to a bank of elevators that typically hold court to 10-15 people at any given time around the 8 o’clock hour. Well, I must’ve been REALLY good the previous day (or maybe scaled back on my road rage that morning) to be granted a “freebie”. Only one older woman was there. Phew. And she was nice about it, too…even going so far as to say it’s happened to her before. Who knows if it really happened to her, but at least my blushed cheeks started to fade. I’m sure they’ll make another appearance all too soon, though.

~as

Dolla dolla bills, y'all

Some of you may have noticed that I recently added advertising to my blog. I decided to do this mainly out of sheer curiosity. Initially, I was curious about the type of ads that would be placed on my site. I was REALLY hoping I would not need to implement the “18 and over” banner on my site due to the ad content, if you catch my drift. Thankfully, I did not. Phew.

I think I may have figured out that the text in my new posts are scanned for various key words and then the advertisements are based off of those words and/or pics. Then again, I’m still very new to blogging so I might be making all of that up. One never knows. And I suppose I could try to research that a bit more, but I’m bored just thinking about that.

Oops, I’m on a tangent again. Back to the reasons I added advertising…

My interest was also piqued when I found out I could actually make money from posting the ads. Say what?!?! Money? Color me there.

The first week or so, I wasn’t seeing much in terms of cash flow. And I’m still not. But I’m starting to see a little! So far I’ve racked up $3.70! Woohoo! Okay, it’s nothing to be excited about yet, but maybe one day. Only YOU can help me make this site profitable (or at least not an utter waste of time)!

Moral of the story: If you see an ad you’re interested in, I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to you checking it out. 

Official Google Disclaimer: Clicks on Google ads must result from genuine user interest. Any method that artificially generates clicks or impressions on your Google ads is strictly prohibited.

Now I'm off the hook.  ;)

Maybe the time I put into coming up with content and transforming all the nonsensical thoughts in my head into a coherent post could actually buy me a pair of shoes in the long run. And I mean LONG run. Unless, of course, you know where I can get a sweet pair of kicks for $3.70…

Speaking of sweet, on a totally different subject, I was told not long ago that I have “sweet carrying skills”. It was attributed to the fact that I can carry multiple beverage glasses, plates, etc. at the same time with my bare hands. BARE HANDS FOLKS. No silly trays needed here. Pffft. I was a waitress throughout high school and college and apparently those mad skills I acquired are really coming in handy each night as Eric and I make our trek from the kitchen to our upstairs family room with dinner.

I think these sweet carrying skills will pair nicely with my sweet computer hacking skills and nun chuck skills.

~as

Run, Forrest, Run!

This past weekend Eric accomplished a HUGE goal. He ran in the 2009 Chicago Marathon! GO ERIC!!!

After about six months of training, the weekend had finally arrived. Although the race itself wasn’t until Sunday, we headed down to the Windy City on Saturday.

To prep for the big day, we carb-loaded at an Italian restaurant in the West Loop Saturday night. We, of course, didn’t know we needed reservations so we ended up having to sit at the bar and have the bartender serve us. No big deal. We were both fine with that…until Chatty Cathy to my right wouldn’t shut up. It was this older man (late 50’s/early 60’s) that seemed like a creeper at first. Turns out he was the owner of the restaurant and is originally from Waukesha, WI. Sounds fine, right?

No.

He KEPT talking and would not stop. I ended up humoring him for about 15-20 minutes while we ate our dinner entrées. Ugh. I somehow got this idea in my head that maybe if I let him ramble on he would comp our meals. Negative. I was kind of irritated. I mean, really. Being the owner of a restaurant you have to be aware that people want to enjoy their meals with one another – not a complete stranger! In the words of Full House’s Stephanie Tanner, “How rude!” The food, however, was really good so it all worked out in the end. 

Anyway, the next morning after gearing up in multiple layers for the frigid Chicago temps (30 degrees at 6:30am), I dropped Eric off at the start area and went to find parking for myself. Not easy in downtown Chicago on a good day, let alone on Marathon Day.

Somehow by the grace of God, though, I managed to find a street spot – right next to a Starbucks nonetheless! With my Pumpkin Spice Latte in hand, I was able to witness Eric running his heart out at the 3.5 mile mark. Unfortunately, he didn’t see me because there were just too many people still clustered together...

I was on the move again. Next, I caught him on the 12.5 mile mark. After perching on my tippy-toes for what felt like hours of searching and scanning the pack of runners, I must’ve looked down for a brief second when all of a sudden I hear, “Anne!”

HA! In a setting where typically the spectators are yelling out the runner’s names, what are the chances that Eric is yelling mine? As it turns out, very good. He spotted me first. C’mon, Anne - look alive!

After laughing my butt off for a while because Eric spotted me first, I composed myself and booked it back to my car so I could drive to the 20.5 mile mark. Again, miraculously I found street parking about a half mile away from the course. I was definitely pressed for time, so I had to run from my car to the course sidelines in order to catch him. For a second, I felt like I was in the race! Okay, not really, but you catch my drift.

Alas, I saw Eric and was shouting his name like a woman gone mad. Just when I started to think he wasn’t going to see/hear me, he turned his head and found me and we waved and smiled at each other. YAY! I had a feeling at this point in the race he’d need all the support/motivation he could get, so I was SO glad he saw me cheering him on. Less than 6 miles to go at this point!

FYI - I would post pics that I took myself throughout the day, but they are so terrible I just can’t. They’re pretty comical actually. In most of the shots I only got half of his head. No body. Just half of his head. In my defense, though, it’s super hard to keep a watchful eye out for him, cheer like crazy when I do see him (and hopefully make eye contact with him), and still take the shot as he’s zooming by. Tricky stuff!

Lesson I learned that afternoon? ALWAYS make sure to arrange a meeting spot for AFTER the race. Oops. With hundreds of thousands of people clustered around the finish line and surrounding area, I almost started to panic when I realized in the blur of the morning we didn’t arrange anything. Thankfully, he borrowed someone’s cell phone and called me. Phew. “Reunited and it feels so good….”


~as

Kids crack me up

Every Halloween, I usually try to stock up on all the good stuff that trick-or-treaters hope to score - or at least the ones I hoped for – Reese’s peanut butter cups, Snickers, and Kit Kats. The bad thing is that I sample WAY too much as I wait for the kiddies to arrive. If I were smart, I’d get the kinds of candy I don’t like so I wouldn’t be as tempted to eat it, but it’s all about the kids, right?! I must get the good stuff, even if my waistline takes a hit. Trick-or-treating rules.

With that said, I asked my girlfriend Lynda what her kids (a 1 year old and 3 year old) are dressing up as this year.

The answer regarding her daughter (the 3 year old) was classic and literally made me laugh out loud because it was so stinkin’ adorable!

Lynda: “Mia is going as Allison Wonderland. I keep telling her it's "Alice in" but she corrects me. She knows everything right now. lol.”

Anne: (laughing her butt off for two reasons...)

First, I thought my dear friend Lynda - an adult, wife, and mother of two children - didn’t know it was "Alice in" Wonderland! I was thinking, “Umm...Lynda…" but then I kept reading.  Phew.

Second, I’m laughing because it’s just so freakin’ adorable. Kids definitely say/do/think the darndest things and I absolutely love it.

As a side note: why is THIS the first image that comes up on Google Images for Alice in Wonderland?!?!

Why do ALL costumes turn slutty these days? Seriously! I bet Slutty "Allison" will be giving out tricks instead of treats, if ya feel me. Wrong. Just wrong.

~as

I heart Pretty Woman

As (un)luck would have it, I did not in fact win the poker tournament. Big shocker, I know. Nor did my secret charm. BOO! The two surprises of the tournament for me?

First, I managed to stay in the tournament longer than Eric. <Insert record scratch>

Weird, right?! Not good for us. That meant the odds of us “cashing” drastically dropped at that point. (I think I used the term “cashing” appropriately, but God only knows…see this post for more details.) Here’s a little something to depict the predicament we were in:

With Eric out of the tournament things were looking bleak.

Second surprise? I was the last chick to survive in the tournament! Sweetness. So long story short, had I been playing the tournament with just the chicks, I would’ve totally dominated! Stupid boys. And we’ll ignore the fact that there were only a total of three girls playing. Minor details.

And just when I thought I didn’t quite lose enough money for the night, I proceeded to jovially join the cash game. “Big mistake. HUGE mistake.” (Vivian Ward, Pretty Woman) The cash game went south rather quickly, but for some unknown reason I kept shoving more money into the game. What the…?

Alas, there was good news of the night. We did NOT have repeat incidents of our last poker tournament. Incidents such as…well, to protect the privacy of the innocent, let’s just say there was a LOT of falling. And apparently too many drinks. But I’m proud to report this time the blinds were left unharmed and there were no bruises. Except maybe a few bruised egos for those of use that didn’t win the tournament.

In other news, we hit up the Sprecher Brewery Tour on Saturday. While I’ve frequented the Lakefront Brewery Tour, oh about 1,398 times, I was a Sprecher virgin. It was a quick tour (about 20-30 minutes) and our guide - who we know! - kept us moving along throughout the facility. Thank goodness for that because my A.D.D. tendencies can’t handle much more than that; especially since I’m pretty sure I could recite the brewing process in my sleep at this point.

After the tour, we sampled...rootbeer, of course! And if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge I want to sell you…

~as

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