So for Day 2 of the 30 DBC (30 Day Blog challenge for those of you not currently on the bandwagon) is the meaning behind your blog name.
Hmmm....well I can't say there is a bunch of meaning behind it. It was more of using my marketing background to come up with something catchy that could be easily (or more easily) branded. Am I saying I see Deviled Megs tshirts and coffee mugs in my future? Hardly. But you never want to rule that option out, right?
I wanted something clever that would really allow me to create a character here on this blog. Things that may be inspired by my own real life experiences but also sprinkled with some thoughts or observations that "the real me" might not share or necessarily verbalize in my real life. I would like to protect my identity for the most part, although there are some that read this from time to time that do know me IRL. I only ask that they not use my real name. I know, I know....sounds a bit convoluded. But very early on in this blogging project I had people from my past find this blog that I had no idea how they found me here. Like seriously, no idea. I take care that co-workers don't know about this and am doubtful my family would even realize that I write here. Just trying to keep a few shreds of anonymity and hide behind an internet curtain just a smidge. A little ridiculous? Possibly, but if you can't make the rules on your own blog, then where can you right??
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Tales from the Trenches Tuesday
I was trying all this morning to think of which funny tale I could share with you all today. Sadly, I wasn’t able to come up with much because my mind has not really been on the losers, creeps and weirdos that I have dated. It’s been occupied with so many other things lately…things so unfun they make me LONG for occupying my mind with thinking of loser, creep and weirdo stories. Which is why I knew it was still important for me to take a break from my unfun thoughts and come here to at least post something today. I’m just sayin’…the bar is set a little low today, my apologies folks.
R and I had been dating for a few weeks and I think we were at the point that it was becoming clear to both of us that we were heading towards being exclusive. I honestly remember that time really fondly because we really were “dating” – we both put efforts into planning fun things to do, made plans with each other in advance, emailed each other articles or other funny things that made us think of the other, called one another on the phone, etc. We didn't play games or act too casual or aloof. There were no 10pm texts on a Friday night asking what each other were up to. No late night plans to meet up at someone's house afterhours. Sigh…the good old days of dating and people actually courting one another.
So this particular night, R had made plans for us to see a comedian we both liked at the Improv. I met him at his apartment first and we had a cozy dinner before heading over to the show. I can’t remember now if we went out for drinks after the show or not, but I do remember that we had wine with dinner, and then drinks at the show and then got back to his apt pretty late.
For the ladies reading this, some of you may be of the camp that pre-determines which night will be “the night” – and I don’t think I need to spell out for anyone what I mean by “the night.” And while I am generally a planner by nature, that particular decision is sometimes sort of up in the air to me. So I can’t say that I had made a decision one way or the other before the date started, but I had later that evening when we got back to his place.
And as an obligatory side note, isn’t that always a little exciting when you make that decison? Maybe it’s because it is one of the few times you feel kind of in control of a new relationship since 99.99% of the time it is the girl who gets to make thatparticular decision.
Anyway, decision was made. Game on .
But the game was not on…it was delayed at best. Things were clearly not , shall we say working as they should be. I don’t know if R had had one too many drinks, or if that really had “never happened before” but he looked at me and in all seriousness said:
“Sorry about this…can I get a Raincheck?”
A what now? My only rememberance of rainchecks was when I was little and we would go to Kmart and they would be out of some super cheap sale item, and you got a raincheck for when more stock came in. Now I was supposed to be giving out rainchecks for people who were (for whatever reasons) unable to perform when the situation arose?
Ugh, raincheck. To this day, the word still makes me shudder.
R and I had been dating for a few weeks and I think we were at the point that it was becoming clear to both of us that we were heading towards being exclusive. I honestly remember that time really fondly because we really were “dating” – we both put efforts into planning fun things to do, made plans with each other in advance, emailed each other articles or other funny things that made us think of the other, called one another on the phone, etc. We didn't play games or act too casual or aloof. There were no 10pm texts on a Friday night asking what each other were up to. No late night plans to meet up at someone's house afterhours. Sigh…the good old days of dating and people actually courting one another.
So this particular night, R had made plans for us to see a comedian we both liked at the Improv. I met him at his apartment first and we had a cozy dinner before heading over to the show. I can’t remember now if we went out for drinks after the show or not, but I do remember that we had wine with dinner, and then drinks at the show and then got back to his apt pretty late.
For the ladies reading this, some of you may be of the camp that pre-determines which night will be “the night” – and I don’t think I need to spell out for anyone what I mean by “the night.” And while I am generally a planner by nature, that particular decision is sometimes sort of up in the air to me. So I can’t say that I had made a decision one way or the other before the date started, but I had later that evening when we got back to his place.
And as an obligatory side note, isn’t that always a little exciting when you make that decison? Maybe it’s because it is one of the few times you feel kind of in control of a new relationship since 99.99% of the time it is the girl who gets to make thatparticular decision.
Anyway, decision was made. Game on .
But the game was not on…it was delayed at best. Things were clearly not , shall we say working as they should be. I don’t know if R had had one too many drinks, or if that really had “never happened before” but he looked at me and in all seriousness said:
“Sorry about this…can I get a Raincheck?”
A what now? My only rememberance of rainchecks was when I was little and we would go to Kmart and they would be out of some super cheap sale item, and you got a raincheck for when more stock came in. Now I was supposed to be giving out rainchecks for people who were (for whatever reasons) unable to perform when the situation arose?
Ugh, raincheck. To this day, the word still makes me shudder.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Someone else's shoes
Ever have a day where you wish you could be wearing someone else's shoes? And not because they were cuter or snazzier than your own. But simply because walking around in yours is just not where you want to be right now. Maybe you have lost a loved one. Maybe you are worried about something at work or with your family. Maybe you are nursing a broken heart. Maybe you are upset about Justin Beiber's scuffle at that Laser Tag place this weekend...really it could be anything. You are just walking around with something - or maybe too many things - in your head or on your heart.
At the risk of sounding overly cheesy, it's always a personal goal of mine to keep that thought in mind with me every single day. When I come across the lawyer who yells at me, or the guy who pushes past me on the Metro, or the woman who is rude to me at the grocery store. Maybe there's a reason....maybe they are going through something difficult or there is something too big on their plate at the moment and carrying that all around AND being a nice person at the same time is just too much for them right now.
Sometimes that is what is so comforting or reassuring about coming here and reading other people's postings. You get a feeling that you aren't alone. Even if right now you don't want to write about or talk about whatever is troubling you at the moment...you can walk in someone else's shoes for a few minutes. And maybe those are happy shoes that can let you forget about your troubles for a bit. Or maybe they are sad shoes that give you a little more perspective on your own worries and where they fit in the bigger picture of it all.
So today is just a day where I don't have anything funny or special to post. Just thankful I can come here and walk in some other pairs of shoes for a bit.
At the risk of sounding overly cheesy, it's always a personal goal of mine to keep that thought in mind with me every single day. When I come across the lawyer who yells at me, or the guy who pushes past me on the Metro, or the woman who is rude to me at the grocery store. Maybe there's a reason....maybe they are going through something difficult or there is something too big on their plate at the moment and carrying that all around AND being a nice person at the same time is just too much for them right now.
Sometimes that is what is so comforting or reassuring about coming here and reading other people's postings. You get a feeling that you aren't alone. Even if right now you don't want to write about or talk about whatever is troubling you at the moment...you can walk in someone else's shoes for a few minutes. And maybe those are happy shoes that can let you forget about your troubles for a bit. Or maybe they are sad shoes that give you a little more perspective on your own worries and where they fit in the bigger picture of it all.
So today is just a day where I don't have anything funny or special to post. Just thankful I can come here and walk in some other pairs of shoes for a bit.
Friday, October 15, 2010
50!
As I was in the midst of writing another blog posting (because I have been absent for a few edays...sorry bout that!) I checked my dashboard and saw that out of nowhere, I have reached FIFTY followers. Thank you oh thank you, folks. You have no idea how much this girl needed that pick-me-up today!
So hopefully I can keep that momentum going. I have been in a tiny bit of a funk lately, and am hoping to shake myself out of it this weekend. But I do know that I feel a bit better when I come here more regularly, so I will hop on the bloggy bandwagon that has been making the rounds lately, and take part in the 30 Day Blog Challenge. Now, I know for damn sure I will not be able to post 30 days in a row, so I can't promise how often I will post these, I mean let's all note that it is not called the 30 CONSECUTIVE Day Blog challenge. So, let's do this, shall we?
Day One - Introduction and 15 interesting facts
Deviled Megs lives and works in the DC Metro area. She isn't keen on using her real name on this blog -- and for that fact will not be posting any recent picture. She likes to think that when bad things happen, and they often do, she can at least try and make a funny story out of it and get a few laughs. Deviled Megs can be a little b*tchy sometimes but it's usually when provoked by stupid people. Or when she's hungry. It may also be the result of working with lawyers all week long who can sometimes be mean, rude and generally awful towards her. While she has met some great guys in her life, she usually tends to date losers, creeps and weirdos and writes weekly about them in a post called Tales from the Trenches Tuesday. Sometimes she wishes her friends would pick some fake names for themselves so she could write about them more easily in blog postings. She doubts her mother (Alice B) reads any of this and is SURE her father(Coach) doesn't. She needs to stop writing about herself in the third person.
Fifteen interesting facts:
1. I was a dancer growing up and even started college as a Dance Major, before switching to English. I did earn enough credits in the field to finish with a Dance Minor. I do not list this on my resume.
2. I do not dance at weddings, parties, bars, or anywhere else for that matter.
3. In high school I won the superlative of "Prettiest Eyes"
4. My parents were both teachers at my high school. Maybe people felt bad about that, thus throwing me a bone by voting me "Prettiest Eyes"
5. When I was about 8, my parents volunteered to chaperone the Junior Prom and I got to go with them. I told everyone I was bringing Ricky Schroeder as my date. I still don't know why my 8-year-old self thought I needed to make that sh*t up but imagine everyone had a good laugh at my expense. If given the option now, I would totally bring Jason Bateman instead.
6. I grew up outside of Philadelphia and am a Philly Sports Fan
7. While I have lost it for the most part, I can easily pick up my Philadelphia accent after (a) a few drinks or (b) spending time with other Philadelphians.
8. When (a) and (b) happen concurrently, it usually leads to trouble.
9. When I graduated college, I was hired by my national sorority to be a consultant. I spent the following year travelling to chapters at campuses all over the country and even got to recolonize a chapter at one school. The whole experience is still one of the hardest and most amazing things I have ever done.
10. I once met Charles Barkley in a bar in Atlanta. He bought me a woo-woo shooter and a Coors Lite.
11. I have a Master's degree in Film and Media Communications that I still hope I will use someday.
12. The movie "Gremlins" scared the begeezus out of me when I was little and I haven't watched it ever again.
13. I don't think I have ever eaten a nectarine.
14. I was in a bunch of plays and musicals in high school, but only ever once was cast in a role with actual lines. I played the bratty younger sister, Rebecca, in "Our Town"
15. I make my bed every single day no matter what.
So thanks to my 50 followers for making me feel so fabulous on this fine Friday! Here's hoping for 50 more :)
So hopefully I can keep that momentum going. I have been in a tiny bit of a funk lately, and am hoping to shake myself out of it this weekend. But I do know that I feel a bit better when I come here more regularly, so I will hop on the bloggy bandwagon that has been making the rounds lately, and take part in the 30 Day Blog Challenge. Now, I know for damn sure I will not be able to post 30 days in a row, so I can't promise how often I will post these, I mean let's all note that it is not called the 30 CONSECUTIVE Day Blog challenge. So, let's do this, shall we?
Day One - Introduction and 15 interesting facts
Deviled Megs lives and works in the DC Metro area. She isn't keen on using her real name on this blog -- and for that fact will not be posting any recent picture. She likes to think that when bad things happen, and they often do, she can at least try and make a funny story out of it and get a few laughs. Deviled Megs can be a little b*tchy sometimes but it's usually when provoked by stupid people. Or when she's hungry. It may also be the result of working with lawyers all week long who can sometimes be mean, rude and generally awful towards her. While she has met some great guys in her life, she usually tends to date losers, creeps and weirdos and writes weekly about them in a post called Tales from the Trenches Tuesday. Sometimes she wishes her friends would pick some fake names for themselves so she could write about them more easily in blog postings. She doubts her mother (Alice B) reads any of this and is SURE her father(Coach) doesn't. She needs to stop writing about herself in the third person.
Fifteen interesting facts:
1. I was a dancer growing up and even started college as a Dance Major, before switching to English. I did earn enough credits in the field to finish with a Dance Minor. I do not list this on my resume.
2. I do not dance at weddings, parties, bars, or anywhere else for that matter.
3. In high school I won the superlative of "Prettiest Eyes"
4. My parents were both teachers at my high school. Maybe people felt bad about that, thus throwing me a bone by voting me "Prettiest Eyes"
5. When I was about 8, my parents volunteered to chaperone the Junior Prom and I got to go with them. I told everyone I was bringing Ricky Schroeder as my date. I still don't know why my 8-year-old self thought I needed to make that sh*t up but imagine everyone had a good laugh at my expense. If given the option now, I would totally bring Jason Bateman instead.
6. I grew up outside of Philadelphia and am a Philly Sports Fan
7. While I have lost it for the most part, I can easily pick up my Philadelphia accent after (a) a few drinks or (b) spending time with other Philadelphians.
8. When (a) and (b) happen concurrently, it usually leads to trouble.
9. When I graduated college, I was hired by my national sorority to be a consultant. I spent the following year travelling to chapters at campuses all over the country and even got to recolonize a chapter at one school. The whole experience is still one of the hardest and most amazing things I have ever done.
10. I once met Charles Barkley in a bar in Atlanta. He bought me a woo-woo shooter and a Coors Lite.
11. I have a Master's degree in Film and Media Communications that I still hope I will use someday.
12. The movie "Gremlins" scared the begeezus out of me when I was little and I haven't watched it ever again.
13. I don't think I have ever eaten a nectarine.
14. I was in a bunch of plays and musicals in high school, but only ever once was cast in a role with actual lines. I played the bratty younger sister, Rebecca, in "Our Town"
15. I make my bed every single day no matter what.
So thanks to my 50 followers for making me feel so fabulous on this fine Friday! Here's hoping for 50 more :)
I may not be a mother
But I have a mother’s heart. That’s what I have come to realize. I have been stressed and upset about a great number of things recently. And it wasn’t until last night that I started to see that some of my stresses and worries were not necessarily my own. They are worries and thoughts I have been carrying for friends and loved ones. Because their pain is my pain too. Their worry and stress is my genuine concern. What they feel…well pretty much that is what I feel too right along with them.
I have heard it often said that a mother is only as happy as her happiest child. That is exactly how I feel about the people who matter to me. When they are happy I am over the moon happy for/with them. And when they are hurting, I am truly hurting for/with them and trying to find a way to make things easier, better, or at least a little brighter for them. Part of me figured maybe this is how all women are with their friends. But I also have come to learn (often the the hard way – my specialty!) that sometimes I am blissfully unaware or out of touch with what may or may not be the norm for people.
I know some of them read this here little blog, so to my friends IRL, please know that every joy you have experienced, I have been beyond happy for you. For every heart that has been broken, my heart has often broken with it. For every tear that has been cried, I can guarantee you that I have cried too, whether or not I have done it in front of you (and sometimes I haven’t been wearing waterproof mascara, so be HAPPY you didn’t see that mess!) For every goal you have achieved, I have cheered from the sidelines. I have cried at your weddings, cried when parents have fallen ill, cried when you have given birth. I brag about you to others. I stay up some nights worrying for things you are going through. People who will never even meet you likely know you by name - I talk about you all because you are like family to me.
Something I have come to really enjoy about this whole blogging thing is that it has allowed me to make new friends. Amazing, interesting, funny, brave people whose stories I get to read each day. People I will likely never meet. And I still find myself cheering from the sidelines for them, crying when they cry, and laughing when they laugh. I talk about you about your postings to others. I stay up some nights reading about all of the things you are going through. Just another thing that has made me realize that while I may not be a mother, I do have a mother's heart.
I know it is cliche, but often we don't let people know just how much they mean to us, usually because we assume they already know. How strong we think they are, how proud we are of them, how thankful we are to have them in our lives. I hope you will take the time today or this weekend to call/email/text a friend and let her know what she means to you. Because we can all use that kind of lovely news in our lives, no matter how good or bad of a day we are having.
I have heard it often said that a mother is only as happy as her happiest child. That is exactly how I feel about the people who matter to me. When they are happy I am over the moon happy for/with them. And when they are hurting, I am truly hurting for/with them and trying to find a way to make things easier, better, or at least a little brighter for them. Part of me figured maybe this is how all women are with their friends. But I also have come to learn (often the the hard way – my specialty!) that sometimes I am blissfully unaware or out of touch with what may or may not be the norm for people.
I know some of them read this here little blog, so to my friends IRL, please know that every joy you have experienced, I have been beyond happy for you. For every heart that has been broken, my heart has often broken with it. For every tear that has been cried, I can guarantee you that I have cried too, whether or not I have done it in front of you (and sometimes I haven’t been wearing waterproof mascara, so be HAPPY you didn’t see that mess!) For every goal you have achieved, I have cheered from the sidelines. I have cried at your weddings, cried when parents have fallen ill, cried when you have given birth. I brag about you to others. I stay up some nights worrying for things you are going through. People who will never even meet you likely know you by name - I talk about you all because you are like family to me.
Something I have come to really enjoy about this whole blogging thing is that it has allowed me to make new friends. Amazing, interesting, funny, brave people whose stories I get to read each day. People I will likely never meet. And I still find myself cheering from the sidelines for them, crying when they cry, and laughing when they laugh. I talk about you about your postings to others. I stay up some nights reading about all of the things you are going through. Just another thing that has made me realize that while I may not be a mother, I do have a mother's heart.
I know it is cliche, but often we don't let people know just how much they mean to us, usually because we assume they already know. How strong we think they are, how proud we are of them, how thankful we are to have them in our lives. I hope you will take the time today or this weekend to call/email/text a friend and let her know what she means to you. Because we can all use that kind of lovely news in our lives, no matter how good or bad of a day we are having.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Does "Intervention" offer interventions for people who watch too much TV?
As has been mentioned in countless earlier posts, I tend to think and worry far too much. I am convinced I inherited this from my father who is a huge worrywart (and who I will now just refer to as Coach because I know my friends and family get a big kick out of that.) Coach isn't just a worrywart, he's got a small sprinkling of OCD on top just to make life interesting. I remember countless hours spent sitting in the car waiting for him as he went back into the house to make sure things were unplugged and turned off. My awful sense of humor has often delighted in saying "Wait, I think I left my hair straightener plugged in...." on the way to a family function just to see that look of panic flash over his face. Coach never finds that joke funny, yet he falls for it every damn time. Yet I find myself with touches of this same affliction, often sending frantic texts to roommates asking them to "double check" that I had turned something off or put something away before leaving the house that morning.
I have realized recently that I have truly turned this ability to think and worry too much into a total stressfest in my life. I stress about the usual suspects -- work, money, getting older, etc. I stress about the weather and how it will affect my commute or my choice of clothing. I stress about remembering to get all my errands run.
But I have truly hit a new level of stress. I have become so completely overwhelmed and stressed out by television. Oh yes, you read that correctly. TELEVISION.
It started over the summer, when Entertainment Weekly and the like start getting people pumped for the return of your favorite TV shows and letting you know what new programs to add to your TV viewing line up. I was simply overwhelmed by all the choices. How would I watch it all?? What if I missed a show that everyone else was watching -- would I be able to catch up??
L and I tried to get tactical as the show premiers drew closer. We had a chart mapped out to show what shows we could record and when. But most of you out there know the rules with the DVR -- you can only record two things at once. ONLY TWO!!! I was beyond stressed. I had to make important life altering decisions about what shows to record and what ones I would have to leave behind. I was living in my own weird version of "Sophie's Choice" and I knew it wasn't normal and/or healthy.
So the natural thing to do is realize this problem and set myself straight right? Wrong. So. Very. Wrong.
A few weeks ago, L and I finally broke down and made the trip to Comcast to pick up two new DVR boxes. So now in addition to the DVR in the living room, we would now each have one for our bedrooms. Now the recording possibilities were going to be endless. I could have my own special shows recording in my room. Things that I don't even want L to know I am recording. Things like Real Housewives of Atlanta and those damn Kardashians -- trust me, I have tried to quit them but I just keep getting sucked back in!
We returned home with the cable boxes and setting them up falls under L's apt responsibilities. I am not really sure what I bring to the table, but anything to do with electronics or hanging pictures is L's territory. She reported back that we had gotten the wrong kind of cable box...or the wrong cord...I really don't remember. I think I just blacked out at the thought of having to go back to the friggin Comcast office.
Hmmmm....how can we avoid going back to that dreaded Comcast office? Whatever could we do....
BUY NEW TVS!!!!!!!!!
So instead of going back to Comcast we got in the car and went to Costco and bought beautiful new HD TVs for our bedrooms. I am so in love with mine I think I need to name it...suggestions welcome :)
I know how sad and unhealthy all this TV has become, but here's the thing... I still read books, use big words (correctly) in my daily meetings and emails, keep active, get out and enjoy the fresh air, have dinner with friends. So is it really that bad if some nights I would rather stay home and catch up with my DVR than head out to a BAR?
Or do I have to take a hard look in the mirror and say:
My Name is Deviled Megs...and I'm a TVaholic
I have realized recently that I have truly turned this ability to think and worry too much into a total stressfest in my life. I stress about the usual suspects -- work, money, getting older, etc. I stress about the weather and how it will affect my commute or my choice of clothing. I stress about remembering to get all my errands run.
But I have truly hit a new level of stress. I have become so completely overwhelmed and stressed out by television. Oh yes, you read that correctly. TELEVISION.
It started over the summer, when Entertainment Weekly and the like start getting people pumped for the return of your favorite TV shows and letting you know what new programs to add to your TV viewing line up. I was simply overwhelmed by all the choices. How would I watch it all?? What if I missed a show that everyone else was watching -- would I be able to catch up??
L and I tried to get tactical as the show premiers drew closer. We had a chart mapped out to show what shows we could record and when. But most of you out there know the rules with the DVR -- you can only record two things at once. ONLY TWO!!! I was beyond stressed. I had to make important life altering decisions about what shows to record and what ones I would have to leave behind. I was living in my own weird version of "Sophie's Choice" and I knew it wasn't normal and/or healthy.
So the natural thing to do is realize this problem and set myself straight right? Wrong. So. Very. Wrong.
A few weeks ago, L and I finally broke down and made the trip to Comcast to pick up two new DVR boxes. So now in addition to the DVR in the living room, we would now each have one for our bedrooms. Now the recording possibilities were going to be endless. I could have my own special shows recording in my room. Things that I don't even want L to know I am recording. Things like Real Housewives of Atlanta and those damn Kardashians -- trust me, I have tried to quit them but I just keep getting sucked back in!
We returned home with the cable boxes and setting them up falls under L's apt responsibilities. I am not really sure what I bring to the table, but anything to do with electronics or hanging pictures is L's territory. She reported back that we had gotten the wrong kind of cable box...or the wrong cord...I really don't remember. I think I just blacked out at the thought of having to go back to the friggin Comcast office.
Hmmmm....how can we avoid going back to that dreaded Comcast office? Whatever could we do....
BUY NEW TVS!!!!!!!!!
So instead of going back to Comcast we got in the car and went to Costco and bought beautiful new HD TVs for our bedrooms. I am so in love with mine I think I need to name it...suggestions welcome :)
I know how sad and unhealthy all this TV has become, but here's the thing... I still read books, use big words (correctly) in my daily meetings and emails, keep active, get out and enjoy the fresh air, have dinner with friends. So is it really that bad if some nights I would rather stay home and catch up with my DVR than head out to a BAR?
Or do I have to take a hard look in the mirror and say:
My Name is Deviled Megs...and I'm a TVaholic
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Tales from the Trenches Tuesday
Once again, I *almost* forgot it was Tuesday then thankfully remembered and dropped everything I was doing. Well, not really…but the projects I need to get done today are just pretty mind numbing, so writing this up real quick won that contest hands-down.
On a weekend night out a couple summers ago, I randomly ran into some friends that I hadn’t seen in a while, maybe about a year or even two. The person that I had originally gone out with that evening came over to say she was thinking of calling it a night and heading home. It was then that the group of friends I had run into, including my friend RBEHU, convinced me to stay out. They had just gotten a couple more pitchers of beer…it wasn’t that late (around 11)…so I stayed. I am always so easily convinced to do things I shoulnd’t sometimes that it is unreal.
So the group of us stayed on at the bar, having a few more drinks and catching up. Until RBEHU suggested the group head back to his apartment to play Rock Band.
Because Rock Band is always a great idea when it's close to closing time and no one really wants to go home yet. And I personally would have dropped any and everything for Rock Band at any time of the day because deep down, I tam convinced I would make an amazing drummer. I wish I had anything credible to back that claim up with other than the fact that I am an excellent tap dancer and I figure drumming is the same thing, except with sticks in my hands. I have little daydreams of being at a concert or something and the band's drummer falls ill and someone’s all, “Is there a drummer in the house???” and I get up on stage and drum my little hands off and save the day. Or maybe Animal on “The Muppets” just made it look easy to me at an impressionable young age?
Ok, sidetracked by my drumming daydreams…sorry about that. Lets get this story back on track.
So our group leaves the bar and heads back to RBEHU’s apartment. Rock Band fun ensues. And then after awhile people start to filter out one by one…until it’s just me and RBEHU. It’s quite late and after a few calls to the cab company that fail to produce an actual cab to pick me up, I am offered a spot sleeping on the couch. Not a big deal to me, we are friends, seems all fine and good.
Until RBEHU tries to make a move. I am a little freaked out by this and honestly didn’t see it coming. But I also am so dense when it comes to these kinds of things that I wouldn’t see a Mack Truck coming at me until it ran me over. However, even with my total stupidity to all things guy-related, I really and truly was not thinking anything like this was going to happen and said as much to him.
“Well,” he said, “you DID come back here to play Rock Band, so…”
Whoah, whoah, WHOAH. Hold the damn phone – since when does Rock Band Equal Hooking Up? I could see maybe if I had gone back alone but there were other people. Then when all the bandmates peaced out it immediately took a turn for the romantical.
I slept on that couch with one eye opened and endured a painfully awkward ride home the next morning (I got caught trying to sneak out, how embarrassing!) Needless to say I was so traumatized by this whole episode, that I have not played Rock Band since. I wonder if my faux-drumming skills have suffered?
On a weekend night out a couple summers ago, I randomly ran into some friends that I hadn’t seen in a while, maybe about a year or even two. The person that I had originally gone out with that evening came over to say she was thinking of calling it a night and heading home. It was then that the group of friends I had run into, including my friend RBEHU, convinced me to stay out. They had just gotten a couple more pitchers of beer…it wasn’t that late (around 11)…so I stayed. I am always so easily convinced to do things I shoulnd’t sometimes that it is unreal.
So the group of us stayed on at the bar, having a few more drinks and catching up. Until RBEHU suggested the group head back to his apartment to play Rock Band.
Because Rock Band is always a great idea when it's close to closing time and no one really wants to go home yet. And I personally would have dropped any and everything for Rock Band at any time of the day because deep down, I tam convinced I would make an amazing drummer. I wish I had anything credible to back that claim up with other than the fact that I am an excellent tap dancer and I figure drumming is the same thing, except with sticks in my hands. I have little daydreams of being at a concert or something and the band's drummer falls ill and someone’s all, “Is there a drummer in the house???” and I get up on stage and drum my little hands off and save the day. Or maybe Animal on “The Muppets” just made it look easy to me at an impressionable young age?
Ok, sidetracked by my drumming daydreams…sorry about that. Lets get this story back on track.
So our group leaves the bar and heads back to RBEHU’s apartment. Rock Band fun ensues. And then after awhile people start to filter out one by one…until it’s just me and RBEHU. It’s quite late and after a few calls to the cab company that fail to produce an actual cab to pick me up, I am offered a spot sleeping on the couch. Not a big deal to me, we are friends, seems all fine and good.
Until RBEHU tries to make a move. I am a little freaked out by this and honestly didn’t see it coming. But I also am so dense when it comes to these kinds of things that I wouldn’t see a Mack Truck coming at me until it ran me over. However, even with my total stupidity to all things guy-related, I really and truly was not thinking anything like this was going to happen and said as much to him.
“Well,” he said, “you DID come back here to play Rock Band, so…”
Whoah, whoah, WHOAH. Hold the damn phone – since when does Rock Band Equal Hooking Up? I could see maybe if I had gone back alone but there were other people. Then when all the bandmates peaced out it immediately took a turn for the romantical.
I slept on that couch with one eye opened and endured a painfully awkward ride home the next morning (I got caught trying to sneak out, how embarrassing!) Needless to say I was so traumatized by this whole episode, that I have not played Rock Band since. I wonder if my faux-drumming skills have suffered?
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