t w e n t y e v e r y t h i n g

this is why I miss the Outer Banks...

I don't get to wear hats like that at work. I also don't get to do power hours at work (which is what we were in the middle of when this lovely photo was taken). Sigh. Being back to work sucks.

I know my blog has sucked it up lately. I think I've been in a post-vacation-moving-settling in drought. My most sincere apologies. Based upon the shenigans that have occurred since move-in day, it seems like I am going to have a lot more fodder for this blog.

Tomorrow you can look forward to pictures of the dreamcastle. At that point, my room will be completely unpacked and decorated and the communal living spaces will be up-to-snuff enough to showcase them on the Internetweb for all of you to see. Or at least, they better be because Alicia, Mike and Ben are coming over for the inaugural wine night of this casa and I will not be embarassed.
UPDATE: Tara got a job today! Hooray! You can now completely disregard the above paragraph because my evening will be filled with celebration in lieu of cleaning/organizing/unpacking. Read: wine, wine and more wine. And laughter. And hilarious jokes that just won't seem as funny in the morning as I chug diet coke and choke down a hangover sandwich in rushhour.

Random

Things I have done at work today to amuse myself:
-Played hangman in Ebonix with my co-workers. Hangman is fun to start with but can sometimes be too easy, what better way to up the ante than to remove the trappings of grammar?
-Searched our national company directory for the ugliest and most attractive people. The result: Buffalo is by far the fugliest market. There is not one decent person in the lot. Austin is undeniably the most attractive. If I wasn't afraid of what would happen should I post some of the least flattering pictures up here, I would share for everyone's amusement. They are really that good.
-Googled and zabasearched for random people that I went to elementary, middle and high school with.

The Not-So-Little TV that couldn't (be moved)

Last night, Allie and I set out from the apartment in search for the perfect living room TV. This process has been going on for awhile, and I have literally scoured all of Greater Washington and the Internet for this elusive electronic bit of perfection. Finally, FINALLY, I located the perfect set. After going to a second Best Buy because the first was out of stock, we bulldozed the loads of garbage and debris out of the back of Allie's car, put the gigantic 32 inch TV box in and we were merrily on our way. That is, until we pulled in front of the house, popped the gate and realized that somehow the two of us had to carry this TV in. This 32 inch monstrosity of a television.

I was not worried at all about my ability to carry the set. I figured it would be no problem, it wasn't that heavy and it just needed to go up half a flight of stairs and inside the door. What I hadn't taken into account was Allie's lack of carrying and lifting ability. It all of a sudden became clear as to why her boyfriend Danny moved all of her stuff this past weekend: Allie is a wimp. I can write this without being mean because Allie is a self-professed wimp. We were able to move the box out of the truck and onto the sidewalk with only minimal complaints and trouble. It was only when we attempted to go up the stairs that trouble fell upon us. I, still dressed in work skirt and top, then came to appreciate our predicament. I urged Allie to call her father, her friend John who lives down the street, anyone who was capable of lifting more than sixty pounds. After a few frantic voicemails to the aforementioned individuals, it became clear that we were on our own.

At that very moment, God must have been looking down on us because out of nowhere, I remembered the dolly in my trunk, a remnant of the moving adventure of last weekend. Without the dolly, I firmly believe that our neighbors would have discovered us this morning laying underneath the TV box, dead. The dolly allowed us to cart the TV around the back of the house and in through the screen door (however, not before we broke the screen door in the process). One inside, the box was dragged towards the door to the living room, the entertainment center was wheeled to just inside the doorway to the living room and the TV box cut into a million pieces so that we wouldn't have. At this point, we were both without our shoes, sweat was pouring down our faces and Allie had lost a toenail. Roman, the laziest dog ever, laid completely disinterested on his dog bed as we grunted, squealed and sweated that TV three feet into the living. Once it was placed onto the entertainment center, we both collapsed. Allie proceeded to call her parents, friends and boyfriend to tell them that she had actually helped carry a 32 inch TV. Apparently, this really was THAT big of a deal.

The TV is incredible. I can now read the guide and actually see what's happening in the shows.

Moving on up...

I moved out of the 'hood on Saturday. I abandoned the crappy apartment with the occasional roach that faced a fire department for a lovely townhome on a tree-lined street in Suburbia. And it's glorious!

The only sound at night is the whir of the air conditioners and the music of the crickets and tree frogs. All of our new neighbors were anticipating our arrival and have took the time to come and introduce themselves to us.  In my old apartment? I didn't know any of my constantly changing neighbors. There was only the awkard hello as we tried to pass one another on the stairs.

The actual moving process was relatively uneventful (aside from my television that caught on fire). We beat the rain and all of my stuff was residing in my new digs in about 2.5 hours.

The "dreamcastle" is just that - a beautiful home with a screened in porch and three fantastic roommates. We even have a dog - a lazy beagle basset hound mix named Roman. He's the token "man of the house" and we've learned that he fulfills the role well: he has no interest in doing anything but eating and sleeping.

In other news, I went to the orthopedic surgeon yesterday about my ankle. The good news is that I managed not to hurt any of the ligaments that had twice been reconstructed and instead strained the tendons that run over the top of your foot.

HIGHLIGHT of my LIFE

Seriously? Funniest thing ever.

I hope you enjoyed that as much as I do. I have watched it about 20 times in a row and cannot stop laughing. The kid in the back is great.

Perhaps the weirdest part of my obsession with this video is that I cannot wait to have kids so we can do insane things like make videos like this one and post them on You Tube. Some people look forward to the first steps, words or first days of kindergarden. Me? I cannot wait to do something insane with them so that I can post it on the internet for the amusement of thousands.

Ahhhh, finally

What I Did Drank on My Summer Vacation
by TwentyEverything

-Margarita
-Long Beach
-Vodka Tonic
-Gin & Tonic
-Gin Fizz
-White Russian
-Sex on the Beach
-Mai Tai
-Bahama Mama
-Screwdriver
-Cranberry Vodka
-Lazarus
-Matt's Gross Concoction (rum, vodka, orange juice, and Red Bull, shudder)
-Dano's Gross Concoction (triple sec, tequila & peach tree schnapps, again, shudder)
-Pain in the Ass
-Beer (about ten varieties)
-Wine (more than a few bottles)

*disclaimer: the above cocktails merely reference the types of drinks that I consumed during my blissful vacation. The singularity of the names does NOT mean that I only consumed one of that particular beverage. 

So the vacation? It was splendiferous. Going back to work afterwards? Not quite as lovely. So let's at least start with the splendiferous part.

(I just wrote a paragraph that was so boring and unnecessary that I had to delete it and start again). So here goes the shorter and funnier version:  Laura, Colleen and I drove down to NC separate from everyone else and in the middle of the night. (The reasons are long and boring so they don't make the story.) Leaving at 3:30 a.m. on just a few hours of sleep might sound insane, but really, in the end, it was BRILLIANT. Apparently it took our counterparts upwards of six hours to get to the Outer Banks. Us? We made it in like 4.5. Or at least, we would have if we had not been pulled over for speeding. But whatever.

We got to the house around 9:30 or so and commenced the drinking. As far as I was concerned, it was vacation and there is no better way to kick off a vacation than to start4 drinking while most normal members of society are still in bed. (This is a motto that I carried throughout the week). I was pretty trashed and uppity by lunchtime. Following some life-saving gatorade, I was back in action and on my way to the beach.

For those of you who don't know this, I grew up on the shore. The beach is a mere four miles away. I am used to waves, sand, undertows, etc. The beach in the Outer Banks? It kicked my ass. Like all over the place. I'd like to blame it on the fact that I was likely still intoxicated, but alas, I was all over the place. After successfully catching a wave bodysurfing, I got slammed into the shore. Legs went flying, my boob was scrapped horrifically against the bottom (I emerged with merely a wound, poor Kallie practically lost her nipple - this was serious folks), it was insanity. After about five minutes of having my legs up in the air and my head pulled back underwater, I managed to stand and make my way back to our seats. Much to the chagrin of everyone, I brought back about half of the beach with me.

Seriously? Pebbles the size of gumballs somehow made their way into my bathing suit, about ten pounds of sand were left on the bathroom floor when I took a shower and there were piles of sand in the bottom of the swimming pool. When I put on my bathing suit Sunday morning to go to the pool, it STILL had sand in it - a full week later. It was crazy.

Anyways, we made our way back to the house and the booze. And we drank. And drank. And drank some more. I had many drinks. Far too many to recollect. So many that I found the fact that I walked into the latch of the pool gate so hysterical that I missed a step and ripped apart my ankle. On second thought, it was probably the game of naked volleyball in the pool at 1 a.m. that I found so funny. All of a sudden a normal friendly game of pool volleyball became a lot more friendly when bathing suits were tossed aside and I saw more of my friends than I ever really needed to.

Needless to say, I hobbled up the two flights of stairs and begged for ice for my foot. I even hobbled outside to smoke what would be among the first of the thousands of cigarettes of the week. I even took my back medicine in the hopes that it would help my ankle. Let me just tell you that taking muscle relaxers, naproxen and codeine after about a dozen cocktails is in fact a bad idea. I will leave it at that.

The next few days are a drunken blur. White Russians in the morning (hey, they have milk, see, it's ok to drink them at 10 a.m.) poolside. Lots of sun. Each night, a different three people cooked dinner. We had homemade authentic Chinese, Mediterranean, lasagna, tacos, crabs, breakfast for dinner. It was all delicious. Tuesday night we did a power hour. It was among the most fun hours of my life. Kallie, Deb, myself and Alicia ended up with food and beer boxes on our heads. I will include a picture as soon as someone sends one to me.

We went out to a bar one night. Some sketcho man tried to hit on us, ended up buying us all shots and gave me his card. In the event I'm ever looking for a PR job in New York City, I'm to give him a call. When he turned away, I stole his brand new beer. Mwah. Ha. Ha. I danced a bit with Dano, who, a short time before, randomly ordered a lobster at 11 p.m. at the bar. And paid about a million smackers for it. It was weird. Laura and I capped off the week with a 10 a.m. power hour on Friday morning.

The week was a hazy mess of fun - lots of time spent in the pool, trips through the Brew-Thru, adventures in bartending and great games. I learned how to play Phase 10 - a game that all of you will be subjected to at some point in the future. All in all, I was so sad to see the week come to an end. My body on the other hand, couldn't have been happier. Too much food, WAY too much booze, naughties and pain. I think I maintained at least a small buzz through the whole week, and I was blindsided by a horrible hangover Saturday morning on my way back to MD. A short nap, a huge bottle of water and a bag of pretzels helped to keep it in check. I spent the rest of the day depressed and in bed. I hate coming back from vacation.

MIA no longer...

So I have been AWOL for going on two weeks. My most sincere apologies. It's probably going to take about five posts to adequately update you on what has occurred in my life during the interim. But you will have to wait until Monday to get the super long, probably extremely boring version. For now, you'll have to settle for a short synopsis as the gallons of alcohol consumed in the past week seem to have severely impacted my ability to compose a sentence. So here goes: It all began with an all-night drive to New Hampshire during which I arrived just in time to see the sun rise over the lake. We then battled (and then promptly disposed of) a wild pack of flying squirrels that had invaded the cottage. Let's just say it wasn't pretty. But the squirrels were cute (I have pictures (while they were still living of course)).

Other highlights include throwing out my back, ripping apart the reconstructed tendons and ligaments in my ankle, the two urgent care trips that those separate injuries necessitated, a week spent with 17 friends in the Outer Banks, power hours at 10 a.m., gallons and gallons of alcohol consumed and many sun rays absorbed. I lay in bed now, at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, depressed, lonely and wishing that I was still on vacation. Oh yeah, I move in exactly seven days. Which, due to the aforementioned back and ankle injuries will most certainly be interesting. I'm taking volunteers. Anyone willing to help?

And with that, I am going to go to sleep. Many more details and pictures to come Monday.