Musings on the Airport Drive

This post brought to you by  Airport Dropoffs With Your Parents:  Questioning the sanctity of marriage since 5 a.m. 
I love my parents. I do. But I fear there is no one I will ever love enough to not want to punch in the face at 5 a.m. when they try to speak to me. I don't do early mornings well. You know who else doesn't do early mornings well? Over-anxious fliers. The strong, conservative values of my parents really came out in full force this morning as they decided the best way to calm those nerves was to release them through rapid fire venting about the TSA security measures. Because safety is only secondary to their radiation concern. 
Other thoughts at 5 a.m.? 
Nope. That's it. Over and out. 
Oh wait, I lied. In honor of Halloween, check out this super cool article about different Day of the Dead traditions. One culture rewraps the bones of the deceased every year as a way to honor and care for them. 

Happy Halloween #throwbackthursday. 

What are your Halloween plans? Do you have anything that makes you say "I can't wait to be married,  but I won't be able to handle ______"? [Insert 5 am conversations as my response]

[Adult]hood

[ADULT]hood: When you don't need to buy dry shampoo anymore, and your shower schedule never changes.
When Taylor introduced her Someday I Will link-up, I thought this was a perfect time to introduce my latest theory on what it means to be an adult. Think about it. If you don't have a need for dry shampoo, this implies many things: steady job (and needing only one job, because people with two still might have a crazy schedule necessitating dry shampoo); steady income (shampoo ain't no cheap shit, yo); and a steady social calendar. 
But what are the other components of being an "adult"? Things that I will look for and say "I made it"? 
Someday I will:
*Be somebody's best friend, confidant, built-in social activities buddy and all-around #1 pick for marriage.
*Be that "adult" that all the teenagers come to with their angsty problems as they sit at my kitchen counter and I make them food. And they'll watch my hands flip the pancakes with all my eclectic rings and wonder how they can live a life so full, so well-lived and well-traveled. 
*Be my niece's favorite aunt at her high school graduation.  (Already well on my way to this).
*Be known as the marketing-communications guru amongst the nonprofit community.  I might even get asked to speak at a conference on the topic, someday. 
*Have one of my short stories published. 
*Be a role model in the church with my husband as an involved couple who truly cares about the community within the church. We'll shake hands with people and volunteer. A lot. 
*Have a full-time job doing what I love for a nonprofit organization. 
*Have a gigantic right-hand diamond ring just because I can. 

And that's it. For now. I want to be a little bit of Sandra Tuohy from The Blind Side, mixed with a whole lot of awesome Autumn, published author, nonprofit marketing-communications guru and sassy old volunteer woman. 

Someday, what will you be?

Quirk Alert

1. I like my chips crushed. That's right. Fresh bag of chips? Smash them. Crumbs. So good. 
2. I can only drink flat pop. The bubbles hurt my nose. 
3. I have never shopped at Victoria's Secret. When I was 12, I made a $200 bet with my sister that I would never shop there because it was "too pink." To this day, I have yet to shop there. But I think I'm caving...mama needs some quality bras. 
4. Every single year from early elementary to high school senior, my "last day of summer" celebration was to play Monopoly by myself on the deck. Don't ask me why. But I did it. Every year. For 10+ years. It's not that I had no friends either (I promise!). But for some reason it was the epitome of summer luxury to me--decks, sunshine and an overabundance of time you could waste however you pleased. 
5. The last thing I do before bed every night must be to pee. If someone talks to me somewhere between the bathroom and my bed, I have to go pee again. 
What are your quirks?  Do we share any?
And if you made it through that whole list... here's a giveaway to bring you $100 to Target or Starbucks (your choice!)!!! 

Rachael // Morgan // Melissa

Jen // Clara // Dara

Brittany // Autumn // Toatsy

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Dating Disasters: Bongs and Bars

Because every good first date deserves a second date--or so I thought. Earlier this month, I went on a date with SuperHot Classmate (SHC) where we drank wine and went to Sam's Club and a car wash and laughed until my cheeks hurt. So, last week, we went on date #2. 

We met at a dive bar after I got out of class. So he was already batting a 1000 because we all know my extreme love for dive bars. Until I walked inside and he wasn't there. Fan of dive bars. Not a fan of sitting in dive bars by myself waiting. So I text him. Call him. Finally the little asshole picks up. "I'll be right in." He proceeds to walk in with the manager, and stands a good 40 feet away, not acknowledging my presence or waving or saying hello or god forbid MAKING EYE CONTACT. Another man comes up and starts hitting on me, and he still is not moved to come over. 

Finally, I go over. I get introduced to the manager. The manager gets the point (finally. How does someone so dense run a successful business?) and we sit and talk for a little bit. SHC turns and goes "let's get out of here, I've been here all day working out a business deal. Want to go back to my place for a drink?"

I know, I know. I should've said no. But I am a hopeless donor of second chances and I wanted him to be better than this. So, so much better. The first date was so fun! I couldn't believe it was ending in this awfulness! So I said yes. 

He pours me a drink, and I'm sitting on the couch when all of a sudden...I smell something. 

Homeboy just straight up whips out a bong and sits down next to me. 

Source

Doesn't ask if I'm ok with this. Doesn't ask if I want any. 

Just smokin' away. 

Homeboy, you don't know me! 

Why, why would you do that around someone you don't know?

I decide it's time to go. I ask him to walk me to my car (which I'm extremely pissed that I even have to ask him to do) to which he responds with the potentially most self-righteous, absolute asshole of a one-liner that will live in infamy:

"You're a grown ass woman, you can take the elevator by yourself."

And then the date ended with me telling him I wasn't kidding, dragging him by the wrist to the elevator (he lives in a not-so-safe neighborhood, no way in hell was I walking down by myself). Finally, I get to the elevator, SHC in tow. As soon as I step into the elevator, he karate-chops, KARATE CHOPS, my wrist and RUNS AWAY. 

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Happy Friday. 

May all your dates this weekend be better than this! 

Corn Mazes and Cuddles

Corn mazes and cuddles define my weekend. Got out of work in time to go to the pumpkin patch with my parents and sister's family. Oh how I forgot what a built in compliment machine nieces are. They just boost your self confidence 200 percent.

While the other side of the family finished in 20 minutes, Emma and I proceeded to get lost for an hour in the maze. We were actually just going around and around in one small circle, literally like 30 feet from the entrance.

Afterwards I tucked her into bed and got some snuggles. After talking non-stop for 15 minutes, she casually rolls her little head over and goes, "So, is there anything you would like to share with me? Maybe, what you did at work today?"

So, readers, anything you'd like to share with me today? Maybe, the highlight of your weekend?

Unreal Fundraising Tactics

Hello, blogworld. Good to be typing again. October has turned into a whirlwind of tests, papers, projects and confrences. Last night was the first time in over two weeks that I've gotten to bed before 2:30 am and it felt wonderful and luxurious.
In case you missed it, earlier this week I guest-posted for Nadine at Back East Blonde. It pertains someone who I know was quite popular a few posts back, Breakfast Lover. That's right. Breakfast Lover is back, so head on over and check out how I tried to sell him on Bow Wow and boobs. 

When in Wine

The past 48 hours have been dominated by a little something we like to call--wine. If you haven't noticed, I tend to go big or go home on the weekdays instead of on the weekends like normal people. It's all part of the unreal life, folks. Oh gosh, where to begin? 

Because obviously the best place to start a first date is on an empty stomach and a glass of wine. #winningfirstimpressions
— Autumn Lee (@thejanklife) October 10, 2013

Let's start with this. I was not prepared. As in, so unprepared that even the cook at work asked me how long it had been since I showered. So when super hott classmate (who was less hott when he denied me access to Bow Wow, that asshole) asked me out for drinks, I was slightly flabbergasted. I mean...you denied me Bow Wow. I haven't showered in three days. The cook could use the grease in my hair instead of cooking oil. But then, a train blocked my car (this is becoming much too frequent in my life) and there was literally nothing to do. So...we went for a drink. 
And I laughed until my cheeks hurt. Like literally, sitting there holding my cheek muscles in because I wanted to die from laughing. And then the wine hit my empty stomach and shit got unreal type of jankity jank. Like when he asked me why white people were scared to look at black people and I cited fear of their "swag-like head bobs." He didn't buy that. 
And then somehow....we ended up at Sam's Club. Where I started raving about their samples and the poor man asked multiple employees if they would bring any out for me (they wouldn't). 
And then there was that time when he told me he wouldn't let his daughter carve a pumpkin because that was some "white shit" and I tried to argue that it was in fact a geographical cultural norm, and not exclusive to white people. All Midwest people carve pumpkins, damn it. 
And then we ended up in a car wash. Which is one of my most favorite things ever (true fact: I once requested for my birthday to spend the day finding the longest car wash in Michigan). 
And then we ended up back at my car, where I gave him unsolicited parenting advice about the importance of carving pumpkins. 
And that folks, is why you don't go on first dates on an empty glass of wine.  An empty stomach. And a glass of wine.  Clearly.  I need food.

The Heebie Jeebies

Like Mindy Kaling, I have been known to sleep with a well stocked arsenal of defense weapons within easy reach at all times--pepper spray, an empty wine bottle (to hit them over the head with, of course), a knife and sometimes an extra knife just to be sure. And my cell phone. To call the police when the intruder is dead on my bedroom floor. 

I was going to write a comical "hahaha I'm 23 and I can't sleep alone" post detailing the trials of having to sleep on my sister's couch every time my parents roommates go on vacation...but then, the following happened. 

Yesterday morning, I was awakened by my car alarm going off at 5:30 am. I ran upstairs and clicked the key fob in every single possible combination (does anyone ever remember what button it actually is the first time?) to get the stupid thing to shut up, and went back to bed. My dad wondered what it was, and I said "hopefully not a human." But given the fact that we live in a very safe area yada yada we decided maybe a branch had fallen on it from the storm (but not a big enough branch to necessitate going outside to check). 

So, fast forward to a few hours of patchy sleep later...I get ready to leave for the day and low and behold...my car door is open. It WAS a human. A human DID try to break into my car. Screw you, unknown human. 

In conclusion, I am now terrified and plan on sleeping with at least three knives. 

If you live alone, how do you not scare yourself to death every single night?

Do you sleep with defensive weapons by your bedside?

Bow Wow, Bling Wow

Well kids, here we are. Another weekend, another update. For most of the weekend, I worked. But Saturday evening I had the pleasant surprise of one of my sorority sisters coming into town so you know what that means...shennanigans. 

Only with sororities sisters is it appropriate to crash DJ Bow Wow and get engaged to a bouncer all in one night.
— Autumn Lee (@thejanklife) October 6, 2013

Awesome. Glad to see that spelling mistake made it's way in there. Thank you, non-auto correcting Samsung Galaxy for showing off the best of all us sororities girls. 
Shennanigan One: Bow Wow Earlier this week, I got invited to a fundraising event that one of my classmate's had planned. It was a charity ball for Breast Cancer Awareness featuring none other than DJ Bow Wow. That's right ladies, Lil Bow Wow is all grown up and DJ'in. Tickets were, even by charity standards, a little steep for my waitress blood. So instead, I bribed my seesters with some leequor and convinced them that we could, indeed, crash the Bow Wow concert. I don't think my heart has pumped so hard since I walked up the stairs ever. 

Elevator pictures: proof that I was literally excited enough to pee my pants a little.

Unfortunately, we were stopped at the door by my friend the event planner who gave me a hug, told us we were under-dressed and promptly sent us on our way (making Monday and Wednesday classes potentially the most awkward thing ever). We did however, meet Bow Wow's bandmates (I did not know DJs had bands? Mayhaps they were pulling my leg?) and I got a bracelet from one of them. But the night was not fully lost...
Shennanigan Two: Bling Wow I found myself a bouncer and got engaged! It was magical. A bride-to-be's mother broke into my bathroom stall and borrowed toilet paper for her shwasty face daughter (legit, I was still peeing on the toilet) and later that night, the darling bachelorette lost her bling. Much to my luck, a handsome stranger (COMPLETE WITH A FULL BICEP MICHIGAN TATTOO DUUUUUUH TRU LUV) picked it up and gave it to me. Now we are in love. 

Just kidding. 
But we did spend the rest of the night meandering around Art Prize (God bless a man who doesn't care if you ask him to take 10 photos of you in front of a statue for your blog) and I learned all about him. We both love road trips and are the youngest of multi-sibling families with wide age gaps. And we love Michigan. Do we need anything more? He is moving to Montana in November to work as a "Mountain Safety Operator" at some resort. AKA I am going to Montana in November to drink hot chocolate by a fire in a lodge. He also spent the majority of the night grabbing my bling and whispering "so much responsibility now."
Like I said kids, I may not be good at breaking into Bow Wow concerts,  but I am fabulous at getting strangers to tell me their life stories in 50 seconds flat. 

Your First Time

Today I want to talk about your first time.

It happens unexpectedly. Any old day. Or night, in my case. In an alley. Last weekend. Homecoming.

I was walking with a friend, fresh case of Mike's in hand, to a party when a random stranger offered us a ride. One, I went to college in the most trusting town in America. This ride offer was not unusual. Two, when I drink, I hug. Every one. So I went to hug the kid who offered us a ride and he literally pushes me away and goes, "You're like...old."

OLD? Not, umm you're a stranger or we just met in an alley. OLD.

This was my first time being called old.
Do you remember your first time being called old?

And now enjoy this photo dump from Homecoming. Except not really because the android app limits the number you can attach. Or maybe I'm just using it wrong?

Say My Name, Say My Name

Well friends, here we are with another round of dating disasters. But, I'm stepping up to the plate and saying...I was the disaster. Dating disaster AND embarrassing story, two posts for the fun of one fun fun! (If you didn't sing that in the Michigan Adventure theme song tone then I'm sorry. Just move on.)
So...I met this kid a while ago and we've been texting for like a month and he finally stepped up to the plate and asked me on a date. 
We go downtown and are walking amongst the beautiful, lovely paintings of Art Prize and he's telling me this story and he goes "and then my dad was like, John...get your shit together." And I kind of half fall, half trip off the curb and do a grandma-like double take. All I know is that I've been texting someone named Josh in my phone for the past month. I'm definitely on a date with Josh...not John. Or am I? Did I really hear that? I decide it's too close to tell. 
A few minutes later, we run into a girl whose bible study leader I used to be when she was in sixth grade (she is now a high school senior. Holy time warp.). And I'm not really sure what to say when it reaches that awkward, we're all staring at you I interrupted your awkward first date moment. So I go with "Hey, this is my date..." and I gesture towards him hoping he'll shake her hand, introduce himself...you know, so I can hear his name. 
And he totally leaves me hanging. 
And after a completely unacceptable long pause, I commit and say "Josh."
Which he promptly follows up with a firm hand shake and "John."
So, friends, that's the tale of how I went out on a date and called him the wrong first name for a whole month. 

Funny story, he still wants to go on another date.