On this day, 10 years ago, something terrible happened…
(Previously written and can be read here…)
On this day, 10 years ago, something terrible happened…
(Previously written and can be read here…)
I’ve been debating whether or not to write this story. The subject matter… it’s just… well…
I’ve always playfully ascribed to the “girls don’t poop” motto… but we’re all adults here… we know that everyone poops, right?
We can call this story make-believe if you prefer to think otherwise, but I’ve held on to it long enough and I’m missing my cousins; one of whom is the star of this story, so it’s time for it to be told.
Meet Matt; “MattMatt” as I can’t help but call him despite him now being a 24 year old Citadel grad and a 1st Lieutenant with the US Army.
Matt and I have never lived in the same state but somehow he’s still one of my closest and very best friends. What a very blessed and lucky girl I am to have him.
Especially in the situation I’m about to describe for you…
A couple of years ago, Matt came up from good ol’ Louisiana to stay a few days with me. My apartment is tiny, so I built him a little bed in my living room and we spent the days laughing, (drinking), and hopping around town.
On one of the last mornings of Matt’s stay, we were drinking coffee watching CMT videos (I like to serenade him with songs he hates) and Matt got up and headed for the one bathroom I pay rent for, returning for a moment to ask if he could “finish off the toilet paper.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, we’ll run out for some in a little.”
About 5 minutes after his return, it hit me that I desperately needed the toilet paper I had so selflessly forfeited to him only minutes before – and I needed it immediately.
Fortunately, I live just two blocks away from the grocery store – two very walkable blocks – but being that the situation was quite dire, we jumped in the car (rather I kind of shimmied into the car), and drove the bumpy painful two roads over.
Originally the plan was to buy TP and head back home (I really hate public bathrooms), but time was slipping away and so I bee-lined for the Farm Fresh bathroom with Matt chuckling at my heels.
As the story of my life goes, I chose the stall without – shocker – toilet paper, and while I wouldn’t normally have a problem asking the person beside me to pass some under the stall, the woman beside me was having a …hard time… and I didn’t feel it appropriate to bother her.
Choking on my laughter so she didn’t think it was directed at her, I texted MattMatt, “would you believe that there’s no toilet paper in my stall and the woman beside me is clearly in distress!?” and I heard him burst out laughing in the hallway.
At this point y’all, I am really struggling not to laugh out loud, tears streaming down my face, shamefully hiding in my toilet paper-less stall – now feeling like a jail cell as I’m officially stranded – wondering how long I’ll have to wait before I can request a pass-off from the poor woman beside me.
Then, the bathroom heavens opened up and I heard the hinge of the main door followed by a painfully high-pitch voice, “Leaaaaaneeeee, where are youuuuuu?!”
MattMatt, my hero.
I couldn’t even see straight from laughing as hard as a laugh will silently laugh, frantically waving my hands underneath the stall door for the secret-man-in-the-women’s-room toilet paper handoff.
I imagine I hugged / high-fived / fist-bumped Matt in the hallway following that glorious save but I don’t remember. I do remember buying a mega-pack of toilet paper and going out for Mimosas.
If that doesn’t deserve greatest-cousin-in-the-world status, y’all… I don’t know what does.
I am so overwhelmingly thankful for family I also call friends…. and their willingness to venture into restricted territory in the name of cousinly love.
As a reminder though, girls don’t poop.
Recently I held a Bridal Shower for a childhood bestie of mine. At it, her Grandma was wilin’! In the middle of spewing hilarious stories and one-liners, she shared with us how she’s been drinking Apple Cider Vinegar “with Mothers” for her metabolism and energy.
I’ve heard about this before and when my Mom jumped on board, I figured I’d follow suite.
My mom drinks it down in an 8oz. glass of water with a little honey. While I didn’t think that was the worst thing in the world, I prefer to just get it over with.
So, last Monday I started taking 1 tbs vinegar mixed with 1 tbs. warm water and a little honey, twice a day; throwing it back like a shot.
One evening I even managed to convince my poor sweet boyfriend to participate (why does he date me?!)…
Needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled and when I threw mine back without trouble, he reminded me that he’s a better person than I am (*my words, not his) and that I’ve had experience taking shots that burn your face. To which I say…
Now for the terrible…
Just a couple days ago, I ran home from work for lunch realizing that I had forgotten to take my Apple Cider Vinegar morning dose. I whipped up my concoction, cheers-ed myself (as I always do because I’m that big of a nerd), and threw it back…
I very (very) quickly realized that it wasn’t tingling down my throat and settling into my stomach like it usually did …it felt like it was stuck somewhere in my face… like it detoured to that in-between place where your throat meets your nose. I struggled to find oxygen and my eyes began to burn with a fire I can’t even explain. After what felt like an eternity of drowning in Vinegar and at a loss of what else to do to survive, I leaned over the sink, begging every crevice in my face to let the devil juice out.
A sneeze saved me (or damned me) and it all came pouring out; out of my nose, out of my tear ducts, out of my pores, and out of my mouth.
Y’all, the pain was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It took me a few minutes to get my bearings and eyesight back and when I did, I had to run back to the office and carry on like I hadn’t just experienced something terribly life-changing.
For your pleasure (and because I knew that the people I love would love this story this way), I documented the whole experience and the hours following in real time below via SnapChat.
Just be careful, my friends. I started taking my shots again recently but they’re much smaller and I’m much less confident; no longer ignorantly cheers-ing myself like I’m a boss.
Until next horrific life event.
Y’all, it has been one of those weeks. One of those “two” weeks really.
I just got home from a meeting which made it my 9th night in a row of “stuff.” I’m not (necessarily) complaining. I signed up for everything I do; I enjoy it all and it all means something to me. But maaaan, am I tired.
I feel like I’m living life like…
So, tonight when I got home I decided I needed to make myself dinner and take a few minutes to myself; soak up some silence, remember what I’m thankful for, remember what I do it all for, eat a home cooked meal…
So, because I’m a freak, I organized all my cabinets and then poured a glass of wine and decided to make a little eggplant parmesan – it’s one of my very favorites and I deserve it. I carefully peeled my little eggplant, sliced it in pretty perfect 1 inch rounds, tossed it in a carefully-measured bread crumb mix, greased my pan, put the slices in the oven, made some noodles, mixed up some spices to “spice up” a jar of tomato sauce, pulled out a nice plate, set everything up pretty as a magazine picture… and then poured cinnamon all over the entire thing because I was too tired to read the label (and had reorganized my cabinets) and thought it was a jar of red pepper flakes.
You know what’s even sadder… I still ate it.
…I think maybe your taste buds die a little the crazier and sleepier you get.
Cheers to everyone out there fighting your way through the week. You are not alone and I appreciate you. Give ’em hell.
A week or so ago, I threw away my beloved wine bottle opener. It had seen better days, it was time; plus I had just opened a bottle and figured I’d buy another opener before I got through the new bottle.
…I severely underestimated myself… or overestimated myself…? Either way.
Last night, I found myself in my pajamas early, bottle of Barboursville Red in hand… without an opener.
Panic immediately set in. Never mind the fact that I live two blocks from a grocery store where they sell both wine openers and screw-cap wine bottles (my personal favorite). I started digging through drawers, through bags, through shelves, through boxes and closets. Nothing.
I sat down in a chair for a self-pep-talk, “think… think, think, think! There has to be a way – there has to be!” All of a sudden, a video my cousin had posted on my Facebook wall popped into mind- link – simple enough, I had a shoe and I had a wall… I spent the next 5 minutes slamming said shoe against said wall without success.
“Okay… okay, okay…think…”
Then it hit me — panic… desperation — but also… screw… screw driver… hammer… I lunged towards the tool box that my dad had given me (which hadn’t seen much use until now); SCREW! SCREWDRIVER! HAMMER! I put the bottle on the counter, stood over it basking in my own brilliance, screwed the screw into the cork, flipped the hammer around and started pulling. The screw popped right out… but the cork, ugh, the cork did not…
The screw was too small, God bless it, the screw was too small.
Then delirium set in. I’m not ashamed of my actions, though I’m aware that I crossed over into to a place that I can never return from…
I went into my bedroom, removed a larger screw from a piece of furniture, dropped it into a pot of boiling water that I had on the stove intending to make noodles, strained it, screwed that 4″ sucker into the cork, plopped down on the floor cross-legged with the bottle pinned between my bare feet, and used every ounce of strength I had to pull the screw AND CORK out with the backside of the hammer…
And hour after my original inkling for wine…
Wine. Sweet victory. And neither had ever tasted so good.
For the record, this makes it official… I fully intend on ruling the world one day.
Have a great weekend!
So, in the last year alone, I’ve been prescribed antibiotics as a result of: dropping a hot frying pan on my own hand, accidentally slamming a hot baking sheet into my own chest; falling off a non-moving boat, and getting bitten by a spider at a 5-star restaurant.
In looking at the bright side… I think my life fully proves that…
Be encouraged, my friends.
Oops, I let a lot of time slip by! It’s been a crazy-whirl-wind start to Spring.
With regard to this post…
And that’s really all there is to say about that.
I promise to be back this weekend with a good story! I owe you that!