Showing posts with label Jen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jen. Show all posts

Saturday, April 10, 2010

The J Word

The J Word

So here’s an actual conversation that I had today with my self-proclaimed unjealous girlfriend.

Jen: “So I see you changed your blanket.”
Me: “Yes, I brought another blanket out. You’re using the other one.”
Jen: “That’s the one your ex-girlfriend made you, right?”
Me: “What? No. My day camp assistant made it for me.”
Jen: “But you dated her, right?”
Me: “No!”
Jen: “But you would have, right?”
Me: “Wha? I – don’t…”
Jen: “Well, you wanted to date her, right?”
Me: “I didn’t date or hook up with every girl that I ever knew, you know.”
Jen: “Are you sure?”
Me: “Why are you doing this?”
Jen: “Well this is the one that you had when you were with Stephanie, right?”
Me: “Well yeah… I mean – I did own a lot of stuff –”
Jen: “See?”
Me: “No.”

To Jen’s credit, she was joking around on some level. And I guess it’s possible the blanket was too close to the grill when she was cooking dinner tonight. And I’ll take jealousy over apathy any day.

Still Standing Right Here…

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Our Fan-niversary

Our Fan-niversary

It has always been my belief that couples should not consider themselves official until they’ve endured at least one entire NFL season (two if you’re a Redskins fan because November and December don’t count). Well, as of Sunday around 10:30pm, Jen and I became an official couple. This is great news, mostly for her. Because now it means that football season is over and I have to take down all my Eagles blankets and banners and bar stools (no I don’t, but I wish I did). But it also means that we’ve endured the toughest stretch that a relationship can go through. Though being snowed in with each other for 6 straight days is proving to be an unexpectedly grueling challenge.

It didn’t always look like we were going to get here either. We started dating around playoff time last year (early January) but things didn’t get serious until I moved in sometime around draft day (mid-April). I know. I work fast. I warned her then but I don’t think she understood the magnitude of my addiction. There were some hiccups around August when pre-season games started popping up on the TV and fantasy drafts took up a couple weekends. But then the real season started. I don’t know that I saw her for the first four weeks.

See, I’m a Philly fan and before any of you say anything, I did not personally electrocute any dogs – so cut that shit out. Living down here in Redskin territory means that I have to leave the house to watch the game. I was out of the house so many Sundays in a row, Jen thought I had found religion. And that’s not an unfair parallel to draw. I would get dressed and attend every mass every Sunday afternoon at Our Lady of the NFL. We pray to the Holy Roller, the Music City Miracle and the Immaculate Reception, Amen.

And every Sunday, we had the same conversation. “I’m out at the bar… Because the game’s on… No, it’s not on at home... Yes, I know we get 8,000 channels, it’s not on any of them… No I can’t… Because there’s a game on after that and another one after that. I told you all this shit back in April – you said you’d be cool!” 17 weeks and I think we had a similar conversation at least 13 times and she was in the Ghaza Strip for 3 weeks.

Then she’d ask why we couldn’t do anything Monday if the Phillies already played. And yes, she called them the Phillies more than once. And guys, why do we have to watch the Monday Night games, even when it’s Cleveland and Oakland? Because we have Zach Miller on our fantasy team and we still need 8 points to win our matchup. That was the part that almost got the locks changed.

But we shot the gauntlet and made it through. So many other couples have failed. Not us. But it wasn’t easy. Getting grilled on politics and religion by her father the day we met was a cakewalk compared to these last 5 months. So congrats to us. Now that we’ve officially made it, she’s saying something about a ring. I assume she was talking about the Superbowl. I know. She’s great.

Oh, and ladies. If you’re one of those gals who thinks that your relationship is fine because your boyfriend doesn’t like football, well then he’s gay. And isn’t this a shitty way to find out.


Still Standing Right Here...



QOTD credits: Kevin Hershey – (Fanniversary, see comments below)

Monday, February 8, 2010

Snowmaggedon 2010 - Part 1

Snowmaggedon 2010 - Part 1

I’m not a meteorologist. You know this. But what I am is someone with a memory and eyes. Normally when I hear crap like “record-setting snowfall,” I think about all the cars that seem to all be the best in their class. How the hell is that possible? How many classes are there? Could I just come up with a class and vote for my own car and claim that it was “2010’s best in-class?” I believe that’s the only reasonable explanation. But anyway, I figure that there’s probably some way to skew the statistics with regards to snowfall to make it sound like whatever we are in the midst of is the worst snow ever. It makes us feel like our meaningless life has purpose when we’re a part of history, even if we didn’t really do anything to earn it. But with another 12-20 inches predicted to come tomorrow night, that puts the weekly total at around 50 inches, which is three times the amount we normally get in one whole season. Those are numbers not even car buyers can disagree with.

I’ve seen storms that had a lot of hoopla beforehand only to turn out a small dusting and also storms casually mentioned on the news which debilitated cities for days. Well, they got this one right. I thought everybody was being little pansy babies, shutting down school on Friday and stocking up on water and toilet paper the night before. And why water? Do faucets stop working in the snow? Maybe I’ve just been blessed with decent pipes all these years.

But when the snow started coming and I saw all the salt trucks waiting in the on-deck circle on the side of the highways for the manager to call them to the plate, I realized this wasn’t one of those overhyped dustings. This was the real deal. And I needed cat food. We had enough human food and toilet paper at our place to last us through the weekend, and I was confident our plumbing system would keep delivering. But the cats needed to eat too. They were going to be stuck in the same damn storm. And because they never leave the apartment, I was going to have to get their food for them. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait in line at Giant for 2 hours just to get cat food. They’ll be eating spaghetti and clementines before that happens. So I figured I’d go way out of my way to the specialty pet store north of Baltimore on my way home from work. This made less sense as the snow was starting to accumulate, mostly because there was a moment of panic when I was about 2 miles away when I had a thought. If high schools, colleges and all government agencies were already closed for the day, what made me think a privately-owned, report-to-no one, independent pet store would still be open? Boy, I really hope I have enough pasta. Well, to make this story super anti-climactic, the store was open. And I got my kitty food. And to subtract even more from the drama, there was still plenty left. Probably enough for another 2 weeks. I think Jen just likes to make stuff up when she calls me to see if I’ll actually do it. Next thing, she’ll be asking me to go get bottled water.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Chasing Sanity

Chasing Sanity

I teach a college class to actual college people about how to be more intelligent. My particular passion is trying to get the students to understand the importance of perspective. A mantra throughout the class, as all would agree, was “What is important?” It’s been a life-changing view that I’ve adopted thanks to a three-year sanity-deprivation experiment with Arnos and Seth. I’m proud to have a sign hanging in my office that simply reads “Stay Focused.” And yet, if somebody cuts me off in my car, none of that means shit and that dickhead has to learn.

I was reminded of my kryptonite last week on my way home from work when I was not just cut off in the sense that somebody swiped in front of me – but somebody decided to make a right turn from the middle lane onto a narrow road right in front of me. I was in the right lane making that same turn, but legally and safely. What this guy did crossed whatever line I had drawn in my head about what is acceptable in traffic maneuvers. And justice MUST find its way to him.

First of all, I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want to swerve into oncoming traffic to try to get around him. That would make me the bigger dick, enabling him to go home thinking “what a dick” and discredit my entire venture. I also might die, which would discredit a lot of things. Though I did look into the glass eye of a witch and that’s not how I go. So what choice was I left with? Flashing my high-beams? That doesn’t seem like enough. And we were coming up to my turn. I had thought of nothing. But there was no harm in following him until I figured something out, right? I had nowhere to be. And this is when I probably went a little too far.

I noticed that the driver was likely male and the passenger likely female. There was also a smaller person in the passenger’s back seat, the seat I almost plowed into as the guy cut in front of me from the middle lane. It was a Subaru Outback with a roof rack (I think that’s a standard Outback feature). So I surmised it was a married couple with their teenage or younger daughter in the back. And once I made it up in my head that the father was willing to sacrifice the life of the two women in his life to dangerously take what I learned was really just a shortcut, I was determined to serve up whatever my convoluted head had decided justice was. Which I still hadn’t figured out yet.

Now, I’m a reasonable guy. Like I mentioned, I was just seeking justice. Not wrath or divine vengeance. A rook for a rook; let the punishment fit the crime. However, I thought it should be my job to make sure he didn’t do that again. And as fate would have it, I had a few minutes on my hands. I decided to follow this guy home. Mostly for lack of a plan. This decision was surprisingly easy to come to. All I had to do was really not figure out anything else before I was supposed to turn back home. Once I was already following him and out of my way, what was too far? And I wanted to go far enough to make sure he knew I was following him or else, the project would be a failure and he’d be turning from the wrong lanes for the rest of his life and he’d pass that onto his daughter. And I couldn’t have this happen on my watch.

So here are some of the disturbing, however logical thoughts that went through my head during the next 7-10 minutes while trailing this Subaru around the back roads of Silver Spring, Chevy Chase and DC. I wasn’t sure if they knew I was following them. At first. After all, all I knew about him was that he was a reckless driver to begin with. But once he started swerving through left turns, signaling without turning and speeding up to get through yellow lights (I may have run a red light), I think he knew. Yet, I knew I wasn’t going to do anything so I wasn’t scared. I think that fear was the rook I was looking for. However, I started to get frightened for a second. But I figured if they were going to do anything crazy like get out at a red light with a baseball bat, they’d probably all have to agree to it. If it were just one person, I’d run the risk of that guy being crazy. But there are three of them and for all they know, I’m crazy. Shit, I’ve been tailing them for the last 10 minutes. They’d better stay in the car and try to run me out of gas. My entire goal of this activity was to hopefully make this guy realize that the next guy he cuts off might actually be crazy and it’s not worth the risk to his family at this point. That’s all. I’m not unreasonable.

It was about then that I realized that they probably caught on and my job had been accomplished. I didn’t want to necessarily follow them to their driveway. Well, at one point I should admit that I did, and drive by slowly so they definitely knew, pointing at them and putting three fingers up in the air to just confuse the hell out of them. Three what? Three days? Three times? Oh God, what have I done? But I didn’t want to walk into an ambush and I likely still had plausible deniability on my side should the cops show up. Plus, we were back on a road name that I recognized. So I let them turn off onto their (or likely some random) side street in peace. But I do know their tag number now. Though I have no idea how the hell I got there, so they’re probably safe anyway.

I got home and had to tell Jen exactly what I’d done, but not before I had a couple beers. She asked if what I had done had scared me. I was like “no, I knew I wasn’t in any danger.” But I knew what she meant. I like to think I maintained my cool the whole time, or at least I like to pretend I did. I guess the point of all this is that you shouldn’t go around endangering the lives of others. And if you do, prepare to suffer the consequences. Rook for a rook. I’m bringing vigilante justice to the roadways of the Greater Montgomery County area.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Touchdown My Pants: The 5th Day of Giftmas 2009

Touchdown My Pants: The 5th Day of Giftmas 2009

There are a lot of things in my life that I’m more proud of than I probably should be. Being able to diagnose my own injuries without seeing a doctor; knowing what porn sites contain viruses and pop ups; and being able to tell the difference between the Jonas Brothers to name a few. At the top of the list, however, is my fantasy football prowess.

For those of you who don’t know what fantasy football is, it’s basically D&D for people who make fun of the people who play D&D. We make our own team of NFL players and score points based on how well they perform each week. See, it’s totally different. And then we talk shit about our teams to each other like we had something to do with their success. It’s the last refuge of the unathletic. And it works with almost 100% success. Whereas you used to have to be athletic to brag about your sporting prowess, now you can stay connected by studying real athletes on the internet and television. Congratulations, America.

But this season marks a first. Touchdown My Pants (my fantasy team) won the fantasy championship which means I will actually get money for all the hours I poured into studying these real athletes. And so Jen and I went to Outback last night and I splurged on the 12 oz. rather than the 9 oz. that I normally get. It was still just meat loaf, but I was content. And we cheersed each other and proclaimed loudly “Here’s to Touchdown My Pants!” An elderly couple near us turned red. Three guys at the table across from us bought us a couple shots. The waitress gave us a free dessert. Thank you, Joshua Cribbs for your timely kickoff returns.



Re-Quote of the Day 12/21/06


“Fantasy football is like Dungeons & Dragons for guys who used to make fun of Dungeons & Dragons in high school.”

-Dave Bradshaw

He admittedly stole this from a comedian, but we can’t think of who, so Dave gets a point for now.

Ho-ho!

Santa’s ding-dong.


Still Standing Right Here…

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Death by Kitten: The 4th Day of Giftmas 2009

Death by Kitten: The 4th Day of Giftmas 2009

This is an actual sentence I said last week.

“Hey Keith, my kitten ate Jen’s roses and puked all over your invitation. Could you give me directions to your baby shower again?”

I’m going to table the fact that I attended a coed baby shower for a little while so I can introduce you to the reason I show up to work with scratches all over my forearms and face. That would be Poe, the little kitten that I decided to plague our perfect happy home with. She’s apparently a “Russian Blue” breed, which is odd since she’s completely grey. And her eyes are yellow. And she’s from Jessup.

So I’m not necessarily a cat person at all. Which is another way of saying I’m straight. And yet, some impulse I had made the decision to add another cat to our 11th floor apartment.

Oh yeah. We already have another cat. Oh, and I moved in with Jen. There. Now you’re caught up.

So the main problem isn’t with the kitten, but it’s with her interaction with the 22-pound beast which Jen keeps trying to convince me is a cat. See, Poe likes to play and Sweetie (fat cat) is old and prefers to lay there and be left alone. Well, anytime Sweetie gets up to go anywhere, Poe will run behind her, jumping and swatting at her tail the entire way like it was a toy. As you can imagine, this pisses off the big cat. Especially when trying to use the litter box. As soon as Poe hears the scratching of the litter, she goes running after her. So what this caused is that now, Sweetie feels so much anxiety over going to the litter box, she will more often than not, shit on the wood floor. This does not make me happy. But think about it. If every time you went to the bathroom to crap, your little sister would hit you in the ass, wouldn’t you just do it wherever the heck you were at the time?

Anyway, an unfortunate side effect to this is that dried poop seems to be the most fun toy in the world to the kitten, provided there’s no chapstick available. So occasionally, we’ll move the couch to find a few pieces of dried, hardened Sweetie poop. It’s a sad life to have accepted for the three of us that aren’t Poe. I wish whatever part of me said “I’m not a cat guy” had spoken up louder back in April.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Rubbing One Out: The 1st Day of Giftmas

Rubbing One Out: The 1st Day of Giftmas

Well, I got pleasantly surprised by my first Giftmas present last night. Jen forced me to meet her downtown after work and on our 15-minute walk there, I guessed about 47 wrong answers, including the Harlem Globetrotters, a Krispy Kreme tour and a couple’s therapist. Before I knew it, I was being led into a room and being told to take my clothes off. I was really hoping it wasn’t the Krispy Kreme tour.

So anyway, this was my first professional massage and I really wish I had prepared maybe a little better. I hadn’t shaved my back in a few months and I was down to my last pair of boxers before laundry day, thankfully still on their first rotation. They were clean, but old and possibly stained. I’m not sure. I just threw them away after the session was over.

I was honestly a little nervous. Thankfully I hadn’t eaten any cheese all day, which was good news for everybody. Jen and I were getting an hour-long massage together. The masseuses came in and though it was dark, I could tell hers was a muscular foreign guy and mine was an attractive foreign girl. Jen was underneath a sheet the entire time. I had a washcloth over my ass. I was praying that I didn’t get a noticeable erection. At first. By the end, I was a little upset that I didn’t. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on Yuliya’s part. Or mine. Apparently, you get yelled at for shoving your finger up your ass during a massage. But you don’t get kicked out like you do at Mid-Atlantic Physical Therapy. And there was no happy ending either. At least not until about an hour later. When we went out for sushi. Then had sex.

So the massage ended and we both shamefully toweled off and proceeded not to make eye contact with one another for the next 10 minutes. I went to the bathroom, which thankfully had a sign saying “Employees Must Wash Their Hands Before Returning to Work.” That seems like agood company practice. On the way out, they gave us their business cards and schedules. And I guess it’s not standard practice since Yuliya didn’t do it, but Jen’s guy put his cell phone number on there. And directions to his house. But I doubt that means anything.


Lying still and thinking about baseball,

The massaganist.


Still Standing Right Here…

Monday, August 24, 2009

Operation Vegetarian: Week Two

Operation Vegetarian: Week Two

So I made it through my first week, which is apparently longer than Jen had thought I would last. Good to know I have a supportive partner in all this. Throughout the week, I thought about exactly why I was doing this and I came up with what I think is the real reason, other than Jen is making me so it, which is also a motivating factor. And the answer is that it is easy. Not in its execution, but in its definition of parameters. The difference between a vegetarian diet and a low carb diet (besides the many health benefits associated with it that I have no idea about) is that I know what meat is and therefore I can figure out when not to eat it. I know what beef looks like. I know what bacon looks like. I have no idea what a carb looks like. So if all I have to do is define something as meat and not eat it, it’s much easier to figure out how to eat.

That having been said, there are still many different versions of vegetarians. Some eat fish, which kinda blows my mind. In what world are fish not meat? Actually, I know the answer to that. That’s what I call a “Catholic Vegetarian.” I am on the Darwinism Vegetarian diet, where fish count as meat. They swim around, they bite, they have their own little heartbeats. Personally, I say that makes them meat.

Day Eight: I had the leftover couscous today and was told that it apparently has chicken broth in it. Jen apparently says that as long as it doesn’t have chunks of meat in it, that it doesn’t count. So I’m rescinding that I cheated on day one with the gravy incident. Apparently, if ground up fine enough and added to liquid, anything can be vegetarian. I will be testing out a chicken milkshake tomorrow.

Day Nine: I finally got my ass out to get some peanut butter & jelly. This will be my new best friend, I’m sure. I had three sandwiches throughout the course of the day. Cupcakes are also a familiar friend of mine, as I finally bought them in bulk today. I had given them up previously because of my cholesterol issues. I don’t think this is a very smart diet at all.

Day Ten: As predicted, I had PB&J for lunch again. Only this time, rather than having a healthy dinner, I had an Auntie Anne’s pretzel for breakfast and leftover mac & cheese for a midnight snack. I actually think the guy from Supersize Me was eating healthier than I am.

Day Eleven: Joe drove me to work today as I had to drop my car off at the mechanic because I made a deal with the devil a long time ago that stated something in the contract about never having a functional car for longer than two consecutive months. Joe stopped by Chick Fil-A after picking me up and I almost forgot that I was a vegetarian. He reminded me while we were in line, the prick. SO I had a milkshake for breakfast. Also, Jen and I decided to attend the Nats game tonight and baseball stadiums are known for being notoriously difficult to find vegetarian options. So I had a nice healthy dinner of french fries once again. Thankfully I had filled up on PB&J for lunch.

Day Twelve: So the great thing about this time of year is that with all the wooing of the new students comes free lunches for all the staff. So this was the first of the free lunches that I’ll be getting about every other day until just about the end of this diet. Now, as all free lunch caterers know, there are vegetarians amongst the normal people, so there are always vegetarian options. However, some of them suck. Thankfully today, both options sucked so it didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything. I had a lot of Caesar salad. Julius would have been proud.

The night provided a bit of a challenge though, as I found myself out at a sports bar trying to navigate my way through the menu. I wound up once again eating fries and an entire order of meatless nachos because somebody either doesn’t know how to order nachos with meat on one half or make nachos with meat on one half.

Day Thirteen: This is the day I’d been waiting for since the beginning of this operation. While Jen and I were still up in Boston, I came to the fortunate revelation that I had already replied to Leigh’s wedding, saying that I’d have the steak and she’d have the fish. That was to fall right in the middle of this vegetarian challenge. Joe simply said “Yeah, you can make exceptions like that.” Well, shit! “Honey, it’s steak night at Outback.” “But baby, it’s Fried Chicken Awareness Week in the Mt. Vernon area.” “Sweetie, it’s National I’m Tired of Peanut Butter & Jelly Day.” Well, we decided not to exploit this epiphany just yet, but we sure as shit weren’t going to re-reply with the vegetarian option. And so, there it was. A nice, juicy, melt in your mouth exception that I’d been drooling about for two weeks. And I dropped it on the floor. Just kidding. It was awesome. Kinda made me wonder what the hell I’m doing this for again. So congratulations to Leigh and Craig for getting married and thank you so much for inviting Jen and I to this very special day. You have NO idea how much it means. J

Day Fourteen: Today completely sucked. Because now the exception is over and the only thing I have to look forward to is Day Thirty-Two, or the first day of the rest of my meat-eating life. Oh yeah, after having Chips Ahoy cookies for breakfast and chopped up peppers and steamed asparagus for dinner, I decided that it was probably OK to only do it for the originally intended month rather than 6 weeks, which seems more arbitrary anyway. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of that steak from last night. And I’m starting to look at the cats in a different way.