Winston died 4 weeks ago today. This morning, actually. And although I am still in full devastation mode, the days have been seemingly a teensy bit better. I can’t imagine I’ll ever get over this loss, but I’m managing.
The morning he died, we had a delivery to my office and one of the delivery men was my friend’s “little” brother. I say that but I suppose once you hit a certain age, you stop referring to people as little anything. I was surprised to see him because he is not our usual delivery person. But there were two of them so he might have been in training that morning.
My office door had been closed most of that day because I was bawling the entire day and just honestly didn’t feel like talking to anyone. But for some reason, my door was open when these guys came in. I think maybe someone had been in back with me checking on me. Little Brother and the other delivery guy popped around the corner to make their way downstairs and spotted me in my office….crying. I said hello, as one does, and they both stopped with sheer concern on their respective faces and asked if I was okay. My coworker announced the news that my Winston had just died that morning. They both expressed condolences, and Little Brother came right in and gave me a big hug. He started exclaiming to his colleague that “Sandy is the love of my life. I have loved her since I was 10 years old!”
Waiittt…..what?????
Apparently, I was Little Brother’s big crush. I had no idea. His sister and I were such good friend in high school and the years that followed and spent a lot of time at each other’s houses. How did I not know this? Maybe it’s because he was Little Brother. Just a cute little blond teddy bear that always says hi and hugs me through the years when we see each other. I never thought twice about it….
But would you look at that? I was someone else’s Jordan Catalano.
Remember “My So-Called Life”? That ridiculously real show from the 90’s that launched the careers of Claire Danes and Jared Leto? Remember how Claire’s Angela pined for Jared’s Jordan? (“Don’t you just love how he leans?”)
Ah, Jordan Catalano (via Yahoo)
Jordan Catalano was the epitome of teenage boy crushes. Because he embodied everything we had imagined, our entire lives, our soulmate to be. Jordan was imperfectly perfect.
I’m sure we have all experienced a love like that of Jordan Catalano.
The one guy who you see for just a split moment in time and you simply….fall.
You can’t sleep without dreaming of him, you can’t eat, you see him in everything you do; his name is written on every page or sign. You simply can’t function because your “Jordan” is everywhere.
I remember the first time I saw my Jordan. I noticed him from across a very large and crowded room. I recognized his name, but had never actually met him. I will admit, although he was not what I expected, he caught my eye.
The next time I saw him, several weeks later, my eyes lingered on him for a long while. An amidst a sordid incident with others, I felt an unrelenting need to protect him. That same day, I found myself in his presence, hearing him speak and being in close proximity to him. And I can say this with complete honesty, I have never wanted to physically put my hands on another person so badly in my entire life. Standing just a few feet away from him, all I wanted to do was reach out and touch him; to graze even just his stomach. I had never been this physically drawn to someone before. And maybe never since.
Less than a week later, I was sharing space with him again. We spoke briefly before an event and it was as if the world stopped around us for those few moments. Mini fireworks seemed to go off in the background while we chatted. For the next hour, we watched each other from across a room. Eyes meeting eyes. And then once again, we were next to each other in a small room, amidst a small crowd, and once our eyes met, they never left each other.
From that moment, I could not stop thinking of him. He was on my mind constantly. The mere thought of him made me dizzy and I often had a hard time catching my breath. And each and every time we spoke by phone or email or in person, my heart rate would jump and the butterflies in my stomach would swirl around in a frenzy. When I had plans to see him again just two days later, I couldn’t shake the feelings of excitement, nervousness, and anxiety. Here was this boy that I barely knew, and I was headed to see him. My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, and my breathing labored…or at least it felt that way. I felt like I was on a roller-coaster that would never end. I spent those two days thinking of him…of nothing but him. I was like a kid at Christmas waiting for Santa.
My BFF/work-wife, Spanky is currently off on maternity leave. This girl and I met years ago when we began working together and we became instant friends. And, although we both had changed job locations, we maintained our friendship AND continued our lunchtime shenanigans all these years. And now we’re back to working together. ❤
We just did Mud Hero together Yesterday. #BFFs
And we have spent 10 years lunching together, walking thru Town, running the trails (training for races), running errands, or just sitting around stuffing our faces. But one thing has always maintained the same for us, wherever we were and whatever we were doing, you can bet we were laughing our heads off and having more fun than should be allowed. I have often said I bet people see us each day on our lunchtime ventures and are totally jealous of how much fun we’re having. In fact, one day, just a few years ago, while running an errand in one of the little shops in downtown, we had a good case of the giggles and could not stop laughing and an onlooker, a chef from one of the local restaurants had been watching us and said he thoroughly enjoyed watching us have so much fun. See…jealous.
But, when Spanky left to go off and have Baby Ruth I was saddened because I thought I was going to be alone for my lunch hours and, although I can go out and have fun make my own fun any damn time I please, I always enjoy the company. And, just my luck, Spanky’s work replacement has also become my lunchtime replacement and Boo Boo and I are having tons of fun together.
We decided months ago, when there was still snow on the ground (which, let’s face it, this is Nova Scotia and that means it wasn’t that long ago that there was snow on the ground), that we were going to walk during our breaks. Actually, it wasn’t so much a decision as it was something that just happened one day and we haven’t stopped. It’s because of these lunchtime walks that I’m hitting my FitBit step goal way early in the day.
Boo Boo and I walk and laugh every day. We are having way too much fun and, just like Spanky and I did, we’re making our fun.
One day last week, while out on our roam, we stopped into the local grocery store. Boo Boo was checking out the watermelons and was intending on picking one up until I reminded her that she’d have to carry a watermelon through town, in 34 degree heat, and we still had a half hour to go on our break. She left the watermelon there. But, as we were in the checkout line, I noticed the guy in front of me was holding a watermelon. When he glanced around at us I said to him “Can you please take that back to work or wherever you’re going and pretend you’re Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing and announce “I CARRIED A WATERMELON”.
Boo Boo held her breath (because I’m a nut!) and the guy just looked at me for a few seconds like a deer caught in headlights and then the both of them cracked up. He said he had heard us talking by the watermelons as he was picking his out and realized that he would be the one carrying the watermelon thru town in 34 degree heat (with a long-sleeved knit sweater on, mind you) and he felt like a dummy but he wanted to do something nice for his co-workers.
Nice gesture or not, I’d not be carrying a watermelon thru town in the heat.
The three of us a had a long-lasting chuckle and he kept the conversation going until he finished his purchase and had to leave us, although it seemed like he would have rather stayed with us (Boo Boo said he’s now the president of my fan club).
I’m very thankful to both these gals, Spanky and Boo Boo, because you make my work days a heckuvalot more entertaining. I soooooo look forward to Spanky’s return because I loooove her. And I’m keeping Boo Boo too, so we can be the workplace Three Musketeers or Three Amigos – which, with the shenanigans and oopsies, seems a lot more fitting.
Is there anything more entertaining in Hollywood than the bromance? Seriously, I think a good bromance is healthy and sweet and fun…and hysterical. In fact, I love them so much that I’ve posted on them before (see The Best BROMANCE on TV)
Here are a few of the best bromances in Hollywood.
THE FRAT PACK
Back in the 90’s Hollywood opened its doors to a slew of new young up-and-comers including Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, my boyfriend Cole Hauser, Rory Cochrane, Vince Vaughn, and Chris O’Donnell, to name a few. This group of guys rotated in the same circles, same movies, and even same homes, often sleeping on each other’s couches off and on for several years. Most of these guys are still good friends and still pop up in each other’s films.
Check out this episode of Dinner for Five with Jon Favreau, Vince Vaughn, Cole Hauser, Rory Cochrane, and Brian Cox (a bit of an oddball choice here) and make sure you watch “The Phone Booth” at 19:15 for some laughs.
SIR IAN MCKELLAN and SIR PATRICK STEWART
These two are acting royalty and they have had an ongoing love affair, bromantically, for years. They have appeared on screen together numerous times (obviously including all the X-Men movies), as well as on stage. Their friendship is one of longevity, laughter, and love. We can all strive for this kind of affection.
MICHAEL FASSBENDER AND JAMES MCAVOY (and HUGH JACKMAN)
Speaking of the X-Men movies, let us not forget the most recent bromance from that franchise. That being Michael Fassbender (playing young Ian McKellan) and James McAvoy (playing young Patrick Stewart).
(Fun fact: Patrick Stewart has two roles in common with James McAvoy: McAvoy played Macbeth in ShakespeaRe-Told: Macbeth while Stewart played him in Great Performances: Macbeth and Stewart played Professor Charles Xavier in X-Men, X-Men 2, X-Men: The Last Stand, X-Men Origins: Wolverine, The Wolverine, and X-Men: Days of Future Past, while McAvoy played him in X-Men: First Class, X-Men: Days of Future Past, and X-Men: Apocalypse. They also each share the role of Macbeth with their respective Magnetos, Ian McKellan and Michael Fassbender (IMDB).
The most epic of bromances!
Apparently, James and Michael have a huge fan-base for their bromance. People have dedicated fan-art and fan-fiction to the friendship between these two. It’s not hard to see why, they do seem to have that..spark.
Hugh Jackman (newest future husband!) sometimes seems like a third wheel but, watch the threesome’s appearance on the Graham Norton show and you can see why he is included in this as a trio. Like Dinner for Five, I have watched this interview over and over. It is hilarious! It actually makes me want to be part of a bromance.
*sigh* Again, #goals.
HUGH JACKMAN and ANY Co-Star!
It is no secret that Hugh Jackman is one of the nicest, most charming men in Hollywood. And it seems all of his co-stars fall madly in love with him too. Aside from the trio above, Hugh is loved by many:
HUGH JACKMAN and Jake Gyllenhaal
(Prisoners)
HUGH JACKMAN and Patrick Stewart
Here’s that X-Men connection again. These two have appeared onscreen together a bazillion times and it seems like their friendship just.might.last.
HUGH JACKMAN and Ryan Reynolds
Although they totally troll each other on social media and in interviews, these two seem to have a fun bromantic chemistry. The two have been friends for years (having worked together on X-Men: Origins – Wolverine) and like to pop up in each other’s lives here and there. Ryan even hijacked Hugh’s interview while he was doing press for Eddie the Eagle (a great movie, btw).
It seems that these two good ol’ boys do have a sweet affection for each other. One that almost borderlines…Single White Female.
This isn’t creepy. Not.At.All!!
Wouldn’t the world be such a better place if we could all love our co-workers as much as all of these mates seem to.
Today I put up my Christmas tree. This may be the earliest I’ve put it up but, it has been crappy weather outside, I’m home, and after doing some crazy Black Friday weekend shopping yesterday in the City with the girls (followed by an evening of spicy wine and girl chats) I was kind of in the mood.
So, the tree is up, the presents are underneath (although not yet wrapped), and I did some more shopping this afternoon.
I also got a massive splinter underneath my fingernail in the midst of all this, which is still dug in there and doesn’t seem like it’s planning to vacate itself anytime soon.
But, since I’m at the computer already and basically in the Christmas mood, here is the very first of my Christmas Wish List posts for 2016.
BIB NECKLACE
I love bib necklaces. They are the perfect way to make a statement and dress up any outfit.
I have a few “sorta” bib necklaces, but when I visited Amazon recently I was overwhelmed and jealous of all the gorgeous necklaces that popped up. I want one…or two….or a half dozen.
I mean, isn’t it *JUST*
Just enough
This is one of my favorites – and currently in my cart on Amazon.ca
I love every variation
And of course the list wouldn’t be complete without an orange one (I have a yellow one in my cart)
Listen, if anyone out there in WordPress Land wants to indulge me and buy me a bib necklace like these – or any variation – I happily accept.
If there’s one thing I love in this crazy, busy, mixed up world, it’s a good book.
I love everything about them. I love the way they feel, the texture, the smell – especially old, beat up novels with their eerie history. I
It is my dream in life to have a huge parlor-like room with walls lined from floor to ceiling with books upon books upon books.
My friend Cheri has somewhat accomplished this dream. I am forever envious.
For as long as I can remember I have always wanted or needed a book on the go. Something to keep me occupied and keep my mind at work. Something to comfort. Something to take me away from this place and experience an adventure inside my head.
I think my love affair with the written word started from birth! I assume my mother read to me then. And I can remember being very young and my mom always reading to us; me and my brother. She would read us bedtime stories – shorts from Dr. Seuss to novels such as The Wizard of Oz, promising a new chapter the next night – and she would read to us while waiting for medical appointments. And she would take us, countless times, to second-hand bookstores where would slink around quietly, and load up on books.
I remember getting hooked on Archie comics when I was 5 or 6. Fumbling through each story (asking my mother over and over how to pronounce “Veronica”). I couldn’t get enough of those short little stories. Zip, zip, zip. And another book was finished. Eventually I moved on to bigger books, although Cinderella was always my favorite, I needed more….I needed chapters! And so the affair grew. And it has continued to grow.
Years ago when I lived in the City I worked very late hours. I would come home and read to (attempt to) unwind, instead, I would get wrapped up in a story that would take me into the early hours of the morning. Lost Girls by Andrew Pyper was a book that I had wanted and was gifted to me by my spectacular sister-in-law. That book kept my mind so busy late at night. It was scary as hell and kept me up with fear, yet I continued to read it. I was enthralled.
When I injured my back several years ago and was down and out and barely able to walk, books kept me sane and busy. And when I first started working out, books are what kept me going. I’d jump on the elliptical with a novel and boom! Just like that an hour (or sometimes two!) would be gone.
When I read, when I’m really involved in a story, something happens to me. I’m transported to another place. Page by page and chapter by chapter I find myself getting deeper into the world I’m reading about. As if I’m there. As if I’m the character. There are days when I want to do nothing but read because I’m so obsessed with the story. That’s what happens when I read Grisham. And it’s what’s happening now with the current book I’m reading (The Witch of Belladonna Bay by Suzanne Palmieri). This book has enchanted me. Like you wouldn’t believe. I cannot get enough of it.
*sigh* My new best friend…my summer escape.
That was the same for me the first time I read Jaws and when I read Grisham’s The Rainmaker. And last year, when I finally finished studying for my Nutrition exam, with Andrew Pyper’s The Guardians. Those books enchanted me. I read them all in just a matter of a few days. Like those books, The Witch of Belladonna Bay is constantly on my mind. It’s like it’s seeped into my soul. All I want to do is sit in the sun or snuggle in my bed and get lost in this other world. (Thankfully my BFF is on vacation this week so I’m able to read in the sun during my lunch break. I’m such a dork!)
Maybe this quaint little story about witches is itself enchanted. Who knows? But it’s got me hooked.
I get so lost in these worlds it’s like I’m watching a movie – or living in it. I’m a very vivid reader and the words become so picturesque and move along easily and colorfully. It’s better than TV. Television never calls to me like a good book does.
I have already zipped through 5 books since the start of this summer (I think that’s a record for me), and I can’t wait to start a new one. The only thing, however, is that when I get really involved with a book – like I am right now – I’m always sad at the end…when it’s over. When the adventure concludes. There have been many books that have made me cry and many books that I’ve cried at the finality of the ending. I find no shame in that. I’m a sensitive being and when one becomes so involved in a story – whether it be real, written, or televised – there is no shame in feeling the sorrow in the loss of what seems to have become a good friend, or in the experience itself.
I’m looking forward to finishing TWOBB in the next day or so, but I have a feeling that I have become so wrapped up in, not only the words themselves, but in the emotion this story carries, that I will, at some point before its end, bawl like a baby.
And once that moment is over, I will move on to the next adventure and become enchanted all over again.
To say that I grew up in a loving family is an understatement, to say the least. I grew up in an abundance of love. With warmth and hugs and kisses. I hit the family jackpot!
I was surrounded constantly by my family – parents, brother, best friends – who were basically adopted siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. And everyone is very close.
My mom’s parents lived only two houses up the street from us and they were the foundation of my family. They were our proverbial rock. Walking into their home was always walking into warmth. They had an open-door policy and their faces would light up anytime we walked into the home. And although they lived just a few minutes away and I got to see them pretty much anytime I wanted, nearly every day, it was always a great treat to visit them. Nannie and Grampie.
My brother and cousins and I would take turns having sleepovers at their home. And they made each and every one of us feel special and like we were the most important people in the world.
When I was very little, not school-aged yet, my nannie would take me shopping. My grampie would give me money before I left and my mom would joke that I would always come home with a treat and more money than I left with.
I was their favorite. We were ALL their favorite. And they never made us feel like we were anything less.
These people were so special – to all of us. We would always have big family Christmas parties there; celebrating, and being in love with each other and being so thankful for having these wonderful, loving people in our lives. Feeling truly blessed. In the summers, we would have “wiener roasts” – a backyard barbecue of sorts on the side lawn with a fire pit and swings and making “hobo pies” out of white bread and pie filling and roasting them in the fire. These would go to after dark and were such a treat because we kids, the cousins, got to stay up late and play and be surrounded by so much love and friendship.
My grandmother, Betty, was an incredible woman. Bright, witty, spunky, hilarious, and hip. And my grandfather, Brent, loved her more than words can ever express. And the two of them loved us unconditionally.
Catching a fish and wearing white jeans with a thick black belt – this woman was ahead of her time
I remember never wanting to disappoint them. And even today I still try to live each day trying to impress them and making them proud from their perch in Heaven, as I know they are looking down on me.
In fact, I remember the first (and maybe only) time my grandfather yelled at me. I was maybe 3 or 4 and I was playing with my baby cousin, Daphnie and I held her wrong or something that may have injured her – and my grampie yelled at me. Not out of anger, but to prevent me from hurting the baby. I was instantly heartbroken and I burst into tears, confused and ashamed that I made this man, who I loved so dearly, angry with me. Of course, he and my grandmother cleared up the confusion but I still remember that moment vividly.
My grandmother was very, very hip. She drove a moped! And she loved Billy Ray Cyrus and Clint Eastwood. And she taught me how to play (read: cheat at) cards. If were driving with her and jokingly said “Nannie, look at the cute boy, stop the car!”, she would indeed stop the car. And she would laugh. If she saw cute boys she would call them over and introduce us. Instant mortification to a teenager, but funny as hell now. Nannie would let me put make up on her – regardless of how hideous it looked – and tell me how much she loved it. She would welcome me with open arms when I would “run away from home” and walk on the inside of the guardrail to get to their place (my mom would always watch from the end of the driveway). I never felt of out of place with my grandparents.
Nannie had a heart condition. She had two heart attacks by the time she reached 40 and then had a pacemaker put in. When I was diagnosed with a heart condition when I was in my late teens I was also told I would have a pacemaker by the time I was 30 (Note 1. My family doctor was super pissed at this statement and said the specialist had no business telling a kid something like that! Note 2. I don’t plan on ever turning 30.). At the time I was annoyed and confused and scared at this diagnoses. But, although I saw it as a potential obstacle in my health and life, I also saw it as something I possibly inherited from her. Something that made me feel just a little more bonded to her. I have held onto that.
When Nannie was diagnosed with lung cancer in the late 90’s I was devastated. I remember my mom told me one Friday night while my friend Kim was with me so that I could be comforted at the time of receiving this terrible news. But Nannie was so strong. And after having her lung removed, her cancer was gone. I also remember that while she was in the hospital for this surgery and treatment she was telling me about this gorgeous (male) nurse or orderly that she thought I would find so cute – as she found him so cute – but then she broke the news “….but I think he might be gay. Dammit.
Within months of having her surgery Nannie was out in the fields picking berries in the summer heat. Something she loved to do. She took me with her one summer when I was 15, but I was not meant for that kind of back-breaking work – or using a port-a-potty in midsummer heat (so that I complained the entire day about having to pee) and she refused to take me again. Ever. And she kept her word.
That fall I had an essay to write on heroes. And in my essay I wrote that I did not believe in heroes because I saw them as mythical beings, but that the closest I could come to was my grandmother, for all that she had done and gone through, and even made mention of the berry picking right after her surgery. (I may also have mentioned my affection for Drew Barrymore for all that she had gone through in her short life and had overcome so much. See, lifelong follower of this girl.) My nannie was indeed heroic.
Not long after, Nannie was diagnosed with throat cancer. Cancer so bad that there wasn’t much to do. The cancer would win. My nannie, however, stayed strong and fought as much as she could. We had family gatherings and spent as much time as we could with this woman. But sadly, devastatingly, heart-breakingly, Nannie passed away in November of 1999 at the age of 60. A young woman still with so many years of love and adventure left to live. And my world crumbled.
I have never experienced pain like that in my life. Ever. This woman was our world. Our rock. Our light. And her death devastated me. I still have not fully recovered. To this day, even in this moment, I cannot think or speak of her without crying. And maybe it’s because it was the first time I really experienced death and loss. And maybe because she was just so full of life and love and liveliness. I continue to mourn her loss each day. But I also celebrate her life each day.
I live in my own world sometimes – hello, SandyLand. I have adventures, I laugh my ass off – even at the most inappropriate things, I hug and kiss my nephews with so much love that I think they can’t stand it, and I have taught Abby how to play the first game of cards my nannie taught me to play. And, just like my nannie, I play to win!
There are moments when I can be a real scrag. I admit it. But for the most part I try to live each day with goodness and love and laughter. I want to continue to please my grandparents and not disappoint. Because I know one day I will see them in Heaven and I know I will have to explain my actions to them if I’ve been a real asshole.
Each night I say a prayer for them – and my dearly departed Aunt Linda – and pray that they are all together and loving and watching and waiting.
I know, since the passing of my grandparents and of my aunt Linda, my mom and my aunt and uncles are pained. They are broken-hearted, as we all are. And sometimes it’s terribly difficult to get the family together for holiday celebrations or gatherings because it feels like the spark has gone out. Like the house is empty and there’s really no point anymore. Because deep down – or even right on the surface – it’s so unbearably painful to celebrate our family when we’re no longer complete. Since my grandmother’s death, my mom (the eldest of her siblings {sorry I used the word “eldest”}) has pretty much taken over the role of the rock; the matriarch of our big but little family. She always makes sure that no one is left out of Christmas gifts or celebrations. She wants to honour everyone in the family – especially those who are no longer with us. But everyone sticks together. As a family, we have had our moments, our ups and downs, that’s what happens in families sometimes. But we love each other. Parents, aunts, uncles, cousins. We support each other. And there are days we want to beat each other over the head with a golf club, but at the end of the day, when it comes right down to, our family is bonded with love and togetherness. That is something we all inherited from Nannie and Grampie.
I want my family (my nephews, my future children) to feel like it’s Christmas morning – to feel that abundance of love and togetherness and that incredible light of love that I always felt at Nannie and Grampie’s. Walking into my parents’ home I always feel the warmth and the welcoming I felt each time I walked into that house up the street. And when I visit my cousins and my aunts and uncles I am always welcomed with open arms and smiles and hugs. The way it was meant to be. And the way it will be when we’re all together again.
If you are from my hometown then you are more than likely familiar with JR’s. If you’re not familiar then let me give you a little background:
JR’s was this little bar – similar to a honky tonk, I’m guessing – that was dark and grungy and known for the people it attracted (if you’re picking up what I’m putting down) and the fights that broke out. It was not my bar of choice, in fact, when I turned 19 and was old enough to drink and go out to the clubs, my mother nearly forbade me from going to JR’s. She didn’t actually forbid me, which is why I did go to that spot on occasion, but it definitely was not my cup of tea. Nor my first choice of dance clubs.
One summer, however, my BFF Kim and I had planned to go to JR’s. It was her first time going and it was a big deal. It was the summer of Ghetto Superstar and we could hardly wait to rock out on the dance floor to that song. (Lord, I’m getting old!) The bar was packed. There is a military base just outside of our town and Saturday nights the boys let loose. JR’s was the bar of choice for these cats. There is also a lot of agricultural business in and surrounding my communities – lots of farming of many types. And a lot of farmers hired outside of Nova Scotia, back then mostly Bajans (read: Barbadians).
The military folk were cocky – arrogant SOBs who walked around like they owned the town, and the Bajans would hit on anything walking upright. These two groups clearly did not see eye-to-eye. (But then again, the military boys didn’t really see eye-to-eye with anyone.)
And then there was us: locals. Valley peeps just out for a good time, having a few drinks, dancing our butts off, and hanging with friends and people we knew from high school.
This night was special though. Kim was my best friend. I always felt like we were soul mates. I partly credit her for helping me bust out of my shell and becoming the hilarious girl I am today; and I had promised her for so long that we would eventually go out to JR’s and we would dance our dance to Ghetto Superstar and it would be a fucking blast! And the night went pretty perfectly. We danced. We had a few drinks. We mingled with friends. It was summer and the night was young fun.
Oh my God the 90’s! That’s me and Kim, Betty and Veronica (I’m the brunette) , the terrible two, gearing up for one of our infamous adventures in SandyLand.
Several times while we were on the dance floor, however, this young, drunk punk kept bumping into us. The guy wasn’t very big but he was completely wasted and he was perpetually on the dance floor (alone) bumping and knocking and grating on everyone’s last nerve. Y’know at first, everyone was like “Meh, it’s all good. We’re cool.” But after so many times you kind of can’t handle much more.
There was another young couple on the dance floor. The guy was clearly military and he and his girl were dancing and making out – but minding their business and having fun. McBumpy danced into them a few times and Military boy was obviously getting more and more annoyed.
When Ghetto Superstar was finally played Kim and I made our way to the center of the dance floor and broke out our dance moves. We were stoked and we were literally having the time of our lives! Then it happened, McBumpy bumped me again and again and again. I know the poor dude was just out for a good time and should have been cut off long before, but I was seriously irritated and when he bumped me for the last time I made sure it was the.last.time.
I shoved him….and bam! He cascaded right into Military dude and his woman. Needless to say, Military dude had had enough by this point and he shoved him back, and then he smoked McBumpy.
This is where it gets realllllly interesting. It was like a domino effect, but in reality, it was just the nature of JR’s. Because right after Military dude punched McBumpy, someone else punched someone else. And then someone else punched someone else….until a full-out brawl broke out. I’m not even kidding. It was like something out of a movie. Dozens of people were fighting. Even the bouncers were sucker-punching people (again, the nature of JR’s). It was REDONKULOUS!
I grabbed Kim’s hand and we made our way outside of the bar as we ducked and avoided getting the shit beat out of us. Once outside, the scenery was exactly the same – fights were erupting everywhere. Bajans and Military and Homeboys and Locals and Bouncers. It was chaos.
One of my friends, who happened to be a former boxer, got a tap on the shoulder in the midst of all this. When he turned around he got sucker-punched. Big mistake! I can still hear the sound of his fist connecting with the other guy’s face!
In the midst of this chaos Kim and I were trying to decipher what the hell we should do and how to get out of that bruhaha. In the distance, we could hear the sirens wailing, and they got closer and closer. Still holding hands, Kim and I bolted through the crowd, dodging fists and slaps, and ran through the back parking lot, through what can only be described as a tiny field back then; running, running, behind buildings, to safety – and far away from what was likely the biggest fight in JR’s history. While we were getting out of Dodge, we looked back and saw NINE police cars already at the bar!! I didn’t even realize our little town had nine police cars! I’m sure more came later.
We roamed, quietly, the streets for a while, staying out of sight, until the hoopla died down, and eventually made our way back to my car and headed home. But the night was so insane that, even though it was probably already 3am, we were so wound up from our crazy adrenaline rush that there’s no way we could have slept. So, we drove to my church parking lot and climbed onto the hood of my Chevy Blazer (Dave) and stared at the stars. The smell of summer is not something one can easily forget. And that night is still vivid in my memory. After a while of us just laying there in silence we cracked. Uncontrollable laughter of what had just happened. And all because we wanted to dance in peace. That night we were ghetto superstars!
Just kidding. It’s been a pretty good weekend. I spent it at my beau’s but he’s had a man-cold the last few days and woke up today feeling like a bus ran over him….twice. Poor guy. So, we’re postponing V-day dinner and instead, I hit the gym to run a few miles. Lord knows I don’t need to get sick.
But in the spirit of Valentine’s Day and it being completely overrated and lame I’ve decided to be super awesome and re-post my CRAPPY VALENTINE’S from a few years ago. (And once again WordPress has changed the format of the site and I’m trying to figure out how to add the link.)
Now that I’m home I’m going to sit back and binge watch Law & Order: SVU merely to catch up with Anic/StunBunny so that we can bond over our mutual love Peter Scanavino (aka Carisi):
“How you doin’??”
and hope that this damn cold weather goes away soon – after all – that damn hedgehog DID NOT SEE its shadow two weeks ago and *this girl* is looking forward to less laying and way less road salt!
As the weekend approached I remembered this silly little story from back in the day and figured, meh, why the heck shouldn’t I share my sadness and stupidity with you?
When I was 15, a few days before the Super Bowl I received in the mail a letter from Publisher’s Clearing House stating that “I could already be a winner” of something like $15 million bucks!! I was young, naive, and ecstatic. The winner was going to be provided with the cheque on Super Bowl Sunday.
I thoroughly believed that I was going to win 15 million dollars. *le sigh*
So, Sunday approached and, while everyone was making plans and doing their thing, I made my best friend come hang out with me allllll day so that she could be there when my winnings arrived.
But, the faux cheque they sent me HAD my name etched into it already…..so I had to win, right??
Every damn time the phone rang I thought it was Ed McMahon calling for directions. And every single time I heard a car coming down the street my heart jumped into my throat and I held my breath. And every time the car kept driving past my house I felt a little more devastation enter my heart.
This idiocy went on for hours. Eventually Kim had to go home, and sometime around midnight I figured it was time to let go of the dream.
Damn you, Ed McMahon!
I mean, how could I ever have trusted this face???(Ed McMahon (March 6, 1923 June 23, 2009).
Go ahead. Laugh at a girl who’s down and out $15 million dollars. Kick me too while you’re at it.
