Grown Up

There are several signs that point to being a grown up. Some of the ones I have experienced are:

• I am willing to pay for convenience rather than find the cheapest option possible.
• I have nice cookware and know how to use all my kitchen appliances.  
• Guests stay in my guest room with a real bed and don't crash on the couch anymore. 
• Eleven o'clock is when I want to be home from a night out, not when I start my night out.     
• I will leave a place when it is "too loud."
• My grocery list consists of real food and is not entirely made up of cheap wine.
• I prefer to be addressed as ma'am. 
• I have no idea who is "singing" on the radio, and I'm not going to bother to find out either.
• I have my 20-something coworkers explain slag terms and current social media to me. 

But I think the biggest grown up significance of being a grown up is:
When I tell people I'm going to have a baby around Thanksgiving (yep!) the response is: Congratulations!

Lonley Goatherd

me: You're such a dork!
mike: Yep. That's why we work.
me: True. But you're still a dork.
mike: Says the girl who was bouncing around yodeling* the other day.
me: Hey now, I wasn't bouncing, I was prancing.
mike: Fine. But you were still yodeling.
me: Yes. "She yodeled off to the lonely goatherd, lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo!" **
mike: Dork.
me: Yep. Hi kettle, it's pot!

*Sound of Music Live. Of all the songs you have to admit that when you sing you just can't help but be silly and prance around.***
** There was spinning and prancing here too.
***Oh, just me?

Grown Up Gifts

Today is my husband's 33rd birthday. So clearly, this is what I got him:

the sign says: ROAR! That's: Happy Birthday! in dinospeak

An inflatable T-Rex. Obviously.

And these are the cupcakes I sent him work with to share with his coworkers.

It was either sports or princess cupcake liners.
You can see why I chose the way I did.

He wouldn't let me decorate them with the little "score!" flags. Something about those not being professional?

Just wait and see what I have planned for 40!
Happy Birthday Honey!

Easy Math

I realized that this year would be my sister's 10 year high school reunion. Which, oy, it's surprising enough that my 10 year already happened and now my little sister's turn is up. But whatever, it reminded me of a conversation my friends had a few months before ours:

shyam: Hey, when's our reunion again?
priya: Shyam, we graduated in 2000. We don't get easier math!

I would also like to point out that both these 2 (and my sister) were in my high school's super smart magnet program and kicked ass in math.

Name Game

--scene: at my bridal shower--
priya: if sharktopus and dinocroc, and I should clarify I mean the creatures, not your future children, were to get in a fight, who do you think would win?
me: I'm glad you clarified the syfy creatures and not the kids, because that was totally going to be my next question. Ok, I think Sharktopus would win in a fight, because not only can it walk on land, hide in shallow water despite it being a ginormous creature, and swim in the deep sea, so it could drag Dinocroc back to the sea and take it out there.
priya: Who do you think mike said would win?
me: Sharktopus
priya: Yep. He said the tentacles give sharktopus a tactical advantage.
my (at the time future) mother in law: Wait, what are those names again?
me: Sharktopus and Dinocroc.
mil: And how did you come up with that?
me: It was actually Mike. When we were battling for the naming rights of Jeanne's son one of my suggestions was Sharktopus, and Mike loved that one so much that he said really hoped it wouldn't get picked* so that we could have it for ourselves. He was quite adamant in that.
mil: Oh dear.
me: Yep.

I don't know if she was afraid that her future grandkids would actually** be named that, or that she was happy that her son found someone just as dorky as him and indulges his sea creature obsession. Probably little from column a and a little from column b. 
*It didn't. Eventually Scipio Africanus won out. Or 'Skip,' for short. Like you do.
**We're completely serious about this. Don't be stealing our names now.

Roomie

me: I've had over 30 different roomates.
kathy: that's a lot.
me: yeah, but a bulk of that 30 is because I lived in a big house with 11 bedrooms for 3 years. And we rotated quarters and subleased all the time, so there was always someone new in the house every quarter.  It was a lot of fun though and I loved it at the time. But no way in hell would I ever do that again.  I only have one roomate now though.  Good thing I like him a lot since he's  a permanent one.
mike: And we share a bedroom. What's up roomie?
me: That's right baby, roomates for life.

We fist bump to make it official. That's the dorky part. The sweet part is that we made sure it was our wedding bands that bumped.

Zoo

Mike and I went to the jewelers the other day to try on our rings (squee!). There's a french restaurant named Zebra in the same plaza as the jewelers, and on the outside of the building there's a sign that points towards the main entrance.

Now, I don't need even more reasons to marry Mike than I already have, but the following conversation just reminded me how well we fit.

me -upon seeing the sign and reading it allowed--: Oh, guess that's how you get to Zebra, since the sign there says "Zebra entrance."
mike: That's racist. Where do the giraffes go in? 

Dust Bunnies Be Gone!

Scene: the day after we decide to buy the Dyson but the day before we actually buy it.
mike: Am I a dork for being slightly excited about getting this vacuum?
me: Yes.
--mike sighs--
me: It's ok honey. I'm excited too.

I AM your teenage dream

TrueBlood came back Sunday, but HBO's too expensive here, so I don't get to watch it (SOBS!) right away.  I'm dvr-ing it at my parent's house so I'll have a major watch binge in a few weeks, but still, it hurts.  So on Sunday, as I was trying to ignore the fact that it was 9:01 and I was flower researching instead of vampire watching, Mike starts flipping though the tv guide.  And Syfy has a new movie: Swamp Shark. 

If there's one thing that I've learned since being with Mike, is that made for tv syfy channel movies are so incredibly campy and terrible, that they are freaking awesome.  This is the is perfect distraction to my Trueblood deprivation!  So as he pauses on Swamp Shark, I say "why haven't you flipped to that yet?!?!" 

It was terrible, but in an awesome way.  The next night, there is still nothing on, so I flip to the NFL's top 100 players of 2011.  If there's another thing I've learned about since being with dr soc, is that he cannot live without NFL football. (When we first started dating I told him about my fantasy football team specifically for the reason that I hoped it would make him like me more. (and it worked!))  So as we're watching this count down, I had this realization:

Yesterday I insisted we watch a syfy movie and I just flipped to football related tv.  I am my fiance's dream woman.

Monday Night is back

Monday Nights used to the best human interest tv night.  The show didn't matter, whether it was Intervention, Hoarders, OCD, Heavy, even Sober Coach (though it's the least of our favorites) we watch with fascination.  But recently, Monday night has total crap on it since all those aforementioned shows had run their season and their replacements are lame.  Especially Paranormal Activity, that show totally blows.

Well anyway,  lst night we're flipping through the tv guide in vain and we see that Hoarders is on, and this person hoards dolls, and we haven't seen this one.  Clearly we flip to it.  Halfway through the show we decide that it's snack time, which, that, that may not always be the best idea during Hoarders, since you never know what kind of filth and disgusting things are hoarded and unearthed. But we're sitting at the table, and a commercial for Intervention comes on.  Not only is is all new, the drug of choice is heroin.  It's going to be a awesome. And it's the season premiere, so that means there's more Interventions the following weeks!

We were ecstatic.  We looked at each other, in complete excitement, and high-five.  Yeah, we're awesome like that.   

Stylin'

So, I found this story via facebook, saying Kentucky is the most fashionable state according to Esquire magazine.
Really?  Well, ok, cool.  So that's right, you should be taking your fashion advice from someone like me.  Says the person who practically lives in her yoga pants.  That's right. I'm stylin'.

Dinner Tonight

So remember that stuff lemon up chicken and get ring mentality I made fun of? (See 6 posts ago.) Guess what I'm making for dinner tonight?

Yep. A lemon roasted chicken. Though this decision was made when I discovered that the frozen chicken in my freezer was not frozen (everything else in in the freezer is ok though which is odd) and I have a bag of lemons that I need to cook with as well. NOT because all I'm fingers crossed and hoping for a ring. Well, I am, but I don't expect this chicken to expedite that. Not because he's not ready, (yes you are honey) but more so because logistically there hasn't been enough time between the initial chicken/ring conversation and now to get something.

Oh, and we're having pie for desert. But that's also due to circumstance and that it's pi day, not the hook him apple pie insurance policy that's attached to the recipe.

Naming Our Future Spawn

We started a name bracket for the naming rights of my friends' 2nd baby,* and I was telling dr soc about the entries I had sent in for each theme.

me: And the grab bag name: Sharktopus.
dr soc: that is awesome.** Yeah, we're using that.
me: Huh?
dr soc: Sharktopus. And Dinocroc! We have our names.
me: Wait, huh? No.. This, this is for...
dr soc: It's been decided. Done! The kids are named.
me: Oh, oh honey, um...
dr soc: Oh awesome!
me: - sigh of resignation- Well, which one's which?
dr soc: Dinocroc for the boy, Sharktopus for the girl. (which btw, he answered with no hesitation whatsoever)
me: Well, that makes sense. (Not really, but at that point I decided to roll with it)

So much so, that now I'm on the Sharktopus bandwagon. So whenever we refer to our future first born, we refer to them as Sharktopus.**

*this is completely valid and totally legal***
**I should mention dr soc has a mild (complete) fascination with sharks, sea creatures and dinosaurs. And syfy movies. Combine any of the above elements and dr soc loves it no questions asked.
***not really
**if all goes to my carefully constructed plan, we'll have Dinocroc first. But since we want the it's a __! moment and won't be finding out what the baby is, Sharktopus is more gender neutral name and will be used for ambiguity sake. Also because we are dorks.

Kinda Like T-Rex

So dr soc has another nickname:
Socasauraus! It's like stegosaurus, only it's soc for sociology! Heeheeheehee.
(oh btw, the soc part of his blog/nickname is short for sociology, so I've always pronounced/thought of it in my head as soc as in social and not dr sock)

My sister was in town for a few days and she said that dr soc needed a nickname (besides dr soc). And with him being a sociologist and liking dinosaurs (which didn't surprise my friends at all), the name sorta popped into our heads at the same time.

Now we just have to figure out how to spell it. Because it sounds the best as a 4 syllable work (soc-a-saur-aus) but spelling wise, it's hard to get that soft c without adding something behind it. And all of these look or sound wrong:

• sociasaurus
• sociosaraus
• socosaraus

And the reason we had to figure out how to spell it is because I referred to him by his new nickname in a text message. We both looked at it typed out and then wondered if that was the correct spelling. And when we were talking about it that night in our nightly phone call, we ended up debating back and forth for a few minutes on what was the proper spelling of his new nickname (which he likes btw). Halfway through the should there be an i or o debate I realize: oh wow, this is pretty dorky.

And eventually we figured socasaurus it is. So, rawr!

Choke on Cute!

Dr soc and I went to the fair last night and judged people. (Yep. And I scored super high on fair bingo, so that was fun too. In fairness it was my game sheet so I knew what to look for)

But as we were walking up to the entrance gate, he took my hand and then kissed it.
I of course, turn to him and smile hugely because this move without fail makes me melt. We lean in to kiss each other and it was quite the romantic moment.

And then our teeth bumped the others' and we both said "ow!", ruining the romantic.

However, it did add to the levity of the situation, so it was still a win.

School Night

So for our 2nd date, I suggested trivia because it's super fun and I would get fed at the same time. Win win situation, and we won best team name thanks to my creative (over opinionated) self, so, rock. We laugh and talk and hold hands across the table (when not writing answers obviously) and we know the chemistry is there. It was a fun night all around. But the night comes to a close and we must leave. We're about to head in different directions towards our cars but before we part we kiss goodnight. I had a bit to drink that night (I could still drive home), so I was way into the kiss goodnight. Hands-through-hair-lip-locked-leave-you-breathless-kind-of-kiss into it. And he like any red blooded male, responded just as enthusiastically.

It's only the second date and we don't even know each others' last names by this point, so we both knew we were not going to go home with each other that night (well, to his place, seeing as going to my place would be all sorts of icky). But it's not like the thought isn't crossing both our minds. So as we break apart one of us has to say something and
he says: too bad it's late...
and my response: yeah...and it's a school night.

Yep. I did. That just all sorts of dorky.
(hey, but he asked me out again, so woo hoo!)

Somebody's Watching Me

Actually, I was watching you! Creepy no?

I used to be tracking my readers. Yep, I had a code somewhere that linked something to somewhere to something else that let me know what areas of the world were visiting, how long they stayed on my site and how many times they visited during the day. And I'm flattered y'all keep up with me.

But it wasn't as creepy as you may think, because well (a) I'm not creepy. And (b) I knew the city that was reading, but not the actual person/computer. So unless you are the only person I know someplace, then I didn't know exactly who you were.

But someplace in that somewhere chain disconnected and readership according to my tracking thingy stopped. At least, it wasn't being recorded or noted. Readership dropped 100%. Boo. And first I was hey, ouch people. But then I figured, that has to be a lie, because I've gotten comments to me and on the blog about stuff I've written, so clearly, people are reading.

So because I didn't care about the technicalities of the whole thing and I know that people are reading anyway, I just deleted the tracking thingy account.

So you people are wonderful but you're off the hook now. You can totally say you read and I'll believe you, because I'll never know the difference.

Shopping Bug

I have such a shopping bug right now. I just want to get ridiculously high on consumerism for things that I really don't need but want (though I consider HBO a definite need). Only problem, I have no monies.

Well today was my first chemistry class and I'm only allowed to use a scientific calculator on the test, not a graphing one (which I use for math. Psh, you think I find the zeros of a graph by hand? Whatever, I punch in the formula and trace!). So I got all excited for a second because I would get to buy something! Anything! But before I spent my non-existent money (that's what I have a credit card for) on one, I knew better and asked my mom if the scientific calculator she uses still worked. Yep, plus an extra two, and they work (dammit). I did get to buy my chemistry book and lab manual and break out the plastic. Sigh, it's just not the same though.

Due to my excitement over the possibility of buying a new calculator, I ruefully acknowledged that I am a nerd. I may as well embrace it though. I live with my parents, I wear black frame glasses, no makeup to class, I can barely stay up past midnight, reading is a hobby, I get excited about the possibility of buying a calculator, and I find a guy with his masters sexier than a rock star.

Well, at least I'm a pretty nerd.

Idiot Girl

So I'm thinking about entering an essay contest about being an idiot girl. And I thought, well, I have a decent amount of blogs, so I could use one of those. Which led to the thought of, hey my gay boyfriends story is ha-lar-ious, that would be a great one to submit. What's more idiot girl than knowingly dating a gay guy who refused to come out? The essay cannot be over 450 words, and I know Proof That I Am Funny (my 2nd blog, I'm not linking to my own site this time. Frankly because I'm not in the mood) is a bit long. But I can trim some stuff and I'm sure it'll work.

Out of curiosity (and to get a starting point too), I copied and pasted to a word document and found out the word count: 1,292. Oops, little bigger than I thought there (that's what she said!). Hmm, trimming might not be the best option, seeing as I would crop more than half the story. And then, what's the point if I'm loosing most of it?

So now I need a different idea/essay. So, if you have a favorite blog or a damming story on me, feel free to share. But you don't have to get too damming. After all, it's my blog and I can edit if I want to. You would edit too if it happend to you.

Nerd Alert

Yesterday while in algebra class, my teacher starts talking about a way to solve a problem. I started thinking of other ways too, and thought to myself:

"Hmm, could we use the substitution method? Oh I love the substitution method!
WHOA.
Oh wow, I'm a dork. No, wait. This is beyond dorky.

Oh my God. I'm a NERD."

Not willing to accept my nerd status fully, later that afternoon I decided to do my math home work while sunbathing. Because nothing thwarts nerdy like a tiny bikini.