Monday, August 31, 2009

Confessions Of A Tiny Footed Girl

I have extremely small feet, 4.5 to be exact, and if I'm lucky I can fit into size 2 or 3 kids shoes. Tiny, tiny feet. On the hunt for a pair of plain black heels, I went to Kohl's, big sale, lots of shoes, surely I was bound to find something. No size 5's...figures. I stride into the kids section and find the most plain black shoes I can with a tiny bit of a heel. I groan, "This will do. They're just work shoes and I walk 10 blocks a day to and from my car." I put them on, they fit. Kid's size 3, and people say God doesn't have a sense of humor. What the hell ever. Just at that exact moment I happen to turn around and look behind me, into a mirror, and just at that moment I stepped down on the heel of the shoes, and what to my wondering eyes would appear, but a bright red light up heart down there! Son of a bitch. If you only knew how hard it is to find shoes that fit, without Looney Tunes characters or bright pink lacy bows on the front, then you would know that I was actually considering buying these. Surely my pants would hang down far enough to cover up the bright red light up heart on the back of the heel! I took two steps forward looking behind me in the mirror, I looked like a 10 year old going to a birthday party, no worky worky. Damn. I'm 26 years old, no way in hell would people take me or my work seriously if I was walking around in light up shoes. Any 10 year olds need a pair of shoes for a birthday party I know of a great pair on sale at Kohl's...

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Let The Chaos Begin

SO, good news, I know someone in the New Orleans area. I have a few friends from the last company I worked with before Diablo Enterprises, two of the girls that we hung out with moved away. Liz's hubby is a Marine, I thought they were stationed in Jackson, MS, nope they're right next to New Orleans. SWEET! And I thought I would have to take up voodoo or become a vampire to find friends, PSH!

Bad news...our time frame we thought we had has changed. Ryan needs a place to live by Sept. 16th. I know, super fast right!?!? I guess they're doing his field training first, then his in-house corporate training. So, that gives us about two weeks to find a place to live that allows pets and has a fenced in back yard. Let me tell ya there isn't much available, and what is available, no one will return our phone calls. I'm getting a little nervous. Ryan's new company gave us a moving allowance so we have money in case he has to live in a hotel for a bit, but not enough for three weeks of field training. On top of that, the Navy has to move us by October 24th or we lose our six month moving window. So, I'm a tad stressed right now with the whole racing against the clock thing. I'm convinced Father Time hates me. Bastard.

Monday, August 24, 2009

New Orleans 101

So, in lieu of moving to New Orleans/Baton Rouge in seven weeks, I went to to see what kind of people are in the area. The furthest South I've ever been is Georgia, excluding Florida, everyone knows that Florida is full of old retired people from New England; Charleston, SC is beautiful but let's face it you go through a time warp to get there, I have no idea if Louisiana is the same seeing how it's considered "the deep south". For those who don't know, is like the Craig's List of socializing. You put in your zipcode, and it brings up all kinds of groups of people in that area, such as book clubs, hiking clubs, kids play dates, all kinds of crap. Since I don't know anyone I thought that maybe I could find a book club or scrapbooking club to join, maybe meet some friends that way. Well, apparently, if you're not black, gay, have confederate grandfathers or think you're a vampire, you won't fit in. I am so screwed. Not that I was expecting a flashing neon green sign saying-"Normal Yankee's apply within" (and if I did I would more than likely NOT apply within, God knows what kind of heinous crap you could find....within), but man this is going to be quite interesting. Maybe I could take up voodoo...

Sunday, August 23, 2009

The Proud

I don't cry much, I'm not the emotional type. It takes a lot to bring me to tears. There's one thing that will always hold a place in my heart and that's the military. Our soldiers, our sailors, male and female, hold that place in my heart. There's a State Farm commercial that shows a woman in an Army uniform getting off a bus and her little boy is running to meet her, I cry when I see that commercial. On the news, when it shows one of our troops or one of our ships coming home, I cry. When I walk into Alison's house and see one of her homecoming pictures neatly framed on the coffee table, I get choked up. And when I watch Army Wives, that show on Lifetime, I cry at the end of every episode. Ryan laughs because I cry even after the episodes end happy.

I am such a huge softy when it comes to our military, and I can't help it. I was leaving for work one morning, and I saw the little old lady four houses down hanging her American flag outside her house, she was so careful making sure to hang it just right, it wasn't even a military holiday. I watched as she stepped back to make sure it was hanging straight, a small smile on her lips, pride on her face. I got to work and my make-up was partially gone from the tears running down my face. I would say it's a military spouse thing, but it's not. It's a pride for my country thing.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Next Stop...New Orleans

As most of you know, Ryan's been unemployed since he got out of the Navy in April. Well, that no longer is the case. He landed a gig in the New Orleans/Baton Rouge area maintaining and selling medical equipment. Pay is good, benefits are good, we are very relieved. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, no longer do I carry our financial health on my shoulders, and no longer do I have to see our savings account go down further each month.

I'll be honest, when Ryan first started the interviews for this job I was not super excited. I was downright depressed. I was really hoping that we'd either find something near family or be able to stay here-friends are here, my job is here, our house is here, ect. There's just nothing here or near family, so we go where the jobs are, and apparently that's in Louisiana. It's hot there, it's labeled as the 4th poorest state in the country and with that comes crime, and a whole mess of other crap. I was looking for every reason to hate moving down there. This carried on for about two weeks. My poor husband of course had to listen to me carry on, so I'm sure two weeks seemed like seven months, he truly is a saint when it comes to patience with me. BUT I was Navy at one point in time, moving is what you do, and you can live anywhere temporarily. Ryan and I definitely do not plan on making New Orleans our forever home, but you gotta do what you gotta do and Ryan needs a job and right now that's in Louisiana. So I put on my big girl pants, sucked it up, stopped whining like a little bitch and off we go.

I feel bad, we just got a roommate, "Bob" however, is beyond understanding and one of the sweetest, caring people I've ever met and is totally ok with the whole thing. We'll be hiring a property management company and they'll fill the rest of the rooms (it's a Navy town, it won't be difficult).

Ryan starts training and such mid-September and actually moves to Louisiana beginning of October, as I understand it. We've decided to rent for six months before buying and with our dogs we'll have to find a house with a fenced in backyard, no clue how difficult that will be. So, I will be in VA more than likely until mid-to late October. I'm getting more excited about our new adventure and we'll be able to visit more places with our new location, TX, AZ, Josh and Kiki are only 17 hours away, and Alison promised to visit me right after I move and for Mardi Gras. It won't be so bad, it's a new adventure, maybe we'll learn how to cook real authentic Cajun food!

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Old Friends

Two best things aboutthe military-the benefits, the people you meet. I know I've said many a time, when you're military your friends become your family. It's so true. Josh and Kristine got married last weekend, all our old friends who have since exited the military and moved away were there. Like a big family reunion. It brings back so many memories, makes you miss them so much more. I hope we can see them again much sooner.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

The Bachelorette Party

You know those stories that people tell about things that they've done or had happen to them from way back when in their wilder days, and you think to yourself this is hilarious but I'm SO glad I've never experienced this? I always thought that when people would tell stories about them passing out at a bar or club. I can no longer think that. Let me rewind.

Josh and Kiki's wedding is in 10 days, the brides bachelorette party was last night. There was just four of us, one of whom I've never met before, the other only met once or twice. The bride likes to go dancing so we all went to a club. You'd have to know me to know this, I'm not much of a club person. The smoke, the music, holding a conversation with anyone is completely pointless, and unless I have a lot of liquor in me I don't dance, it's not pretty, let me tell ya. So we go to this club, grab a table, have a few rounds. I'm a little dizzy but coherent and know what's going on around me. A guy comes up and asks me to dance, sure why not I'm at a club, and the bride and one of the girls is already on the dance floor. I look at the DD, she nods to let me know she'll watch our purses. I get on the floor and it hits me, "I have had enough to drink, I need to grab a water when I get back to the table." The floor is WAY crowded, people are bumping into you as they walk by, I already can't dance for crap, and I'm drunk, the poor guy I was "dancing" with had to catch me a couple times. Thankfully he was nice and wasn't nearly as....aggressive as the other dude that snuck up on me earlier as I was dancing with the bride. Why do men think it's ok to rub their wieners all over your hip as you're dancing with your girlfriends? No, that's gross. Anyways, back to the story...

I get back to the table, and need to use the restroom. I go in, sit (I'm in a bathroom doing what people do in bathrooms), I think to myself, "Man I'm starting to get a headache, I definitely don't need any more liquor." That, my friends, is the last thing I remember for apparently a couple hours. The next thing I remember is sitting in the car, I can hear the DD say "She hit her head", I think to myself, "No I didn't, what the heck is she talking about". Then I hear Ryan asking me if I can open my eyes. I think to myself, "Oh good Ryan's here, everything is fine, why does everyone sound so worried." I don't remember anything after that.

I went to get my purse from Kiki this morning, and was hoping that she or the other girl could tell me what I don't remember. Apparently, they too were completely hammered last night. Kiki didn't remember much either. Her roommate, the girl I've met a few times was able to fill me in a little, but she too was a bit hazy. The DD saw me go into the restroom, but couldn't find me after, she found me passed out in the bathroom. Some bouncer, named Mike, carried me out of the club and put me in the car. Lauren said that the bouncer was real nice, checking my eyes and head because apparently the DD said some girl told her I hit my head. She said that I was answering their questions, and talking normal, I just couldn't walk or keep my eyes open. Some girl told the DD that I hit my head, so they were going to take me to the hospital but as they were driving and talking to me and I was, apparently, making sense, they decided to just take me home. Ryan got about five calls last night from Josh saying I was going to the hospital, then I wasn't going to the hospital, then I hit my head, no I didn't hit my head, I was passed out, no I wasn't passed out. Josh said he couldn't understand what the girls were saying, they weren't making any sense. Lol, my poor husband.

On the way back to my house, the DD pulled over to let the bride the woods. Not at a gas station, not at a 7-11, the woods. I don't know, I was passed out in the back seat. So, while I'm passed out in the backseat, Lauren is puking on the side of the road and Kiki is peeing in the woods, cops pull up behind us. Our DD checked out ok, and I guess they commented on how trashed we all were. She said it was a bachelorette party and one of the cops responded with, "Aren't the guys supposed to do all this?" She responded, "They're going golfing." The cops laughed and said, "Oh yeah, GOLFING." As our DD is explaining to the cops that she's taking us all straight home, Lauren yells, in between hurling mind you, "She's gonna be a cop! She's good!" Lol.

I call the club and who answers the phone, Bouncer Mike. I ask him if I can just run in without paying a cover just to grab my card. He asks me my name. I give it to him. He chuckles and says, "Ooohhh, you had a great time last night." I laugh, say thank you and apologize for having to see the mess that was me last night. He asked if I had fun, I said yes and he laughed and said good. Drove down there, ran in got my card and ran out. You have embarrassed, then humiliated, THEN mortified, then me. BEYOND mortified.

I have never been so trashed that I don't remember an entire section of the evening. Usually after re-tracing the evening, everything comes back to me. I still can't remember what happened after the bathroom. I drink more at happy hour than I did last night. Ryan's seen me finish a brand new bottle of vodka no problem, and he has never seen me so wasted. He thinks I might have had something slipped in my drink. He said it just doesn't make sense for me to remember everything and be coherent and then all the sudden just pass out. AND no hangover this morning. I don't know, I think maybe the drinks at that club were just WAY strong, and I didn't have much to eat yesterday. I have heard other people's drunken stories, been there to experience other people's drunken stories, been the DD while experiencing the other people's drunken stories and now...I have my own drunken story. I have arrived.