Sunday, June 30, 2013

The day I met Bret Michaels

Yesterday started off as a typical Saturday. I had babysat late at Nick's Friday night, so I woke up in his spare bedroom. Then I headed to Coop's teeball game, and then went about my normal non-kid-having Saturday. I was heading to Norfolk later with Miss, Nick and Hannah to see Lita Ford, Vince Neil and Bret Michaels. (I don't think I need to explain my love for BM.) Normally I am so freaking pumped for a Bret show I can't even see straight. This time I was so excited, don't get me wrong, but I was a little more calm than usual.

I got my nails done and tanned (for Bret...which is embarrassing, I know, and Nick even said "you know he won't see your nails or tan, right?) and ran and grabbed lunch. It was all a normal day. Missy came over, and then we headed to Nick's to jump in his car and head to Norfolk. When we got there, we ate an awesome dinner at Big Red Keno (Omaha - get on board, we need one of these). And then we were nervous it might be cold later, so we ran over to Walmart to find something to throw on over our sleeveless shirts. I found this douchy looking knock off Affliction looking thing and knew I had to buy it. "This kinda looks like something Bret would wear! We might match!" I said as I grabbed it. "You should buy that!" Missy agreed.

We drove to the venue and were kinda make-shift tailgating when Missy broke the news to me. She had scored two meet and greets for Bret. We were in.

I couldn't exactly focus, so I started drinking through Lita Ford and Vince.

 At 8:30p, we met with the group of eight other women to go back and meet Bret.

The guy leading us was a friend of Bret's, so I asked him if I could ask a few questions. He said yes, but if he can't answer I can't get mad. I agreed and asked if Bret was the type of guy to come home after a long day, put on sweats and just watch TV. "No, he is always on," his friend said. "He is always thinking, always working."

"Well he has to relax somehow, like does he watch Big Bang Theory?" I said.  "He watches a lot of porn," his friend answered. I nodded. I get it.

"Is he a good dad? Like does he see the girls often?"

"Yeah, he bought a private jet so he can go home often. His girls are his world."

He's so hot. Good dads are so hot.

Anyway. After a small wait, we headed back to his tour bus. We waited in another line, and then it was our turn. I was the first of my group of ten - obviously. Another guy ushered two of us in, so Missy and I walked up the bus steps and then HE WAS RIGHT THERE. Like RIGHT THERE.

And then the worst thing ever happened - I started tearing up. I never thought I would react that way from seeing a celebrity, but I was losing my shit. I looked at Missy and said "Please help me calm down," and the guy who had taken my phone to take a picture (one of his band people) was looking at me like I was looney tunes. And then it was my turn.

I walked over and instantly started gushing. "Oh, baby girl, look at that beautiful face, we need to make sure you get a good picture," he said. He cupped my face in his hands - as if he knew that is my favorite thing for a guy to do ever. "No dude, you don't get it, I like LOVE you," was my reply.

We posed. When bandguy went to hand the phone back, Bret grabbed it first. "We need to make sure this is a good one. Look, we look like we're engaged!" He handed my phone back to me.

Umm, we are engaged, Bret. At least in my head. I hugged him again and walked slowly off the bus. I think I was high. It was the one of the best experiences of my life. I cannot thank my best friend Missy enough. I have been waiting for YEARS to get into a Bret Michaels meet and greet!!

Afterwards, Missy and I met back up with Nick and Hannah. I couldn't stop thanking Missy. I am still not sure she realizes how much this met to me.

And then, of course, Bret went on. The show FLEW by. When I see him perform, I try to enjoy every single second, but I couldn't concentrate very well. He is amazing.

After the show, all my pre-Bret jitters that I tried to drink away caught up with me, and Nick had to stop like three times so I could puke. Still...totally worth it!!

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

The day a semi tried to back over me

Oh. My. God.

So today on my lunch break, I ventured down Dodge Street, heading to the Omaha Community Playhouse to buy tickets to tonight's performance of The Wizard of Oz.

I turned on 72nd Street and was cut off by a semi driver shooting out of the Crossroads Mall parking lot into my lane. Ugh. Whatever. I laid on the horn, not that he could hear me, and followed him up to the stop light. I couldn't see the light over him, but saw his truck slightly move back, so I assumed it turned green and his semi was gearing up to get moving.

But then his truck didn't stop backing up. He just kept coming towards me. And then he hit me. And pushed me back for what seemed like forever. This idiot was in reverse on 72nd Street and just pushing me out of his way.

I screamed and I'm pretty sure I wet my pants a little bit. I was laying on the horn (I'm a bit of a horn abuser), even though he was already pretty much inside me and clearly wasn't stopping. When he finally started moving foward, I followed his semi ass and he whipped into a Walgreens parking lot. Another car followed me and a few guys came flying out of the store. All four guys said they saw everything, and then the semi took off. Two of the guys jumped back in their car to chase him down. I felt like a damsel in distress.

The semi parked behind Walgreens and the driver came walking over to me.

"What happened?" he asked.

SERIOUSLY? "Um, you were going reverse down the street and I was behind you." I pointed to my Jeep, which honestly wasn't as bad as it should have been.

"Oh. I didn't see you back there." He didn't seem to be that concerned. Then two seconds later that changed, and he was on his knees staring at my damage and he started panicking. Maybe he finally figured out your car shouldn't be in reverse when you're driving down a busy fucking street.

"You need to call the cops." One of my men said. I nodded and called 911, the first time I've ever had to call them. Somehow in my 32 years, nothing like this has ever happened to me. I've never even had a tiny fender bender, except the time I slid into a car in Kaiman's parking lot but Scott Schmidt told me just to leave and not tell anyone.

The cops showed up and my gaggle of witnesses were dismissed. I waited forever, and then semi driver got ticketed. The cop told me what to do next, and he asked if I was okay driving away.

"Yeah, I'm just kinda shaken up."

He laughed. "Um, yeah, that's a big truck to back into you!"

A semi. Are you kidding me? Of course my first fender bender isn't just a simple one; a huge fucking semi had to decide to reverse his ass down 72nd Street and push me along with him.

Am I too single?

On Friday night I was staying in a hotel room with one of my best friends in the world. We turned the lights out at about 11:30p, and she passed out. I did not. I was up most of the night. I was uncomfortable, and then hot, and then cold, and then it was too light in the room, and then it was too noisy. And then it was morning.

She woke up, and we went downstairs to get our free breakfast. Then she left to do bridesmaid duties, and I promptly passed out and slept harder than a rock for two solid hours. Like drool and everything. I probably could have continued like that for several more hours, but I forced myself to get up and explore Northfield.

On Saturday night, after the wedding, I thought I was exhausted. But as soon as the lights went off, I was up again. I seriously didn't sleep at all that night, and as Toni was snoring peacefully in the next bed, my head went into overdrive.

Am I seriously so single that I can't even sleep if another person is in the room with me? I thought back to the last few times I have had company. Yep. I was up all night. Even if my company was sleeping on my couch in the living room and I was in my bedroom with the door shut, I didn't sleep. The little sleep I did get was sweaty and gross. Have I seriously lived alone for so long that I can't relax when another person is with me?

Sign 435 as to why I will always be single.

Monday, June 24, 2013

A weekend in Northfield, Minnesota

I left on Friday, after a brief session of calling every liquor store in Council Bluffs and Omaha to see if they had this rum called Seven Tiki. Maren and Toni had called from MN and apparently this special liquor is only sold in Omaha. I found that hard to believe - steaks, yes, they may only be sold in Omaha - but rum? I don't think we are known for our rum. Anyway, needless to say, the rum does not exist in Omaha. I continued my journey.

I am not a good car traveler. One time Missy and I drove to Louisville to see McGowan and we decided to leave at midnight. "It's a great idea," I said. "I'm totally a night owl, I can stay up all night." Cut to me falling asleep pretty much as soon as we got in the car, and sleeping the entire drive. Missy had to hate me.

I couldn't sleep this time, however, so I checked out two audio books from the library. I mentally had the trip divided into two parts - I needed to get to Des Moines, and then it was just a quick 200 miles jaunt up to Minnesota. I cruised along, and it really wasn't bad at all, except I thought Minnesota was a helluva lot closer than it really was. That 200 mile stretch took forever.

Anyway, I got there and Toni, who was a bridesmaid, had left a key for me when she left for the rehearsal dinner (only they were calling it a groom's that a Minnesota thing?). I grabbed dinner and just relaxed until she got back, and then we got all caught up and went to bed - because we're old. And we were in small town Minnesota, so I think that's what you do?

Saturday Toni had more wedding duties to perform, so I slept in and then went to the farmers market, and found this little area with a ton of shops, secondhand stores and coffee places. It was AWESOME. I had the best little Saturday. After a little nap, I headed to the wedding. These were the directions.

 Part of Maren's decor were mason jars, complete with nametags, to drink out of. #awesome

 This dog was just wondering around the wedding. He didn't belong to Maren, or Maren's family. So I'm not really sure where he came from. But I mean seriously...Maren and Karl had to walk around him on their way back down the aisle.

Me and Toni
 Us with the bride. In front of a John Deer tractor. Because, why not?

This is something new. When we were in college, we couldn't get Maren to sing in front of anyone except us. She would sing until we all wanted to punch her, but she would never do it in front of anyone else. Clearly she is over her stage fright, and THANK GOD, because she is amazing.

The wedding was awesome, I'm so glad I went. Here's the best part of this wedding story.

The groom, Karl, and the bride, Maren, went to one year of school together in Northfield, but they never spoke. If you know Maren, this is normal. She is quiet and doesn't talk a lot. She gets really awkward and kinda weird. Fast forward to December of 2012, when Maren had moved from Nashville back to her hometown and was with her parents in Target. Karl was there, and he walked by her, took a second look and said "Maren, right?" Maren, being the awkward soul that she is, didn't answer him. She just stared at him. And he walked away. After some Facebook stalking, she apologized for her weirdness. And he asked her out to dinner. Fast foward six months, and we have this:

I love this love story. It's so Maren. It makes my heart happy.

Friday, June 21, 2013


Today I am heading to Minnesota to watch my friend Maren get married. I went to college with Maren, and Toni, who will also be there. I have seen Toni several times since college, but Maren and I haven't reunited since our Beaver days. I realize how lame my blog has been lately with the lack of pictures, so I promise to take some this weekend to liven this joint up. The two pictures below are from college. Do not judge. I had no idea what I was doing.
Me and Toni. Check out the scrunchie on my wrist.

Me and Maren at a dorm party. Don't judge. And yes, her backpack was filled with beer.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

I don't know about you but I'm feeling 32

Okay. So I'm 32. I will be 33. Next month.

I am one of those people who REALLY look forward to my birthday. I am not too concerned about getting old - I still think 33 is really young. However, I do think 33 is an odd age. It's like almost to 35, which is almost to 40. So I am getting kinda old.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what is acceptable after you hit a certain age. I mean, there are certainly things I did in my 20's that I don't think I could get away with now, at the ripe old age of 32.

  • I can't go out during the work week anymore. I mean, I could if a special occasion should pop up. But for the most part, I can't justify being out all night, just to suffer through work the next day. I do not understand how I used to do this - every single Thursday night, I would go out and get completely shit faced AND I usually hosted afterhours. How the fuck did I do that? And that wasn't all - I was usually out and about two or three other nights a week too, closing down good ol' Goofys. 
  • I think I am too old for long hair now. 
  • I probably can't justify sex in a car, or in a back alley. But I'm not marking these completely off the list yet. Maybe when I'm 35.
  • But on that note...probably too old for an unplanned pregnancy at this point in my life.
  • I am too old to ever be a student again - so no more classes for me, ever.
  • I think I am probably too old to ever let myself get fat again. I can't imagine it gets any easier to take weight off the higher up my age goes.
  • Too old for Facebook? I wish I could get rid of that shit.
  • I am way too old for fighting with friends - save the drama for yo' mama.

However, there are a few things I have decided I will never be too old for and will continue to do for as long as I live:

  • Allow my parents to give me birthday money (it's coming up...)
  • Eat shredded cheese straight out of the bag.
  • Get my feelings hurt when boys are mean.
  • Give road head.
  • Watch The Baby Sitters Club on netflix.
  • Watch The Wizard of Oz when I don't feel good.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Happy Maker's Day

Today is Father's Day - which also happens to fall on the premiere of Season Six of True Blood. So I have renamed today Maker's Day, to help me celebrate both events.

As you might remember, on Mother's Day I had a mini melt down. I was really feeling bad for two of my childless friends, and today I'm feeling those same feelings for their husbands. Also, since my miscarriage, mother and father celebration days just aren't quite the same. I wonder if that feeling will ever go away. It's been a really long time, but I just can't seem to kick that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Anyway. I have a great father, and I want to tell you about him.

My dad is Bret. If you saw him, you would think he's a hardass. And he kind of is. He has long, frizzy hair that he often pulls back into one of those biker-looking pony tails. He always has huge white circles around his eyes from wearing his sunglasses constantly. His arms are almost black with tan, but every other inch of his body is as pale as one can get without being an actual ghost.

But I also know my dad is not a hardass all the time. He has a soft spot for his kids, his grandkids and his wife. He sits up all night and worries when one of us is sick or pregnant, or away fighting a war. He checks in with me when the weather gets bad. He has texted me every morning since we found tumors in my neck.

When I was a child, the boys in school were pulling my hair. It really bothered me. I went home and told my dad, and I don't know what he did, but it stopped immediately. In fact, all the boys at school were scared of him, which helped me a lot (until I got to sixth grade and grew boobs, and then the boys at school just couldn't help themselves).

My dad is the reason why I drive an SUV, and he is the reason I will never learn how to change my own tire.   I'm pretty sure he doesn't read my blog, but I hope he has a great day.

Friday, June 14, 2013


My mind has been in overdrive lately. I hate times like this, where I am unsure of everything around me. I know most of this has to do with my period (sorry, dudes) because I am more affected now by that time of the month than ever before. So far this week I have been in doubt about:

  • Is there ever a time in a person's life when they STOP talking behind people's backs? Or is this just something people are programmed to do?
  • Are women ALWAYS just bitchy, or do they grow out of that at some point? Based on the 60+ year olds in my office who are ragdolls five days a week, I'm guessing bitchiness is a way of life.
  • I need to get back to a point where I don't hate 40 hours of my week every week. Life is too short!
  • Is there ever going to be a time in my life when a Kardashian or a Simpson isn't pregnant?
  • I need to move. I hate my apartment complex. You all probably remember a few weeks ago when my air conditioner blew up. Somehow, no one seems to have any information as to why or how that happened, or if it will happen again. Also, my garbage disposal and my dishwasher that were broken somehow fixed themselves. I would even take living in a house over this, at least then I would have control over my appliances!
  • The show Mistresses isn't about mistresses. Of those four women, only one is an actual mistress who lives a mistress lifestyle. The other three are just sad.
  • True Blood comes back this week, and I truly think life would be a better place if I were a fae.
  • I need everyone around me to get their shit together so I can get my shit together.
  • I had a dream last night where my most recent gentleman caller and I were staying in a hotel, and he snuck into the other bed in the middle of the night so he didn't have to sleep with me. This makes me want to punch him in the throat in real life.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Nine miles...

Whenever I run over five miles, my brain goes into some weird mode. It's kinda like I'm drunk, but also like I'm really high. I talk like I am really drunk, but my thought process is like I'm high as a kite.

I did not want to do nine miles yesterday. At all. But when I got home from work, I had 2 hours and 15 minutes before I needed to meet Missy and Katie at Turner Park for the movie. I figured that was the perfect amount of time to run. And since I was running, I decided to just try to get the nine miles out of the way to stay on my training plan.

I was wearing new shoes, which made me nervous.

**Time out. I don't think anyone realizes what a big deal it is that I completely wore out a pair of running shoes and had to buy new ones. It kinda makes me cry. I can't believe I did it. Time in. **

Anyway, so I got started and miles 1,2,3 went kinda smoothly. (Running never actually goes smoothly for me, but it was okay). This is where my mind went a little crazy, and I started making some ridic plans in my head for my future jobs, boyfriends, marriages, houses, etc. It's no wonder, with all those stupid thoughts, that I got confused and actually thought I was a mile ahead of where I was. So when my phone beeped I was just then hitting mile 4, I wanted to break down and cry.

I was running slow. I wasn't even running. I wasn't even jogging. I was like sleep-moving.

When I got to mile 5, I was right in front of my apartment. I thought for a second I should turn in, get some water and then go back out and do the last four miles. But I knew if I went into my apartment I wouldn't want to leave again, so I crossed 96th Street and went into this cute little neighborhood so I could knock two miles out, and then I could run my last two miles around my apartment to land me at my front door when my phone beeped nine miles.

Bad idea. I needed water so bad. It was all I could think about. I was going to be running through a park at about the mile 7 mark, so I planned on getting a drink at the water fountain. Wait, what if there isn't a water fountain? Do parks even have water fountains?

I was in a panic, and I was fairly convinced I was going to die from thirst. Cue the over dramatics. But then I seriously got all up in my head, and I was convinced I was going to pass out as well.

I came to a driveway where a father and son were washing their car. Before I could even think, I came to a dead halt and took out my ear buds.

"I know this is super weird, but can I take a drink out of your hose?" I blurted out.
The dad looked at me. I must have looked like death. "Of course you can. But would you like a bottle of water instead?"
I almost started crying. "Oh my God, yes!"
The son ran into the garage and returned with the water. I took it and yelled "You guys are my angels!"
And then I guzzled half the bottle, started running again, and promptly got a stomach cramp.

To say the rest of my run was bad is an understatement. I was disgusting. I felt like my face was covered in dirt (it wasn't). My fingers were fatter than they were when I was 90 pounds heavier. I was miserable. My legs hurt so fucking bad. My feet hurt so bad. My vagina even hurt. And thank God I stopped at random guy's house and asked for water, because the park had no water fountain.

I got to mile 8.5 and texted Missy that I was going to be late. I knew it would take me awhile to get my shit together, and I was going to need to find something to eat. I also texted her I was probably going to die.

Finally, I hit nine miles and I seriously thought I was going to die. Every single step hurt. I got into my apartment and sat on the couch, even though every single inch of my clothing was soaking wet with sweat. Then I crawled...yep, I crawled...into the bathroom. While peeing, I peeled off all my clothes and then I laid on my back on my bathroom floor. I felt dizzy and like I was going to puke. Then I crawled...yes, my bedroom and laid on my bed for a few minutes. Runners' high my ass.

I think I am going to wait awhile before I attempt my ten miles. I am going to repeat my 8 and 9 miles runs until I feel better about them.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Yes girl

I have decided to stop saying no.

Let me tell you a little secret. I am a lazy bitch.

No, seriously. I am lazy. There is nothing better to me than having an entire evening to sit, watch tv and play on my iPad. Or lay and read. Or put on red lipstick and just admire myself in the mirror. I LOVE hanging out in my apartment for an undisclosed amount of time and just doing whatever tickles my little fancy.

However, I think I need to live a little more. I want to take pictures, and have memories, and have experiences. I'm ready to live a little more.

So this summer, I have decided, I will say yes to most everything that is offered to me.

I mean, let's get real. I probably still won't do much during the week. Getting up early is hard enough on my old body, let alone when I was out all night the night before. But tonight, I will be watching The Goonies in the park with my friends. That's kind of a big deal, since normally I refuse to do anything on work nights.

My new mentality has already signed me up for camping (whatthefuck) and tanking. And riding a bus to Chicago. And driving six hours to Minnesota next weekend.

Wish me luck on this new adventure.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Dear Jennifer Love Hewitt...

...come on girl. Work with me here.

You've always been kinda my idol when it comes to living the single, carefree lifestyle. You are just a smidge older than me, and you have always seemed to love just being hot, dating around and living fabulously. You show off your hot rack and luscious hair and live my dream life.

And then you ruined it. Seriously? Knocked up AND engaged?

You broke my heart. Does that mean, sooner or later, I may want to do those things too?

JL, you changed our lives yesterday. I do wish you well, I just don't like the direction this is going.

Love, Jennifer Marie Wilson

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Hitting my 8 mile

Last night was my 8 mile run.

It was hard.

Really hard.

I felt like I got off to a good start. Miles one and two were okay. Not awesome, but okay. I couldn't stop thinking about how much longer I had to go. The idea of cutting my run short never crossed my mind, I just wanted to hit the eight miles and then go dunk my feet in the pool.

Mile three is when the world came crashing down around me. Okay, that might be a little dramatic. But my leg started hurting some fierce. It was RIDIC. I stopped at a park bench and stretched that shit out. It didn't help. I started getting really nervous about finishing, and walked for a bit. My app clicked to four miles, and I realized I hadn't ruined my pace too badly. I started running again.

At mile five I got SO excited. I basically have a 5K left! I can run a 5K! I ran most of mile 5, 6 and 7. At this point I was just running big laps around my apartment complex. A complete lap is 2 miles. I wanted to hit mile 7 at the top of a hill so I could run the last mile all the way downhill. Figuring out how to do that in my head helped pass some time.

When I was running my last mile, I felt dizzy. I was pretty sure I was going to puke. I tried so hard not to look at my phone, because I wanted to be surprised when 8 miles hit. Finally, I couldn't stand it and looked.

7.84 miles.

I ran hard. I ran fast. I wanted this shit DONE.

7.96 miles.

The last .4 miles was the longest of my life. I have never seen numbers move so slow. As soon as that bitch hit 8 miles, I came to a dead stop and leaned up against a tree.

The world was spinning. I seriously thought I was going to have to lay down on the sidewalk, but decided against it. I basically crawled to the pool and carefully peeled off my shoes and socks. The water felt awesome.

I have to do my nine mile run on Sunday because I have plans Monday night. Who wants to place bets on me puking/passing out/crying?

Monday, June 3, 2013

It's a love story

I have been asking my grandparents how they ended up together for several years. They always pretend they can't remember. Finally, when I had them trapped in a car for 1.5 hours the other day, they magically started remembering.

"Well, your grandma was about 12 when we met," Grandpa started.
"I was not 12. I was older than that," Grandma interrupted.
"Whatever. I was seeing her friend."

"Wait! You were dating her friend?" I interrupted this time.

"I wasn't dating her, we went out like three times."

"Well why did you break up with her?" I asked him.

"Because I was sick of her bullshit," he replied.

"He got mad because she went to the skating rink with another boy and held his hand," Grandma whispered to me.

"That is bullshit, I don't give a fuck who she skated with. Anyway, the old lady had been eying me for several years. She followed me around and finally got me." My grandpa is so romantic.

"Grandpa, you told me once that you always knew you liked Grandma best out of all the girls." I told him.

"You little bag, I never told you that."

Sigh. Romance.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Stir Cove 2013

Last week, another season kicked off at Stir Cove. The tenth season! That's hard to believe. I worked at Harrah's during the first several seasons, and it's crazy to think of what this beast has grown into.

Night one was Bush. Awesome rock show!

Night two was Cheap Trick. LOVE.

The next week, we hit up the Kings of the Mic tour, with LL Cool J headlining. But my favorite was Ice Cube! He played You Can Do It Put Your Back Into It, which made my night!

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Happy birthday to Missy!

Thursday was Missy's birthday. We went to Salt 88, which I was very nervous about, but my meal was awesome! Since it is right next to Leslie's office, I will be trying to get her to go to dinner with me again very soon. After that, we went to Loose Moose for some drinks and rounds of Marry, Fuck and Chuck.

Missy gave us each the best present ever for her birthday - a goodie bag of Garrett's popcorn. I would show you a picture, but it's long gone. I cannot WAIT until my next trip to Chicago so I can buy a 200 pound bucket of this popcorn. Ah, fuck it. I may order some online. Today.

Missy is one of the best people I know. She is caring, sensitive, trustworthy and wonderful. She truly cares about her family and friends. I am really lucky to have her in my life.