Tag Archives: georgia

Pants Off… Everyday! Oh, Pink Tutus and a Peeping Tom too.

Standard

So Pants Off Friday has kinda blown up into a clothing-free explosion! I am no longer restricted to just Fridays. Now it’s Pants Off Wednesday, Sunday, Thursday. Honestly, the only time I can guarantee full dress is when company is coming over. Right now I’m chilling on the couch in my pajama dress, trying not to resort to full Pants Off  Thursday. I have no idea when I bother. Just embrace my nature, right???

 

What’s new in the world of the Peach and the BFE… well, the BFE is working hard and loving his job, which is super awesome!! It’s wonderful to see him to happy and enjoying what he does. You can’t wish for more for someone, except maybe to hit the jackpot! We are going to a hockey game next week, which we’re both really excited about. I’m looking forward to beers!!! and fistfights on the ice! He’s a fan of the Tampa Bay Lightning, and I went to my first hockey game ever last week. It was a HOT MESS. I might write a post on my experience, so stay tuned. Any sport where the spectators can yell “beat his a$$!” while one player pummels another is alright in my book.

 

I started a new job recently, and it’s been crazy! I like it because it’s challenging and puts me out outside of my comfort zone. It’s forcing me to use my brain in ways I haven’t in a while… I’m back in a hotel, and having to think from a different perspective, speak to strangers, and not use the f-word quite so much. An added bonus is I get my own office!! which I plan to decorate for the holidays. I have a 3-foot tree with lights and decorations, and I even have an “apple spice and delight” scented candle in my office right now. Next I’ll bring in a gingerbread scented one!

 

Yes, I have an office! It’s exciting and lovely and I enjoy it. I’ve hung Audrey Hepburn pictures on the walls, and brought in nick-nacks, doo-dads and my little Travelocity Gnome to grace my bookshelves. When it’s not the holiday season I have a cotton candy scented candle that a friend gave me that makes the whole office  – and it’s primary resident (me) – smell like cannnndy! Although this breaks my cardinal rule – that big girls should NEVER smell like food – the effect is quite pleasant.

 

Candles are good for not just setting the mood, but also battling the one weird problem i my office. There’s a weird dog-food type odor near my desk, like someone mixed kibbles n’ bits together with kashi cereal (which is the consistently and flavor of dry cat food) and left a bowl of this mixture under my desk for my personal pleasure.

 

At least three times a day I find myself sitting in my office, working on BEOs and then… *sniff sniff* “where’s is that coming from?” I stop my work, and climb under my desk looking for the answer. I look crazy doing this, but what’s new. My co-workers should get a taste now of who they are working with. To date, I haven’t found the kashi-kibbles mix, just an old calendar and some post-it notes and a Cheerio, which I think is mine. Nevertheless, I know it’s there somewhere, taunting me. And ruining the effect of my holiday sensory experience.

 

Um… so yeah… I guess if that’s my biggest complaint on my new office I’m doing ok! The only thing missing from my office right now is the “emergency flask”… if you know what I mean.

 

What else is new? Sorry I haven’t posted in a while! The job offer and subsequent change happened really quickly, and right as the BFE and I were planning a weekend trip to Atlanta to visit the fam. We ended up taking Ojeda so he could have his first “Hotlanta” experience, and to go to a Baptist Church for the first time. Our trip, as it turned out, was over Pride Weekend, which added it’s own element of hilarity to the whole weekend. Our hotel overlooked Peachtree Street so we had a great view of the festivities. I understand that the guys especially enjoyed the parade of pink tutus on Saturday afternoon, while I was getting dressed. 🙂

 

This was my first trip home where I didn’t leave feeling really homesick and ready to plot my move back to Atlanta. I think we’re finally settling into a groove here in Orlando, and it feels like home, which is nice. Getting our own place – the BFE and I – really helped. It was a bonus for my pants-free habits, but also a really sweet little “nest” for us. It’s feels like our place.

 

Speaking of our place, our bedrooms windows are perfect for spying on our neighbors! We live catercorner to a super cute gay couple, and I enjoy spying on their entertaining and outgoing social life. Hey, it’s not wrong… it’s happening right outside my window. Which I have the blinds closed to. While I stare unabashedly to find out what’s going on. With the lights off so they can’t tell I’m a Peeping Tom. In my opinion it’s their bad for keeping their windows open! And being so loud when they fight.

 

The other night around 11pm they were arguing in the courtyard, and one of them stormed upstairs to pack up his things and leave. BFE and I were already in bed (we’re such an old couple, I mean, 11 pm and in bed? really???) but we woke up to someone shouting “dont f#cking touch me!” BFE gave me the play by play while I relaxed in bed. It was a nice bonding experience for us… stogether.

 

Hey don’t judge. every couple has their hobbies.

 

In unrelated news I just realized that my nightgown that I put on while enjoying Pants-Off Thursday is actually on inside out. I’ve been wearing it for 3 and a half hours and just now noticed. I think that’s a sign to log off now.

 

More posts to come again soon! Y’all miss me?

Baton Bob

Standard

Okay, so like 10 years ago, I was walking to class in downtown Atlanta (I went to school at Georgia State University), and as I was crossing Peachtree Street to head into my classroom, I spied the most peculiar sight: a grown a$$ man marching and dancing down the street, head held high, wearing sunglasses, a tutu and marching band boots (you know the ones I’m talking about, that the baton girls wore), swinging a baton and blowing a whistle. It was crazy, and slightly exhilarating to see this random sight in the middle of a very blah school day. I remember texting friends about what I’d seen – keep in mind, TEXTING at that time was on a alphanumberic keyboard and took a lot of time. Obviously I really wanted to share what I saw.

 

It wasn’t until three days ago (as in 2012!!!) that the identity of this baton-twirling man was Baton Bob.

I had no idea who Baton Bob was until I was looking at one of my favorite blogs When In Atl (it’s the best place for keeping up with my hometown hilarity) and they posted up an article about Baton Bob getting harrassed.

Suddenly it all clicked. I remember Baton Bob! Omigosh, by my recollection he’s been marching and whistling and twirling his baton faithfully through the streets of Atlanta for over TEN YEARS. Amazing that it’s the same guy! To think that I remembered him from all these years. The sight of his one-man parade mesmerized me so much that day; I can still remember it like it just happened.

I’m saddened that someone went as far as to threaten his life, just because they didn’t care for his “lifestyle”. Who gives a flying fart in space about his “lifestyle”?? So what… he’s a little left of center.  We all are (granted, he more than most). The man gets joy out of performing in the streets, why exert the energy and negativity to threaten to kill or hurt him? I’m constantly surprised by the number of douches the rest of us are forced to come into contact with every day. How does his behavior afect you? He’s not harming himself or anyone else. I can personally state that seeing him brought a little joy back into my day that day. He’s like an effing Santa Claus, spreading joy. Who would want to kill Santa Claus?? douches.

What would Christmas have been like if Santa Claus delivered your presents in THIS outfit? Woudl there have been disco music involved? Just asking.

 

What happened to the Southern adage, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all”?  Another favorite of mine was “Bless your heart”, which is used when you don’t know what to say, or you think the person’s an idiot. Typically this is said inconjunction with another statement and often behind the person’s back. Southerners are NOT very confrontational. Which is why I’m shocked that this ignunt fool got all up in Baton Bob’s grill. How mad must he have been?

 

Granted, we might believe in Southern Hospitality, bit there’s always just a pinch of crazy in that mint julep.

  

I mean, are you just that angry and bitter that not everyone falls in with your description of “normal”? Did someone pee in your cheerios when you woke up this morning and that made you into the cranky, self-righteous TOOLBAG who think’s it’s your God-given mission to rid the city of those you deem unacceptable? Or are you just mad that SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE is having… (Lord help us all)… FUN???? Puh-lease. get a grip. Better yet, get a hobby. I’d suggest baton-twirling, but I bet you won’t be as good at it as Baton Bob.

 

Hell, I wish I had the guts to parade down the street with a fricking baton and march to the beat of my own drummer. If someone tried to tell me I was wrong for doing it, I’d probably throw one of my marching band boots at them. Probably not right to answer hate with violence, but I bet they couldn’t fus as much if their mouth was swollen shut.

 

Pretending to wave at my subjects while walking the streets of Disney’s Animal Kingdom is about as close as I’ll get to pulling a Baton Bob. Unless alcohol is involved.

 

I think one of the number one problems we have these days is the number of people that get personally involved in $hit that’s none of their business (example: other people’s uteruses, but don’t get me started) and don’t get involved in enough stuff that’s everyone’s business (i.e., voting, community work, education, the arts).

I’m glad to hear that people are supporting Baton Bob, though. It reminds me alittle of the drama that’s going on with the bus monitor that got harrassed by a douche canoe of $hitty students. Clearly those boys lacked any type of home training. My mom would have whupped my a$$ from sunup to sundown if I’d done something as atrocious as this. After reading another one of my favorite blogs, Angrivated, he mentions that people stood behind her so firmly that they raised enough money to not only send her on vacation but let her retire. Kudos!

Even though I got an update on Baton Bob because someone threatened, it was nice to hear that he’s still alive and high-stepping, bringing a little mirth to the merry citizens of downtown Atlanta. I admire his resilient soul. How about a bit fist (baton?) pump in the air for Baton Bob!!!

 

Now if only I can find out about the whereabouts of the sausage man… this dude that used to standon the street corner near my high school, wearing sickeningly tight bike shorts. Then the circle will be complete.

Update – We’re Broke, Our Wedding Isn’t Going to Make You Any Money!

Standard

Wow.

 

So a few days ago, I posted about how my contact information had been unknowingly shared with a realtor via David’s Bridal (see: We’re Broke, Our Wedding Isn’t Going to Make You Any Money!). Having asked to be taken off the mailing list, I was VERY surprised to receive the SAME EMAIL from the SAME REALTOR less than 24 hours later.

 

Now, you might argue that it can take a few days to take someone off a mailing list – this is true. Working with mailing lists at work has taught me a few things, and the emails she is sending are not using “mailing lists”. For one thing, there was no option to unsubscribe, and for another, she wouldn’t have been able to add the email addresses in to the “to field” – it all would have been blind copied. She is simply copying and pasting names into the “to” field on her own email account. Only this time, she got smart and the second go-around she at least used the “bcc” field. Tricksy Baggins (sorry, a Lord of the Rings reference).

 

Getting the email again got me fired up… so I did what I should have done in the first place. I called the DB store and asked for the store manager. I told her what was going on, how I did not give them permission to share my info with a REALTOR, and how inappropriate and unprofessional this was. Clearly this store manager has taken a few customer service classes: she listened to my situation, empathized with how frustrated I was, apologized for the inconvenience and took immediate action.

 

She was unsure how a realtor got on their vendor list in the first place, but she assured me that she would contact corporate and have her removed, and would make sure that I did not receive future emails to my personal email address. Bam. Problem solved.

 

I feel a bit bad for realtor lady – she was just trying to drum up some business – but the tenor of her approach was inappropriate, and I think she needs a few lessons on how to network. Gaining contact by stalking future brides via email is out of control, but she’s not the only guilty party – someone within David’s Bridal allowed this to happen. I don’t know if my complaints ruined her relationship with the store. Should I feel guilty??

Bridal Spam

Standard

Ok,  I just posted this on our wedding blog http://ourbigfatcruiselineswedding.wordpress.com, but for those of you that don’t follow that blog (yet) I had to double dip and share the post I just sent out:

 

Ha!

I think I just accidentally started a sh!t storm for David’s Bridal.

A few weeks back, while Dustyn and I were visiting family in Atlanta, I took the opportunity to schedule a wedding dress shopping expedition, where I learned a few things (see my previous post to find out what I learned from wedding dress shopping). In the process of booking my appointment online with David’s Bridal, I had to create a profile and supply my email address.

BIG mistake. HUGE mistake, actually. I have received non-stop emails from DB ever since. It’s actually been so nonstop that it’s been a bit of a turn off. I finally requested that my email address be removed from DB’s list, and after a suggestion from a recently married cousin, decided to start supplying any future vendors with an email address specifically for wedding stuff. It’s been helpful at filtering out the foolishness and helping me to pinpoint the useful stuff without clogging my personal email.

So even though I requested the DB stop sending me emails, I still occasionally get a few… and it turns out that they apparently shared my information WITHOUT MY PERMISSION to some of their vendors. How do I know that? Because I got an email to my personal email address this evening, from a REALTOR, congratulating me on my upcoming wedding, and offering her services when we were ready to buy our future house. Did I mention that I went dress shopping in Atlanta? We live in Central Florida… hmmph.

What I also noticed was that the realtor sent the email to about 24 other brides… because she copied them all on the email. Not blind copied, just pasted their email addresses right into the “To” field next to mine.

In my irritation, I wrote the following email:

Subject: Re: David’s Bridal
Wow. I have already asked twice to be removed from all David’s Bridal mailing lists, and I  did NOT give David’s Bridal permission to share my info with you. I am not interested in real estate at the moment… Especially since I live in another state. I am sure many of the other women on this email feel the same way, especially since you failed to blind copy us and thusly shared their info without permission as well. Please remove me from your mailing lists and future communications.
Thank you.

I copied the other brides on my email, and I think that’s what egged this bride on:

I completely agree. I did not give permission to email about anything besides my dress. Please remove me from your email list as well. I do not want my information out for everyone to know. I will be calling Davids Bridal tomorrow and calling corporate over this matter. REMOVE ME FROM THE EMAIL LIST!

Yikes. I think she was even madder than me! I feel a little bad for the realtor… not bad enough to retract my email, but I do feel like the firestarter a little bit  **insert sheepish grin here**

This probably comes off like I’m a psycho BrideZilla or something – I’m not, I promise. At least I don’t think of myself as one. It probably also comes off like I’m so crazily maniacal about sharing my person information – I am, but not to the nth degree. At least I don’t think that I am. I have a blog for heaven’s sake, and I share my personal stuff with my friends on Facebook all the time (sometimes in excess – read: farting). I think there’s a fine line between being provided services you need and having a service provider anticipating your needs while you are allowed to selectively sharing your information, and there’s what amounts to selling your info to realtors in a state that you don’t even live in.

It was a hard lesson to learn – weddings is a booming business for people! Having worked in a hotel before, I already knew this, but just forgot. I didn’t think it really applied to us. As I comb through my wedding email inbox, I am reminder that there are companies out there ready to profit from our declaration of love for each other. I don’t mind that so much, I mean everyone has to make a living, I guess I just want to tell them that… well, we aren’t broke, but we’re definitely not loaded. YOU WILL NOT MAKE MUCH MONEY OFF OF US!! Stop sending me your info about venue locations, free floral consultations, dance lessons and officiants. It’s exhausting! I wonder if these folks realized how “Broke Bride On A Budget” I am close to being, if they’d still waste the email to contact me with this stuff.

I also wonder how many other emails like mine that realtor is going to receive.

27

Standard

 

A few days ago, a friend and I played a game on Facebook, where she gave me an age, and I had to describe different things about my life at that time (agae 19). I had to keep it short since it was on facebook. Now, as my birthday approaches I’m feeling a bit contemplative and wanted to try the numbers game again with a different age.

 

 

Age 27

 

At age 27, I was scared of change – any kind of change. My relationship status? LOL: non-existent! I was convinced I would die old and alone or pehaps living with my GBF (gay best friend) forever. We would have a house with 8 cats, 2 dogs (one of which was allergic to acts) and own that creepy house at the end of the street. You know the one: on Halloween, kids stick turds in the mailbox because we gave away apples and raisins instead of candy. I was pretty irreverent about my old maid future, although sometimes the thought of never finding a partner kept me awake at night.

 

At age 27, I was working as a promotions coordinator at a theme park with an average 60 hour work week. It felt like I had the best job on earth, even though I was exhibiting symptoms of physical and emotional stress. I drank at least one venti caramel machiato a day, and only got 5-6 hours of sleep because of long hours, sleep apnea, stress and insomnia. I occasionally drank nyquil to go to bed.

 

At age 27, I got a wild hair up my ass and did the thing I thought I’d NEVER do: decided to make a life change and move to Orlando, Florida, a place where I had only three (3) friends and barely knew my way around. Three weeks afer the job offer I packed up my apartment and moved away from Atlanta for the first time (college does not count). Exactly two weeks after my move I started regretting my decision.

 

At age 27, I had to put on my big girl panties for the first time and be a real grownup:  I signed up for health insurance on my own. 

 

At age 27, I fell in love for the first time: with my new company. I had my first “real” job that wasn’t seasonal; it was regular, fulltime employment in a huge hotel. I had to wear pantyhose to work EVERY DAY which totally sucked. I had to learn to smile even when I didn’t feel like it, do things I didn’t want to do and be nice to people that hated me. I loved every minute of it. I thought it loved me back, I really did. At age 27, I had no idea what it would be like to get laid off from that same company 3 years later. I also had no idea what it would be like to really fall in love with what you do. Or to fall in love with a person.

 

At age 27, I learned to make new friends and to discern real friends from “just for now” friends. I had never done that before – I’d always just naturally gravitated to people and never really made an effort. At age 27, I realized that not everyone IS your friend, and not all friends are “friends forever”. And that’s ok. I’m still learning that lesson every day.

 

At age 27, I cried because I was spending my first birthday alone, turning 27 in another state away from my closest family and friends. Casey the roomie took me to Chipotle (then my favorite casual restaurant) to cheer me up :). It was the very best part of my birthday that year, and I’ve never forgotten it.

 

At age 27 I smoked hookah for the first time and was later pulled over and pulled out of my friend’s car by a policeman who accused my friend and I of drug use. (!?!?!?) We sat on the curb while he searched the car. It was scary and unbelievable that the people in charge (i.e. authorities, government, etc.) would treat us like crimminals even though we hadn’t done anything wrong, and not be held accountable for their actions. That situation has stuck with me ever since.

 

At age 27 I was still a closeted country music fan (now not so closeted) just like I was at age 19. I was still the girl who worried about whether “being myself” was enough to make the cool kids want to hang out with me, just like I did at age 19(funny how that sticks with you).

 

At age 27, I realized that living in another place could be more of an adventure than I was making it out to be. I began to make it my mission to explore my new home, and enjoy the different atmosphere, the tempo, the lifestyle of Orlando. It slowly grew on me… althought I still cried when I first realized I couldn’t go home for Christmas that year. At age 27, I began to truly appreciate my family and friends in a way I never had before. Family and friends both new and old 🙂

 

Every once in a while it’s important to stop and see where you came from and where you’re headed. At 33, I’m still at the beginning of my great adventure, andit’s crazy to see things so differently just over the span of a few years.

 

 As I get close to the end of my annual trip around the sun, I reflect back on how my priorities have shifted. Things that were once sooooo important don’t matter anymore, and people that I never knew existed until 6 months ago mean the world to me. Is this what it’s like to grow old?

 

I want your thoughts on this!!

Patios and Meaningless Rantings

Standard

Until I moved to Orlando, it was rare for me to get 8 whole hours of sleep every night. Why? When I lived in Atlanta i spent random nights having meaningless debates and conversations with friends, usually Delto or Jess. Sitting on the porch with a bottle of cheap wine(read: Arbor Mist over ice), feet propped on the balcony in spring, shivering under blankets next to the portable heater in winter.

Regardless of the season, the patio was our place: we’d discuss everything from religion to politics, history to television, music, random nonsense, whatever came to mind – farting, dating, my lactose intolerance, Delto’s obsession with… Well whatever his obsession at the time might be :). Our cats Milo and Jovi peering at our guests from under the safety of the couch, while Rex the dog flopped on our feet, determined to be a part of the conversation. We’d talk late into the night, talk about one subject then another until someone groaned that it was a “school night” and we’d inevitably shamble back inside.

The patio was like another room in the apartment. I’d wander around Target and Home Depot trying to find plants and Christmas lights and candles and rugs for the patio. How to find citronella candles that looked cute but still got the job done. Adorable green chairs I found on a random trip to Target to buy shampoo and I just had to have them so my friend Kevin shoved them in the backseat of his car and took them home for me. At one point I’d successfully kept a pot of Gerber daisies alive for several months. I added more plants, and my friend Casey installed a ceiling fan on the porch and expertly rigged it so I could turn the Christmas lights on through the same switch. Fancy!!! I swear, all we needed was a. mini fridge and we would have moved out there permanently. We’d wave at neighbors walking by and gossip 227-style and throw the french doors leading into the apartment open so we could hear the stereo. Like every good college student we all had a love for candles (candles, candles everywhere!) So we’d turn out the lights in the apartment and the pation would be lit with the soft glow of candlelight. It was paradise.

Ha! I remember one night staying up with Casey and Justin and Buddy, drinking Jagger bombs and playing Uno attack until 8am… Smoke breaks for the smokers brought us out to the patio at regular intervals. I’d curl up in the papasan chair (this was before the unfortunate Tony/Levi Papasan breaking of 2003) and laugh at the antics of my crazy fools friends… Then we’d shush each other because we didn’t want to wake the neighbors. It was 3 am after all.

I miss those times…the best was finding new things – articles, stories, etc. – and sharing them with my friends. Making fun of each other. Sitting on the porch thinking we knew shit, and we were the shit. Lol. It didn’t matter whether we really knew it all (we didn’t. We didn’t even have a clue) because at the end of the day we were together, you know?

Now that I live in Orlando, patio time is different. Less pine trees, more palm for one thing. The patio is screened in but I can still share it with friends. The green chairs I just had to have are on Kevin’s front porch in GA now and have been replaced on my porch by wooden rockers. I’ve got a new papasan thanks to Levi but it stays in my bedroom. No badass ceiling fan/ trashy Christmas light combo, but still a great corner view to wave at neighbors and talk about randomness. My kitty lives with Delto, and my puppy lives with Jess. I still try to grow plants though, and still get excited about fun things I want to share with my friends only I mostly have to call them on my cell instead of cracking open a bottle of Arbor Mist when they knock on my door. I miss my GA friends. A lot.

The patio at our house now is growing on me though. It just needs some candles… And maybe a mini fridge :).