BrawlFest2K8

Last night the Feej and I went to the Cubs game and sat several rows (and one section, FINE) behind home plate. It was pretty awesome. Except for the fact that as Fiji noted there was "too much traffic" and oh yeah, the fact that we almost got into a BRAWL! True story. So, as soon as we settled into our third row aisle seats (hi, braggart) and the game got underway (wow, I should really look into a career as a sportscaster!), we realized that something was awry. What may or may not have tipped us off was the dude behind us cheering LOUDLY and clapping EVEN LOUDER for the Dodgers. Not the Cubs. Now, being a Dodger fan (or any other team's fan) in and of itself is not a problem. NOT AT ALL. What was the problem was the annoying and obnoxious ATTITUDE that went along with this particular Dodger fan. After I had had the appropriate fill of my Old Style Tall Boy, I did not try so hard to contain my annoyance with dude and his Dodger love. Then things really came to a head when dude, in his flamboyant and unnecessarily LARGE clapping movements, knocked Fiji on the back of the head. And the following exchange slash BRAWL occurred:

Fiji (to dude, calmly but firmly): Hey man, watch it.
Dude (FLIPPING OUT): WHAT? Watch WHAT?!!
Fiji: You just knocked the back of my head.
Dude: NO I DID NOT. I DIDN'T TOUCH YOU.
(Seriously, he was yelling. TOTALLY unnecessary. Like I should talk.)
Fiji: Yes. Yes, you did. You knocked it. Just watch the back of my head.
(Fiji is pretty much over it at this point and back to watching THE GAME.)
Dude: YOU WATCH THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD.
Tilly (turning around and stifling laughter): That doesn't even MAKE SENSE.
Dude is speechless.
Tilly: Dude, relax.
Dude: TELL YOUR HOMEBOY TO RELAX.
Tilly: Uhh, I think he is. Thanks. Look, it's fine. Don't worry about it. (I SO wanted to say DEWAI.)

The end. (Sorta.)

And then the CUBS WON in the 10th inning.

The end. (For reals.)

A Whole Bunch of Nothing

I am having one of those days where I just want SO BADLY to PUNCH someone in the NECK. But not really. The past couple of days I've been getting so incredibly frustrated about one thing or another that I find myself TENSING UP MY ENTIRE BODY and then releasing. Like a toddler. And OMG it really works. Kinda. I mean, I haven't punched anyone in the neck yet, so SUCCESS! Also, last night I tried to do a little mock-up for the text of our invitations that I have somehow agreed to DO MYSELF. Um, hello WORST IDEA EVER. I am so not cut out for this. I can barely even write my own name without getting ink ALL OVER, let alone do whatever making your own wedding invitations entails. (Clearly I don't even know WHAT THAT IS. I am so screwed.) But I am kinda attached to the whole concept of our invites and after hours of searching and finding very pretty, very expensive invitations by REAL DESIGNERS and stuff, they still don't offer what we are looking for. SO. There's THAT.

Anyway. GAH. I am doing the tensing thing again!

But, this weekend was lovely and sunshiney and drunky and I saw the love-of-my-life slash Jenny Lewis. I just love her so much. We met up with some friends slash strangers afterwards and I was pretty much spilling my girl-love (and beers) all over those poor people. So that was nice.

ALSO, I tried on my dress again last week and holy hell I just love it SO much. Like, A LOT. And that makes me feel like such a girl (not that there's anything wrong with that), you know. PhotoFace took pictures of me and I didn't even hate them! Granted, I think the sales lady was a little put off when PhotoFace made me like sprawl across her desk next to the window so we could get a glimpse of me AND the skyline, but then I was all "DEWAI* lady, just DEWAI."

The end.

*Don't Even Worry About It. You would not even imagine how much I use this word in normal conversations. AWK.

He Almost Made it on Broadway

Yesterday as I sat in the dentist's chair with my mouth wide open and the Dental Cleaner Lady scraping off the plaque, I heard someone singing in the next room over. Like, to Bette Midler or whatever craptastic musak they had playing. And since I wear my emotions on my face, the Dental Cleaner Lady must've seen my shock and confusion because we had the following exchange:

Dental Cleaner Lady: He [dentist] sings.
Me: Uhhh?
DCL: Yeah. Sings.
Me: Like, all the time?
DCL: Yep. Like ALL THE TIME.
Me: Wow. I, uh...
DCL: And sometimes dances.

At this point she had to remove the sharp tool from my mouth because we were both laughing so hard, my gums and teeth were in danger. You know how sometimes you are laughing so hard and then finally you kinda get it together and so does the other person but then one of you kinda chuckles and then all is lost once again? Yeah. It was like that. But then she assured me that he probably wouldn't sing during my exam. You know, since this was the first time we were meeting and all.

Inspired

Since I'm pretty much obsessed with wedding blogs now, I thought I would share my own "inspiration board."

I can't find all the links where I found these images, so I hope no one tries to sue me or kill me or punch me in the face or anything. Because OUCH. Also, it's not as "professional" looking as most but WHATEVER. It's MY inspiration, right? RIGHT.

I Love Evens

When I first started dating Fiji, I never made any attempt to hide my vast number or quirks or idiosyncrasies. Hell, on our first date I said (OUTLOUD) something along the lines, "I can drink a lot. Like A LOT. Hope you can handle it." Um, hello BITCH. Gee whiz. Try to keep that on the DL...at least until the third date or something. Nope. Not me. Just wanted to lay it all out there. Really show him who I am. And apparently that is a serious braggart of a boozehound.

Anyway, one of my many odd "qualities," if you can call them that, is that I am strangely attached to even numbers. And the number 17. But even numbers I just love so much. I just do. I set my alarms on even numbers and get giddy when my purchases total an even number, and even better if there is some sort of pattern to the even numbers. And I LOVE the last 4 digits of my phone number--ALL EVEN. I also set the stereo volume to even numbers, even when it is not the preferred decibel level at the moment. Look, IDK. It is what it is. My point is that when I first moved in with the Feej, he (unbeknownst to me) changed his alarm to ALSO be an even number. In addition, we listen to this Native American music every night as we are going to sleep. And once I moved in he started setting the volume at even numbers! Can you even believe that?!! It took me several months to realize it (THAT is how tight-lipped this man is. Clearly that is one major difference between us. HELLO BLOG.) and when I did I almost died of love, if that would be possible. (If it is possible, that totally blows.)

So. It's not like this big sacrifice he made for me or anything. I am sure he enjoys the music just the same and wakes up just fine (actually, he doesn't even NEED an alarm...which is another post entirely). But really, it was just the fact that he even thought of that, knowing that it would make me happy. It's just those little things, you know?

I'm NOT a Hippie...Anymore.

I just received an email from a colleague signed:

Peace,
[redacted]

Uhhhh...okay?

I'm off the black sludge, folks. I did it! I've already started looking down (very condescendingly in fact) upon those silly coffee drinkers. Don't you even know what that does to your slash my teeth?! It turns them a delectable yellowish-brown. It DOES. And that is quite unpleasant.

In other news, I took a brief nap at my desk the other day. It lasted 8 minutes, to be exact. I am sure it had nothing to do with my lack of the black sludge devil. I wonder if the poor souls across the street even noticed. I don't know why I call them poor souls, but I bet they are. Sometimes when I talk on the phone I look out the window and stare across the street. One time I think I made eye contact with this one dude straight across the way. It made me uncomfortable.

I've had chapped lips for almost a week. It's to the point where there are cracks in the corners of my lips/mouth. HATE. Also, it hurts to laugh or smile big or eat an apple. So I've had to put a stop to those activities for the moment (except the apple eating). That is why you may have noticed a melancholy undertone here today. Did you even notice that?

Also, I missed The Hills finale AND The Bachelor final rose ceremony slash the one where the Brit makes the biggest mistake of his life and proposes to either the actress or the cold-hearted snake. Rubbish.

We're Practically AMISH

So, remember that time, uh, about a week ago or so when I was talking about how our TV is STILL broken? Well I forgot to mention that since the TV died, I've been using a projector in emergency situations to watch my shows (i.e. The Bachelor (DUH), The Hills, Greys Anatomy (SHUT YOUR MOUTH)). Normal people watch TV bring projected onto their living room walls all the time. Well, Sunday evening rolls around and I'd had a hectic day of nursing a decently destructive hangover by drinking bloody's and mimosa's on the roof. AND celebrating the Feej's birth by eating the breakfast that he so graciously cooked for us ON THE GRILL. He is a magician. Anyway, after that stress of a day (I even got a little sunburned!), I plopped down onto the couch to get my fix of some HGTV or something. Well, no sooner had I turned it on when BAM! The light bulb in the projector BLEW UP! Like EXPLODED with smoke and everything! I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Why OH WHY was I being prevented from gorging on some good, old American television?!! WHY. Now I've REALLY been without TV for, um, a LONG ASS TIME. I can't even remember the last time I decided to sloth it up and just picked up the remote and turned on the television like a NORMAL AMERICAN CITIZEN. Every day this week I have taken to nagging the crap out of Fiji in order to get this shit fixed up. I just can't take it anymore. I mean, last weekend was one thing, what with all the warm and sunny weather. What will happen if it RAINS?!! Oh dear god someone help me.

Update: The In-Laws Edition

My mom and Fiji's mom shared lunch. As in, they SHARED a sandwich.

Discuss.

Raw and The In-Laws

So here we are, Raw Food Day Two and I am still alive. AND well. I don't even have a coffee-withdrawal headache today! Man, I should pick up some other ridiculously addictive habit and then quit cold turkey and laugh in the face of medicine and addiction researchers (hi boss). Or not. That sounds exhausting.

Anyway, the big news of the day (to me) is this: The Tilly's and the Fiji's are MEETING! Each other! Tomorrow! WITHOUT the most important people in the equation: FIJI and ME! See, at first I kinda (slash totally completely 100%) freaked out because HELLO! We were planning this whole weekend introduction thing over Memorial Day up at the cottage and everything. It was all set. Or so I thought. I am not very rational when plans change so abruptly without me even knowing! Did they not think to CONSULT US!?! Maybe run it BY US? Just to, you know, make sure it was OKAY? No, no they did not. Apparently my Mom thinks they're "all adults" or some shit like that. WHATEVER. (I think I had my first, but it's ALL ABOUT ME moment right then. PHEW. Glad that's over.) Anyway, since the Fiji's are going to be DRIVING BY, they figured YOU KNOW WHY NOT! LET'S STOP AND MEET MY FUTURE DAUGHTER IN LAWS PARENTS! THAT SOUNDS FUN! Except, they probably weren't yelling. Or freaking out or anything. Nope, that would be me.

But then I realized, in the midst of my panic attack freak out sesh...this is GENIUS. Why didn't I think of this!!?! I mean, the deed (so to speak) will be done with little to NO stress on me or the Feej. It's not a whole WEEKEND event, it's just a quick hellohowareyounicetomeetyoutillysgreatwelovefiji kinda thing. No pressure! It'll be done in no time, no time at all. And then it will be OVER. No anxiety whatsoever. Finito. Yesssssssssssssss.

So that's about to happen.

p.s. Sorry about the excessive and inexcusable amount of CAPS and !!!! I have issues OKAY!!?!

Spring Cleaning: Innards Style

As I think I've mentioned one or two or a million times, Fiji is healthy. Like, he enjoys eating seaweed and making his own RAW crackers healthy. And while I like to think (slash pretend) that I am healthy too, this is one (of many) area (s) where he totally dominates me. (Wait, that came out weird.) Anyway. A while back, pre-Fiji in fact, I attempted the Master Cleanse. Attempted and failed miserably after, um, three measly weasly days. Skip forward a month and that is when Fiji and I first started the intense train staring that eventually let to our courtship and yada yada you know the rest. BUT, little did I know that during these eye-sexing-sesh's he was actually ON the Master Cleanse at that VERY MOMENT. He was drinking the juice and cleaning out his system!! (That's amazing! I'm not even mad!)

So, my point here is this: we are similar, yet different. He did the Master Cleanse for 21 days. I did it for 3. WHATEVER. But we both still TRIED it. That's gotta mean something right? My REAL point is that today was the start of our various cleanses. He is going at it aggressively and doing the 'ol MC once again. I, on the other hand, who enjoy whole foods and such, am going for a diet consisting of raw foods. As in fruits and veggies. And one day in I want to die. No, no. Not really. But it's Day 1 no caffeine and therefore say hello to a little thing I like to call the DEATH HEAD. But FINE. I'm already planning on ways I can convince him that I could do raw for breakfast and lunch and then have a regular dinner of WHATEVER I WANT. Except I would tell him that it would be a "Sensible Dinner." But really it would. Because as much as I love me some chips and french onion dip and mass quantities of root beer by the barrel, I do enjoy eating healthy. Mainly because it staves off the GUILT that creeps into my brain and takes over after I finish off the rest of a large pizza. (I mean HALF!)

Whoa. My grumbling tummy must be eating my brains.

I have issues. Big ones.

I have experienced several different situations in the past week that have caused me to question my "fitness" as a functioning member of society. I used to think that I was a very well-adjusted individual, an upstanding citizen even! But now? Not so much.

Exhibit A: Yesterday I was waiting to send some packages (filled with wedding dresses! WHAT!) at the post office around the corner from my office. This post office is always pretty ghetto and the (two measly) postal workers are totally and completely postal, but I consider that pretty standard post office style. But this place was a DISASTER. Starbucks cups and brown paper bags were strewn about, there were NO labels to be found ANYWHERE, the automated stamp/package machine was busted, and pretty much the whole group looked desperate and frightened. Some people just wanted to send A letter. A SINGLE LETTER. Poor souls. It was about 3pm, which I assumed was prime no-waiting time, but I was wrong. VERY wrong. The line was massive and I left to go run another errand, thinking that the line would dwindle by the time I returned. Again, I was wrong. I couldn't have been MORE wrong. (He's already pulled over! He can't pull over any further!) When I returned the line was twice as long. Literally. Even the homeless beggar outside asked me what the deal was. As if I knew!

So, anyway, the line was like 30 people deep. I am not even joking. And the previously light (yet awkward-sized) boxes were getting heavier by the minute. Also, it was hot. And to make matters worse, the man behind me wreaked of stale cigarette smoke and was loudly talking on his phone (that he let go through an entire cycle of rings) in another language, but then yelling, "1500 DOLLLLARRS" over and over again. He was also practically IN my back pocket. Which was nice. I repeatedly shuffled from this side to that and swung my boxes around in order to create MY personal space bubble, which failed miserably. Anyway, I started to have a minor panic attack about the whole thing and how long it was taking and how the postal workers were so mean and OMG can they not hire another worker and freaking out about the deafening silence. Then this man rushed in, bypassed the ENTIRE line and shouted frantically something about needing a passport. No one really knew what to do about him, so we just stared. Which I am sure he appreciated. He also had the WORST toupee that I have ever seen in my entire life. EVER EVER. It looked like there was a small dead furry animal resting on his head. And I laughed at my mini-panic attack and zoned out for the next 20 minutes until it was my turn.

The end.
True, double true.

Exhibit B: I will no longer sit next to someone I don't know on the train. If someone sits next to me, I will get up and stand. And in order to avoid THAT awkfest, I stand. Every time. Did I mention that I take the train to work and basically everywhere else I go like every day? Well, I do.

Exhibit C: Last week there was a birthday party in my office. 15 minutes before it began (just to be safe) I closed my door and DIDN'T ANSWER when someone knocked. Like, I stopped typing and everything. I am surprised I didn't hide under my desk like the total and complete spaz that I am.

Exhibit D: A few minutes ago, while waiting in line at the grocery store, the lady behind me bumped into my bag FIVE TIMES. In like 30 seconds. I almost punched her in the neck. Instead, I turned around and gave her the stank eye times a gazillion slash I excused myself. As if I had done something wrong!! I am such a WEASEL!

I am scared. For MYSELF.