Resolutions Schmesolutions

Yesterday was Christmas and a very merry one at that. It has changed a lot since Brother and I were younger. Mother no longer has to tell us not to get up before the sun and we no longer hide alarm clocks under our pillows to keep us from “over sleeping.” It’s less magical, but more full of extended contentedness. And wine. And vodka and club soda (my new drink, thanks to my Godmother). And cussing.

Now that “Jesus’ birthday” (it’s not actually Jesus’ birthday, it is conveniently timed with a Pagan holiday) is over, New Year’s is quickly approaching. With a little bit of luck and planning I’ll be spending the Eve in a beach house with Coco, Green Bean, Twin, Mr.

Milley*, and a few other friends. If those plans pan out I probably

even know what I’m wearing—either the same thing I wore for

The Date or something utilizing my new black, suede, over-the-knee boots (if I can rock them without looking trashy/short/pirate-like). I’ll be drinking champagne, maybe vodka and club soda once that runs out. I may even make some classy hor d’oeuvres for the occasion. The Eve isn’t a problem, like it normally is. That’s in the bag.

What is the problem are my resolutions. I recently read, though I’m not sure where, that New Year’s resolutions are simply ways to put off things you could do tomorrow. I stand behind that stance most months of the year. But this close to the line in the sand I see nothing wrong with waiting a few extra days. To me, that doesn’t mean I should do the exact opposite of my resolutions, but I will get more serious once the magical hour strikes.

I don’t remember the last time that I really made resolutions that I actually fully acknowledged and worked towards achieving. This year is going to be different. I’ve already made so many changes and improved so much, what’s a few more goals? I haven’t really come up with these resolutions yet, but I’m working on them.

Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Approaching eating and exercising from a health, not appearance mindset. A sub goal of that will be to participate in either the Susan G. Koman 3-day 60-mile breast cancer walk or the Avon Foundation 2-day 39-mile walk. Both are worthwhile events, it just depends on who does it with me and how ambitious we are when we start training.

Read more non-required readings.

Learn to cook meat. For some reason, despite my great love for a big slab-o-meat, I never really cook it. I just can’t ever tell when it’s done cooking.

That’s all I’ve got so far. I’m sure I’ll think of better or different ones in the coming days. In the meantime, I’ll just eat more baked goods (chocolate biscotti, thumbprints, stollen, oh my!) and read more of my latest pleasure reading—One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (ignore the Oprah's Book Club stamp). I highly recommend all of those things.

*Mr. Milley-formerly known as Mark. It appears that due to a good report from Twin after our last encounter he's going to be a recurring figure in my life, so I figured I'd give him a name.

All Get Out, a review

There was nothing too unusual about this particular night at Café 567. It was a little colder than normal and a Christmas tree filled one of the front windows, but the crowd was the same, all huddled outside to smoke cigarettes and wait for the highlight of their night—All Get Out.

Over the past two years the Charleston, SC based band has become a staple in Macon. Their near-constant touring always seems to bring them through the MacTown, as guitarist Mel Washington learned it is called, where they’ve cultivated a large and dedicated fan base, due entirely to their less than typical rock star attitudes. Nothing demonstrated the close relationship between band and town better than the giant group Christmas photo lead singer Nathan Hussy requested the crowd’s presence for after their set, which was more amazing than usual.

After recently spending time in Atlanta recording their first full length album, Nate’s voice was hoarse. The crowd, including myself, didn’t seem to mind because they only began to sing louder, per Nate’s request. This was more than likely the last time AGO would be exclusively playing their old songs as well as their last show of the year, which gave them full license to play around with the songs everyone had become so familiar with. Nobody minded the variations, which included even more emotion packed screams from Nate despite his nearly inaudible voice.

If you have seen these wonderful men play in the past, or ever get a chance to see them, I suggest watching the drummer, Gordon Kiefer. The first time I saw them play he at one point stepped away from the drums, curled up in a corner and appeared to be sleeping. He later laid face up on his bass drum. Over the months he has toned down his on stage antics, but he seemed to dust them off for this show, where he started off by roaming around his drums and again appeared to be asleep for a brief time. Another thing you would have noticed if you paid careful attention to each member was Mel’s pained expression during “Come My Way,” specifically at the beginning when singing about the companionship of a dog. I attribute that to the recent death of his Yorkie, Princess. He recovered quickly, though, by channeling that emotion into one of the next songs—Lucky Bastard, my personal favorite.

The show, which was full of witty and familiar banter between everyone in the band except Gordon, who never gets a microphone, and the crowd, concluded with the ultimate form of bonding and show of trust—bassist Mike Rogers crowd surfing. While some people jumped at the chance to catch and support Mike, others, like myself, ran at the thought possibly dropping him. I’m sure he understood.

This show was the perfect way to begin my Christmas break. I’m now left eagerly anticipating their next show and the release of their album. I’m sure neither will disappoint.

Happy Merry

I’ve been home a few days and to say it hasn’t required quite an adjustment would be a lie. It’s not so much that I dislike being home, but that I have to readjust to living with other people who’s needs, desires and actions affect mine. It’s certainly strange.

Luckily I’ve had a few things to occupy my time.

I’ve jumped into the kitchen with both feet and plenty of flour. And thanks to Mother’s favorite new kitchen addition—a TV—I’ve made it my sanctuary. Already I’ve baked sugar cookies, buttery almond cookies and iced Mother’s gingerbread cookies. I was even able to set some dough aside for when Father and co (this time including their new dog, Toby) come into town. Yesterday Coco and I spent a good deal of time melting chocolate and dipping gummy bears, almonds, and cashews into it. It created quite a delicious concoction.

I’ve been spending a bit of time with Adult. From all of our bonding time I’ve come to a glorious conclusion—I completely and totally took him for granted before. When we were dating I was a semi-horrible girlfriend/person because I thought he would always be there and that I was more important to him than he was to me. Talk about conceited bitch. Well, I now realize that while we’re almost definitely not meant to be romantically involved, he’s one of my dearest friends. And it’s not that I adore him, because adoration is a novelty and doesn’t always develop beyond that. I really and truly care about him and enjoy spending time with him.

Another thing that has brightened my spirits is a visit and show by one of my favorite bands and favorite people—All Get Out. They played in town on Sunday night, their last show for the year, and it was amazing! (A review will be coming soon)

^Can you find me?^

Correction: Their set was amazing. Everything else left a lot to be desired. That, I think, was the most pleasant surprise I’ve gotten thus far. That scene—the music scene in my Dirty Dirty town—used to be my scene. I loved it. I knew the people who created the scene; I knew a lot of the bands; I knew a lot of the crowd. I thought that was where I belonged and missed it when I moved up and out. Being back at this show, though, showed me the error of my thinking and clarified just how much I’ve changed. Despite the fact that I knew a large handful of people there, I didn’t want to talk to them. The large crowd and omnipresent cloud of cigarette smoke annoyed me. I had no interest in the opening bands or trying to get to the front for all of them. I was there to see All Get Out and that’s all I really wanted to do. Luckily, it seemed Coco felt the same way and we stuck together while Twin ran around with her jailbait high school posse.

I’m so glad I’ve matured past the point those kids are at.

And I’m so glad that tomorrow at 10am I’ll be sitting at the airport because I am city bound and glory be. (An altered quote from Kevin Devine—educate yourself).

Yes, that’s right. This big apple baby is once again making her annual pilgrimage “home”. Because both Parents’ families still live up in Yankeeville (Long Island, NY) we spend Winter Holiday (political correctness!) up there, where I happily and greedily soak up the accent, pastries, pizza and driving techniques. Mother might not be fond of the “harsh” New York culture, but I love it. I also love seeing my family because most of them seem like overdone parodies as opposed to real people. Example: Father’s father wears unbuttoned silk shirts to expose his chest hair and gold chains, a gold and diamond horse head pinky ring, he invents and uses racial and homophobic slurs, recently moved to Florida and dates multiple women at once. Mother’s youngest sister bought the second youngest sister’s son real, legit for shit numchucks. He’s maybe 8 and they’re illegal in New York. I could go on, but I have far too large of a family for that. Moral of the story—they’re crazy and I love them.

And I love Beastie Boys, who are now coming from my stereo. So, I’m leaving you for them. I apologize, but you understand.

Happy Merry.

End of a Semester

Finals ended yesterday. I studied for 5 hours straight, 10 hours total for my thoroughly antiquated art history exam. All of that stress and time in hopes of attaining the unobtainable—a 4.0 first semester of freshman year. This is the semester that’s supposed to destroy a person’s GPA; dig a hole they’re trying to climb out of the rest of their college careers. Will I get it?

At 10 o’clock yesterday when I walked back into my room after the test I sure as hell didn’t give a fuck. All I cared about was my flask and some Animal Collective. (I’ll let you know when I find out.)

From there, Roomie-Dearest and I reminisced over a bottle of pink champagne and pastries from Fresh Market. After a time of that Westchester came over and together we ventured over to Big Baby’s for, what he described as, some “festive day drinking.”

You had me at “festive,” says the girl craving Christmas.

It was a lovely time, which included a lost game of pong, a few pouches of fruit snacks and a date invitation from Dustin*. I, of course, said no, but it was nice to be asked.

From there Crazy** and Country accompanied Roomie and me back to our abode for a game of Kings*** and general noise making. The three of them eventually departed for some greener pastures, while I traipsed over to the Minimalist’s for a “nap”. By nap, I of course mean some lovin’. I would have been thoroughly content to lay in his bed naked until I had to get up this morning, but he had other plans. We spent some time gathered in DeVirgin’s place with a large collection of other people, most of who will be abroad for the spring.

Despite the relatively early hour, I was a zombie thanks to the perfect storm of a 6:45 wake-up call, exam and marathon drinking. So much so that when we “finally” returned to the Minimalist’s apartment I fell fast asleep on his shoulder. He woke me up so I could walk to his room, undress and both of us could cuddle up under the covers. We woke up this morning still cuddling. It was almost nauseatingly cute, especially for us.

The annoying ringing of one of my many, varying alarms interrupted the nausea to remind me that I didn’t do any of the packing I had planned to yesterday. That meant I had to pack, load my car and hug g’bye to the girls in less than 2 hours and you better believe I did it, with enough time to spare to be able to find myself, once again, in my favorite bed.

After a while I was on the road like Kerouac, driving through the first snow of the year and singing loudly to my favorite of all mixes (made by Twin). Besides a little bit of expected traffic and realizing I left my wallet in my room not to be seen till January, the 8 hours of me-time wasn’t half bad.

I got home just in time for some warm food, a cold beer and chocolate ice cream with Twin. And tomorrow, I get to spend a few luxurious hours grocery shopping and taking full advantage of a real kitchen.

Happy Merry!

*Dustin-his name isn’t Dustin, but he looks like it could be. He’s a really nice rugglet.

**Crazy-Cesar’s slightly-unhinged, but super sweet girlfriend.

***Kings-a drinking game involving a circle of cards. Also known as Ring of Fire or Circle of Death.

First Date?

Are you ready to be amazed? I mean, really amazed? Yes? Okay, hold on to your seats, pants, genitals, etc…

I went on a date last night. A real, legit for shit date. With the Minimalist.
Gasp!
Is that a look of shocked disbelief on your face? No, this is not a sign of the apocalypse.
A week or so ago I had gotten up the liquid courage to ask him on a non-descript date for sometime in the future. He agreed with no hesitation at all. Then on Sunday, as I was giving him a back massage after I played several games of touch, he asked if I liked Thai food and if I was free this week. I said yes to both and our non-descript date for sometime in the future turned into a descript date in the very near future. After a couple of texts yesterday, it was officially set: he was to pick me up from my room at 7:30.
Of course, Westchester and Roomie-Dearest began acting like it was prom, talking about my hair and threatening to take pictures. I, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber, mainly because I already knew what I was going to wear.

Over fall break, in a random act of extreme bonding with Sister, I went to one of my absolute favorite stores—H&M. There I found the most amazing dress—black, V-neck, exposed zipper all the way down the front, hugs my curves in all the right places, and only $25. Score one for me! I bought it, vowing not to wear it at school until I went on my first college date. Several months later that day finally arrived and that dress, paired with macramé pink stocking and black flats, was perfect.
The Minimalist arrived, fifteen minutes late and looking amazing in jeans, Converse, a blue button-down and his favorite pinstripe blazer, and we left without a single picture being snapped. From there we ventured to a lovely little Thai place where we ate our fill of super delicious food:
Steamed pork dumplings as an appetizer, spicy chicken and green beans with the perfect amount of spice and a very good chicken to bean ratio for me and spicy mint beef for him. So damn tasty.

After dinner we headed over to his place where a crowd of people were gathered and gathering, all of who made a big deal out of our first date. He kept telling people that I’d been putting out for months so he figured he owed me dinner. While that statement is completely true, I wasn’t the only one who could see through his nonchalant attitude. Needless to say, I got several hi-fives for, as Cesar put it, winning.
You’re damn right I won!
We hung out there for a while, watched the season finale of It’s Always Sunny, Cesar interrogated me on my sex life, and it was lovely. My night ended with a g’night kiss when he went off to play pong and I returned to my room, thoroughly exhausted and satisfied.
Does this mean him and I are actually dating?

Craving Christmas

Hello, stranger. Long time no speak. How’s the family?

…

Oh, mine is doing well. My brother has infected lymph nodes. I think I have an ear infection. Sister is sick, as well. She emailed me about it, which is weird. She just got an email address and emails me random things. I didn’t have an email address when I was 8, but that was a long time ago and I guess times have changed. Have you been keeping busy?

…

I’ve been pretty busy, too. The fall rugby season ended with a all out bash with my ruggirls, complete with jungle juice, and a frigid co-ed touch tournament, where a few people got a little too intense. The tournament was followed by me drinking on a Sunday afternoon with some friends and getting some good tipsy bonding time with my man. I went to a “formal” Friday night and got skeezed on twice Saturday. Most of my peers are pulling their hair out and memorizing the library’s hours in preparation for finals. I, on the other hand, am having a relatively easy time of it. With only one actual final, a take-home final and two brief and briefer papers to write, I’m on easy street compared to most. Call it luck of (screwing) the Irish or a wonderful dose of karmic payback, but I’m loving things right now.

…

Well, not all things. Maybe this is part of growing up or being away from home with all of its decorations and abilities to create the delicious baked good I keep reading about, but I’m just not in the Christmas spirit. The only thing that has really been able to put me in the mood was the handful of trips I’ve made to the mall, which is thoroughly decked out in red, green and gold (and has been since at least November 1st). But now my Christmas shopping is done, my friends’ shopping is done, I’ve filled my Salvation Army stocking, bought all the wrapping supplies I need and finished writing my holiday budget advice article for the paper.

I, once again, almost can’t wait to go home in 11 days. The Minimalist may even be with me, which should make for an interesting few days. And in 16 days I’ll once again be in New York, eating Italian pastries, slices, and soaking up the accent.

Until then, what is a girl to do when she’s craving Christmas?

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