Thoughts from Spring Break Brain

Hiiiiii everyone. I was working on a Timeline of Lurrvee post for today, but I feel like it needs a little more work, and I haven’t done a rambling post in awhile, so here I am, ready to ramble on for a few hundred words. Exciting, right?

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As you may have guessed from the title, I am currently on spring break.

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It’s been wonderful, and we still have four more days before back to work. And then I think it’s something like 30 wake-ups until the end of the school year.

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Ok, I’m done with him now, I promise…

That was definitely a perk of not having break until mid-April: the rest of the year is going to flyyyyyy.

Anyways, I have lots of thoughts floating around my brain right now, and I just feel like sharing them.

If you’d like to read a more coherent post, feel free to check out one of my older posts– maybe the one about my college roommates or my sporting abilities? Or, more recently, we popped a boil in my friends ear, and we went to Nashville.

On to rambling…

1. Ed Sheeran

I am obsessed with Ed Sheeran’s new album. (Especially “Nancy Mulligan” and “Galway Girl“) I have listened to it pretty much nonstop for the last week. (Currently listening, actually.) Especially since…

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The hubs bought me a ticket to go see him when he comes in September!!! I am SO. EXCITED.

My sister and I also went to see him the last time he was in Chicago, and honestly, it was probably the best concert I’ve ever been to (and that includes Backstreet Boys concerts, friends). He performed the entire show– no breaks, no costume changes, nothing! People just brought him water bottles every so often.

And he is so unbelievably talented; it’s just him up there. There’s no band, or back up singers, or anything. He does it all himself with some fancy machine thing. After the opening number, he told the audience about how some guy wanted his money back after a show because he didn’t believe Ed had done everything on his own like that; the man claimed that he was trying to trick them.

 

2. Writing

As I’ve been on break this week, I’ve had some time to work on writing besides the blog. I recently had a new idea for a novel (after I decided that I hated my first attempt), and I got started on it the other day. I’m not very far along, but I have a lot of ideas, and I really love the characters, and I’m just overall pretty excited to work on it.

I’ve also given myself a goal, and I’m sharing it with you all so that I actually stick to it. I want to finish this book before my next birthday (which as you may recall is about a year away now). Additionally, I have a weekly goal of ten pages a week. I think these are achievable goals, as long as I stick with it. So friends, hold me accountable ok?!

I can dream and dream, but if I don’t start, nothing is going to happen.

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3. Birthdays

As I’ve mentioned– twice now, I think, sorry– my birthday was last Sunday. And yes, I am getting up in years (in my brain, at least); however, I still love celebrating my birthday. I mean, what’s not to enjoy? My birthday weekend was full of cake, champagne, throwback photos, laughter, joy, and love.

I love it. And I think I always will. I think celebrating life is a beautiful thing, and the more opportunities we have to do it, the luckier we are.

– – –

Also floating around in my brain right now is how much I love writing from my bed, anxiety about job opportunities (more on that later), the need for more coffee, desire to watch Thirteen Reasons Why (I started it last night), ache for a friend’s loss, appreciation for windows-open weather, and a thousand other things. But, I think I’ll wrap it up here. Thanks for reading friends.

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Hehe I couldn’t resist.

Wake Up Call #18

Good morning my little bunnies. I hope everyone (who celebrates) had a wonderful Easter yesterday, and if you don’t celebrate, I hope you had a lovely Sunday anyways. It was also my birthday yesterday, so I was overloaded with love. I truly may be the luckiest girl in the world. Thank you for any and all birthday wishes sent my way yesterday.

 

Not to get sappy, but as I move into my 28th year, starting new adventures with this blog, my career, and my writing, I so appreciate everyone who takes the time to read on The Married Cat Lady. It truly brings me so much joy to share my writing with you all.

Ok, I’m done, I promise. Now the fun stuff.

– – –

*Sister dances in the car.*

Me: Oh, that’s nice!

Sister: I never know how to take it when you compliment my dancing. Does that mean it’s super weird?


Husband went to get his hair cut…

“After he finished cutting my hair my guy was like, ‘Do you want me to do your eyebrows?'”

(By “do” he meant thread them.)

“I said, ‘Oh, you think they need it?’

“And the guy was like, ‘Oh yeah, man.’

“So, my eyes were closed because that shit hurts like a bitch and my eyes water. All of a sudden, I feel something hot in my nose, and then he pulls it out– it was wax! And then he showed it to me. It was disgusting.

“But I do feel like I can smell better.”


Discussing male strip shows… 

Friend: He was soft at the beginning, but after he rubbed up on some girls, he started to get a chub.

Me: I mean, does anyone want to see a soft penis?

*Everyone shakes their head, “No.”


“I just didn’t understand why you wouldn’t turn the faucet on… I didn’t want to publicly criticize you, but I feel like I can criticize you privately.” -My aunt, in regards to last week’s Wake Up Call/ bug debacle


“I didn’t feel like explaining what I do [for a living], so I just said I was a plumber.” -Friend, talking to someone on an airplane

(He’s like Chandler Bing; no one really knows what he does.)


Friend: Who’s on the blog more: Me or your sister?

Me: Sister.

Friend: Ok. Me or Husband?

Husband: Dude, I’m married to her!!

– – –

But I love all of you for letting me share our conversations with the internet.

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Nashville Part 2: But I’m Rachel!

Did you miss Part 1? Catch up on our adventures HERE.

My sister Rachel called our room the next morning– not my cell phone, no, the blaring room phone– to bring her a bottle of water. We had kept the entire case, and she and John woke up with zero water. I walked over to their room, and John was lying in the middle of the bed, with three pillows over his face.

“I’m a big pillow guy,” he said from his cocoon.

I turned back to Rachel and handed her the water. “There’s only three of those left. Use them wisely.”

“Oh no! We hydrated too much yesterday!” (Rachel, Katie, and I wanted to make sure we were well-hydrated before our big night out. Every time someone took a sip of water, we passed it down the line and shouted “HYDRATE!”)

“I know,” I said, “but I’m not hungover!”

“I threw up that pizza last night,” she replied with a shrug.

“Gross. Ok, I’m gonna go back to my room now.”

When I got back to our room, Katie and I decided we should go get smoothies. We had seen a Smoothie King on our way to the hotel yesterday, and smoothies sounded like an excellent idea. Steve groaned from under the covers. When we asked him if he wanted a smoothie, he popped his head out of the blankets.

“Yes. Do I have to go with you?” He laid his head back onto his pillow. “I think I’m dying.”

We let him stay in bed. As Katie and I were walking out, she said, “Should we ask Rae and John if they want one?”

“Fuck ’em,” I said, running to the elevator.

We got our smoothies, averted a minor crisis driving– I got stuck in a car dealership aisle and had to make a 57-point turn– and made it back to the hotel safe and sound. An hour or so later, Rachel and John finally moseyed their way down to our room.

Rachel saw Steve’s Smoothie King cup next to the bed.

“Did you go to Smoothie King without us?!” she shouted, pushing her way in front of John to point at the cup.

Katie, the snitch, said, “I asked Bex before we left if we should ask you! She said, ‘Fuck ’em!'”

My loving sister then punched me.

At this point, Steve was laying on the bed, still trying to recover from his hangover. It wasn’t going well. Katie and I were ready to take on the day.

Lunch didn’t go well for Steve. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so hungover in our four and a half years together. We went to a place called Broadway Brew House because they have these hangover cure drinks called the Bushwacker. (It’s like a whiskey milkshake.) There was no live music there, but we figured that was probably best for Steve’s hangover, and John got to watch golf. (He really wanted to watch it. I think golf is more boring than any other sport to watch, and I don’t like to watch any sports.)

Anyways, Rachel and John got the Bushwackers, and the rest of us ordered a beer. Poor Steve couldn’t even get one beer down. He spent most of lunch with his head in his hands, saying, “Just put me put of my misery.”

Steve

Although this photo was taken on the same day, this is the opposite of how Steve felt.

In an effort to keep Steve alive, we went back to the hotel after lunch so he could take a nap. Katie snoozed for about twenty minutes, then joined me to bother Rachel and John for the afternoon. This was also when Katie discovered that Combos are the best snacks on the planet.

“You guys, I’ve never eaten these before.”

“What?!” I exclaimed.

“They’re amazing,” Katie said, wide-eyed, popping one into her mouth.

“Um, yeah! We will get some more flavors for you to try tomorrow! Combos are the ultimate road trip snack.”

combos

My personal favorite are the cheese and pretzel.

Praise the Heavens, when Steve woke up from his nap, he was feeling much better. We got ourselves ready to take on Broadway again, and, to prepare, we decided to do a power hour in Rachel and John’s room. We chose a 90’s-2000’s power house because, duh, they’re the best.

We ordered an Uber after drinking an appropriate amount, so as not to spend $300 in one night again–*cough* Katie *cough.* We went downstairs, and Rachel announced that our Uber had arrived. We went outside, but didn’t see an empty car; there was just one with a family of older people– meaning no children, not elderly– getting in.

The family was drunkenly shouting and trying to get everyone into the car. Rae checked the license plate.

“Oh my God!” she turned to us. “That’s OUR Uber!” She marched right up to the passenger side window, where a man was shouting at someone struggling to get buckled in the back seat.

“Um, excuse me, this is our Uber…”

“What’s your name?” the driver asked.

“Rachel.” She turned to look at me. “Seriously?!”

“I’m Rachel!” a woman shouted from the back, back seat.

“No,” the real Rachel said, getting annoyed. She showed her phone to the Uber driver. “Look, you just texted me, saying you were here!”

“What’s your last initial?” he asked the woman who had been shouting from within the car.

“M!”

“Yeah, you guys are going to have to get out,” he said to the man next to him.

“Aw come on! Just let us have it!” said the man in the front.

“Yeah, I’m not going to pay for your ride downtown,” Rachel said

Once the family had stumbled out, fake Rachel shouting, “But I’m Rachel!” We climbed in.

“Did that seriously just happen?” I asked as we pulled away from the hotel.

The Uber driver laughed. “You’d be surprised how often. I’ve had to drop people off at gas stations because I wasn’t their ride.”

“It wouldn’t be as big of a deal, except that it’s linked to my credit card,” Rachel said. “And it was just surprising because it’s not like they were, like, young people. They were in their forties, at least!”

Once we were done complaining about the family and had made it to Broadway, we went to Honky Tonk Central. It was packed on the first floor, so we went all the way up to the third floor. We snagged a table and got some food, some beer, and did some dancing.

Highlights from our evening at Honky Tonk Central:

  • Two girls we knew from home were also in Nashville and came over to say hi. One of them had found my koozie that I’d lost! (It was my Chicago koozie from my gypsy vacation to California.) They found it on the ground at the bar we’d been at the night before! Alas, they did no offer to give it back to me.
  • Rachel tried to pay $10 to hear our girlfriends song, “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes. She was the. Asked for ten more. (It was totally worth it.)
  • We heard “All the Small Things” by Blink 182. Twice. In one night. (Two different bands.) And we heard it the night before, too. There was a lot of 90’s music being played, which we thought was just a fun fluke our first night. Nope, apparently it’s a thing. So, we did not hear nearly as much country music as we would have liked.
  • And my personal favorite…

Steve went to the bathroom, and as he was coming back, there was a bachelorette party. (Well, there were many, but this one was apparently hanging out by the bathroom.) One of the girls was wearing sunglasses with lenses in the shape of penises.

Naturally, he went up to the girl and said, “Hey, I’ll give you $10 for those sunglasses right now!”

“Mmm… How about a drink instead?” she smiled at him. (In his head, he said he was like, Oh my God. This chick is hitting on me!)

“It’s actually for my wife,” he told her. “She really loves dick shit.”

“Yeah, no,” and she turned back to her friends.

After awhile, I decided I was tired (shocker), and we headed back for the hotel. No bad pizza this time, though. Instead, Katie and I creeped on the girl who sang “What’s Up” with the band. (She was on The Voice, she’s been on a weight loss journey over the last year, and she’s married to the front man of the band! No, we’re not stalkers…)

When we woke up in the morning, we pretty much packed up and left. We decided to stop at Cracker Barrel an hour or two into our trip to break it up a little. So, we needed to stop at the gas station before we left, to ensure that we had plenty of snacks until then.

We walked into the gas station, and Katie immediately went on the hunt for her new favorite snack. We bought every flavor of Combos that the gas station had.

“Combos– woo!” Katie said as we broke into our first bag when we got back into the car. Her life has been changed forever.

And then we drove. Stopped at Cracker Barrel. Recorded John snoring. Played “20 Questions”–I almost stumped Steve and John. (I had picked a turtle.) Played “Kill, Fuck, or Marry.” And drove– well, technically, Steve drove.

We were all concerned about being hungover in the car ride home, but it actually wasn’t too bad. Good snacks, good games, and good company made the seven hour trek bearable. Although, I still would not recommend sitting in the middle seat.

Until next time, Nashville.

Wake Up Call #17

Today is Monday. But I can make it through because there are only four days until my spring break. FINALLY.

spring break

Sorry I’m not sorry.

Well, this week’s wake up call was a doozy of an experience. There was a bug in my kitchen sink. And I was home alone. Here’s what happened:

First, of course, I text my husband.

bug 1

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That’s him.

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Husband does not answer my text messages. I call him. He won’t be home for at least 15 minutes. (He’s getting a car wash. -_-)

I stare at the bug. He moves a little.

I text my work friends.

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*Duck should be FUCK. As in, FUCK you autocorrect. Same with shot. It should be SHIT. As in autocorrect is SHIT.

 

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Husband thinks he’s funny, and sends me the following with the caption “Advice from some of the guys”

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I resort to Raid.

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I spray A LOT of Raid.

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Bug is dead. I text my husband to let him know the good news.

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I really hope your week (and mine) does not involve any bugs.

Good luck out there, friends.

Nashville Day 1: Middle Seat Driver

Do you know what it’s like to sit in the middle seat of a car for seven hours?

Ew, no, of course not. Why would anyone do that?

To get five people down to Nashville, that’s why.

My hubby, my sister, her boyfriend, and our friend Katie took a road trip down to Nashville a few weeks ago. The five of us crammed into my mom’s car (we thought it was a bit bigger than Rachel’s car. I don’t believe it was, but whatever) and made the seven hour drive to the country music capital of the US of A.

The ride down could be a story in and of itself, to be honest, but I won’t bore you with the small tidbits (I’ll save the good ones for The Wake Up Call). We did have one small adventure on the way down, though…

About an hour and a half from our destination, Our driver and co-pilot (Steve and John) decided we should make a pit stop in Kentucky to enjoy our first adult beverage of the day. I was not really on board with this decision–not because of the beverage part, I’m always on board for that, but because of its location: a resort. A resort that was advertised on the side of the road– I took this as a bad sign. As we were driving along the winding, country road, I was starting to feel convinced that we were in the middle of a horror movie.

After about ten minutes of driving following the turn for the resort, I announced to the car, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, guys. We’re probably going to get murdered.”

“Bex, it’s fine.” Steve brushed off my concerns.

We finally made it to the resort, and I decided it was a safe place. Mostly because there was a dog. His name was Ralph, and I got to pet him! (I’m really regretting not getting a picture of Ralph now.) We then found our way to the (empty) resort bar– by the way, resort has a different connotation than this establishment should carry; by no means was this, like, a high-class establishment. Just want that to be clear– where I sat in a saddle (and almost fell off; the saddle was apparently just placed onto a stool. But don’t worry, I got back on), did some lunges (again, stretching from my middle seat debacle), drank a beer, and lost to my husband at tic-tac-toe (isn’t he supposed to let me win?).

The best part of our little detour was this sign:

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Isn’t alcohol what often leads to conception?!

After saying goodbye to Ralph, we got back in the car for the final stretch of our journey. Rachel, Katie, and I did some more singing, dancing, and annoying of the boys.

As we neared the end of our trek, I was trying to stretch my legs, since, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, I was sitting in the middle seat for seven hours. I placed each of my legs on the outer edge of the front seats, stretching them open into a v-shape. The problem we were facing, however, was that I had a hole in the crotch of my leggings. So, naturally, Rachel made me a loin cloth out of a napkin so that I could spread my legs without fear of anyone seeing my vagine. It was a glorious feeling.

But you know what was even more glorious? Getting out of the car!!

As we got checked in Steve and John went to the liquor store to stock up our hotel rooms with the essentials: beer and water. Katie was staying with Steve and me in our room, and Rachel and John were just a hop, skip, and a jump down the hall.

We set out for Broadway after we all freshened up and had a beverage or two. We
started the evening at Rippy’s, and then headed to Tootsie’s, where we snagged a roof top table– we couldn’t believe our luck! We bought overpriced beer, and took Fireball shots even though we hate them. (Why do we do this to ourselves?)

 

Disappointingly, though, the music on the top floor of Tootsie’s was not getting our juices going, so we decided to head out.

Wandering down the street, we decided to stop in at The Stage. This was an excellent decision. The first thing we saw as we walked in was the band’s fiddler playing the solo in “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” on top of the bar. We all burst into cheers, and started for the bar. Yes, we will be staying here.

After acquiring our beverages, we headed towards the stage. If you ever go to a concert where you have to maneuver your way in the crowd, bring Katie. Within ten minutes, she had us front and center. We sang, danced, and drank. Surprisingly, the band played a bunch of 90’s music, but we were definitely down with that.

During her next solo, back on top of the bar, the fiddler used a beer can to play the chords. She was such a badass.

“I think I’m in love with her,” my husband shouted to me.

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Yep, that’s her. The Badass Fiddler.

“Yeah, me too!” I agreed. But then I was sure to give him a kiss to remind him that he still loved me more. He ran off to the bar quickly afterwards and came back with a beer for the fiddler. He got her attention and tried to hand it to her.

“I don’t drink,” she told him, motioning “no” with her fiddle stick. (What is the proper name for that? Is it fiddle stick? Or is it a bow, like with a violin?)

Steve may have been over-served by this time, and insisted she take the beer. She did, smiling and lifting the beer to her admirer. Then she promptly turned around and gave it to the drummer.

“She gave my beer away!” Steve said, devastated.

“She said she doesn’t drink, babe,” I consoled him.

“Maybe she used to be an alcoholic, and playing the fiddle saved her!” Katie added helpfully.

“I’m going to give her a tip,” and he walked away to go give her the $10 he’d just pulled out of his wallet. When he came back over by us, he said, “I put my phone number on it.” Then he winked. (I just went upstairs to ask him if he really put his number on it because I truly wasn’t sure. He didn’t. “Where would I have even written it?”)

Steve was then almost mowed over by a very angry drunk girl. He ignored it, but a minute later, the same girl walked past and rammed her shoulder into Steve’s.

“What the fuck?!” he said, turning to look at Angry Drunk Girl.

She raised her eyebrows at him in a way that said, “I dare you.”

“C’mon babe, ignore her,” I said, pulling him back towards the stage. “I’m sorry!” I mouthed at Angry Drunk Girl’s boyfriend.

“No, I’m sorry!” he mouthed back. Ah, the mutual understanding of the more sober spouse. The joy.

Steve was then distracted by the opportunity to climb on our friend Stan’s shoulders. This was quite the feat, seeing as Stan is over six feet tall.

It was scary.

I think we left shortly after that.

We got an Uber back to the hotel, put Steve– whom I tried to snuggle, but vehemently denied the snug– to bed, and ate terrible pizza. (Seriously, don’t order pizza in Nashville. Rachel threw it up as soon as we left the room.)

Katie and I tip-toed back into our room and were both pants-less and asleep within thirty seconds.

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Have you ever been to Nashville? What’s your favorite part?

Tune in next week for part two of our Nashville adventures, featuring a hungover Steve, lost koozies, dick shit, and combos!