I did finally relent and jump on Facebook and I must say that I am enjoying it very much.  Although, there is this little insecurity that kicks in when sending a Friend request.  You’re clicking along and then you send a request only to wait to see if you are “approved”…kind of like highschool but without the public humiliation.  I recently grabbed some old pictures from my elementary school days and posted them on my Facebook account.  It was really fun to see what kind of reactions I received from my former classmates.  I had a few people request to be my friend as a result and have approved everyone that has asked to be my friend.  Soooooo…..I see an email today notifying me of a request.  I check the name and it’s not quite familiar.  I text a friend of mine to see if she recognizes the name - and she doesn’t so I wait until I get home.  Surely, this person has sent a message along with their request which will trigger my memory and I’ll feel horrible, only temporarily, for not remembering them and then will approve the request.

I get home, pull up Facebook and see the picture of the person requesting to be my friend.  MOTHER!  I think I my have graduated high school with this person, but I also graduated high school with 818 other people.  He looks to be rather large, rather bald, and kind of creepy.  I am keeping an open mind and at least had the politeness to send him a message asking, “I don’t seem to remember you, did we have any classes together?”.  I have a feeling that I won’t hear anything back, which is fine…but at least I won’t feel so bad about rejecting this person….I just hope I never….EVER run into him!

Last week I purchased a couple of toys for a few children who live at local shelter.  They have been removed from their homes because of abuse and/or neglect.  I pulled out two large Transformers, along with two Transformer backpacks and began wrapping the gifts so that I could drop them off before I left for my trip last week.  Jake was none too pleased.  I explained to him that these little boys were very sad and that their parents would not be with them for Christmas.  Jake replied that he was also sad.  No dice.  In the end I stuck to my guns and Jake went to his room, but did emerge asking if he could meet the boys.

Over this past weekend I took Mr. Jake with me to run a few errands, one of which included buying a fire truck for Shelby.  Rather than tell him I was buying it for his sister, I told him that we were picking up a gift for a little girl.  Immediately his wheels start turning:

Jake: Mama.  I’m sick.

Me: You’re sick?

Jake: Uh-huh.

Me: Hmmm, that’s too bad.

Jake: My arm hurts

(Jake picked up his limp arm to demonstrate how bad off he was - which was pretty bad, apparently.)

Me: You’re arm hurts?  I’m so sorry.

Jake: Yes.  And when you don’t buy me toys, it makes my arms hurt.

Yes….he’s FOUR.  Let the games begin!

I set out on my journey with one co-worker and lucky for me, she didn’t suck.  She’s one of those people, that no matter how hard she tries, she’s a nerd.  But, I found her very interesting and we had quite a bit in common, although I found her book smarts far outweighed her street smarts.

We drove into Austin, TX on Thursday evening and had to stay the night before catching a flight home the next morning.  If you’ve never been to Austin, it’s a city that’s rich in music…all kinds of music.  Look up 6th Street…’nuff said. No words that I have could possibly describe the awesomeness that exists there.

After dinner my co-worker and I walked down 6th Street and passed a placed called Emo’s.  They had lines out both of their doors and displayed big signs stating the concert had been sold out.  We walked past Emo’s, slowly, and heard people pleaing for tickets to no avail.  Once we reached the corner we looked to cross the street and noticed a tricked-out tour bus on the other side.  With our curiousity piqued, we decided to venture back to Emo’s just to ask who was playing.  We approached a bald guy in line with his friend:

Me: Hey, who’s playing tonight?

Bald Guy: The Ting Tings

Me (talking to my co-worker): Awwww, MAN!  That would have been a GREAT show to go to!

Bald Guy: Well, you are in luck…I just happen to have two extra tickets.

He hands us tickets, refuses to take payment for them and barely lets us buy him a beer to thank him.  We didn’t see him again all night.  What are the odds?  Scoring free tickets to a sold out show…with no strings attached? 

I hadn’t been to a concert like this in so long it was like I was at my first concert ever.  They had two stages set up and I think a total of about 7-8 bands played.  Let me just say…I’ve never been so glad to undergo severe sleep-deprivation the next morning.  The Ting Tings didn’t take the state until late and I believe I was back in my hotel room around 2AM - yeah, that’s right….2AM….I have kids….if I stay up past 9:30 it’s a freakin’ miracle.

There were a few band there that I really liked.  The first one was the Eagles of Death Metal - they were odd yet mesmerizing all at the same time.  The next band that took the main stage were the Black Kids - the voice that came out o the lead singer reminded me of an 80’s alternative singer from the U.K.  And lastly, the Ting Tings…are you kidding me?  There are two of them….TWO and they had the crowd jumping around freaking out….I came straight home and found each of them on Itunes and added them to my shuffle…

While the music was absolutely insanely great, my favorite highlight of the evening was a statement I overheard from the lead singer of a band called Shapes Have Fangs:

SHF Lead Singer: Yeah.  We partied with some fat chicks in the green room, smoked their weed and snorted their blow.

Classic.  I bet his mom is proud.

I have a friend…or at least she was a friend…I’ve known her since I was 12.  She and I have the same maiden names and we used to tell people that we were cousins…

She called me a little over a month ago and asked for money…and not a little money but a lot of money.  Here’s the deal…I was willing to give it to her with just one condition: I requested that she obtain some kind of financial counseling…she refused…and not only did she refuse….she was pissed - at me.

Fine.  I let her say what she had to say.  I also explained that ony someone who really cared for her would  be saying the things I was saying to her.  She didn’t like that. 

I hung up and we haven’t spoken since.  Over the past few weeks I thought she would call to apologize…or something, but she didn’t.  It made me think.

Several years ago, more than what I would like to remember, I was best friends with a girl named Nancy.  We were inseperable…until we were 21.  We had an argument.  I remember, very clearly, one day dialing her phone number and just before the call connected I hung up.  It was pride.  If anyone was going to apologize, it should be her.  After all, I was right.  I went out that evening with another “friend”.  We drank…a lot.  I came home after being out all night.  A few hours later I was informed that Nancy was killed in a car accident.  I don’t think I’ve ever sobered up so fast in my life.

Stupid shit.  I have tried calling this friend…not to apologize, because quite frankly, I’m not sorry.  But I’m not mad.  Never have been.  She’s never called me back.

I also sent her an email a few weeks ago telling her that I’m not mad and how silly this whole thing is…nothing.  I know she’s struggling right now and she will have to do so on her own…not that she has to….but at least I can say I tried.

I was able to actually “do what I do” last week and I fucking nailed it.  Damn it I loved that I was able to do that.  You know how there is that thing that you do…the one that you wake up in the morning and can’t wait to get to work because you get to do IT?  It’s like Christmas, but better.

We had a gigantic halloween party last week…raised a ton of money for charity and had a great time…btw, I won $250.  I came up with a clever costume idea, which I never do, and decided to throw my hat in the ring.  Once I clicked send I began regretting it but decided that I would go through with it and I’m so glad that I did.  When I was younger I missed out on so much because I allowed my fear to get the better of me and I stayed home.  It’s amazing how we do that to ourselves…those damned insecurities…fears….why do we do that?  I miss being uninhibited when I was very young.  I feel like I’m getting that back…slowly but surely.

It all seems too good to be true….I keep feeling as if they are going to enter my office, sit down and tell me that they have made a mistake.  I envy the fresh out of college new hires who don’t have anything to compare their experience to.  I feel somewhat like an abused victim who has finally found a warm loving home and keeps questioning why everyone is so nice and so supportive.  It will take a bit of getting used to but I’m sure I’ll adjust.

Something shady has transpired over the last 24 hours and I confronted him about it.  It was one of those moments, where had it happened in the past, I would have fumbled through it only to lament about it later.  I would have run through the scene in my mind a thousand times thinking of something succinct to say.  Well, all of my past experience paid off ten-fold today.   I don’t know what happened but I was never at a loss for what to say and I said it VERY well.

The closest analogy I can think of is this:  I was the little pee wee who never really knew her own strength.  He was the bully who assumed he could do what he had done in the past and expected me to cower.  This time, however, I was wearing my steel-toed boots and I kicked him…in the balls.  It felt incredible!

The more I think about it, he also uses this same method to communicate with those who massacre the English language.  I realize, that I am not perfect in my grammar and punctuation, but damnit, at least I try.  Stew seems to think that if he uses the same dialect to those who refuse to speak in complete sentences, that they will understand him better.

The other way he uses this method is in locales where English is not the native tongue.  Case in point, Mexico.  Stew and I both only speak English…and I realize, for those in England we speak American.  Fine.  I can live with speaking American.  I do try to speak English when I can, but American is what I know.

While in Mexico, and again while in Puerto Rico, Stew speaks to the locals with a Spanish accent.  It drives me absolutely INSANE.  AND…it’s not even a good Spanish accent.  I did notice that while we were in England he did not use an English accent….thank God because I would have thrown him off of the top level of the double-decker bus we rode in London.  But still….what the hell?  Do you think they can understand you any better if you are speaking with a shitty accent?  It’s like the people who rather than slowing down or using illustrations, they speak louder as if this will help with the translation.

On behalf of our stupid Americans…I am sorry.  I also appreciate that you waited to point and laugh at us AFTER we left…because….I know you did….and, I don’t blame you!

Everything went smoothly.  We visited the President’s Club at the Houston airport.  This is the “elite” area where only the very priviliged can go to eat crap and drink for free and make use of the very clean restrooms.  Or, anyone that has an American Express card.  We would be in the second group.  After we took our little traveling companion she gushed to everyone about the Presidente’s Club…over and over again.  I eventually told her it was the President’s Club…not the Presidente’s club.  It wasn’t important, although, by the time I had finally corrected her, if she would have breathed incorrectly I would have slapped her.

As we are descending into San Juan I looked out the window and was able to spot billboards which indicated to me that we were quite close to the ground.  I did have to look in the window across the aisle because the nervous traveler refused to open her window, which Stew very much appreciated.  Just as we were about to touch down the plane hit a small pocket of turbulence which caused everyone to lose contact with their seats.  About a split second afterwards the plane pulled up and we headed back up in the sky.  I’ve been on much worse flights, although this particular incident has never happened to me before.  I knew that if I acted worried at all that the nervous traveler would lose it, so I acted as if it was no big deal…although inside my head I was having a minor melt down.

After we were back in the air and seemed to be level the pilot came over the intercom explaining that a thunderstorm hit the airport just as he was about to land and reduced his visibility.  He was circling the airport to wait for it to clear before making another attempt at landing.  Once he did land, the plane hit the ground so hard that my spine seemed to compact and I swear I am two inches shorter than I was before.

The nervous traveler seemed to take it all in stride, for a drunk.  When we finally made it to the resort we were all very tired and very hungry.  No one warned us that we would need to take a second mortgate out on our house to buy a hamburger.  We decided if we were going to pay, we were going to eat steak, and that’s just what we did.  The nervous traveler only asked 100 questions about each item on the menu.  Stew and I enjoyed that, also, very much.

Lucky for us, when we landed in Puerto Rico a tropical depression was hovering overhead.  We flew in Sunday evening and were scheduled to depart very early Thursday morning.  The rain lasted until Tuesday evening.  The depression turned into a hurricane by the name of Kyle.  Needless to say, I did not have to worry about any of those pesky tan lines.  Nope…I got there white as a ghost and left in the same condition.

The classic moment came on the way home during our brief layover in Houston.  I asked Stew if we could stop by the food court quickly to grab something to eat before I began chewing on his arm.  The nervous traveler came with us.  We decided to stop at a small burrito stand where the menu, which was limited to…um, BURRITOS was displayed…in LARGE PRINT, directly in front of our faces.  Our plane was boarding, we were in an hurry…nervous traveler asks, “do you have any sides?”  I quickly snapped back, “the sides…are listed….THERE…where it says SIDES.”  Since the sides consisted of rice and rice, that just wouldn’t do so she made the decision to go to the Wendy’s counter.

Stew and I ordered our burritos and danced around as if that would help the counter people assemble the burritos faster.  As the nervous traveler left she asked us….TWICE, “do you guys want anything?”  Stew, who stayed silent for the entire trip despite her stupid questions retorted, “If I wanted anything over THERE….I would be standing over THERE.  Since I don’t want anything over THERE, I am standing over HERE!”

There was a boy who lived there, not far from me, that I had first met when I as in the 3rd grade.  The main thing that I will always remember about him is his humor.  He was FUNNY!  I had forgotten just how funny he was until I attended the 10 year reunion several years ago.  Myself, Ramona, our friend Jimmy and this boy, Jeff drove around town looking at different landmarks around town…and laughed.  Jeff had Ramona and I laughing so hard that she and I were both doubled over in the backseat, eyes streaming with tears, and clutching our stomachs in sheer pain from the hilarity.

When I was in Denver last month, Ramona and I spoke about Jeff and how much we were looking forward to hopefully seeing him again at our 20th high school reunion.  I found out yesterday that we won’t be seeing him.  He passed away 10 days ago from liver failure.  It seems that his life took a very sad turn, filled with depression and violence. 

You think back when you were in grade school and remember all of the children you knew.  Everyone had so much to look forward to, so many dreams they wanted to fulfill.  You cannot help but imagine how these kids will develop.  What type of work will they do when they grow up?  What type of person will they marry?  What will their kids look like?

Having children now, I cannot imagine the pain Jeff’s mother must feel.  How can she not remember holding him as a baby?  Always imagining what type of man he would become?  And, mostly, always wishing him happiness in whatever he would do.

I will always be forever grateful that I was able to spend what little time I did with him years ago.  He brought all of us so much happiness with his infectious laughter and hilarious story telling.  I am sorry that he is gone, but am glad that he is no longer in pain and hope he knows that he is sincerely missed.