Ellicottville is CougarTown

8 11 2009

indeed

I have nothing against Ellicottville NY…. well, except that some people sport those little oval stickers that say “EVL” because they’re trendy like that.
Up until this weekend, I never really thought  of EVL as evil.

The concert was in Salamanca, which is about 10 miles south of EVL and with lodging costing over four times as much, well, the situation basically solved itself.
Before the show, we went to a bar in EVL. The atmosphere was nice, music okay, it wasn’t crowded and the bartender was tolerable.
Well, by the time we got back to the bar after the show, we had to do a double take.
There was a thumping coming from inside that could only be described at Top-40.
Inside, our nightmares came true.

There were tables of Kate Gosslins*.
Women old enough to be our mothers, wearing short skirts and furry knee boots; very apres ski, despite the season not starting,
Women with mid-life hair, grinding against their girlfriends.
Women drinking drinks that involved fruit.
For the record, THIS woman was drinking Coors Light (because she’s watching her figure) and switched over to Labatt Blue when one of the eight guys she was hanging out with [on purpose; friends]  forgot what she was drinking.

One of the eight, let’s call him, Mr. Anderson, decides that he’s going to try and get some Crisis Tail.
Wearing an In-and-Out burger hat, a cartoon t-shirt and a furry beer gut, somehow the women were flocking to him.
I do not understand.
Some choice comments of the night:
-“Oh, that’s what desperation smells like. I thought it was KY and diaphragms.”
– “That’s not even an angry fuck, that’s revenge fuck.”
– “You know that they’ve just found out that their divorce is final and they decide to take a girl’s weekend to Eville and just ‘let loose’. Uck.”
– “The best part about being married is not having to date. I’d probably be trying to dance and someone like Mr. Anderson would come up behind me and start grinding me into the wall…”

Watching Mr. Anderson trying to score was by far the most entertaining thing at any bar and it wasn’t until we were rather trashed that we opted to go to EBC and by then, I was seeing double.
However, I was a functional drunk, unlike 95% of the population of EVL’s Kwik-e-Mart… people standing against coolers, asking whoever would listen why there wasn’t any pizza and bumping into things.
Being a card-carrying girl, I made the best of a bad situation, picking out chips, dip, tortillas and nacho cheese; the most bang for the least buck.
The boys were pleased at the offering, having already eaten all of the cupcakes and not being in any condition to make it to the vending machine,
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a pizza joint to open.

* If you don’t have “Jon & Kate Plus 8” on your TV, it’s a “reality” show about a family that has 8 kids and the wife pretty much spent the first seasons yelling at the husband and berating him on national television. They’re now divorced. Which I’m hoping surprised no one.





Yer Not the Ocean

6 11 2009

I love this band.
It’s not just songs, it’s a stories…
“..You are just a lake, made to take and take and take and take. You’re not the ocean, I’m standing on my toes. You’re not the ocean, you’re not even close. You’re not the ocean, you’re up to my chin. You’re the ocean, you’re not coming in. You’re not coming in.”

Steve saw it one way, I saw it as “You think you are all that and a bag of chips, but you know what? You’re not. Oh, you think you can own me, but you got another thing coming… I’m in charge of this situation…”

I also love this song…. “Everyone’s got their breaking point, with me it’s spiders, and with you, it’s me.”

Oh, and you want a spooky true story about a prison break? “Spent so much time away from the world, he’s 38 years old, never kissed a girl.”, “A tap on the window in the middle of the night, held back the curtains for my older brother Mike.”

And I think this one is from the last show we went to, where my boyfriend Molson and I did not get along… “A generation so much dumber than it’s parents”





More Stuff

4 11 2009

While at the optician’s office yesterday (and that’s an EYE doctor for all of you on BumpWatch 09-10) there were two girls waiting for their  mom.
I say “girls” because the older one MAY have been 13 and the younger was between 9 and 11. What? I’m bad at guessing these things.
ANYWAY.
So, OlderSister was wearing mid-calf Uggs, leggings, a short demin skirt, ribbed long sleeve, puffy vest and a Burberry scarf. Did I mention she was like, 13? Yeah. Okay.
And YoungerSister was in skinny jeans, a sweater and blue patent loafers.
When did I get so old?!
O.S. askes Y.S. who she is going to dress up as for her party. “Because Nevaeh is going as Paris Hilton and Cole and Clayton are going as-”
And at that point, I stopped listening and starting wondering what their parents did for a living.
(Note, the eye doctor is in my building, which is downtown, kinda slumming it. Especially if you’re from Clarence/East Amherst. Momma must have known someone.)
For the record, I have ordered perscription sunglasses for the trip.

My tint is darker, but nice, right!

You did know I have bifocals right?
Yeah, someones genes thought it’d be funny to give my right eye a tendency to turn inwards when things are close.
The good news is that the new glasses/frames are covered but the doc doesn’t really want to give me a script for contacts WHICH ARE ESSENTIAL TO MY SOCIAL LIFE.

http://twitter.com/big_ben_clock
(you know you want to)

And in what is only a poor coordination on my sinus’ part… my fall allergies are acting up.
I have a dry (non-prodcutive) cough and a stuffy/runny nose. My voice is on it’s way out.
And my co-workers are looking at me like I have some kind of F.l.U. which may be making it’s rounds. Thus, I have to remind everyone who walks by when I cough that I am not spiking a fever, I have no aches (outside of the residul gym), my insides are where they should be… AND this happens EVERY YEAR.





Waxing Introspective

3 11 2009

Since Grandpa passed away, I have been spending WAY too much time thinking.
Like WAY too much time.
Thinking about things that I can’t control, things I can’t change, things I can change but have not yet had the opportunity to…

Of course, there’s that screaming noise in the back of my head which sounds a lot like a ticking… like a clock.. say, a biological clock.
Now now, I know I’m nowhere near That Age, however, we’ve both agreed that we don’t want to have to show in up wheelchairs to our kids high school graduations. (unless it’s from broken pelvises in which case, we’re awesome)
Related, I’ve been thinking about how I was raised, how Steve was raised, how Mom and Dad were raised, how Grandma and Grandpa were raised and how I watch other people raise their kids.

There is plenty of potential to screw up.
Big time.

Lately, I’ve been overthinking coddling.
Former co-worker used to spend a great deal of her day on the phone, trying to correct her adult son’s missteps.
Some lady at the store took things the other way and basically toted her screaming 3-year-old on her hip around the grocery, not paying any mind.
My mom sympathizes with my toils and troubles and always wishes there was something she could do.
Steve played hockey on a chipped knee bone because SMS said it built character.
Grandpa was very here’s-the-rules-and-that’s-that.
My dad was “Stephanie Ann, if you (insert behavior here) again, I will (insert form of punishment).” and I would and he would.
Charlotte picks up baby Teppo whenever he cries, while daddy Teppo subscribes to the “he’s fine, let him cry”.

Is The Eventual going to end up on a comfy sofa claiming that his/her mom coddled her and that’s why he/she is constantly stuck in horrible relationship?
Or will he/she be a cutter because dad was too hard on him/her?

Ugh.

Perhaps focusing on how Not-Mullet-Trainer worked me over will divert my attention… if you will excuse me, I can’t feel my butt.





Points a la Bullets (or not)

2 11 2009

Well, things have achieved normality again… or as normal as I can expect them to be.

Work is insanely crazy which makes me just want to go home and sleep, but alas…

Spent most of the weekend wondering how my house gets so trashed when we don’t have people over and I’m [feeling like I’ve been] constantly cleaning.

Sunday continued in our “typical Sunday” fashion. Watched the Buffalo Bills make asshats of themselves, mulched leaves, yelled at Bailey to stop running in the swampland that is our backyard, washed the dog, changed into jammies, had dinner, went to bed.

Saturday was Halloween and we went to Teppo and Charlotte’s house for a party.

ween

lookin' right purty

(‘scuse the camera phone photo… knowing how these things get, I wasn’t about to have my camera lost/ruined/flooded/dropped)
We I made chicken wing dip* and served it as roadkill. I picked up a toy dog, cut open the tummy, removed stuffing and inserted the dish of dip. People were scared to eat it; knowing that I almost ALWAYS bring chicken wing dip.
Anyway, Steve ended up getting a bit too into character and by midnightish, I was assisting him out to YOT.

Despite the approching deadline, we do not have Eurorail passes nor hotels for London or Dublin…

Between The Grief Diet** and actually GOING to the gym, I am feeling progress. Despite that stupid scale not moving. And my trainer quitting (I have a new trainer I’m trying this evening.. I think he has a mullet if it’s who I think it is. Deets to come). And being so busy that I have to make myself go for the half hour. My bag is in the trunk, hopefully I will be able to go right from work and get some cardio in before Mullet makes me cry.

* -2 8oz packages of cream cheese, softened
– 1 bottle (wazzat, 16oz?) blue cheese
– 2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
– 2 large cans of chicken breast (found near the tuna in most stores)
– Hot sauce to taste
DO NOT go all low fat or it won’t melt right or taste right.
Mix everything together and bake at 350 for about 20 minutes, until gooey and bubbly.

** Being really sad and not wanting to eat. You’ll be happy to know that when I’m eating, it’s fairly healthy.