Wednesday, May 30, 2012

psycho analysis of a txt

people often wonder why I am so attached to my phone. well my friends, in the past 48 hours ALONE, I have received the following txt and/or emails. and i have laughed tremendously loudly at each of these. i hope you're ready for a glimpse into the life that is deeze. also, next time someone asks me why I may or may not have a complex, I am going to direct them to this list.

1. midget wrestling is this wkend at Amos.'
2. honestly, your bright pink sneakers will fit in perfectly. The 80s are back and it is crazy!
3. no one wants to be able to out drink their man
4. Why are you so dramatic? if you calm down, you'll get hitched in no time.
5. it is very weird that I'm thinking about your rack before I go to bed tonight, especially knowing so little about it. Not exactly what I thought I would be discussing this evening. You're a blast from the past!
6. i am jealous you have a pen pal. what do you write about?
7. if those boys on swamp people were more educated, i would have my ass in louisiana trying to lockdown a husband.

thought for the day.

facebook is apparently coming out with its own version of the smart phone. it appears a local radio dj has been pondering this as much as i have. he said he wishes twitter would come out with a smart phone that would shut the conversation off after 140 characters. and he wishes myspace would come out with a phone because that would be the ideal phone. no one would know you have it.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

i am the

facebook is lame. i tried to comment on a friend's facebook status with "that is the" and it told me that was unsafe. and i would have to try again. so instead i wrote "bomb dot com." i felt about as cool as art felt the time i embarrassed him by telling the bartender she was the for finding me lime slices for my vodka water. or the time i told every stranger on the street that t-pain was at the leopard lounge and they should get over there real fast.

truth thursday

Tonight, I opened my mailbox and found a package. It wasn't a large one by any means, maybe 8x8, but I was immediately concerned. You see, I have a mind like a trap. I remember everything. And I did not remember purchasing anything at all as of late and certainly not anything that would come in an 8x8 box. I studied it and after realizing that not only did I not remember buying anything, but that I also didn't recognize the return address, I concluded that this could only mean one thing: someone was trying to blow me up. So I did what any normal person would do. I wrote the return address down on a sheet of paper from my Justin Bieber notepad and put it in my jewelry box. Because, you know, if I blow up, then my hope clearly would be that whomever looted my jewels would discover the piece of paper and realize it was a clue into the mystery death of deeze. I then took the curious box outside, held it over the porch rail, and opened it up...

Only to find a plastic ziploc bag full of "it's a girl!" straws. And then it hit me like a bomb to the face and I remembered! Bridgette, one of the co-hostesses for the baby shower next weekend, was shipping all her contributions to my house, and this was package 1. Foolish doesn't describe how I felt. Actually, I didn't feel that bizarre for thinking someone wanted to blow me up. In all honesty, my first thought after realizing I was not going to get blown up was "welp. i guess i really do watch too much criminal minds."

I called Emily and she applauded me. She told me Spencer Reid would be proud of me. Damn right he would be. I think my chances of being an FBI agent just went up. A lot.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

gchat perfection

Today's gchat convo with Betty started like this:

Beth:  the Biebs is coming to O-town!

first i got a free dessert card from the chick. and now betty has confirmed that my main squeeze is going to be thisclose to my earthly heaven.

be still my beating heart. oh and betty? hook a sister up with some tix yo! i know you know people. 

even a doctor of the law needs some guidance

last night, lee called to tell me about his day. Now, it is important for you to know that whenever something goes terribly wrong in my family, we all start calling each other. So, by the time I talked to the Esquire, I was already well aware of the calamities of his day. It is also important for you to know that if something can go terribly wrong, it is going to go terribly wrong to Lee. To say he has bad luck may or may not be an understatement.

A little bit of background for you (and to refresh your memory). For the past 3 years, my big brother has been living the democratic dream, taking full advantage of the best kind of handout: He's lived rent free in his ex girlfriend's house in exchange for "keeping up the premises" (whatever that means). Well, law school is over and conveniently, the house has been sold. It's been on the market for three years and it makes you wonder if it had a 1,095 day closing period. Because the house has sold, and the purchase did not include having Lee as a built in roommate, he's being forced to move. And he finds this highly offensive. To make matters worse, he's having to move back in with mom and dad until he starts earning a paycheck. (I will use this moment to remind everyone that  mom and dad are remodeling the kids' bathroom in their house, so for the next three months, the three of them will be sharing one bathroom. I can't wait for this.) Now if you know anything about my brother, you know that stress is not something he handles well. So you can imagine the effect being treated like an Indian walking down the Trail of Tears has had. It all culminated into a giant ball of cluster when Lee shut the garage door on to the back windshield of my mom's car, thereby breaking the garage door and shattering the back windshield. I'm not sure anyone is sure how this exactly happened. All we know is it did. And mom and dad had to leave the office and haul buggy to tend to Lee. Lee who in turn told them he didn't know how they were going to tend to him when they were 75. Mom told him he had 15 years to find a wife to tend to him.

So back to my point. Lee called to tell me about his day. I interrupted him and said "Lee, I already know about your day. But the point is you do not handle change well and you are 32. It is time to get a grip on yourself." "That is your opinion Meredith and that may be so but I called to tell you about my troubles not for you to tell me what to do."

um, excuse me? You didn't call for me to tell you what to do?

"Then why did you call me?" I asked. He said he didn't know, informed me I was annoying him, and hung up the phone. And there you have it.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Unusual = beautiful

I'd like to discuss how my parents' deuche neighbor mistakenly called Barbara unusual looking this weekend. He really meant that His mom is unusual.

lee gradumatated!!!

forget mother's day. forget lee's birthday. for yesterday, he graduated from law school. shut the front door folks for it is true. My big brother is now an ESQUIRE. a DOCTOR of the law, if you will.

my fave part of the day? when he told me i could no longer boss him around because he now had a j.d. after his name. to that, i say bah humbug. and then we took this picture. by the way, it may not really matter, but i feel like i should point out that my brother used to be named "Monsieur Froncophile" in my mom's cell phone contacts. If he doesn't look like a wee little french man in this pic, then you clearly don't know what a wee little french man looks like at all.

Thursday, May 10, 2012


1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning."

2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
"You better pray that will come out of the carpet."

3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.
"If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week!"

4. My mother taught me LOGIC.
"Because I said so, that's why."

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC.
"If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you're not going to the store with me."

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
"Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident."

7. My mother taught me IRONY.
"Keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about."

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
"Shut your mouth and eat your supper."

9. My mother taught me about CONTORTION-ISM.
"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!"

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
"You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone."

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER.
"This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it."

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY.
"If I told you once, I've told you a million times. Don't exaggerate!"

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE.
"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.."

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.
"Stop acting like your father!"

15. My mother taught me about ENVY.
"There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don't have wonderful parents like you do."

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION.
"Just wait until we get home."

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING.
“You are going to get it when you get home!"

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.
"If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they are going to get stuck that way."

19. My mother taught me ESP.
"Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you are cold?"

20. My mother taught me HUMOR.
"When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me."

21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT.
"If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up."

22. My mother taught me GENETICS.
"You're just like your father."

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS.
"Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?"

24. My mother taught me WISDOM.
"When you get to be my age, you'll understand."

25. My mother taught me about JUSTICE.
"One day you'll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!"

26. My mother taught me about CHOICE.
"Do you want me to stop this car?"

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

oh love, the many colors that you're made of

You know how sometimes a song can speak to you - like really speak to you? And it always happens when you're not expecting it? Like when you're on iTunes and you're just previewing songs and all of a sudden, you're taken back to this place - not a good place, but not a bad place either - and the memories come flooding in? Well, thank you Carrie Underwood for the sucker punch. Her new song "Good in Goodbye" really shook me to my core. I heard it for the first time two days ago, on May 7. It took me a second, sort of jolted me, and I was overcome. Not with sadness. Not with anger. Just overcome. With life. And where I am and how I got here, and who I had to be to become who I am now.

You see, it was five years ago this very week that I took my engagement ring off for the first time. I knew deep down that relationship was over long before we ever got the nerve to cut the cord. But like everything you're in denial about, you have to wrestle with the unknown for a little bit. And that began the hardest, yet most rewarding process I have ever been though. I was forced to learn who I was and what I believed in. I had a decision to make: I could either go through this gracefully and with dignity, or I could choose to let it consume me and become the definition of my life. I chose the former, and I can honestly say that I am a much better person because of it. I learned the true meaning of forgiveness, of self preservation and of hope. And of moving forward.

And then it was two years ago this week that another and I decided to part ways. This guy was the one who showed me I could love again. He taught me about all consuming love, trusting blindly and standing up for myself. I learned how to really put another person's needs before my own in a relationship, and then, I learned all over again how a heart feels when it begins to shatter. I was forced to go back to that place five years ago, where I was confronted with the decision to either forgive and move forward, or stay put and become bitter. I wrote him a letter, thanked him for allowing me to learn how to fall in love again, thanked him for the reminder lesson in forgiveness and I moved forward. Slowly. But surely.

And then this week happened. again. And I've been dealing with some heart stuff that quite honestly, I was hopeful I wouldn't have to deal with another time around. Another ending, but this time to something that I thought for sure wouldn't get to this point. I took all of the knowledge I have gained over the past five years and tried (albeit failing at times) to put it into this relationship. And then I started to lose myself and what I stood for. And I lost sight of what love is supposed to be like, and what I need if I am going to be in relationship with another. Sometimes, too much happens and people get too hurt. The unnecessary pressures (or maybe it's the lack of expectation thereof) become the very things that mold you. And then break you. And once again, I've been forced to return to that place where I am searching my own heart for what I know to be true. I'm being forced to once again stand up for myself and guard my own heart because someone else isn't going to. My heart isn't something that can be jerked around while others discover what they want out of life. Another's own needs and wants cannot come at the expense of my heart.

And that brings me to Carrie. Because of the past five years, I can say that she is right. There really IS good in goodbye. This reminder came at the perfect time as this week began and I have been struggling to remember that. I don't want things to be over, but it's nice to be reminded that good things can come to those who wait, that at some point my tears will turn into joy and eventually, my heartbreak will turn into a love burst. 

As bad as it was, as bad as it hurt
I thank God I didn’t get what I thought that I deserved
Sometimes life leads you down a different road
When you’re holding on to someone that you gotta let go
Someday you’ll see the reason why
Sometimes, yeah sometimes, there’s good in goodbye

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

one man's trash is my treasure

I found these in the trashcan at work. They are still so beautiful. And they are exactly the pick me up I've been needing. I mean, who doesn't love flowers? Even on a good day, when are flowers ever a bad idea? And let's face it: if no one is going to send me flowers, I might as well pull some out of the trash can to enjoy. I feel like Carrie Bradshaw would be proud.

ahem. seems a congratulations is in order

i want to take a hot moment away from the Amendment One debate and say congratulations to my main squeeze. And since he conveniently forgot to tell me when yearbook ad sales were going on, I figured my public blog was just as good of a place as any to tell him just how proud I am of him. Besides, isn't it true that all couples who dedicate yearbook ad space to one another in high school stay together, forever? 

Justin baby, I am so proud of you for all of your accomplishments. Completing high school is HARD WORK but you did it!! This is just the first step in what will become a lifetime of proud moments for you. I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. Always remember that haters are gonna hate and you can do whatever you put your mind to. No matter how far apart we are, you will always be in my heart. Because when you smile, I smile.

smells like bullshit

Bullshit (also bullcrap) is a common English expletive which may be shortened to the euphemism bull or the initialism B.S. In British English, "bollocks" is a comparable expletive, although bullshit is commonly used in British English. As with many expletives, it can be used as an interjection or as many other parts of speech, and can carry a wide variety of meanings. It can be used either as a noun or as a verb. Used as an interjection, it protests the use of misleading, disingenuous, or false language.

"Bull", meaning nonsense, dates from the 17th century,[1] while the term "bullshit" has been used as early as 1915 in American slang,[2] and came into popular usage only during World War II. The word "bull" itself may have derived from the Old French boul meaning "fraud, deceit" (Oxford English Dictionary).[2] The term "horseshit" is a near synonym. Worthy of note is the South African English equivalent "bull dust". Few corresponding terms exist in other languages, with the significant exception of German Bockmist, literally "billy-goat shit".
The earliest attestation mentioned by the Concise Oxford English Dictionary is in fact T. S. Eliot, who between 1910 and 1916 wrote an early poem to which he gave the title "The Triumph of Bullshit", written in the form of a ballade. The first stanza goes:
Ladies, on whom my attentions have waited
If you consider my merits are small
Etiolated, alembicated,
Orotund, tasteless, fantastical,
Monotonous, crotchety, constipated,
Impotent galamatias
Affected, possibly imitated,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.
The word bullshit does not appear in the text of the poem, though in keeping with the ballade form, the refrain "For Christ's sake stick it up your ass" appears in each following verse and concludes the envoi. Eliot did not publish this poem during his lifetime.[3]
As to earlier etymology the OED cites bull with the meaning "trivial, insincere, untruthful talk or writing, nonsense". It describes this usage as being of unknown origin, but notes the following: "OF boul, boule, bole fraud, deceit, trickery; mod. Icel bull ‘nonsense’; also ME bull BUL ‘falsehood’, and BULL verb, to befool, mock, cheat." [4]
Although as the above makes clear there is no confirmed etymological connection, it might be noted that these older meanings are synonymous with the modern expression "bull" otherwise generally considered, and intentionally used as, a contraction of "bullshit".

"Bullshit" does not necessarily have to be a complete fabrication; with only basic knowledge about a topic, bullshit is often used to make the audience believe that one knows far more about the topic by feigning total certainty or making probable predictions. It may also merely be "filler" or nonsense that, by virtue of its style or wording, gives the impression that it actually means something.
In his essay on the subject, William G. Perry called bull[shit] "relevancies, however relevant, without data" and gave a definition of the verb "to bull[shit]" as follows:
To discourse upon the contexts, frames of reference and points of observation which would determine the origin, nature, and meaning of data if one had any. To present evidence of an understanding of form in the hope that the reader may be deceived into supposing a familiarity with content.[6]
The bullshitter generally either knows the statements are likely false, exaggerated, and in other ways misleading or has no interest in their factual accuracy one way or the other. "Talking bullshit" is thus a lesser form of lying, and is likely to elicit a correspondingly weaker emotional response: whereas an obvious liar may be greeted with derision, outrage, or anger, an exponent of bullshit tends to be dismissed with an indifferent sneer.

In his essay On Bullshit (originally written in 1986, and published as a monograph in 2005), philosopher Harry Frankfurt of Princeton University characterizes bullshit as a form of falsehood distinct from lying. The liar, Frankfurt holds, knows and cares about the truth, but deliberately sets out to mislead instead of telling the truth. The "bullshitter", on the other hand, does not care about the truth and is only seeking to impress:[7][8]
It is impossible for someone to lie unless he thinks he knows the truth. Producing bullshit requires no such conviction. A person who lies is thereby responding to the truth, and he is to that extent respectful of it. When an honest man speaks, he says only what he believes to be true; and for the liar, it is correspondingly indispensable that he considers his statements to be false. For the bullshitter, however, all these bets are off: he is neither on the side of the true nor on the side of the false. His eye is not on the facts at all, as the eyes of the honest man and of the liar are, except insofar as they may be pertinent to his interest in getting away with what he says. He does not care whether the things he says describe reality correctly. He just picks them out, or makes them up, to suit his purpose.
Frankfurt connects this analysis of bullshit with Ludwig Wittgenstein's disdain of "non-sense" talk, and with the popular concept of a "bull session" in which speakers may try out unusual views without commitment. He fixes the blame for the prevalence of "bullshit" in modern society upon anti-realism and upon the growing frequency of situations in which people are expected to speak or have opinions without appropriate knowledge of the subject matter.
Gerald Cohen, in "Deeper into Bullshit", contrasted the kind of "bullshit" Frankfurt describes with a different sort: nonsense discourse presented as sense. Cohen points out that this sort of bullshit can be produced either accidentally or deliberately. While some writers do deliberately produce bullshit, a person can also aim at sense and produce nonsense by mistake; or a person deceived by a piece of bullshit can repeat it innocently, without intent to deceive others.[9]
Cohen gives the example of Alan Sokal's "Transgressing the Boundaries" as a piece of deliberate bullshit. Sokal's aim in creating it, however, was to point out that the "postmodernist" editors who accepted his paper for publication could not distinguish nonsense from sense, and thereby by implication that their field was "bullshit".

Outside of the academic world, among natural speakers of North American English, as an interjection or adjective, bullshit conveys general displeasure, an objection to, or points to unfairness within, some state of affairs. In this 20th century colloquial usage, "bullshit" does not give a truth score to another's discourse. It simply labels something that the speaker does not like & feels he is unable to change.

thought for day.

this morning, i got up and walked with Nikki, came home, showered, put on a face and got back in the bed. completely nekkid. I woke up at 9 after a deep slumber and felt confused. Why was my face on? Why was I nekkid? What was my excuse going to be when I told my boss why I was late? It was like I had had an awesome night or something. So then I got to thinking. Maybe this is the way to start the day. Like it's going to be the best night of my life!

Monday, May 7, 2012

thought for the day.

make room for someone who is nice to you. ~bridesmaids

Friday, May 4, 2012

a picture really is worth a thousand words.

if you know anything about my life lately, then you know why this picture pretty much sums it up.

barbara is high tech

Last night, Barbara tried to Facetime Natalie, Lee and Eli. Lee is the only one who picked up. She loved talking to her uncle.Barbara's number is the same as mine so feel free to call this little hottie anytime you want. The exciting thing is, if she isn't available, I probably am, so either way, you know you're gonna have a good conversation!

Thursday, May 3, 2012

thought for the day.

best way to get your coworker outta your grille when he gets all up in your conversation with another coworker?

tell him it's not appropriate for a male you work with.

reminds me of the time I told some other coworkers I had to go to the bikini waxer when they wouldn't leave me alone about all of my "doctor" visits.

nobody wants to hear about your bikini wax at work.crickets.

if you can't tone it, tan it

I cannot tell you how many people have asked me if i have seen the article about the woman who took her elementary aged daughter to the tanning bed.


I may or may not enjoy a good, and very dark, spray tan.
I may or may not live by the motto: "if you can't tone it, tan it." 
I may or may not have spent many hours combined in the tanning bed in my younger years.
I may or may not have compared my arm last night to a black girl's, and I may or may not have won.
I may or may not smell like a spray tan. 

But that does not mean that I do nor that I want to look like this woman.

truth thursday.

Thanks, Leigh (and Lizzie) for this daily wisdom. It should go without saying but something about seeing it in a blue box with yellow lettering makes it resonate.

How many times do I say that it's the small things that matter? This story proves my point.

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired.Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

thought for the day.

when I told a friend he would have to seduce me later, he replied with "seduce me later sounds like a band name."

i mean, he has a point.

isn't it nice we're not older

On Sunday night, after a day of pretending to be the (unshowered with serious bed head) Real Housewives of ITB Leigh and I found ourselves at the Beach Boys concert with two strapping young men. While the Beach Boys may think it would be nice to be older, I am going to go out on a limb and say that I am glad that we're not. We showed up at 8 and I was convinced I had missed Kokomo (the only Beach Boys song I really know). Turns out we didn't miss Kokomo, nor did we miss their old man intermission (I thought the Eagles were the only geezers lame enough to take an intermission during their show). We did however miss the hot dogs, the pretzels and the fried chicken sammies. I would also like to point out that we may or may not have held up a banner that said something to the effect of "The Party is Here" and there may or may not have been a giant lei involved that somehow ended up in the ketchup that was on my dress and in someone's hair before being rubbed down their body like a towel.

what is a complex really: Example # 1

 Last week was the week of the complex for me. And it got me thinking: just what is a complex really, other than a really weird and bizarre game I used to play with my brother. Because I think after the following two examples, I may need to think about having one.  
Picked Barbara up from doggy day camp. When I asked if she behaved, their response was: "she's a little humper." welp. There you have it.

what is a complex really: Example #2

Debra: i met a girl last night that reminded me of you
 me: oh yeah?
 Debra: not quite as awesome (obvi)
  but still, reminded me of you
  i went to an unofficial kappa happy hour in NJ
 this girl Lauren moved up here in Jan. from Atlanta
  helped start a Jersey Kappa group and this was our first time getting together
  and this chick seemed to know everyone
  i called her the mayor
  and told her she should have been recruitment
  she talked to everyone
  ran into a dude she'd hooked up with like years ago in Atlanta
we met up with a guy she met freshman year during Spring Break that lives up here named Doctor Dave
  and then another dude showed up at the 2nd bar that she'd made out with like a week ago
 no invite or anything, happened to be there, and texted her "hey i think i see you"
 i felt like i was hanging out with a bootleg meredith
  it seemed like something that would totally happen to you
  the randomness of the night
 me: hahahahah
  i feel like this needs to go on my blog
  along with the comments to my fbn status about barbara being a humper and everyone being like like mother like daughter
 Debra: hahahaha
 that one definitely
  she walked past a dude in a suit and was like, why are you wearing a beeper?
  he says he's a doctor and he's on call
  she's like well why are you drinking?
  you can't be drinking if you're on call
  they have this exchange for a minute
 until he's finally like, actually, that's my insulin pump
  a random girl standing nearby goes "Awk-waaaaaard!!!!"
 she got embarassed but was like, well how was i supposed to know, I've never seen one before!
  naturally we couldn't avoid him and he ended up by us again at the next bar too
me: hahahahahahahhaha
  this girl is my TWINDebra: i was amused :)
 and wished i lived in CH so i could get into shenanigans with the original