Hello, 4 AM

Recently, Bill Purray has become Awesome Adult Cat. He comes when he's called, he just sits beside me and hangs out without demanding to be pet, he doesn't release the foul stink demons anymore when he poops, is acceptably personal and and an all around cool customer.

Except one thing. While he falls asleep in my room 99% of the time, he typically wakes up around 5 AM, and decides I'M AWAKE NOW AND EVERYONE SHOULD BE TOO. And he will start clawing at the underside of my bedroom door, trying to get it open. This is loud, annoying, and leaves door fibers all over the place. And it's not like he needs to get a head start on his Fat Cat To Do List. He wants out just so he can walk around outside the room for 5 minutes and come back inside to fall asleep again. It's like he has to make sure the world outside my room didn't disappear over night, which seems like a plausible fear since he's an indoor house cat (my neighborhood is way too busy and there are too many little kids who'd snatch him up), who only gets to go outside when it's time to go to the vet. So he goes out, does a perimeter check, and scratches the shit out of my door to get back in.

Obviously, I don't want this to become a habit. And since it's impossible to ignore, and throwing pillows at him only temporarily ceases him, I've been trying to come up with solutions.

The easiest solution is to sleep with my door open so he can just wander in and out. But thanks to many a lingering, irrational, childhood phobia, I can't. I mean, who knows what's going to lurk in while I'm sleeping. Falling asleep with the door open is like leaving a lit sign saying HEY RAPIST HOMICIDAL CLOWN DOLL DEMONS WITH UNHINGABLE JAWS: FREE LUNCH with an arrow pointing toward my bed. I just can't do it. Yes, I know, things could very well already be in my room when I close my door at the end of the night. Not sure how that works. That seems to be something I can ignore.

The second easiest solution is to stack baskets of dirty laundry in front of the door, denying him access. But since I finished all my laundry last week, I only have one basket. And that's not enough.

The third easiest solution is to get Bill Purray de-clawed. But that shit's expensive and needlessly painful. (wow, glad to see where my true priorities lie. #sensitive)

The fourth easiest solution would be to pitch Bill Purray outside and let the hoodrats adopt him.

Buuut, I'd miss him. And if he was gone, I'd have significantly fewer things to Instagram.

These past few days, though, I've just been giving in. After all, I'm a champion sleeper and can typically pass out again if I ever get up. And I've been learning to sleep with the door ajar, not open, so Bill can slink in and out from morning patrol as he sees fit, and I still feel like the door's closed.  And everyone's cool.

Except, this morning. I wake up to the sound of scratching. I stumble out of bed. I let him out. I stumble back into bed. I fall back into sleep coma. Almost immediately, I have a nightmare. One of those insanely real ones where I didn't remember falling asleep. I was in bed, sleeping, when I felt someone staring at me through my window. I couldn't move. But I knew someone was there.  Then, I heard my doorbell ringing. And I definitely felt someone like right at my window, but I couldn't turn over to check it out. I could imagine their shape, what they looked like, and I could feel them staring at me.

The last thing I thought before I woke up was, "These dreams are scary because they're true." My eyes flashed open. My room was pitch black. I was lying in the same position I was in in my dream, and I still couldn't move. My mind was literally racing thinking that there was someone at my window. All I could think was, TURN ON THE LIGHT, but I couldn't move. It felt like sleep paralysis.

I finally got enough feeling in my neck to able to turn and look at my clock. 4:01, and there was not even a remote chance of going back to sleep. I wrangled my arm free, and stared at the darkened window as I reached to turn on the light (rookie mistake, I know. Anyone who knows anything knows that demons trick you by making you think they're at the window, when really they're standing by the light, waiting for you to turn it on so they can strike). I was actually feeling a bit panicky as I reached for the lamp switch, imagining a terrifying face to appear, and me having no weapon other than my Miracle Pillow and a wireless alarm clock.

I finally managed to turn on the light. I stared at the window, heart about to break against my ribs.

But, I saw nothing. No one was there. My heart finally settled down. It was dead quiet.

And that's when Bill Purray jumped up and on to the bed from the space between the bed and the window.

I screetched as my heart exploded in panic and my brain melted in fear. In a knee-jerk reaction I threw my pillows and blankets at him, launching him off the bed, both of us yowling in confusion.

I jumped off the bed, kicking and shuddering uncontrollably, unable to catch my breath for a good 2 minutes. I eventually got back into bed, but I was still shaky.

Needless to say, I didn't go back to sleep. Now it's 2:30 and I'm on my 4th coffee and I'm so tired I might just die.

I need a nap. And if he keeps this shit up, Bill Purray's going to need a new home.

just kidding.

maybe.



Adventures in Food Magic

A few weeks ago, Kristin and I decided we should have a catch up dinner. And since we're the Co-Founding Masters of Füd Frenz Club (we're like the Midnight Society* of Fat), we spent the next few days obsessively coming up with dinner ideas.

What was planned: steak, roasted asparagus, hula hooping, funfetti cupcakes, and craft time inspired by this awesome blog while watching Venture Brothers.

But I should have known we were going to have a fat foods frenzy. A) because I know the two of us and that's what it always comes down to and B) when I showed up, the first thing she said to me was, "Sorry, dude, but I went to Safeway after work to get a baguette for our appetizers and I totally ate it. By myself."

Kristin is Regina George

What actually happened: 24 oz Kirin Ichiban, 2 different steaks, 5 baked potatoes, 2 trays of roasted asparagus with rosemary, a huge bowl of tomato, corn and avocado salad, 5 different types of cupcakes and half-passing out on the sofa, watching Venture Bros. and waiting for the tow truck to come get my car (seriously)

It was one of those magical food nights were everything turned out perfectly. As the flank steak marinated in olive oil, red wine vinegarette and season salt, and the filet sat in its tray covered in seasoned deliciousness, the ears of corn boiled, and I started the labor intensive (for me) process of cutting up vegetables for the salad. Kristin rubbed the potatoes down with seasoning salt, wrapped them in tin foil and threw them in the oven. Then we prepped the asparagus with olive oil, salt and rosemary. Then we made the 3 boxes of cake: strawberry, funfetti, chocolate, and made different variations of swirled and plain, with enough batter left over for a multi-colored-bundt cake. I sawed the corn off the cob and tossed it and the rest of the vegetables together with olive oil and lime juice and salt and pepper, and Kristin grilled the steaks to mid-rare. All the cakes were done as we sat down to eat. And once we dug in, it was impossible to stop. We were in food bliss, amazed at how great everything turned out and how perfectly timed it all was.

It was fucking magical. And I think we dirtied up every kitchen prep tool in Kristin's kitchen.

blurry Domestication. I'm holding a filet that's about the size of my heart. /love

By the end of the meal, all our ideas involving movement or brain power just seemed too far fetched. And as soon as I got dropped off by the tow driver, I was ready to pass out into oblivion. And let me tell you, there is no food coma sweeter, no sleep so blissful, as the dirt nap you take after you've eaten about 70 lbs of food you've made yourself, from scratch.

It took us back to the first dinner we had together back in '08, which was a bottle of 99 Apples Vodka and a frozen stuffed pretzel that we split (so poor), as we ate by candlelight and watched Free Willy. 

an inspired choice.

We've come a long way. And yes, this meal wasn't so adventurous or complicated, but it was all made from fresh ingredients. And it was out of this world delicious. And much, much cheaper than going out.

So, who's down for monthly dinner parties?


oh, and I'm going to take my car out back and shoot it. More on that later.

*how is this not the creepiest children's show ever? 

Mr. and Mrs. Saunders

Kristin was my first post-college roommate.

We met in 2008 through a mutual friend I worked with when I first moved to Virginia. When I first met Kristin, she had recently started dating a guy named Tyler. I remember my first thought when I saw the two of them together was, "there's no way they just started dating." It seemed like they'd been together for years--they were so effortless and comfortable around each other. Tyler became something of a third roommate for us, and as the year grew on I began to see him more as a friend and red wine buddy as opposed to "my roommate's boyfriend."

And really, physically, I'm pretty sure the two of them were made as a matching set in an amazing moment of genetic destiny. I mean, look at them:

gorrrrgeous

They've both seen me at my lowest lows, offering me advice, cocktails, steaks, and shelter. They're one of my most favorite couples, and it was such a thrill to be a part of their wedding on May 12, surrounded by friends and family and almost tangible waves of love and adoration coming from the bride and groom.

 

I can't help but get sappy and full of "d'awwww!" when I think back on their big day. Even though it was a month ago--I'm a bad friend and a terrible blogger. Whoops! And I know I've been in, or to, a buuunch of weddings since I started college, but it never fails to amaze me how seeing my friends standing at the alter, off the charts happy and in love and pledging to spend the rest of their lives with someone who is equally off the charts happy and in love just melts me into a puddle full of feels. It just makes me so happy to know they've found happiness.  

And, plus... at weddings, there's wedding cake. yesss.

Historic Bluemont Manner is filled with #gpoy mirrors. Also, sweat pants 4eva.

 

Kristin and her maid of honor, Audrey (fun fact, there were 3 Audrey's at the wedding)

cake toppers of awesome!

Team bride!

 

 

 

In case you were wondering, the answer is yes, I did have a wardrobe malfunction. During the reception. Awkward. Good thing I was wearing a bra.

MmmHmmm

Gangnam Style, but also my favorite shot of the night

But really, the most incredible thing about Kristin and Tyler's wedding was that the curls in my hair didn't fall. I told the stylist to "Just go Stage Mom with the hair spray." And after obsessing all day that they were going flat, they managed to stay intact for well over 24 hours, surviviving the blustery ceremony, me dancing like a maniac, and being slept on for 11 hours the next day. It was a Christmas miracle.

my eyes are all puffy because I sobbed like a baby all the way home--pile of Feels, guys. Pile of Feels.

So, here's to Kristin and Tyler, may you have many years of unbelievable love, noms, books, friends, video games and sci-fi.

June Gloom

"June Gloom" is a term I learned last week while I was in LA.

In late spring/early summer, clouds roll in off the ocean in the morning and cause overcast, drizzly, cool mornings, making LA look more like San Francisco and giving it sweaters-in-spring time temperatures. I didn't believe this. So I spent the whole weekend telling Leah she can't just make up fancy science-sounding cloud explanations for what is obviously smog. Then, I came home and internetted it and it's true. There are such things as "marine effects" and "eddys" and "clouds" and "science" that do, in fact, exist.

There's really no point to that anecdote. I just wanted to break the ice, because it's been a while since I've posted, and I'm worried that things have gotten awkward between us. Maybe we should take this slow. It's ok. Relationships take time. Trust is earned, don'cha know.

But also, I'm having the exact opposite of June Gloom. It feels like it's 72* in my head all the time.

After a jam-packed April and May, I'm breathing deeply through my lungs and exhaling at the direction of my blessedly empty calendar. I'm walking in the merry sunshine of Don't Even Care. I just want to stay in my pajamas all day and finally watch this season of Game of Thrones. (I KNOW SOMEONE OR SOMETHING DIED ON SUNDAY EVERYONE CAN JUST SHUT UP OK STOP POSTING TEASERS [FACEBOOK I'M LOOKING AT YOU])

But also, I've been having some pretty choice adventures lately, and I want to tell you about them. So we should have some long dinners where we catch up over a bottle of wine. I promise this time I won't get so handsy*. But for now, here's a preview.

Kristin and Tyler marryin'

Brooklynin'

Simpsonin'

  

Brain rottin'

Beachin'

gift destroyin'

wine flightin'

hair cuttin'

Arrested Developmentin'

more beachin'

tattooin'

Bill Purrayin'

at home "workin"

life list plannin'

Until then, I hope you're having a great day. And that we can still be friends.


*this is probably a lie