HE RUINED MY INVISIBLE BABY'S NAME!
I had to share the following conversation had this weekend with Pete about The Hills, which he makes fun of me for watching. He has never seen the program...I watch it on the computer.
Conversation starts with him telling me the names of all his Dad's brothers and sisters (he was the oldest of 10).
Me: That's odd. His name is very Irish (they're Irish Catholic) and the others aren't at all.
Pete: I think they're more Biblical...it's the Catholic in them.
Me: I'm just surprised, as when Irish families start with Irish names, they usually keep going. Like Liam or Spencer or Mary and Katherine. And a lot of those are both Irish and Catholic.
Pete: Yeah, that's true.
Me: Spencer...you know, did I ever tell you that if I had a son, I wanted to name him Spencer? That's my Mom's maiden name. I loved it and wanted that name so bad, but of course I likely won't have kids and then there's THAT Spencer...
Pete: What Spencer?
Me: Spencer from "The Hills"! HE RUINED MY NAME! He ruined my unborn/unfertilized baby boy's name! Stupid asshole.
Pete: Are you serious?
Me: YES! I mean, I know it doesn't really matter because like I said, this is something about nothing, but still...I want that option to be able to name a boy Spencer in case a miracle happens. And then they have to have that jerk on The Hills and he's Satan, Pete! SATAN! Why would I want to name my invisible baby after Satan? I hate him!
Pete: (Laughing) Oh my god, you're really upset! Your going to blog about this aren't you? I can just see it, 'Stupid fuck shit fucker Spencer. He stole my invisble baby boy's name! Stupid jerk faced asshole ruining my imaginary baby's name! (I start laughing) And THEN there's Heidi. Stupid bitch girlfriend Heidi. She has ruined the way I look at my sister. I can't even stand to think about her...'
Me: Wait. Wait. Wait. How do you know his girlfriend's name is Heidi?
Pete: (Silence)
Me: Do you...do you watch The Hills?
Pete: No!
Me: Seriously, you do, don't you? You pretend you're watching skateboard videos online, but you're really watching The Hills, aren't you?
Pete: No, I've never seen it. But I mean, you open any gossip sites and they're always on there!
Me: You read gossip sites? You who teases me about my addiction to People magazine?
Pete: Well, no. I mean, it's Yahoo Entertainment, alright. I read it sometimes!
Silence for a minute.
Me: You totally watch The Hills.
Conversation starts with him telling me the names of all his Dad's brothers and sisters (he was the oldest of 10).
Me: That's odd. His name is very Irish (they're Irish Catholic) and the others aren't at all.
Pete: I think they're more Biblical...it's the Catholic in them.
Me: I'm just surprised, as when Irish families start with Irish names, they usually keep going. Like Liam or Spencer or Mary and Katherine. And a lot of those are both Irish and Catholic.
Pete: Yeah, that's true.
Me: Spencer...you know, did I ever tell you that if I had a son, I wanted to name him Spencer? That's my Mom's maiden name. I loved it and wanted that name so bad, but of course I likely won't have kids and then there's THAT Spencer...
Pete: What Spencer?
Me: Spencer from "The Hills"! HE RUINED MY NAME! He ruined my unborn/unfertilized baby boy's name! Stupid asshole.
Pete: Are you serious?
Me: YES! I mean, I know it doesn't really matter because like I said, this is something about nothing, but still...I want that option to be able to name a boy Spencer in case a miracle happens. And then they have to have that jerk on The Hills and he's Satan, Pete! SATAN! Why would I want to name my invisible baby after Satan? I hate him!
Pete: (Laughing) Oh my god, you're really upset! Your going to blog about this aren't you? I can just see it, 'Stupid fuck shit fucker Spencer. He stole my invisble baby boy's name! Stupid jerk faced asshole ruining my imaginary baby's name! (I start laughing) And THEN there's Heidi. Stupid bitch girlfriend Heidi. She has ruined the way I look at my sister. I can't even stand to think about her...'
Me: Wait. Wait. Wait. How do you know his girlfriend's name is Heidi?
Pete: (Silence)
Me: Do you...do you watch The Hills?
Pete: No!
Me: Seriously, you do, don't you? You pretend you're watching skateboard videos online, but you're really watching The Hills, aren't you?
Pete: No, I've never seen it. But I mean, you open any gossip sites and they're always on there!
Me: You read gossip sites? You who teases me about my addiction to People magazine?
Pete: Well, no. I mean, it's Yahoo Entertainment, alright. I read it sometimes!
Silence for a minute.
Me: You totally watch The Hills.
BABYPALOOZA
Awwwww. Spring is here. The weather is beautiful, everything's in bloom, and it is officially Babypalooza. Seriously, Babypalooza. Three of my good friends have had first, second and third babies since I left Washington, another friend is due in a couple of weeks, and then I brought the baby phermones from Washington to Charlotte. My best friend out here is rapidly approaching her fourth month and then I learned today that another good friend out here is pregnant. In addition to these two, two other old friends are expecting. I am beyond thrilled for my friends, both those who recently had theirs and those who will be having them later this year. It makes me so excited and happy and reminds me just how amazing life is and how crazy it is that our bodies can do this. And at the same time, as I sat with my two pregnant friends today, my uterus felt extremely lonely. I told them I was going to work on gaining weight so my belly would fit in.
Why in the midst of all this happiness, does this make me so sad? I came home all excited from the news, sat down and bawled. As I cried, I sat there wondering what the hell was wrong with me? I'm seriously trying to blame hormones on this one, as I'm about to get my period and know I get even more emotional around this time. But honestly, despite the happiness and joy I can't help but take a look at myself and my life and wonder if this will ever be a part of mine?
I know I probably write about this a bit too much, but since I turned 35 (the magical "your chances are going downhill" age), I can't help but feel sad about it somewhat. For some reason it reminds me of when I turned 25 and completely freaked out. At 25 I was wondering what I was doing with my life, was about to get married, questioning whether that was right at that time (it wasn't), whether I wanted to hang onto my freedom, what I wanted to be doing career-wise, trying to figure out where I wanted to settle down, etc. In the almost twelve years since then, those questions have answered themselves through my own experience, though with impatience. I shouldn't have married, but did and while a painful experience, it was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. And that was a major stepping stone to having the relationship I have now. I had a great career at 25 and walked away from it for a job in an industry I loved that I later walked away from too. I realized over the years that I'm really not into the "career" thing, but simply want to have a stress-less job that pays the bills and allows me to come home and not worry about work, which I have. I moved, moved back home, moved again and again, moved back home, and then moved again, then back home, and now am here in a city that I love that finally feels like a new home to me. The questions took a while to be answered, but they were.
Now I sit here feeling that panic again. I'm very much in love with whom I feel is the man I'm going to spend my life with, yet I struggle with not running away every time I get scared or angry. I'm a master at running away. I struggle with conflict. I am great at addressing it with most people, but with the one I love I struggle. I have spent most of my life leaving that conflict rather than dealing with it when things get rough. It's difficult, but my god I'm going to conquer this affliction with running away. I feel like I've figured so many things out in my life, yet know I still have a lot of growing up to do. I feel like this person that I'm with, whom I love more than I thought I could, is worth figuring it out for. And then when I feel like I have a grasp on who I am and feel content with what will be, I become a guest at Babypalooza. It's no one's fault, but my retarded hormones, biological clock, or withering ovaries or whatever it is. I'm sincerely happy and ecstatic for my friends. I'm an Auntie over and over and over, and I love it. I love those kids, and I know I will love the kids that I'll meet upon my visit to Seattle who were born after I left. My life is full with my boyfriend, my family and my niece, Pete's family, and my friends and their kids. It's a good life when I really look at the picture from a distance, but then I am overwhelmed with this sadness that there isn't more. Am I glutton for always wanting more or what I don't have? Or am I just a woman experiencing the almost chemical need to reproduce? I never thought growing up that I would end up without a child of my own, yet I am rapidly approaching being that person. I started convincing myself long ago that I was not someone who needed or wanted that, yet in my heart I always knew I did. And now that I'm with someone whom I would want that with someday, I find myself questioning whether that will or even could, happen. I want our time together. He is younger than me and not ready. Hell, I'm not ready for that yet. Yet, I feel this absence, this sadness, that my life may not include a little one someday. And it breaks my heart.
I'm not sending this one out. It's more for me, as I sit here bubbling with emotion and desperately needed for it to leave my body. Should you read it, fine. Should you skip it, even better. This one's for me. This one's for no one, but me.
Why in the midst of all this happiness, does this make me so sad? I came home all excited from the news, sat down and bawled. As I cried, I sat there wondering what the hell was wrong with me? I'm seriously trying to blame hormones on this one, as I'm about to get my period and know I get even more emotional around this time. But honestly, despite the happiness and joy I can't help but take a look at myself and my life and wonder if this will ever be a part of mine?
I know I probably write about this a bit too much, but since I turned 35 (the magical "your chances are going downhill" age), I can't help but feel sad about it somewhat. For some reason it reminds me of when I turned 25 and completely freaked out. At 25 I was wondering what I was doing with my life, was about to get married, questioning whether that was right at that time (it wasn't), whether I wanted to hang onto my freedom, what I wanted to be doing career-wise, trying to figure out where I wanted to settle down, etc. In the almost twelve years since then, those questions have answered themselves through my own experience, though with impatience. I shouldn't have married, but did and while a painful experience, it was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. And that was a major stepping stone to having the relationship I have now. I had a great career at 25 and walked away from it for a job in an industry I loved that I later walked away from too. I realized over the years that I'm really not into the "career" thing, but simply want to have a stress-less job that pays the bills and allows me to come home and not worry about work, which I have. I moved, moved back home, moved again and again, moved back home, and then moved again, then back home, and now am here in a city that I love that finally feels like a new home to me. The questions took a while to be answered, but they were.
Now I sit here feeling that panic again. I'm very much in love with whom I feel is the man I'm going to spend my life with, yet I struggle with not running away every time I get scared or angry. I'm a master at running away. I struggle with conflict. I am great at addressing it with most people, but with the one I love I struggle. I have spent most of my life leaving that conflict rather than dealing with it when things get rough. It's difficult, but my god I'm going to conquer this affliction with running away. I feel like I've figured so many things out in my life, yet know I still have a lot of growing up to do. I feel like this person that I'm with, whom I love more than I thought I could, is worth figuring it out for. And then when I feel like I have a grasp on who I am and feel content with what will be, I become a guest at Babypalooza. It's no one's fault, but my retarded hormones, biological clock, or withering ovaries or whatever it is. I'm sincerely happy and ecstatic for my friends. I'm an Auntie over and over and over, and I love it. I love those kids, and I know I will love the kids that I'll meet upon my visit to Seattle who were born after I left. My life is full with my boyfriend, my family and my niece, Pete's family, and my friends and their kids. It's a good life when I really look at the picture from a distance, but then I am overwhelmed with this sadness that there isn't more. Am I glutton for always wanting more or what I don't have? Or am I just a woman experiencing the almost chemical need to reproduce? I never thought growing up that I would end up without a child of my own, yet I am rapidly approaching being that person. I started convincing myself long ago that I was not someone who needed or wanted that, yet in my heart I always knew I did. And now that I'm with someone whom I would want that with someday, I find myself questioning whether that will or even could, happen. I want our time together. He is younger than me and not ready. Hell, I'm not ready for that yet. Yet, I feel this absence, this sadness, that my life may not include a little one someday. And it breaks my heart.
I'm not sending this one out. It's more for me, as I sit here bubbling with emotion and desperately needed for it to leave my body. Should you read it, fine. Should you skip it, even better. This one's for me. This one's for no one, but me.
MONKEY BUSINESS
The Gods of Stupidity have struck again.
Some of Pete's good friends have been in town from Rochester and we've been going out almost every night this week with them. They're awesome people and I've really enjoyed getting to know them and have time with them. Last night was their final night in town and they wanted to keep it mellow, just dinner and maybe a movie. We all eat at my favorite pub in Uptown and then walk over to the new movie theater, which holds no movie of our interest. For those not in Charlotte, you have to understand Uptown is not our typical area of the city to hang out in. It's nice, but it's in the hub of all the banking buildings so you get more the suit/yuppie crowd when you go out. We kind of stick out like a sore thumb when they're there. So we're walking around this new shopping center with restaurants, bars, stores and the theater. After we nix the movie idea, the five of us go stop in to this bar that Dale Earnhardt, Jr. owns. It's not our type of place AT ALL, but we decided to just go have a drink there to say we did.
We go in and see they have a mechanical bull and this is going to sound weird, but it's the nicest bull I've ever seen. Seriously, it's all cow hide (ewww) and has a fake cow head on it and everything. So April says she wants somebody to ride it so she can get a picture. Nobody's willing to go, and finally I'm like, "Okay, I'll do it." Luckily the bar is pretty empty, but there's a small crowd at the second bar by the bull. So amongst a room of suits, Nascar fans, and slutty-looking women, I crawl onto the bull in my jeans and sweatjacket. I'm trying to play it off like "Whatever, I'll be off in 10 seconds, this is funny" type of thing. So I'm doing okay and I'm totally laughing, as is everyone else and all of a sudden it stops and totally starts vibrating. I've ridden mechanical bulls before, but never experienced that. It made me feel funny in my pants and I looked up like, "Huh?" and then he starts up the bull again and of course I'm so distracted, I fly off.
Now, this isn't the story. This is just the background information to bring you to how I ended up in the situation I ended up in.
I take a blurry picture of the bull and text it to some of my friends saying I just rode the thing. We leave the bar, go back to the neighborhood and go to our favorite bar there. So we're all hanging out, talking and I got some texts back from some people, and then I get one from Brian. Here's what you need to know for this...Brian is one of my good friends back home and is Chad's boyfriend. We call him Monkey. Chad is in Paris right now.
Brian texts me back, "Who is this?"
I text back, "Oh Monkey, it's Heather!"
The phone rings and it says it's Brian.
Me: MONKEY!!! How the heck are you?
Brian: (Brian is WASTED and can barely talk) Who is this?
Me: Heather!
Brian: Heather who?
Me: Heather Duffin, silly. Boy, you're really wasted. Are you driving? I can hear you driving. You shouldn't be driving if you're wasted, Monkey. Did you see the picture of the bull? I rode a bull tonight!
Brian: Yeah, I saw the picture. I'm taking some buddies home from the bar. I'm not wasted.
Me: You're out with buddies? Ohhhhh, poor Monkey. You miss, Chad don't you? You're all fucked up and out with buddies because you miss Chad. He'll be home soon, Monkey.
Brian: I'm just buzzed I'm not wasted. Just a sec....Bye man. Okay, sorry. I just dropped off my friend.
Me: I can only talk a second. I'm out with friends. How are you doing? I miss you, Monkey.
Brian: I'm doing okay, just been out with my buddies, heading home now.
I notice that his voice has sobered up a little and Monkey sounds very different to me.
Me: I can't wait to see you in May, Monkey! You sound weird. I don't think you should be driving. Seriously, you sound super drunk. You should pull over. So Chad comes back this weekend?
Brian: You keep talking about Chad. Who is Chad?
I stop. Oh my god, this isn't Monkey. Who the fuck am I talking to?
Me: Is this Brian?
Brian: Yes.
Me: Monkey?
Brian: No.
Me: Brian (I say his last name).
Brian: No.
And then it hits me who this is. Last weekend we're at a cookout (that's what they call a BBQ back here) and met this couple and they invited us out to the beach house they're staying at for a month. They were saying we all should come out there and so as Pete and I were leaving, the guy gave us his number so we could get in touch with them about the beach house. His name? Brian. I am NOT telling him who this is for sure. I think it's a bit creepy he's still talking to me, trying to figure out who I am when I'm calling him Monkey. And the guy lives with his girlfriend! Why did he not tell me I was confused? Why is he still talking to me?
Me: I'm really sorry, I have the wrong number. Click.
I grab Pete and tell him what just happened and he's laughing at me. "You might want to delete his number now. You don't want this happening again, do you?" I shake my head and delete the number. Never again. Whatever preventive measures I can take to stop the stupidity, must be done.
Some of Pete's good friends have been in town from Rochester and we've been going out almost every night this week with them. They're awesome people and I've really enjoyed getting to know them and have time with them. Last night was their final night in town and they wanted to keep it mellow, just dinner and maybe a movie. We all eat at my favorite pub in Uptown and then walk over to the new movie theater, which holds no movie of our interest. For those not in Charlotte, you have to understand Uptown is not our typical area of the city to hang out in. It's nice, but it's in the hub of all the banking buildings so you get more the suit/yuppie crowd when you go out. We kind of stick out like a sore thumb when they're there. So we're walking around this new shopping center with restaurants, bars, stores and the theater. After we nix the movie idea, the five of us go stop in to this bar that Dale Earnhardt, Jr. owns. It's not our type of place AT ALL, but we decided to just go have a drink there to say we did.
We go in and see they have a mechanical bull and this is going to sound weird, but it's the nicest bull I've ever seen. Seriously, it's all cow hide (ewww) and has a fake cow head on it and everything. So April says she wants somebody to ride it so she can get a picture. Nobody's willing to go, and finally I'm like, "Okay, I'll do it." Luckily the bar is pretty empty, but there's a small crowd at the second bar by the bull. So amongst a room of suits, Nascar fans, and slutty-looking women, I crawl onto the bull in my jeans and sweatjacket. I'm trying to play it off like "Whatever, I'll be off in 10 seconds, this is funny" type of thing. So I'm doing okay and I'm totally laughing, as is everyone else and all of a sudden it stops and totally starts vibrating. I've ridden mechanical bulls before, but never experienced that. It made me feel funny in my pants and I looked up like, "Huh?" and then he starts up the bull again and of course I'm so distracted, I fly off.
Now, this isn't the story. This is just the background information to bring you to how I ended up in the situation I ended up in.
I take a blurry picture of the bull and text it to some of my friends saying I just rode the thing. We leave the bar, go back to the neighborhood and go to our favorite bar there. So we're all hanging out, talking and I got some texts back from some people, and then I get one from Brian. Here's what you need to know for this...Brian is one of my good friends back home and is Chad's boyfriend. We call him Monkey. Chad is in Paris right now.
Brian texts me back, "Who is this?"
I text back, "Oh Monkey, it's Heather!"
The phone rings and it says it's Brian.
Me: MONKEY!!! How the heck are you?
Brian: (Brian is WASTED and can barely talk) Who is this?
Me: Heather!
Brian: Heather who?
Me: Heather Duffin, silly. Boy, you're really wasted. Are you driving? I can hear you driving. You shouldn't be driving if you're wasted, Monkey. Did you see the picture of the bull? I rode a bull tonight!
Brian: Yeah, I saw the picture. I'm taking some buddies home from the bar. I'm not wasted.
Me: You're out with buddies? Ohhhhh, poor Monkey. You miss, Chad don't you? You're all fucked up and out with buddies because you miss Chad. He'll be home soon, Monkey.
Brian: I'm just buzzed I'm not wasted. Just a sec....Bye man. Okay, sorry. I just dropped off my friend.
Me: I can only talk a second. I'm out with friends. How are you doing? I miss you, Monkey.
Brian: I'm doing okay, just been out with my buddies, heading home now.
I notice that his voice has sobered up a little and Monkey sounds very different to me.
Me: I can't wait to see you in May, Monkey! You sound weird. I don't think you should be driving. Seriously, you sound super drunk. You should pull over. So Chad comes back this weekend?
Brian: You keep talking about Chad. Who is Chad?
I stop. Oh my god, this isn't Monkey. Who the fuck am I talking to?
Me: Is this Brian?
Brian: Yes.
Me: Monkey?
Brian: No.
Me: Brian (I say his last name).
Brian: No.
And then it hits me who this is. Last weekend we're at a cookout (that's what they call a BBQ back here) and met this couple and they invited us out to the beach house they're staying at for a month. They were saying we all should come out there and so as Pete and I were leaving, the guy gave us his number so we could get in touch with them about the beach house. His name? Brian. I am NOT telling him who this is for sure. I think it's a bit creepy he's still talking to me, trying to figure out who I am when I'm calling him Monkey. And the guy lives with his girlfriend! Why did he not tell me I was confused? Why is he still talking to me?
Me: I'm really sorry, I have the wrong number. Click.
I grab Pete and tell him what just happened and he's laughing at me. "You might want to delete his number now. You don't want this happening again, do you?" I shake my head and delete the number. Never again. Whatever preventive measures I can take to stop the stupidity, must be done.
