Depression, Vertigo, and Social Awkwardness

As someone who finds it quite difficult to keep up a blog when they feel like they are on fire and are constantly on Stop. Drop. and Roll status… I have not been blogging through my latest and greatest breakdown {I mean, obvi.}. I remember my favorite religion professor once said, I forget who he was quoting… “The mind is like a drunken monkey, in a cage, with his tail on fire.” Dr. Fort, I am going to have to agree with whoever first said that, and you, of course.

Since not having a job, losing friends, a fiancé, flying all over the country and fighting with my parents, I thought, hmmm… Maybe it is me. NO. Certainly that cannot be right. Oh, but it was. It was {said in my best Dateline voice}. I have spent a fair amount of the fall and winter apologizing to all of the above, and people who didn’t quite deserve it, like when I kept apologizing to the lady behind me at the grocery store for having so many groceries. I really don’t feel so bad about that, but I digress.

At the beginning of February I got really sick, and more depressed. Not having a job is no bueno for me. I need and crave structure and this was not cutting it. I started getting blurry vision. My stomach hurt all the time, and then came the wretched vomiting. I know, TMI, but that week sucked. Then it started sucking worse the following week. In addition to my weak stomach, and now dry heaving, every time I rolled over on my left hand side the room would start spinning like I’d had two pitchers of Joe T’s margaritas on my own, but oddly, I hadn’t. I had had a glass of wine, but being able to handle much more, this was freaking me out. The next night there was no drinking, but I took a Xanax. Same as the night before, except now it was happening no matter which direction I rolled.

Then I thought, Holy Crap! Maybe this is 40. Shit, I really am totally falling apart. I see double and now I have vertigo at night. Maybe it’s a brain tumor, as that would explain my episodes this fall… but I decided maybe I needed to take two Xanax and not drink. Vertigo all night.

I woke up the next morning and thought, okay, no drinking, no Xanax… Just make the room stop spinning. That night I took nothing and the Vertigo became much worse. The following morning I woke up, and  after I ran into the wall and fell over I started screaming for my boyfriend. He hopped up and whisked me off the nearest ER facility.

Turns out, there was no brain tumor. Just a double inner ear infection, some nasty looking nasal and sinus cavities. Then the doctor explained that was what was causing the vomiting and the added anxiety I was definitely having.

I went home, took my meds, prayed for the spinning to stop as it was now happening as I was sitting up and walking as well. About 8 hours later I am feeling a lot better. Not 100 percent, but not 24 percent either, so things are looking way better. I could actually watch TV and focus!!! So I rented the movie “The Edge of Seventeen,” which I had remembered wanting to see in the theater, so I flipped it on. And then it happened… I started laughing. The writing and character development is so on point, it really is the greatest coming of age film since Juno, and before that, all John Hughes films. And I really started relating to the main character. Who is seventeen.

She is socially awkward. I, am hugely socially awkward. Many people would probably not believe this, and I have come a long way since middle school, but I’m still socially awkward. I live in Texas and glow in the dark because I’m so white. I have red hair and freckles. Apparently, these were not good characteristics back in lower and middle school.

In the sixth grade, “The Dooney and Burke” incident occurred cinching and putting on full blast that I was friendless, as was the girl in the movie. It was my birthday week and I got to go skiing and take a friend. Mind you, I only got to take a friend because I am an only child, and this made life much better for my parents on vacay. I had ask for the same red drawstring Dooney and Burke that one of my friends had gotten for her birthday a couple of months earlier. I remember getting the purse and taking it to school the week before skiing.

When I came home I had no friends. Like, zero. A girl, that I had been friends with, was apparently jealous that I didn’t invite her skiing, so she took the week I was gone to convince everyone I was a spoiled bitch, and that everyone should never speak to me again. And it worked. She was a cheerleader and very well liked. For a year and a half. It was brutal. I’ll never forget that year and a half, and still refer to it as “life changing” because after that, I lost myself.

I was so scared of pissing off an entire grade of girls that I definitely became that girl that was all, you like blueberry and chocolate ice cream mixed together with gummy bears? How weird, cause that is… ONLY LIKE MY FAVORITE!  I was now devoid of any opinion. I just didn’t want an entire grade of girls to turn on me again. I avoided school dances and people in general for that year and a half, until one day… I met another socially awkward girl!!! We would beg our parents to let us stay home from dances, birthday parties, and any social function in order to watch “Can’t Buy Me Love” and “Golden Girls” where I felt a nice mix of Rose {Betty White} and Bea Arthurs character, what was her name? I probably don’t remember as I definitely identified more with Rose.

I mean, when my friend and I finally got up the balls to go to the Halloween costume dance in eight grade, we were not dressed as cheerleaders, or anything involving short skirts and attention. We… went as the Golden Girls, and I’m fairly confident I spent half the evening talking to the janitor about how cool it was to be eating strawberry ice cream, because, I really liked strawberry ice cream, but because of all the calories I had to switch to cottage cheese with strawberries, which wasn’t the same, but wasn’t all bad either.

Yep. I was the epitome of cool. The janitor avoided me from that day on.

Somehow I survived high school, had acquired a lot more of my old friends, and some of them taught me how to drink and smoke cigarettes, and even not turn and walk away when a boy said hi, which helped greatly with my anxiety and awkwardness. High school was much better, college, even more so.

So… I’m feeling like I might be back. Back to blogging. I’m not on fire anymore but still dealing with a lot of wounds that I caused. That is to be expected. Apparently you can’t act like a seventeen year old at age 40. It’s just not working for me anymore. I realized what a complete and total ass I have been, and I’ve been making changes and working with a therapist, and low and behold… It’s actually been helping. A work in progress if you will.

Gotta love an excellent therapist. And the forgivness of those you have wronged.

Hurricane Season

Yes, I am listening to Bob Dylan right now. Yes, it is The Hurricane. I find it quite appropriate right now. Tis the season of my life. I am reminded of my first blog post, which you can read here. I knew then that life was going to take many twist and turns, but I definitely could not in a million years have been prepared for what was about to take place.

I was prepared to sit down and write so much, but it’s just not coming out. It’s hard for me to write about. It’s still to fresh for me. I’m still trying to process, trying to make sense of everything… Just trying to breath. Focus on the present, my adorable children. And the gym that is about to open. Yes. The Gym.

I am taking part in a gym where my focus is yoga, kids activities, POUND and twerking classes. Talk about different and not my comfort zone. Much more on that to come. It is set to open in December.

As I find my bearings and re-group, I thank you for having patience with me. Goodness gracious! There are many good things to come. I just want to remind people that no matter what you are going through, even if it seems unbareable, just remember, it’s just a season. It will pass. It will teach you things about yourself. What to change, what to let go, and what to hold onto.

I am grateful for many things as I move through this seasons of my life. Good things are on the horizon.

Drama for your Mama.

Or whoever. It’s been non stop drama the past few weeks, and I don’t even like drama. So… Drama… be gone! I’m extremely behind on posting, so please bare with me. The good stories are coming soon.

Let me recap the past two weeks… Quit job to pursue my passion which involves writing and opening a studio in a gym. Yes, my own little place for yoga and Twerking and POUND classes and even kids classes. It’s going to be so wonderful, and I am so excited for the opportunity that Shawna Gibson offered me. I’m taking it and running with it. The new Brick Gym will be opening soon, and I cannot wait to see you there!

After quitting my job I decided to spend as much time as possible with one of my best friends who live{ed} in Austin until last week. I was coming home from visiting and was in a wreck. It was a pretty bad wreck and my {then} fiance said he was on his way to get me. Three hours later I called to find out he had changed his mind, but forgot to mention that to me. We broke up right then and there.

That weekend was Utopiafest and I just knew Jamie and I were going to have a great time with all the members of “The Family” that were going. And it was a great weekend, with a major setback. I was slipped drugs. Yes, that means someone gave me drugs I did NOT want to take. However, the festival took care of me better than I could have ever imagined. The head of the festival Aaron Brown, and the entire security team were beyond incredible. I am so grateful for all that they did.

The night of the wreck I met a boy. He ask for my number and I said I was engaged and he could friend me on Facebook, which he did. We started talking and really hit it off. He is an amazing guy and it’s fun looking forward to my phone going off and lighting up when I see it’s him. He’s definitely a bright spot in the midst of all the crazy.

Can’t wait to share more of all these stories with you, it’s just going to take awhile to get it all typed out. Thanks for reading and liking and sharing. Y’all go out there and have a kick ass day.

Blue Sparrow Updates

Whew! It’s hard to believe I posted my first post on April 1st of this year. What a crazy ride it’s already been! I was so honored to be asked by FW Weekly to write a blog for them after Eric Griffey had seen just two of my post. He probably deeply regrets that decision now! To see my latest blog post with the FW Weekly, click here. And thank you so much Eric for putting up with me!

I had a gorgeous logo designed by Marcie Finney Designs, who is also the owner of Mustard Seed Jewelry, which I am also happy to offer on my blog.

And having said that… Josh over at Made In Fort Worth is working diligently at giving The Blue Sparrow Blog a make over, and very soon it will be very easy to purchase Mustard Seed Jewelry from this site!

And finally… the last member of the team came on today. Kristen Ballard with FWemedia. I am so looking forward to working with her. Please, please PLEASE do me a solid and sign up to receive my blog via email. Simply get on your computer {it won’t work from your phone} and sign up to follow my blog via email. This not only helps me, but it will help you be pre-registered for giveaways, and who doesn’t love FREE, yes I said FREE stuff. You still have time to sign up for tomorrow’s giveaway.

#doitnow #pleaseandthankyou

 

When You’re On a Roll…

Keep rolling, right? In the past week I have managed to piss off, pretty much everyone who is important in my life. I know, I know… I should feel terrible, but it’s my biggest accomplishment lately so I figured I’d brag about it. And tell you why the cops might be called on me tonight by my oldest.

I pick up Luke and we are on our way to get Cole and for some bizarre reason he ask me what he should do if he could not wake me up. Which is a freaky question to randomly be asked by Luke… So I do my parenting best, and tell him to find my phone and dial 911, and then the police will come, but that he needs to make sure he knows the address, does he remember mommy’s new address, and at this point I see Luke get a little stressed out. So I try to reassure him…

“Don’t worry, if that does happen, now you know exactly what to do and the police and firewomen would come and save mommy and you would be a hero, so don’t worry. You’d help mommy and I’d be fine.”

Luke’s facial expression goes from worried too light bulb in point zero one seconds.

“You mean, if I can’t wake you up, and I have to call the police, and they have to come to our house, I will be a hero?!”

Me, making the mistake of thinking I had done a good job, overly reassuringly say, “YES!!!!”

To which Luke says… “So mom, a hero would get a good reward huh?”

My facial expression changes from one of patting myself on the back to one of extreme worry…  “Ummm….. Yes.”

“Especially if that hero were to save your life….?”

I had to cut him off. I knew exactly where this was going.

“Luke, so help me… If you whisper in my ear and I do not wake up in the middle of the night and you call the cops, you do NOT get a reward. Is that clear?”

Luke looks about as freaked out as a kid can look.

“Oh my gosh mom, I was totally not thinking that. I really wasn’t. How did you do that? Can mom’s really read minds? Oh wow.”

I’m now concerned he’s going to test that theory too. And all I want tonight is a decent nights sleep. Is that too much to ask?

To all that I have pissed off in the last week, or hell, if I have ever pissed you off, I would just like you to know… I’m sorry. And by the way that color looks fantastic on you, but any color would probably look good on you since you have lost so much weight, not that you had any to lose. Be careful or someone is going to call you anorexic. And you know, you are just to young and youthful looking to be anorexic. I hope you have a fabulous day.

Sticks and Stones

So until right now, I totally thought that saying was “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.” Which never made sense. And is totally stupid. So, a few minutes ago, I googled it to find out that the poem actually says, “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can also hurt me.” Well fuck me. I learned that a little too late.

I came into this world as a total bitch. I was born on Thanksgiving in 1976. My mother loves to tell the story of how I ruined her Thanksgiving dinner. Her favorite meal. My grandmother, God rest her soul, use to love to tell the story of how right after I was born the nurses were weighing me and what not, and I flipped over on my stomach (clearly also an over achiever at birth) and gave everyone in the room a go-to-hell look.

Around third grade I broke and I became a Republican and a people pleaser. I was eight, let’s not pass judgement, okay? I people-pleased my way into my 30’s. And then I stopped. Sort of. One of my friends had really pissed me off, and I had just had it. I’d never stood up to this girl. I called her, and I say, “Look, I’m sure we are not going to be friends after this conversation, but I have about 487 problems with you and we are going to start with one and I am going to work my way through.” To her great credit, she listened to all 842 reasons (I thought of more reasons as I bawled her out). I mean, I guess she could have put the phone down and gone shopping, but I’m going to go with the fact that she actually listened.

After my tirade she admitted her flaws and we actually became much much closer. I love that girl.

That, however, was not a great lesson for me. Basically I learned that if I told someone to go fuck themselves, they’d like me better. That plus the ‘sticks and stones’ poem to back me up… And I was fearless.

I lost my shit in the Denver airport when an older gentleman aggressively rolled his suitcase over my foot to cut in line. I told him he was a piece of shit and that he would NOT be getting on the airplane in front of me. Naturally he was sitting in the seat next to me. And naturally I immediately put my arm on his arm rest and even if my arm went numb from gripping that arm rest, so help me God, I was not moving my arm. My stubborn gene is actually my strongest gene. Which explains Luke, my seven year old. My mom could not stop laughing and I’m pretty sure she peed in her pants. Actually… I moved my arm 30 minutes into the plane ride when he apologized and offered to buy me a drink. I ordered four and smiled sweetly at him.

Another time we were checking out in Napa and yet another male idiot pissed me off. There was a HUGE line to check out. My BFF and I were standing in said line while her husband and my then husband talked (probably about how they had had too much together time with their wives) and this dumbass walks in front of all of us to the “Express Checkout for Preferred Guest” and I was all, “Oh HELL NO.”

I walked up and tapped him on the back and said, “Um, excuse me, did you see this huge line? Or are you just blind and stupid?”

He replied by saying he was a Preferred Guest. I shook my head.

“You are a fucking moron. We’re all Preferred Guest. That’s why they gave us that stupid speech when we walked in and a bottle of wine. I’m sure you were too drunk or just stupid to remember that, but get to the back of the line JackAss.”

Seven months later my friends, God bless their souls, and I, were planning a baby shower for my BFF because she got wasted and had sex with her husband in Napa. Their were five of us throwing the shower and we had divided into two groups. Three against two. And one of the ones I was against was, like, one of my best friends. unfortunately she just mentioned having a shower some place I didn’t agree with and I said something along the lines of… I’m sorry, but no one wants to eat salmon and egg salad at 10:30 on a Saturday morning. And for the love of God, we’re having alcohol. It’s a BABY shower. You have to have alcohol at a baby shower. For one, everyone is either A) Hungover B) Had an abortion and we are making them feel guilty C) Desperately wants a baby and can’t get pregnant or D) Have NO desire to EVER have a baby and need alcohol to get through the event. Except I was way harsher in my dissertation. I also said that only a fucking moron would spend $5 A PIECE for a “gift” to give people who came. The gift is alcohol. DUH.

The girl, my good friend, and I, didn’t really speak for two years after that shower. She emailed me and said that no one had ever spoken to her like that, much less a friend, and she went on to make more valid points… I would like to report she and I are also friends now, and I love her to death. She is hilarious. And the best mom. And thin and gorgeous of course. Even though her sister does have better hair… That Becky…

But, while I have you on the subject of showers, may I purpose something? Never, ever, EVER open gifts at the event. No one cares. And that one person that does care, can go fuck themselves and walk around Buy Buy Baby. You’ll get the gist. You’re probably part of Group C anyway, and no one needs to see you cry while the girl that shouldn’t have alcohol opens pacifiers.

After all of that, I still never googled the poem. I just thought, if you can’t handle some mamby pamby words, you are a fucking pussy.

Then on Friday, my beloved nanny’s last day, when I was already quite emotional and into my Champs, my fiance and I had a fight. He said things, and then he got to hear a real diatribe. I woke up Saturday still licking my wounds and just started attacking again.

Turns out, there are some things you cannot take back. Words are extremely hurtful. And I must learn to use mine better. And not out of anger. Gee, I’m almost 40. Glad I’m picking up that kindergarten lesson now. Wonder what else I will learn this year? Endless possibilities.

The End of an Era

I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this post. I am absolutely terrible with change. Even when I know it’s coming. So, when my beloved nanny Thavone, told me when the boys returned to school it would be time for her to move on, I bawled like a baby. For a week.

Realistically I knew she would not be staying with us forever, but I definitely daydreamed that she would be there by my side, waving with me as I sent Luke and then Cole off to college.

When she leaves I know the boys will be fine.  Cole will be more upset than Luke, but I know they will both be okay. It is me that I am worried about.

Thavone has been with me for five years. She started the week after I brought Cole home from the hospital, and she was immediately family. Her family became my family and vice versa. Her daughter Jade helped out with the boys too, and every time I tell them Jade is coming they shriek with joy.

Friday is Thavone’s last day. Tears stream down my face as I think about it. I watched Jade graduate from TCU and move to France. I was excited when she came home. I remember when Thavone’s husband Phillipe got sick. I watched her care for him daily. I remember when Jade called and told her to come to the hospital now, that it was time. I remember watching in awe as Jade and Alex sang at the funeral, wondering where on earth they got their strength from.

Thavone would hold me as I cried in her arms. I cried because I didn’t know how to handle two kids. I cried because I was unhappy. I cried because I didn’t want a divorce. I cried because I did. I would cry and tell her my kids deserved someone else to be their mother. Someone like her. She was my angel when I needed one. But now her time with me is over. Because I have grown and I have changed.

We changed each other.

She showed me how to trust myself. She showed me that I was not only enough, but all my kids needed as a mother. And she assured me that I was the only mother they would ever want. She told me that I had given my children the two best gifts in the world — the gift of love, and the gift of freedom. Freedom to be who they want to be, and to encourage their individual spirits.

I taught her that it was okay to sometimes just throw caution to the wind. To let your hair down and not take yourself so seriously.

And there was so much more! There was such growth. As I struggled with my various situations, through all my tears… I grew. I learned that I was, in fact, stronger than I thought. I learned that because of what I have gone through, I will be able to help my children when they go through difficult situations. I understand their idiosyncrasies better than anyone, so who better are they to chart these crazy waters with? We were definitely meant to go through this together.

This week will come and go. And so will Thavone. Just like that, she’ll be gone. I know in my mind it is time, but my heart hurts just thinking about it. And as I know this week will be very bittersweet, I am reminded of one of my favorite quotes. It’s from Dr. Seuss, who reminds us, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” And today, that is what I will do.

I love you so much Thavone! Thank you for being the sister I never had. I know this transition might be a bit rough, but I know you will always be in our lives. And for that, I am forever grateful. Thank you for everything.


 

The finale of my Whole30

I was doing so good. I had made it through the 4th of July AND a weekend a Great Wolf Lodge. It was day 16, of my Whole30 and I broke. I broke when there was nothing going on. it was just July 16th and I didn’t have the kids that weekend and I wanted a margarita. And a taco. I had both. It was a delicious meal.

The next day, July 17th, I was so mad at myself. I could NOT believe I cheated. I was doing so good. I vowed to make the next 15 days cheat free. That lasted until the following Tuesday when I decided I could not let the taco Tuesday go by without participating. And I wanted another margarita.

The rest of July pretty much followed that pattern. Cheat. Feel bad. Do good. Repeat.

And here is my takeaway… Doing the Whole30 for 30 days would have been great. I was really excited about all the energy I was supposed to have by week three. I was on day 2 of week 3 when it all went to hell, and I must say, I was feeling better.

I lost 7 pounds, which I have managed to keep off. This is no small feat for me.  I have been unable to lose weight for over a year. I was unable to stop gaining weight for a while and I was getting really anxious about my appearance. So, while no one else can probably tell any difference in my appearance, I must say, I feel better, and I learned a few things.

So, to recap, the Whole30 is:

  • No added sugar or artificial sweeteners
  • No alcohol
  • No grains
  • No legumes
  • No dairy
  • No fun

Okay, I added the last one, but it’s true. So, the only thing I didn’t consume on the Whole30 was no added sugar or artificial sweeteners. No Diet Dr. Pepper, no Spark. I’ve had one Diet Dr. Pepper since the Whole30 and no Spark yet… The rest I have tried to only consume in moderation. I’m trying the 80/20 rule, where you eat clean 80% of the time. I must say, this last weekend I was terrible. I was maybe only 30% clean eating, and I am atoning for it this week.

If you are considering the Whole30 I definitely recommend the book. I’m only a few chapters in, and maybe after I read it I’ll try it again. The book is very informative and it’s easy to understand. It’s called It Starts with Food. I would also recommend ordering Chomp Sticks. They are Whole30 approved and delicious. And life saving.

But my biggest takeaway was this… My kids are young. Time is fleeting. I read all those mommy blogs that tell you to get in a bathing suit and get in the water with your kids. Don’t just sit there and watch your kids make memories while you sit on the sideline. Be right there with them. And that’s what I did this summer. I waved my white flag and surrendered. I know I don’t look my best, but you know what? Even though I care, those blogs were right. My kids don’t care.

My kids are happy when I’m with them, just hanging out, being present, not on my phone. Luke, who told me in April that I needed to lose weight, told me the other day that I looked good and he’d rather I eat ice cream with him then say I can’t, because it’s not on my diet.

That kid… I love him more than tacos.

 

Colorado, and the Russians

My BFF Jamie, that currently resides in Austin, is going back to the land where she belongs. Caalifornnniiiiaaaaaaaa, here she comes. Which, makes me super sad that I am not going to be able to jump in a car and see her in three hours. Now, it’s going to take much more planning. But that’s okay, San Diego is not to shabby. All that being said, we decided we needed to take a road trip before she departed.

Like most all things Jamie and I, Colorado was chosen on an impulse, booked and we were off. I love Jamie for her free spirit and sense of humor. She’s funny. And she doesn’t take herself to seriously. Two qualities I really admire in a human. At the end of any day and any situation, if you can sit down and find something and someone to laugh with, that’s pretty awesome. That’s my Jamie. And she loves doing bits. I mean… does it get any better? It does.

Jamie loves to do accents. I can’t do accents. I either sound Russian or Australian, usually a combination of the two. I know what you are thinking… Impressive. When we got to our resort in Vail and were taking in its awesomeness, we discovered two people on the patio below us. We couldn’t see anything but green shoes. I should mention that we had consumed a few drinks. And as usual, we think we are hilarious.

Jamie, or Olga, starts speaking in her Russian accent, about how we just got off the plane from a long flight. And how tired we are… And then I chime in, “but we must make good use of tickets from plane. Must find man, with, you know, a very large… bank account.” Then we die laughing. Jamie, er, Olga, decides we should go fishing for such men. Naturally, it makes sense to try the guys right below us.

I go looking for a notepad and pen, and we manage to scribble this…

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Then we decide to go ‘fishing’ for ‘large bank accounts’ You might wonder how one goes about this… Maybe this visual will help.

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See, you take the note, grab your fishing pole {in this case we used my phone charger} and voila. Drop lure to men below. Now, as you can imagine, you’re not always going to have good luck. These guys didn’t even bite. I can’t imagine why… But us Russian sisters who make great meatloaf don’t give up that easily. No, we took this bit to the streets of Vail.

We were off to lunch at the yummy Sweet Basil. Sweet Basil is right above Mountain Standard and they are owned by the same peeps. They are both divine, but if you are at the Mountain Standard, you must try the Corned Pork Shank. You will thank me. We didn’t order it, because we were morons and stuck with the salmon, but everyone else there was eating the Shank. And raving about how good it was. I’m going to go ahead and take everyone around us’ word for it. Not eating that shank is my biggest regret of the trip… Am I right Jamie?

Back to the story… Sorry, I get off track a lot {I’m sure you’re thinking ‘No Shit!’ Just know that I am aware you are thinking that, and I feel like the apology totally makes up for it. Plus my stories are totally worth it, so deal with it}. So, we are sitting on the patio at Sweet Basil taking in the view, when I notice a man sitting below us with a very shiny, very large… gold watch. He was obviously very proud of his watch too, because he kept propping his wrist up on the guard rail separating the restaurant from the sidewalk, which was far too high up for this ‘wrist propping’ to be natural.

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And this guy is clearly an asshole because he didn’t order the right thing. And he’s not a girl trying to watch her weight, so he should be eating the Shank. What a jackass. We immediately start speaking in our accents and ask the waitress for paper. I sprung into action.

Sure it’s bad lighting, but you get the point. The waitress was intrigued. Especially since we hadn’t been Russian when we ordered our food and subsequent drinks. As were the customers around us. “What are you doing?!” Ask the lady and her friend behind us. Jamie explained about needing to make good use of plane ticket as I weighted the note down with a rubber band and aimed for his table.

The note missed. The second one hit his table, and even though tables around us applauded, Dumbass didn’t notice the spitwad looking note next to his water. Third attempt hit the ground again. “Damnit!” I exclaimed loudly. Then I got up.

“What are you doing?!” Not even Jamie was prepared for what happened next. I walked down, picked up the note, and handed it to mister Dumbass, and kept walking. This is the note that finally made it to his table.


Naturally he found it hilarious. Even morons have a sense of humor. He came up to meet us.

And we introduced him to our friends.  You can tell how excited he is.

Then he ask us if we were really Russian. This guy… Is a smart one. Actually, Sean turned out to be a really nice guy. He works for Chipotle, and I spent over an hour talking about my love of tacos and asking for free food. I’m still waiting on that free burrito Sean. Don’t think I forgot about that.