Zach Made Me Do It

I have this ongoing argument with a friend of mine from work regarding television. We both pretty much love TV, so that's not the issue. The issue developed when he began badmouthing "Grey's Anatomy", just because he knows it became my new favorite show after "The West Wing" got cancelled last year. He hates Grey's because it's too superficial and unrealistic (as far as the medical cases go). Like any of us give two shits about whether or not a human being could actually survive having a 2 foot tree trunk lodged in their sternum or that two people could become attached by a big pole shooting through their chests as a result of some kind of crazy train crash or something. We care about the superficial stuff. Like whether or not George is going to take his hot girlfriend back even after she slept with McSteamy...who wouldn't sleep with McSteamy, by the way. We care about who Meredith is going to choose, Finn or McDreamy, even though it's always been quite obvious that she'd pick McDreamy...who wouldn't pick McDreamy, by the way. We care about Izzy cashing the 8 million dollar check and getting over cute Denny dying, and Berk getting his arm back so he can be a world-class surgeon again. There's no time to worry about the validity of the medical cases that they present to us.

As my revenge, I decided to hate his television obsession, which is the hit-series "Lost". I decided that the whole premise of the show kind of irritates me. A bunch of people stranded on some remote island, yet somehow they all have artillary? An airplane that literally busts in half for no apparant reason, and all those people....survive......?? It all seems a little too out there to grab my attention. I know, I know, they explain the whole thing and you just have to watch it in order to understand and the second you start watching, you'll be hooked. It'll be your brand new addiction, much safer than Blow. My severe, Type A stubborness would gladly take Blow over allowing myself to become just another Obsessed-Lost-Watcher.

That is, until now.

I had to report a possible change of heart to my work friend yesterday. It appears that one of the Obsessed-Lost-Watchers that I refuse to associate myself with, just so happens to be my favorite actor whom I lovelovelove, like, wallpaper-on-my-laptop love. Suddenly I find myself strangely drawn towards Blockbuster so that I can rent the first two seasons and watch them, all in one weekend. That's what my work friend says I'd do, because they're so good you can't just eat one.

So here I sit. Borderline sell out due to a school girl style celebrity crush, all of my principles hanging in the balance. How's that for drama?

St. Pauly Girl, Interrupted

Back from a little Northern Minnesota va-ca with St. Pauly Boy and the St. Pauly Girl In-Laws. We spend 4 nights at a resort on the north shore of Lake Superior. It's a family favorite spot, it's always gorgeous and relaxing. Well, at least the first two days were relaxing. Then it became more of a withdrawal from city life, which includes two of my favorite things: cell phones and internet access. Oh how I missed thee. And it also became a little hard to handle my mother's need for constant conversation, which is for the most part a revolving door of the same goddamn topics. My dear husband hung in there like a trooper, but honestly in the last couple of days, both of us were ready to get the hell out of dodge and back where our normal life of busy-ness and telephone-screening could ensue. I also miss my brother and [brand new] sis-in-law (who's really more like a real sis), who came back from their honeymoon on day 2 of our "relaxation". It'll be great to reconnect with the newlyweds over cheap beer and Monday Night Football this evening.

In conclusion, on our way home from the Way-North-It's-Almost-Canada, I was thinking that vacations in secluded locations when in-laws/parental units are involved can be like being in a mental institution. For the most part, there are good intentions. But a lot of times the outcome just makes you crazier than you were before.

And with that, on with normalcy....

Don't Hate Me Because I Like Her

As annoying as these two particular celebrities are, I can't help but think that the TomKitty is pretty freaking cute.

But it's not making me want to convert to Scientology. Just so that's clear.

It's Baaaaaaaaaaack!

That goddamn gray sweater.

We may need to organize an intervention. Any takers?

What Sorry Looks Like

I got this email forward with the subject line "What Sorry Looks Like..." and then it asked you to scroll down and here's what I found:



I think I just died inside a little.

The Wedding Bells Rang...And Everyone Escaped Without An Ass-Kicking

My little brother got married on Saturday. And it was perfect. Everything was awesome and beautiful and loads of fun. Here are the highlights, from St. Pauly Girl's perspective (in no particular order):

1) The limo ride. Champagne + 20 people crammed into a stretch Escalade = Fun Stuff.

2) The moment my brother asked the priest, "Is this the kissing part?".

3) The moment my new sister-in-law actually scooted her chair closer to my brother's, when they were sitting up on the altar after their vows.

4) Statements like, "Dude, nice ushing today." and "Seriously dude, I bridesmaided the shit out of this place today!".

5) The bride and groom pulling a $100 winner pull-tab at the bar before the reception.

6) The bride and groom getting in their first marital argument in the limo on the way to the reception.

7) The groom and his groomsmen/ushers taking a leak over the side of the pavillion while we were setting up to take photos by the river. (See #1 for further explanation).

8) The Bouquet Toss. Having been twirled around by the groom, the dizzy bride proceeded to toss* the bouquet forward against the wall instead of over her head to where the single ladies were anxiously awaiting the sire-fire sign of being the next lucky lady to land themselves a husband.

9) Piano Man. In true CSB/SJU (and Sal's Bar & Grill) tradition**, Piano Man is the last song of the night and consists of all attendees on the dance floor, in a circle, with their arms around one another, belting out the lyrics to the song as loud as humanly possible. An addition to this tradition***, the men in the circle drop their pants to their ankles and sing in their boxer shorts. Only at this particular reception, there was one woman in this circle who may have been a bit confused by the "men-only clause" on this portion of Piano Man and proceeded to lift her skirt, causing most of the men in the circle to either drool or become bitter that their wives don't wear hot black lace panties like this particular wife. To avoid any further familial embarrassment, I will refrain from identifying said woman. I can only say, it was an alcohol-induced confusion. And that it was not St. Pauly Girl.

10) The send-off of the happy couple. Romantic horse-drawn carriage. Bride wearing a cute white fur shawl. All of the wedding guests crowded on the sidewalk with noisemakers and applause. Bottles of Mich Golden Light in place of the champagne that the wedding party forgot to provide****, specifically to enhance the romanticism that is a carriage ride in Stillwater, MN. Waving to the back of the carriage as they rode away in wedded bliss, and proclaiming upon the realization of what had just been witnessed "My brother just rode off in a horse-drawn carriage. What the fuck?".

UPDATE:
11) The Best Man Speech. I'm biased, the best man was St. Pauly Boy. He did awesome.
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*And when I say "toss" I really mean overhand-throw-as-fucking-hard-as-you-can.

**At least in the late 90's and early 2000's.

***I made a rhyme! Yay!!!!

****Did said bottle of champagne get consumed by a particular pair of wedding party attendants? It cannot be fully confirmed, but can safely be assumed I think. And SPG will go ahead and take the blame for that one.

Wedding Bells Are Ringing...And St. Pauly Girl Is About to Kick Someone's Ass

Quote of the day: "Will the Best Man and the Groom please get their shit together, like, right now?"

That was me. Talking to the best man of my brothers wedding. The best man is my husband. The wedding is in 2 days.

Best. Meltdown. Ever.

Remember when I said that football was the root of all insanity? I was just being mildly sarcastic at the time. But as it turns out, there may be hard evidence in support of my claim.* Check out the audio clip within this post.

Perhaps sometimes the insanity is more humorous than others.

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*Special thanks to Matt at A.S.S. for calling our attention to this wonderful slice of radio.

Hello, Sports Fans!

Suggested reading -

Recap of our year in baseball.

My favorite highlights:

1) From the "Top Ten Injuries of the Year" -

Eighth Prize (Better to wiggle than waggle dept.): Brewers second baseman Rickie Weeks tore a tendon in his wrist -- while sitting in the dugout, waggling his bat back and forth.

2) The "Foul Ball of the Year" -

Just last weekend, Baltimore's Jay Gibbons pulled off a hitting feat that might be tougher than thumping five homers in one game:

He hit a foul ball into the stands -- that conked his own wife, Laura, in the rib cage.

3) From the "Quotes of the Year" -

• From rookie Rockies pitcher Justin Hampson (to the Denver Post's Troy Renck), after facing Bonds for the first time: "It was surreal being out there against Barry Bonds. I'm used to going against him in video games. It's a lot easier to make the pitches go where you want with the controller."

4) From the "Late Nighters of the Year" -

• Fifth Prize: from Jay Leno, on those two weeks in July when the Dodgers forgot to win: "[That's] 11 losses out of 12 games. In fact, today the IRS said they would no longer let the Dodgers deduct their bats as a business expense."

5) Oh, and the Twins winning the AL Central yesterday wasn't bad either.

He Charges By The Hour

St. Pauly Boy is working on a special project for me. I just thanked him and he said "Yeah, well I charge fifty bucks an hour." So I told him I'd pay him with sex. Hot sex. And he looked me right in the eye and said...

"I think I'd rather take the fifty bucks."

Open letter to all husbands/boyfriends/life partners of the universe:

Dear Husbands, Boyfriends, Life Partners of the Universe,

Do not ever, ever complain about the lack of sex in your life when you tell your significant other that you'd rather take the money.

Kthanksbye.
St. Pauly Girl

The Story of Us

LPO and I used to be roommates. It seems like a long, long time ago. We were horrible housekeepers. Total slobs. We never bought groceries, never vacuumed, and left our clothes in the laundry room for days. We partied hard on weekends (& sometimes on week nights) and we mostly laid around and watched TV. The best thing about LPO was that we liked the same TV, for the most part. I could handle all the Sports Center and he could handle all of the reality show drama. About 3 months into our roommatedom, I met St. Pauly Boy. It wasn't an instant, I'm-so-in-love-I'm-running-away-with-him-right-now situation. The whole relationship thing made me very nervous. Uncomfortable, even. Prior to SPB, I was used to being the pursuer. I wanted to be the pursuer. I was comfortable being the pursuer. It's a control thing. But with SPB, it was different. Suddenly I was the pursuee, and it felt very strange. So I acted like a total chump. I mean, what else do you act like when you feel strange?

SPB was living in The OC full-time at this point in our relationship. In fact, he moved there to live and work, full-time, just 2 days after our first date. Which was 2 days after we met*. For the first month, he came to visit me every other weekend. Then he made the ultimate "I'm into you" move. He flew home from CA and then drove 8 hours into Wisconsin to meet up with me and 30 of my closest friends (including my only brother) for a camping trip and a couple of Dave Matthews concerts. I was so freaking nervous, sitting in my campsite surrounded by my friends, thinking about him driving down 94, wishing I had cell phone access to call the whole thing off and send him back home. So I pounded a few beers. I felt better once he got there.

Back to the acting like a chump thing. After the camping trip experience, he went back to CA for a couple weeks and then made arrangements to fly in for a weekend to see me. The night of his arrival, LPO and I had some friends over and I remember my stomach turning into knots at the thought of him. When he called to tell me that he'd landed, I told him that I didn't feel like hanging out that night and that maybe, just maybe I'd call him the next day. I could tell that he was crushed. And it really only made me feel worse. It was LPO and our mutual friend Rice who talked me down from the ledge. The two of them were talking about how much they liked St. Pauly Boy and how they would actually miss him if I broke it off. Sitting there listening to them talk about my boyfriend that way really triggered something in me. But I was too shy to fix it. When Rice offered to call him back and tell him to come over, I said yes. How awkward for SPB. His girlfriends [male] friend, that he's met twice, calling him up and re-inviting him over after she had made it clear she didn't want to see him that night. He wouldn't commit until I came to the phone and validated Rice's invitation. And I did.

After that night, I let myself love him. LPO was a big part of that. I'm not sure he knows.

LPO met his soulmate just another month after I met St. Pauly Boy. The 4 of us are very close. We all participated in each others weddings. We live pretty close and try, with all of lifes craziness, to get together on a regular basis. LPO and South St. Pauly Girl are one of the 3 people who actually read my blog! Now that's love. LPO and I laugh about how if neither of us had met our spouses, we'd still be living together in a messy apartment with no groceries and laundry overflowing. But I'm pretty sure we both agree that our current lives are too good to trade.

The inspiration for telling this story came last weekend when we got together with LPO and his South St. Pauly Girl and they announced that there is a little one on the way. I know my initial reaction was "OMG, you're going to be a dad!?!?", LPO, but honestly, I can't imagine anyone being a better one. I'm so happy for you guys and I can't wait until South St. Pauly Girl starts craving pickles and ice cream.

Here's to Gilly!!

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*The first meeting of SPG & SPB is somewhat controversial. We actually met twice before, but neither meeting was a positive experience**, so I count our first official meeting as the first time I actually really talked to him. That's the day I'm talking about here.

**He thought I was cute, I thought he was an ass.

I Win, I Win!

Last Friday night we were hanging out with my brother and future SIL and St. Pauly Boy was showing off his juggling skillz for us. He was using softballs. They ain't soft, people. SPB is sporting a sweet black eye right now. He looks tough. It kind of turns me on.

Anyway, last night over calzones, we were discussing the ridicule he was about to endure from his coworkers the next day in the office. When I asked him how he was going to explain his war wound, he said, "I'm gonna tell them it was ninjas". I bet him that everyone in his office would ask if his wife kicked his ass*. I bet him toilet duty for 1 whole month.

Get the scrub brush out, baby, that toilet is gonna shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!

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*DISCLAIMER: St. Pauly Girl is not a husband-beater nor does she condone domestic violence in any way.

Football Is The Root of All Insanity

I love football. I really really do. But I'm so tired of how insane it causes people to behave. Or maybe the more accurate way to state it would be how insane people allow themselves to behave when it comes to football. I've always had an issue with this aspect of the game. It's taken too seriously, professional players make way too much money and are not held responsible for their actions in society nearly enough, fans take the devotion of their favorite team to a level that is quite frankly ridiculous, and this is to just name a few. A good friend of mine was at the Vikings v. Bears game at the Metrodome this weekend. He's a die-hard Bears fan, born and raised in Chicago where he still lives, and went to the game to cheer for his team. Last time I checked, that wasn't illegal or wrong in any moral sort of way. But he was straight up harassed by Vikings fans at the Dome, who went further than just throwing things at him during the game (which is, let's face it, a normal action that occurrs at lots of football stadiums around the country when it comes to fans of the visiting team). These fans made it racial. They brought back the "n" word. I guess you could say the "n" word never truly went away, I guess it was just my hope that it had. It's so disappointing. Why do people have to act this way, just because you root for opposing teams? I'm all for a little light hearted trash talking, but come on people, this is fucking ridiculous.

I want to keep enjoying the NFL. I love the drama of it, week in and week out, but the hype is getting hard to handle. Rivalry is not an acceptable excuse for people to act like ignorant hicks. Why can't we all just get along?

The Source of Random Laughter

A coworker just informed me that when I move to the cube across the floor from her, she's going to miss my random laughter. That's cute. Here is the source of my [current] random laughter, which in turn inspired her to tell me that she'll miss me:

Hey Baby/Control+Alt+Delete

If I Could Be Queen For Just One Day

Along with Squab's, the following would apply in the Republic of St. Pauly Girl.

To be banned from The Republic:

1) Project plans and/or status reports
2) The following phrases: "inform the plan", "guidepost", "solve-for", and "vetting".
3) Incentive bonuses
4) Cubes
5) Paris Hilton (and anyone in her posse)

To be mandated in The Republic:

1) Bonuses. Straight up. Big ones.
2) Chinese delivery no matter where you live.
3) Free HBO
4) All fashion models must weigh no less than 150 pounds.
5) Dog walking services come with purchase of the dog.

A View from St. Pauly Girls Shoes

Get to work way early in order to organize yourselve for the meriad of questions that you have for your Project Manager and teammates. Go sit at the table where the meeting is to take place. When no one shows up, go back to your desk and decide to take your recycling to the copy room. When you're on your way to the copy room, you happen to pass by your collegues cube where your PM is meeting with of your teammates, although the meeting was deemed unnecessary. On your way back from the copyroom, you notice that your PM is now meeting with your other teammate, and assume that your PM is making the rounds to each teammate individually. When you stop to ask if the regular meeting is to still take place, you're told that everyone decided we didn't need it. You wonder why, if they don't "need" the meeting, they're still technically meeting. You also wonder why you were not consulted upon the cancellation of said meeting when you're the one who has a list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks a million miles long yet you're the only one who doesn't get to meet because the meeting was deemed unnessary. Tell your PM you wish to speak with her and receive a positive response. Go back to your desk and twiddle your thumbs, look busy just in case the CIO walks by (which he tends only to do when you take a moment to surf the web). You can hear your PM talking to one of your teammate about various things and you're pretty sure she's not coming over to speak with you about your list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks, so you say "Screw it", to yourself, not outloud, throw your list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks away (as their relevance is apparently insignificant) and go down to Caribou for your Medium Light Roast - no room for cream. When you get to the Bou, the line is 150 people long, but you decide it's worth it and proceed to wait. When you finally get to the counter, not only do you get 10 cents off even though you didn't even attempt to answer the trivia question, but you also get a free upgrade to a Large. A Large! With no room for cream! Contented, you walk back up to your desk and decide that your day will be devoted to keeping up to date with Go Fug Yourself, as your list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks has seemed to resolve itself. You sip your coffee and look forward to leaving work early as a personal reward for coming in before the sun came up.

Pat yourself on the back, St. Pauly Girl. Job well done.

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UPDATE: Get an email from your PM saying she's at her desk if you want to swing by. When you look at the clock you realize that you have another meeting starting in 2 minutes. You proceed with your original plan for the day and do not respond.

You know you missed a dose of your Zoloft when....

...you can't stop crying because the Crocodile Hunter is dead. Yes, it's a tragic story but it's not like I know the guy. I cried like it was my grandfather's funeral. Unreal.

I'll be getting right back to my Zoloft now, thankyouverymuch.

Rest in Peace, St. Pauly Girl

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

You Can Take the Girl Out of the Midwest, But You Can’t Take the Midwest Out of the Girl

St. Pauly Boy and I traveled to good ol’ Orange County, CA for a mini-vacation this past weekend. The trip was encouraged by a Dave Matthews concert in Irvine, which happens to be where SPB’s apartment is, where he stays when he travels there for business. We turned it into a long weekend where we spent time relaxing, driving down the coast, eating out at fabulous restaurants, and wave jumping at the beach.

There are many great aspects of SoCal, one being the amazingly & consistently perfect weather. It was sunny and warm everyday and never too hot to be uncomfortable. But the weather cannot deter us from outlining our negative experiences in The OC. Both SPB and I feel the same about this area of the country….too many snobs, too much materialism, too much fake-wealth*, too many fake boobs, too many Coco Chanel sunglasses, too many strip malls, office parks, and actual real-sized malls, and way too much traffic on The 405. Maybe it’s just me, but seeing a license plate on the back of a Lexus that says “PAMPRRRR” does not make me envious of the owner/leaser of that car. It makes me sad that they feel it necessary to display their materialistic lifestyle for the world to see. Now, I’m not suggesting that SPB and I don’t have our fair share of unnecessary material items or “toys”, if you will, but in our humble area of the country it seems to be a lot less in-your-face than it is in The OC. It’s a way of life out there. It’s a standard. You must have expensive things in order to survive. At least that’s how it feels to a lowly Midwestern girl, such as myself. I realize there are probably some very normal folks out there, it’s unfortunate that they are overshadowed by all the assholes.

We spend one of our relaxing days on the beach, which I haven’t actually done since I was about 17 years old and took a trip to South Carolina to visit a high school friend over the summer. I had to relearn the ways of the ocean that day. How to keep yourself from falling over when even the teeniest of waves hits your legs. How to walk through the sand without completely falling over. How to dig yourself out of the hole that the tide pulls you into on it’s way back out to sea as the next wave competes with it’s direction. Quite frankly, it scared me. The power of the waves is not something that I take lightly. I’m not even a big fan of swimming in rivers, much less a body of water where it’s physically impossible to see to the other side, much less swim to it. But what I did love is the sense of pure exhaustion that you leave the beach with, like your body is telling you “THAT’s what exercise feels like you big lazy piece of shit!”. I certainly slept good that night.

Another accomplishment that I am proud of from my CA weekend is my new taste for Sushi. SPB is a sushi-connoisseur, of sorts. Obsessed with all things raw w/seaweed & rice. I’ve tried my hand at the California Roll and even a bit of Unagi (which is actually cooked, I come to find out, making it much less frightening). But when asked what I thought after cramming the whole piece of Eel in my mouth, I replied with “Well, it’s definitely fishy.” But my sushi-lovin’ husband took me to his favorite sushi spot in Seal Beach, a restaurant called Koi. And let me tell you, I’m on the bandwagon now. I had Toro, Saki, and Unagi and I loved every little bite. It was music to SPB’s ears, let me tell you.

When we weren’t out to eat or laying on the beach, we were vegging-out in the apartment watching the Boob Tube.** Before SPB even got out of bed on Saturday, I managed to watch 3 Cary Grant movies in a row and could have stayed for the remainder of the Cary Grant Marathon on TCM. How easy it is to get sucked in by him. I don’t regret a single moment.

We did have our very first celebrity citing after 4 weekend vacations to SoCal. We arrived early to the LAX on our way home on Sunday afternoon so we decided to actually use SPB’s membership to the Northwest World Club (a.k.a. vip lounge mainly used by business travelers who’s company pays for the membership but it’s not worth paying for yourself because it’s pretty much a huge let down). I was filling up my Sierra Mist from the soda fountain and I heard a guy say “We’ll be ready for you in 10 minutes, Mr. Norton”. I didn’t think anything of it until I turned around and was face-to-face with Ed Norton. He made eye contact with me and all I could do was grin at him, which I’m sure looked really fucking stupid, but he grinned back and I was on my way. I sat down next to my husband and stared at the back of his head while I pretended to read my book. When the man came back to collect Mr. Norton, I watched as he took his time to finish his text message on his Blackberry, gathered up his backpack, threw on his sunglasses (s.e.x.y., not gonna lie to you), and proceeded to follow his butler (or whatever that guy was). I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I’m not used to seeing celebrities in person, it’s only happened a hand-full of times. So I stared. I didn’t realize it, but I stared. I’m a humble Midwestern girl with absolutely no idea how to behave in the presence of movie stars. He didn’t seem to care, he was a pretty laid back airline customer who was just trying to get where he was going. After he left, I decided that I very much needed to sit in his chair. So I did. And when it was time to board our flight, we left the World Club and proceeded to our gate and SPB took the opportunity to get his fair-share of the Norton Ass Juice (his words, not mine) by grabbing my butt. I was bummed Ed*** wasn’t going to Minneapolis. I wanted to spend more time gawking.

All in all, it was a fabulous trip. But as the flight captain welcomed us to the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul after landing, I felt home again. And home is where my professional sports teams are, so I think we’ll call it home forever.


P.S. The concert was cool too.
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* If you lease a Range Rover or a Hummer, you are not “wealthy”. If you carry a 100,000 debt on your credit cards and lease a “luxury” apartment for $5000 a month, you are not “wealthy”. That sort of thing.

** Don’t lecture me about laying around watching TV when I’m in a place like CA where I should be outside enjoying the beautiful weather. It’s my damn vacation.

*** I think it’s ok with him that I call him Ed after we shared that very intimate moment at the airport.

Weekly Recap: St. Pauly Girl's Lessons Learned

1. Make sure your alarm clock is set to the appropriate AM/PM setting.

2. Always double check that the windows on your car are rolled up when there's a possibility of rain in the forecast. Triple check the sunroof.

3. Don't take your meds on an empty stomach. They aren't kidding around when they say that Dizziness is a strong possibility as a side-effect.

4. The dog doesn't always understand that the screen door is not supposed to function as a "doggy door". May need to keep the storm door closed at all times unless you are into the Ghetto Fabulous look of a torn screen door.

5. Always answer your phone when a Montpetit is calling.