Typical

On Friday night Martin got me all excited for a night out. I put on my bright yellow cardigan, my go-to jeans, and my cowboy boots. I was ready to go. It was going to be a "safety meeting" at O'Malley's. By safety meeting, I mean because Martin is a truck driver they have to have mandatory safety meetings every quarter for insurance purposes. Basically whenever they all meet at the bar they have decided that this is also a safety meeting.

And then..we got there. Martin's friend Ryan and his wife Christina were supposed to come and this was the basis of my excitement for going out. Because I like Christina. But guess what? They didn't come. So it was me, Martin and three of his co-workers. And let me explain to you their idea of a "night out":

Sit around a bar and drink check.

Stare off into space for long periods of time with no conversation. check.

When deciding to speak, complain and make jokes about the dispatcher. check.

Dancing. no check. That's just something I would include in a good night out.

Animated conversation. no check there either.

Oh, and did I mention that as designated driver I was drinking water with lemon. check.

It's only because I love him so dearly that I put up with this. :-)

The Great Conversion

I used to think I didn't like hummus. I thought it was disgusting. Absolutely revolting. Not a respectable food. I'm not sure what the basis of these thoughts were. Most likely something along the lines of I don't like chick peas so I'm definitely not going to like hummus. 

But guess what? I love hummus. I would like to eat it everyday. It is without a doubt the most delicious and easy snack in my refrigerator. I am really partial to the roasted red pepper hummus from Aldi. It is so creamy and amazing. I eat it with peppers. I eat it with carrots. I eat it with celery. I eat it with pita chips. Sometimes I just eat it with my finger. I eat it for a side at lunch. I eat it for breakfast. I eat it for an afternoon snack. I eat it for a midnight snack. The possibilites of this are endless and I can't get enough!

But, I think possibly the most astonishing part of this hummus story is not that I am a converted hummus eat, but that Martin is. Yes, you heard that right. Martin actually said that he likes hummus.

The other day I was eating some hummus with celery before dinner (you know, ruining my appetite like my mother always told me not to) and Martin was making a salad for us to share.
Me: Hummus is just so delicious. Do you want to try some hummus, honey?
Martin: Not particularly. (puts on a disgusted face).
Me: Come on. Just try it.
Martin: Ok, fine. (looks at the giant scoop of hummus I have on the end of my celery stick) I don't want that much though.
Me: Ok. (sets down celery stick and then immediately picks it back up again) Ok. Here. Try it now.
Martin: Dutifully takes bite. Hmm. That is pretty good.
Me: See. It's delicious. Oh, and I didn't take any hummus off that stick.
Martin: Well I guess now you can write a blog about how you pulled the wool over my eyes.

And that is exactly what I rushed to do.

Go-To

Inevidently, I spend my time pondering things that are of absolutely no importance anywhere in life, and then I post them on here so you all can get a better grasp of the strange and demented thoughts that run through my head. So, when I am not thinking about work, annoying Martin, or overthinking something else that is right in front of my face I am overthinking things of complete and absolute unimportance and then documenting them for you. You can thank me later, don't worry.

Recently, I have been thinking about jeans. yes, jeans. This will be an entire post about jeans. Why? Who knows. I'm still trying to figure out why I'm so strange myself. Maybe you can help me. But, nonetheless, I've been contemplating jeans lately. Jeans are amazing. A good pair of jeans can not be beat. The right pair of jeans make you feel great, look great, and in essence, makes you great. At all times in my life starting when I got my first good pair of jeans, I have always had one go-to pair of jeans. At all times I have one pair of jeans that I know does the trick. That I love from the bottom of my soul and whenever I am going out I reach for them. (Even if that means reaching to the bottom of the laundry basket and, consequently, spraying them with Febreeze.) When times call for a good pair of jeans, there are no boundaries and no ethics.

I remember getting my first good pair of jeans like it was yesterday. I was 11. I was in fifth grade. Prior to then all my clothes had been seriously lacking. And then, then I was blessed enough to have friends that were bigger than me and outgrowing clothing that I would still fit into. On top of that these friends had parents that would buy them jeans from cool places in popular styles and let them wear them. Up until this point I had been mostly wearing hand-me-down dresses from dearest Katie Panek. And while these dresses were okay, Katie wore them in kindergarten while I, I was still wearing these lacey, kindergarten dresses in fourth grade. Not exactly a fashion statement. If I wasn't wearing Katie Panek's kindergarten dresses I was wearing straight leg, none-fitted, does absolutely nothing for your figure or for cool points jeans from Ames. So in fifth grade at age eleven when my friend Missy gave me a pair of LEI flare-leg jeans, I thought I died and went to heaven. These were absolutely the only pair of jeans that I wore. ever. Except when I went to the barn. These jeans were way to precious to get within 100 yards of cow manure. But I did wear them to the Catholic School Dance at Notre Dame and I just felt so freakin cool!

Then in the summer between eighth and ninth grade the rat race really started. I would no longer be attending Catholic School and would be going to public high school in the fall. Public High School. You can not go to public high school without good jeans. It's absolutely fatal to you entire existence. Luckily, I was blessed once again. My mom's, best friend's, younger brother's girlfriend (exhausting, I know) gave me a bunch of amazing hand-me-down clothes. She worked at Hollister and gave me a pair of flare-legged jeans from there. I was still am in love with them. Because I haven't really grown too much since high school, I absolutely wore these jeans to the ground. I wore them until both knees had gapping holes in them. At that point I was entering college and gapping holes in jeans were actually kind of stylish so I continued to wear these beauties. I still wear these from time to time but mostly only when I'm painting or doing something requiring shit jeans. But still not actually going in shit. A pair of jeans once too precious to go there never is lowered to that status.

After the Hollister jeans, I have three more jeans that I distinctly remember as being the jean. These last three I purchased on my own. They are all from Aeropostale. I know, I am the only person above the age of thirteen that still sets foot in that store, but their jeans fit me like a glove. I have tried jeans on from countless other places for much more money and I can't find anything that makes me feel like a 3/4 bootcut from Aeropostale. And I can basically always find these for $19.99. And they last me a few years. I have two in rotation right now that are both go-to jeans. Did you hear that two go-to jeans in rotation at the same time. I don't think that's ever happened since the dawn of time.

I went through a phase in time when I would buy jeans for $1.00 from the Salvation Army and then scream about what an amazing deal I had gotten and then wear them a handful of times because they really weren't that flattering. Now, I've matured. I've grown up. I've learned from my mistakes. I'll still buy jeans for $1.00 at Salvo, but only if they're the right jeans. I've finally learned not to waste my dollar on so-so jeans. Because a good pair of jeans is like a good man, worth waiting around for the right one.