Monday, June 29, 2009


So I didn't write a longer post this weekend...oops. But I figured this would make up for it, sent to me by one of my favorites:

Thursday, June 25, 2009

I know I've been delinquent

Will try to write a longer post this wknd.

Anyway, just a couple of thoughts, linked by my immaturity and their general subject:
  1. Another word I wish I used more often -- "balls." Not like, ya know, balls balls, but balls as an, "Oh, balls, I forgot to put the milk in the fridge." I understand that it refers to that type of balls when you use it that way, but it doesn't seem quite as unsavory.
  2. I was trying to find a new font to type my e-mail in this morning and I came upon "Harvey Balls" and I giggled. Honestly, who names a font Harvey Balls and thinks it's a good idea?
  3. UPDATE (from later in the same day): One of my pet peeves -- when people say words that have been adopted into the English language but have their origin in another language, and say them with the accent of their original language - ie mozzarella. Stop it. Annoying. Besides, didn't most words in the English language come from another language in the first place?

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

I feel the Santa Ana winds blowing

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore. Dream. Discover.”

- mark twain

I wanted to start an entry about my recent travels with an inspirational quote. Did it work for you? It worked for me.

I realized while blogging about books that I've been traveling a lot lately - mostly because I could only recall the books that I've read recently by thinking about flights I've been on. I went home for Mother's Day...and it was so nice to be home. Virginia is so green and rolling and beautiful...and then I came back to Ohio.

In Virginia, I am reminded of being a child. When I go back there, I not only go back home, but I also go back in time to a period when I was responsible for nothing. I'm sure at a certain point in my life I will look back on this period and think I was still responsible for nothing - but life feels heavier now. How's this for an uplifting blog entry? Maybe this is why I want to throw off the bowlines.

After Virginia came a couple of weeks in Columbus...On one of those weekends I had my first ever ride in a Porsche (Cayman S)...and then Memorial Day weekend in Vegas with friends (eeeeeeeeeeee!!). You wouldn't think it, but I love Vegas. Love it. I think Vegas is an adult playground in which any type of person can find their own tiny, perfect experience. I went with two of my best (guy) friends and we were basically irresponsible for almost 5 days straight. It was glorious. Sun, alcohol, gambling, and an excuse to wear cocktail dresses and ridiculous heels 3 nights straight? Yes, please. I randomly won $81 on our flight out to Vegas (thank you, Southwest) in a game played with the other passengers, and then won an additional $70 on a slot machine. I was quite excited. I met Elvis (or maybe one of his cousins) at a club called XS...where there were guys LEGITIMATELY MAKING IT RAIN. Like, totally gangster (gangsterrrrr) dudes just making. it. rain. It was so BA. Then one of my recent dreams came true and they played "Swing Ya Rag" by TI while I was in a club. I never really thought I would be that cool. Granted, I squealed like a little girl when it came on, but I still think it's valid. I'm cool. I go to clubs in Vegas. Whatever. Of course other ridiculous things happened in Vegas, but what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

So I came back from Vegas two weeks ago and then this weekend I went to Nashville with three friends...for no reason in particular, really, other than that the friends were going to a concert and it is one of their birthdays this week. So get this. We get to Nashville on Friday night and immediately begin drinking at the free happy hour provided by our hotel (Don't mind if I do, Embassy Suites). I was two drinks in when my best friend called me and tried to discuss something with me that involved decision making skills, and I responded with "I'm two drinks in at this point, you can't ask me these questions right now." We go out that night on Broadway - eat a bbq dinner (at Rippy's) where they serve corn pancakes alongside our meals. Corn pancakes. It was brilliant. We later figured out that we ate ONE MEAL in Nashville that was not accompanied by pancakes of some sort. Remind me again why I do not live there? To work off the bbq-coma, we went to Tootsie's and sang and stomped along with the live band(s).

Notes to self that I had forgotten since my college experience:

1) You love country music.

2) You love country men.

Later that night we were walking from one bar to another and we saw a bunch of horse-drawn carriages lined up on the street waiting for people to drive around. One of those horses had a dog standing on its back. Of course, my first reaction was "PUPPY!," but as I watched the dog, I noticed that it was tense and its legs were trembling slightly. I'm sure it did the trick all the time, and it worked, its driver got passengers before all the other drivers, but it looked nervous, and (please indulge me for a moment) I identified with the dog. It was performing for a moment, trying to make its owner happy, just waiting and remaining silent until it could jump back to the driver's seat and curl up comfortably. I felt like the dog because all I wanted to do was go home - but I was trying to appear to be having a good time because I didn't want to be Debbie Downer. My friends continued on to another bar but I went back to the hotel and got in bed with a book. Say what you want. I know I'm 25 and I turned down a night of continued drunkenness and partying in Nashville to hang out in a hotel room by myself, but I realized that I don't want to be like that dog. I'm the only one who can make myself happy. So I did.

The next day we went to the Pancake Pantry in the morning (let's be honest, afternoon) for brunch...delicioso. I can strongly recommend the chocolate chip pancakes. And the eggs. And the sausage. And the Diet Coke. Reminiscent of the Tavern in Charlottesville for all the other Wahoos reading this blog. We then strolled around area surrounding Vanderbilt, and I forced my friends to walk across Vanderbilt's campus until we arrived in the Greek area and I was able to take a picture in front of the XO house (I'll post it later, am lazy right now). We went back to the hotel and had a bit of a break after the sugar rush from Gigi's Cupcakes (across from our hotel on Broadway, if you're going to go I recommend the Wedding Cake cupcake and do not recommend the Root Beer or Red Velvet cupcakes) and then the boys and I went back out to Broadway while Kelly stayed in for a nap.

We were browsing in Hatch Show Print when the following life-defining moment happened:

(door jingles, a few men walk in, my back is turned to the door)

"Well...this isn't the guitar shop" (says a man in a British accent)

"Well then where do you think the guitar shop is?" (asks another man in a British accent)

(I turn around to inform the fellow tourists of the location of said guitar shop which I happened to pass one block away the night before and my heart LEAPS INTO MY THROAT because I have come FACE TO FACE with Chris mother-effing Martin. Chris Martin. Lead singer of Coldplay. Husband of Gwyneth Paltrow. Father to Apple and Moses. And the rest of the band but let's be honest I don't know their names. I begin hyperventilating and spin back around.)

"That. Is. Coldplay. I think that is Coldplay." (I say to my friend in between rapid breaths as I stand a little too close to him in an attempt to not let Coldplay HEAR that I was informing the very small shop of their presence) After leaving that friend in a state of shock similar to my own, I sidle up to the other friend who had come with me (again, getting inappropriately close) and tell him of their presence. I was speechless. I could not form words. I continued to breathe heavily, blush, and occasionally giggle nervously. Chris Martin is one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen in person. And surprisingly tall. Eventually, they left the store. Naturally, we followed them to the guitar shop where they were JAMMING. Wow. Wow. It took me roughly an hour to find my words.

During the same trip I also bought the "Bb" t-shirt from American Apparel (which I had been hunting for for a few months), so all in all, a success. Oh, and I trudged through the ghetto of Nashville (in cowboy boots) to find Jack White's recording studio - note to other tourists - closed on the wknds.

My friends went to the Coldplay concert that night, and while Coldplay IS the best band I've ever seen live, I decided to opt out of the concert and went to dinner with a sorority sister instead. We went to a restaurant called Demos' not far off the main drag of Broadway. Post-dinner, I went to a restaurant on Broadway called Merchant's to have dessert and a drink. I ended up sitting at the bar eating my cheesecake (crust better than the cake itself, if I went back I would order the chocolate chip bread pudding), drinking Pinot Grigio, and falling in love with the bartender Nate. We talked through three glasses of wine and I learned that Nate was an aspiring musician (drummer, inspired by Radiohead), originally from Vermont, 2nd oldest of 6 children, who has been living in Nashville for 3.5 years and likes bartending because the schedule is flexible. He's never been further west than Nashville but wants to visit Vegas and LA. And I love him. In an uncharacteristic move, I did NOT leave him my phone number...but I imagine that if I write a novel someday, he will be a character. Hell, maybe my life will turn out to be a Nicholas Sparks book and I will end up with him. Eeee.

Another person I met at that bar who will be a character? The guy who sat next to me and told me that he lives close to the Embassy Suites and frequently stops in to take advantage of their free breakfasts...and now will take advantage of their free happy hours since I gave him my extra room key. Pretty sure my friends are going to bring that one up for roughly 10 years. Yep, Bridget did something irrational and vaguely dangerous because she hates her life lately...shocking.

Yesterday we went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum - in my opinion, not worth the $20 entry fee - and a "New York Diner" called Noshville - not worth the "best deli in Nashville" award it's received a few years running. Eh, I don't know, the avocado/tomato/monterey jack omelette certainly wasn't bad...and the potato pancakes were also good...but I do think I could have made it myself. Not overly impressive. Maybe I just didn't order the right thing. Points for the clever name, though.

I am currently blogging from home base in Cbus, but pack up again tomorrow and board a plane early Wednesday morning to spend the remainder of the week in Hilton Head. Send me warm weather and sunshine thoughts - for myself, my best friend, and two good friends who are marrying this weekend. Oh, and at some point, please remind me again how I became old enough to have friends getting married.

Cheers to you, friends, and the places the winds will take you.