Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Blow out

I arrived in Omaha just after 5pm and left the car rental counter at 5:45pm. At 6pm I'm certain I ran over something (though there was nothing in the road) because I have no control over the car. I pull over in a bit of a panic to a blown out tire...

After calling travel and travel calling the rental car company and 25 minutes of being on hold, the guy tells me it will 2 hours and someone will come change the tire for me. No new car? Same car and a donut?

So after a bit of irritation, I get out of my car in my four inch heals and skirt suit and changed tire. Record time I think.

Mad props to Lacey. Eff the car rental place.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

A Gay Novel

A Gay Novel
Originally uploaded by Lacey_Joe
Based on the cover of this book, one would suspect that they intend gay as in happy such as one's mother or grandmother may use the word. But how is a novel about a husband running away happy? It makes far more sense for it to be a homosexual novel... that would explain the husband running away and the look on the women's faces on the cover.

"Goodness June, I believe your husband is wrestling with mine!"

"Oh for heaven's sake Walter! What will the neighbor's say?"

TRE's friend who "claims" to be named Joe aka Old and Dirty

You know when someone tells you something and then they get a strange look on their face that says either "I'm lying" or "I can't stop myself from talking even though I know this sentence isn't going anywhere"? That's what I thought when I met Trinity Railway Express's friend Joe (so he says, though he is apparently referred to as Old and Dirty. On a side note, he admits to being dirty but disputes the old part, so Dirty it is... His name... a moment that seemed like a lie (even after he pulled out the drivers license).

So TRE goes to the bar to grab drinks and Dirty asks, "who all went to the concert?"

"Just us"

"Just the two of you? I thought it was a group of people..."


"Like a date?"

"He's your friend, maybe you should ask him."

"Do you like him?" (on a side note, this is getting a little 7th grade)

I reserve the rest of this very short conversation for those people who were there and remember it well... so just me. This conversation, the "I can't stop talking" variety.

TRE comes back from the bar, but this post is about Dirty... so you'll have to wait the alloted lag time to hear about the evening in regards to TRE.

Dirty has a few more drinks and every so often comes to talk to us. Each time with a random discussion to be had.

"I knew a guy that had his eyebrows waxed. They gave him a really high arch."
"Baseball players are not athletes."
"Tiger Woods hurting himself golfing!?! Come on... "
"I think she's a professional stripper."
"I have a ton of beer in my fridge, there is no room for food."
"I have a spare room you two can use."

So he made me laugh a lot. Same kind of funny as Morsal. So the awkward conversation and random comments result in another plus in TRE's favor. He has good friends. That says a ton about a person.

One last thing about Dirty. I told him to tell girls he worked at Lockheed to pick them up. He said that was a terrible way to pick up chicks and it would never work. Am I the only one who thinks smart guys are sexy? I think that pick up line would work... I'm mean, let's examine my adult relationship history... astrophysicist, mechanical engineer, aerospace engineer... nothing says hot like men who love math and science and building things. Yum.

Friday, June 20, 2008


I arrived at Central Market around 5:30pm with the express purpose of purchasing picnic food for Trinity Railway Express for tomorrow night. With Michel on the phone in one hand and a small basket in the other, I walked through the produce asking:

"Do cherries say 'ask me on a third date?' If he doesn't like me, I'm wasting a lot of time in here. I don't even know what kind of fruit that it. What about strawberries... do they say, 'ask me on a third date?' OH- Grapes! Wait, I have those at home. Is this enough food? What do you know about cheese? Do certain cheeses say, 'ask me on a third date?' I feel like I'm being tested. Do I need a cheese knife? What is a cheese knife? Does it say cheese knife? What if I pack the wrong things? Do nuts say, 'ask me on a third date?' Never mind, I'm sure they don't, you're right they would get stuck in my teeth... That might say ask me on a third date, but it would also say, 'don't kiss me I have nuts in my teeth.' I don't think men even think about these things. I should just throw a couple lunchables and a fruit rollup in the bag. Michel, are you still there?"

At this point I'm sure Michel wanted to kill me and felt he was being punished for something he had done in a past life. So I reluctantly let him off the phone... so I could call our mom and ask what she knew about cheeses and third dates and impressions that could be made by the contents of a picnic basket.

Being a fabulous mom and understanding my feelings of insecurity and anal retentive need for perfection, she looked online for info on cheeses, suggested that I buy some meat, and recommended that I steer clear of anything with mayo. You can always count on your mom for good advice.

Now the shocking truth of the matter. I spent 2 hours at Central Market only to leave with a feeling that I didn't make good food decisions and there was no way that Trinity Railway Express was even going to consider a third date much less a kiss. Bollocks.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

I think I like him, but he doesn't like tattoos

And as we all know, when I was 19 I thought I really needed one. So there it is, a permanent mark on my back (or at least mostly permanent since I guess I could pay in both cash and pain to have it removed...) that he doesn't like. Or I guess he doesn't like. I don't really know because he hasn't seen it and I was myspace stalking when I discovered that he doesn't like tattoos... among other things such as Ford, tomatoes and anything high maintenance.

That's beside the point though. I decided that we should go to the FC Dallas game 9he was smart enough to think of doing something in the air conditioning, but I refused the offer of a more pleasant climate in the hopes that his love of soccer would rub off on me and I would finally get it. Instead, I was distracted by the sexy appeal of tan, sweaty legs and eyes that make you want to curl up with someone (if it wasn't 101 degrees of course). So do I understand soccer any better? Maybe a tad, but mostly I'm just still thinking about tan, sweaty legs and amazingly warm eyes.