Not All Tornadoes Go to Oz

First things first – I had the most lack-luster make-out dream ever last night.  No, no, not a sex dream - just a good ol’ make-out dream. 

A boy (will I still be calling them boys when I’m 60 years old?) I have a crush on was hanging out with me, then we started making out and it was… well… blah.  Even in the dream world, my internal dialogue was all clinical and “Ahh, yes, there is a tongue in my mouth and scratchy man-face against mine.  That’s what is happening.  I guess I can allow this to continue and study the effects of this tongue and man-face for a little longer.” 

So I woke up about as far from hot and bothered as it gets.  And really, I guess that’s not such a terrible thing.  But really, Mr. Dream?  Let’s work on the fantasy a bit, mmmk?

In other news - We had tornado warnings allll over the place Wednesday night.  I think the sirens sounded off four times between 5pm-9pm.  When the sirens go off it means that either a tornado has been sighted, or a thunderstorm severe enough to cause a tornado with some swirly clouds (that’s the technical term, btw) has been spotted nearby.  You are supposed to take cover.

Iowa as a whole mostly looks just like this.

Flat.  Flat.  Flat.

Prime tornado country.

But Dubuque – Ahh, good ol’ Dubuque.  With our Mighty Mississippi barrier to the East and rolling river-valley hills to the West, Dubuquers tend to feel impenetrable when it comes to tornadoes.  For most of my life tornado sirens have been met by the locals with an uncontrollable urge to go stand outside and dare the bastardly tornado to even just try to fuck with our city.

But then I started living alone.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but living alone leaves me with this fear of dying alone and my family not being able to find my body and well… let’s just say it causes me to be a tidbit overreaction-y.

The first time the sirens went off Wednesday night, I was home alone.  I was sitting on my couch reading Insurgent (which is good and you should read the first book Divergent if you haven’t) so I was already tense with adrenaline and kind of living in a post-apocalyptic world in my head.   Then the sirens started blaring outside of my windows and rain came pouring down.

Of course, I stayed calm.

Calm like a dragon in a straw-hut village.

I quickly changed out of my work clothes into jeans, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt and hiking shoes.  Then I put all of this stuff in my Camelbak:

No, I have no idea how I got it all in there along with three liters of water.  Decades of playing Tetris, perhaps? 

Yes, I might have been a bit over-prepared for a tornado.  Because even if a tornado were to strike, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be like the apocalypse so most some of those things might not have been absolutely necessary.

But I think it’s safe to say I’ve got fire covered. 

And gigantic sword-y-knife-y-thingies that are completely impractical but are also kind of my security blanket.  So SUCK IT.

Then I walked downstairs to go chill out in my building’s basement just like every other overly (and impractically) prepared person would do.  But when I got there, I saw that a lot of my neighbors were sitting around in the basement, looking bored and playing on their cellphones.  When I walked in, completely geared up, they all looked at me with more than a little bit of fear in their eyes.

It didn’t help that my allergies were so bad that I was completely makeup-free and hair-product-free so I looked like… well… like this –

I wouldn't say this is the LEAST attractive picture ever taken of me, but it's right up there.

And that’s when my fear of rejection won out over my fear of death.  So I decided to do what every good Dubuquer does –

I went and stood outside to look for tornadoes.

And as usual, we were protected from the tornadoes once again. 

Han came over after the first tornado scare and we hung out watching Game of Thrones (OMFG SEASON 3!!).  His addition to my party of one emboldened me and every time the sirens went off for the rest of the night, we just simply walked outside to check out the weather.  Doing so ended up being the right choice because once the torrential downpours stopped, t was damn pretty outside.  We stood outside and watched the lightning exploding in the sky for a half hour and I took some pictures.

You'd think he was posing for the picture

I dare you to use that water-logged walkway

At least now I know that I have the mental capacity even when panicked to pick up at least some stuff that might help me survive if the situation should arise. 

Zombie Apocalypse?  Come at me bro!

I hope you’re all surviving your own spring weather!

Much Love,

Annie Jay

Navigating The Friend Zone

I spend my time in the company of many men.

Oh Jesus…that is not supposed to sound nearly so “I rent hotel rooms by the hour”. 

We’re off to a good start here.  *ahem*

So.  

Dudes - I hang out with a lot of them.  I like to play video games; talk about sci-fi and politics; and have a dark sense of humor - these are all things that I find more commonly in men than I do in women (please forgive me for making gender-biased generalizations).  

Plus, men are just nicer to look at ;-)

This is always how my life has been and it’s been pretty damn good for the most part.  But the problem with this is that at all times, there's almost always someone stuck in… drum roll please…

The Friend Zone

Those of you who have lived in some mythical fairyland where the people you lust after lust after you equally - or who have been happily married since you were five-years-old - might not really understand the consequences of being in The Friend Zone.  

The Friend Zone is that dreadful limbo where you are stranded after meeting the man/woman of your dreams.  You begin to fantasize about a life together - a life filled with shared XboxLive accounts; couples' vacations to Comi-Con; and finally living that Han Solo/Princess Leia fantasy.

But then reality sinks in and instead of falling passionately in love, you fall madly into a brotherly friendship where high fives are the closest you’re going to get to bumpin and grindin.

We’ve all been there.  Every single one of us has at one point or another been in The Friend Zone.  I think I can also say with confidence that we have all, at some time in our lives put someone in The Friend Zone. 

None of us enjoy being there but we all tolerate it. Why?

We tolerate it because being granted with the company of the object of our affections is better than being shunned by him/her altogether.  And we just know that time - sigh - time is all we need.  We'll keep plodding along with the “friendship”.  We'll keep dropping everything and everyone to spend five minutes with our Friend.  We just know that if we're able to keep up the “friendship” that one day the stars will align and he/she will realize the mad love he/she has for us after all!

Because that's the beauty of The Friend Zone; it's never really about the friendship, it's about hope.  It’s about the hope that one day they will see you the way you see them.

So we live on in this charade of "friendship" and continue to pine away; chipping away at our souls bit by bit each day.

We laugh awkwardly and smash TVs whenever they mention a new romantic interest.  We hope that one day they’ll be drunk enough to awkwardly make out with us and awaken the sexual tension that has been brewing for years.  When we are on vacation, we dream about the return flight and how they’ll be waiting at the gate for us with tears in their eyes and a sign that says “Friendship Isn’t Enough”. 

We’re waiting for that grand awakening moment.

STOP IT.

Just. 

Stop.

Waiting.

Whether or not that day ever comes, I can guarantee you that it will never happen if you just continue to hang on to your fantasy.  Maybe it’ll happen, maybe it won’t.  But sitting around, waiting for that person to finally come to their senses is only hurting you in the long run.  They aren’t ready to wake up and see the awesomesauce that is you.

But someone else is.

I can guarantee you that someone else out there right now is looking for the Princess Peach to their Mario.  But you’re not going to see them if you keep holding on to your fantasies about your Friend.

Get out of The Friend Zone and throw your hot ass back into the world of single, smart, beautiful people just waiting to throw you against the wall and have their way with you until Happily Ever After.

Much Love,

Annie Jay

PS – You really have no idea how many “hand job” jokes I had to edit out of this piece.  I’m trying to class this joint up.  You’re welcome.

Happy Happies Everyone!

Oh hey! 

Happy New Year!  

I hope you all rang in the New Year in style, or in grungy t-shirts and sweatpants - whatever made you happiest! 

My own NYE was quite lovely.  I wore a cocktail dress and ankle-high motorcycle boots for the first part of the night.  Because I’m classy.  And because it was freakin freezing outside.  Don’t worry, I changed into attire-appropriate but seasonally-impractical footwear when I actually went out in public.

We had a nice low-key start to the evening at Sofie’s house where we played cards, watched Dick Clark’s rocking NYE, toasted the East Coast New Year and watched Jenny McCarthy possibly get herpes from a sailor. (yes, I’m sure it was lipstick) 

Then we headed downtown to the karaoke bar where Francesca was working.  If you have to work on NYE, you’d better hope that you; 1.) have friends that love you enough to not even think about celebrating the countdown without you; 2.) work at one of the most fun places in the tri-state area; and 3.) have awesome friends that will wait for you to serve other people their drinks before giving you your New Year’s kiss. 

Keeping with my tradition of the last…hmm… 3-8 years I kissed everyone at midnight.  Well, not that one guy.  But pretty much everyone else.  I even sneak-attacked Natalia with a kiss and got a love bite in return.  Ooo, tiger!

PS – I’m the one who gave Jenny McCarthy’s sailor all of those lip herpes.  You’re welcome.

I ended the night in the eastern den of sin and inequity, around 4:30am with my favorite gay men, a couple of my favorite straight men and several of my favorite women of undetermined sexual preferences.  There was a lot of dancing and a lot of kissing and snuggling.  I got a broken beer bottle stuck in my foot (which wouldn’t have happened if I would’ve kept the boots on) but didn’t bleed all over the place like the last time that happened (which is a story for another day).  It was really quite magical.

At the end of the night, I was alone and quite happy. 

Then I slipped and fell on the ice.  (Not due to drunkenness, I swear.  It was all the fault of those damn impractical shoes!) My skirt flew up above my shoulders and I’m pretty sure I did the splits. 

But I’m still calling it a win because I didn’t get a single bruise (I guess the plus side of all that holiday eating is that I’ve gotten a lot of iron).

All in all, I had a fantastic New Year’s Eve.

The last few weeks have been busy!  Work has been chaotic and life has been, well, let's just say it’s been chaotic as well (more on that to come later this week.  Maybe).  

And hangover-y.  Life has been really hangovery. Season of giving, yeah right.  Season of binge-drinking is more like it.

Yesterday when Francesca and Sofie came over to the barpartment before we went out to lunch I had to greet them by saying, “Please excuse my mess, the barpartment is hungover.”  There were still empty beer bottles from Saturday night sitting on the dining room table.  Yes, this was on Tuesday morning.  Don’t judge me.  I just hadn’t had time to deal with them yet, ok?  Ok, so they’re still sitting there. 

Nursing a month-long hangover is hard freakin work.

I was going to write a “year in review” post.  Then I realized there wasn’t a whole lot in 2012 that I wanted to review.  So instead I’m just going to say –

2013, let’s kick 2012’s ass this year, ok?

Hope you all had a fabtastical 2012!  Anyone have any particularly fun NYE stories to share?

Much love,

Annie Jay

Shhhh, Don't Cry. You're Gonna Be Juuust Fine.

Notice to single men of the Tri-State area: I’m taking myself off the market.

Now, now, dry those tears you little stud muffins – I’ll be back in a month or so.

I’ve had quite a few interesting encounters over the last several months (including one dismal attempt at a relationship with the man who will heretofore be known as "The Replay". Part 1 - The Beginning and Part 2 - The End.) and now - taking a page out of the blog of my friend over at Once in A Blue DC Moon – I’m taking a time out from the dating scene.

I’m off the online dating sites. Profiles = deleted.

I’m done with those text message flirtations.  Text someone else, my friend.

When I go out with my friends it will be solely to have fun with my friends and not to mack on boys.

The last several months have made me become a little fed-up with the whole process of dating and relating to new people. 

I’ve been like Goldilocks and the Twenty Potential Suitors.  This one’s too short, that one’s too messy.  This one likes football too much, that one plays too much DND.  This one is too wild, that one’s too tame.  That one’s an Evangelical Christian, this one’s a metal-head.  The list goes on and on and on and on and on -

But there’s never one who’s just right.

So until I am willing to appease myself with the ones who are almost right again, I’m just going to take a breather.  I'm going to get back to doing things I like just because I like them.  I'm going to get back to going to coffee shops on my own just to soak up new atmospheres while I work on my writing.  I'm going to spend more time with my family.  I'm going to spend less time as a hermit in my apartment waiting around for boys.

Now, who wants to have completely meaningless, no-strings-attached sex? 

Shit.  I’m already doing this wrong.

Heartsnthings,

Annie Jay

Let's Just Go to Stepford, I Hear The Ladies Are Real Nice There

The other day my friend, Javier, told me he is often afraid that our conversations are going to end up on this blog… I guess he was right!

On Sunday, some friends met at my place before going out to a hungover post-Halloween-party lunch.  Javi was half an hour early.  He called me and without even muttering a greeting he said, “Come unlock your downstairs door already.  The sun is really bright.”

So, in the midst of barrel-curling my hair (you know the look, half of my hair piled unceremoniously on top of my head in a ratty mess, the other half falling down my back in too-tight ringlets in desperate need of combing out) I walked down the stairs in the dark because even the dim stairwell lights were too harsh in my hungover state.  I opened the front door.

I immediately recoiled from the light. 

I might have even hissed at it.

“Yeah. I wasn’t lying!” He said as he pushed through the door and joined me in the safety of the dark stairwell. 

After we trudged up the stairs, I went back to my routine of getting ready and trying not to puke.  Javier paced/sat outside of the bathroom and talked to me about his dating woes.

Like most of my male friends, Javi is straight (because having 50 straight males in her life who are just friends is exactlty what every straight female wants).  He’s also well-educated but likes to say the word “fuck” a lot and drink often.  In short, he’s just like me. 

Well… except for the male part.  I’m penis-free. 

*ahem*

He’s also mostly enlightened about equality and not misogynistic.  Which is why this statement coming out of his lips caught me so by surprise:

“I just need a quiet girl who will do everything I want and won’t fight with me.  Is that so much to ask for?”  He laughed when I glared at him and he added, “Please, the thing that sucks about this town is that all of the women I meet are intelligent and independent as hell.”

I told him they just don’t make ‘em like they used to and suggested that he go back to 1950 because I’m sure this town was full of that type of woman back then.  Then we talked a little bit about time travel (because I’m an easily side-tracked nerdy girl) but eventually it came back around to the idea of relationships.

“Every woman I meet wants a man who is the same way – willing to do everything she says he should do without question.  We all want a lap dog.”  He said to me.

And he was kind of right, as far as I was concerned.

Now of course we don’t all really sit around thinking “If only I could find a mindless automaton to hold me when I cry and keep me sexually satisfied.”  Well... most of us don’t, anyway.

But there is a certain truth to the idea that many of us are looking for someone who will fit perfectly into our already-established lifestyles and habits without us needing to change or modify or adjust anything we currently do.  But of course this is never the case.

When branching out into a new relationship both parties need to be aware that changes and compromises are going to have to happen on both sides – because we aren’t all just mindless sex-bots designed solely for the purpose of giving blow-j’s.  We’re thinking, feeling, motivated, dreaming, wishing, hoping skin sacks that need freedom and stimulation in order to grow into the totally kickass human beings we’re capable of becoming. 

A lot of times when I start to date someone and he asks me what my plans are for the weekend I panic, thinking, “How dare he threaten to take up my precious weekend time??”

How absurd is this?  I want to be in a relationship but I don’t want to sacrifice any of my free time to do it.  I want a man who will respond to a little copper bell that I can ring anytime I feel like doing couple-y stuff and leave me alone when I want to be without him.

*sigh*

What I really need to find is someone who meshes so well with me, with my friends, with my need for alone time and together time, that I don’t feel like I’m sacrificing myself – or at least like the sacrifices I’m making are worth it in the long run.

Or maybe I just want a sex-bot.

Much Love,

Annie Jay

Are We All Cowards?

This month has been… well – hell - it’s been a month.

Remember how I wrote about that potential relationship a while ago?  Turns out that after a few weeks that were awesome – having fun together, sharing the financial burden of that fun and seeing each other all the time – we suddenly started having awkward time together, I was paying for things left and right (without any sharing on his end) and we were rarely seeing each other due to scheduling conflicts.  After weeks of frustration, in which he kept assuring me he wanted to be with me but making absolutely no effort to be with me, I finally just told him the ball was in his court.

That was over a week ago and he never even responded to that message.  (Yes I said that to him in a text message – I wanted to talk in person but we could never get together so I finally put it in a text.  Lame, I know, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

The cowardice of it baffles me.  Instead of saying “I can’t wait to see you again!” why not just say, “I’m sorry, this just isn’t working for me.”?  Is it so you never have to be the bad guy?  Well, just so you know, your inaction just makes you look like a douchehole anyway.

But this whole thing just has me thinking about what a bunch of cowards we all are. (“We” being any of the young adults that I know who are not currently in relationships but want to be.)

We all walk around thinking “Well, if this person wanted to [talk to me/date me/take me home for the night for some fast and dirty lovin’] they would make the first move.”  But since we’re all thinking that way no one is getting talked to/dated/used for one-night stands.  And it’s just stupid. 

Even if you happen to find yourself in a relationship (apparently by use of magic since neither of you was brave enough to approach the other), no one knows how to ask for what they need.  Or we’re all too afraid of winding up alone again that we just sit back and deal with whatever bullshit comes our way.

At least, this is what I see a lot of my friends going through. 

How is it that such a fun, independent, intelligent crowd can be so lame when it comes to forming new relationships?  Even for myself, the only move in my book is the good old shy-girl standard “become friends and sit back and hope that one day he realizes he loves you and wants to be with you forever” move.  How is it that I don’t even know how to talk to a man unless it’s about video games?  I’m gifted at making small talk and I'm reasonably intelligent.  You might not believe that because of my tendency to butcher English grammar and my preference for the word “fuck” over “copulate”, but really, I’m not a dumby.

Why does an intelligent, fun-loving, attractive girl have such a hard time going up to a man and asking him on a date? 

Because I’m a coward.  I’m terrified of being turned down – or worse, outright laughed at and walked away from.  Why don’t I have the stones to walk up to that cute man I always run into at the bookstore and ask him if he’s single?  I already know we have similar interests – like Christopher Moore books.  Why don’t I just say, “So, what was your favorite - Island of the Sequined Love Nun or Fluke? By the way, want to get a coffee and/or make out with me?”

That’s it.  I’m doing it. 

I’m going to make it my goal this week to ask a man on a date.  Anyone have any suggestions?  I can’t just stalk the aisles of BAM! like a creeper and hope that scruffy looking man walks in.

*deep breaths*

I can do this… I can do this…

No really – Help.  Please?

Kissykissy,

Annie Jay

Blissfully Busy

Hi friends! 

Before I get into the next “grown-up” topic that I want to talk about I’m going to give you a quick recap of last weekend because I talked about a lot of stuff that I had going on in the last post and I have some other random updates I want to talk about.

Here we go!

My grandmother’s service was beautiful.  The preacher (I have no idea what the Methodists call him, I’m sorry) gave everyone who wanted to speak an opportunity to do so.  It was wonderful to hear to many memories be shared about someone who means so much to all of us.  I am happy that in the end, she was remembered not for her painful last few years, but for the graceful woman she was in the first 80 years of her life. 

One more time: Seriously, much love and thanks to all of you who supported me and my family this last week.  You guys are so fracking amazing.

The Fancy Pants Party this last weekend was fabulous!  You all looked so very dreamy :-) My camera died a while ago and my cell phone decided to start taking really crappy pictures, so I only got a few very blurry, poorly lit pictures of everyone, but believe me when I say that I would've done each and every one of you (not at the same time! that's just gross).  Special thanks to that boy I like for making me feel ultra beautiful that night and yesterday when he sent me this picture he took when I wasn't paying attention (or when I was pretending not to pay attention, I can't remember):

And more special thanks to B for buying me a kick-ass cigar to go with my fancy duds.  I do like to puff on a fiiine cigar from time to time. (Just pretend you didn’t see this line, Mom)

With everyone looking so flashy, it was hard for me to decide who to take home at the end of the night, but I think I made the right decision ;-)

We’ve gotta do it again sometime soon. 

Saturday night I went out with my wild girls and we went absolutely loco (in the best possible way). 

But we started the night out at the Diamond Jo Casino’s dance club.  This is a club where they don’t allow the dueling pianos people to swear or play any music with swear words – isn’t part of the appeal of dueling pianos the bawdiness that can crop up??  On the weekends it’s the retro-themed Club 84. They do things like the electric slide and the hustle but very little bumpin and grindin (not to say the hustle and electric slide aren’t fun, it’s just not my idea of a fun night out).  It’s like their trying to be the Disney World of area nightclubs.

It’s all so family-friendly it makes me want to puke. 

They’re trying to be edgy but still appeal to the little 80-year old ladies who play the slot machines all day long.  I’m sorry, but you’re in a casino and trying to be a nightclub - let’s up the sex appeal, k?  As Amanda and Chris and I sat in a booth (trying to drink until it was fun) I took a picture and tweeted the following:

Having too much PG-rated fun at Club84 @DiamondJoDBQ #hustle #electricslide #isittimetorageyet http://t.co/fLAtSFV8 -- Annie Jay (@TheGrowUpPlan)

Apparently the Diamond Jo doesn’t understand sarcasm because they retweeted it to their followers.  OOPS!

But seriously, Diamond Jo, as far as local casinos go (yes there are two of them), you’ve got a lot going for you.  Your club could be awesome (it’s a beautiful space) but you keep trying to appeal to EVERYONE.  Why not try to appeal to just the under 50 crowd and say to hell with being granny-friendly? Put a little more seediness into your establishment and maybe I won’t groan every time someone tells me that we have to go there for a bachelorette party, or to meet up with some friend from out of town who thinks it’s going to be the bee’s knees.  

I go out to let loose, not to stay buttoned up, if you’re joint doesn’t let me be free, I’ll find somewhere else to go.  But maybe that's just me.

I’m starting an insanity exercise program in just a little over a week.  I’m absolutely terrified, but also really looking forward to it.  The only thing I’m seriously not looking forward to is that they make you take a picture in little short shorts and a sports bra your first day.  Um… please god no?  Also – I’m going to have to run a mile.  I haven’t done that in at least two years.  Please, send me positive energy on Saturday September 29 so that I don’t keel over from a heart attack.

Did you all have a lovely weekend?  Big plans coming up for the next weekend?  Let me know what’s going on, I’d love to join you!

Loves,

Annie Jay

Mosquitoes, Assless Chaps and Beer - Must be Labor Day!

I’m about to go off the grid.

And maybe die.

Not because I’m going off the grid (though it might feel like that’s why), just because this weekend is bound to be so much ridiculousness I might. actually. die.

I’m going camping at a huuuuuge party in a field.  This might sound weird until you remember that I live in Iowa, and we’ve got LOTS of fields in Iowa and it’s really quite common for there to be huge parties in fields in Iowa.

And Skid Row is going to be playing.  Once again: in a field – in Iowa.

Now, I’m not a fan of 80’s hair bands, but I’m going to listen to them and rock-out anyway.  Why? Because:

A.)   I’ll be drinking. Duh.

B.)   Francesca loves 80’s Hair Bands and she isn’t going to be able to attend.  So I’m going to listen so I can pour one out for my homie while I listen to I Remember You.  And I will sing along.  But only because I know The Ataris version, because there was a time in my life when I really loved pop-punk.

C.)   I’ll be drinking.  Again, duh.

One of my best friends, Chris, invited me to go along and I was all “Hmm… maybe I’ll sit at home and watch Pretty Little Liars instead.”  Then he told me I wouldn’t have to pay for anything (!) and that I would be going with him and two of our other amazing friends.  Then I realized this was an opportunity to experience a party like I’ve never seen before – and to hang out with bikers.

And I don’t mean spandex-and-yellow-jersey-wearing bikers, I mean assless-chaps-and-bandana-and-harley-t-shirt-wearing BIKERS.  I’ve never even been on a motorcycle, let alone hung out with these kinds of bikers before. (Thanks to my dad’s love of bicycling I’ve hung out quite a bit with the other kind.)

I’m actually going to be drinking for 4 days straight… with bikers.

This is why I’m pretty sure I’m going to die. 

Sure, I’m trying to convince myself that I’ll do productive things, like write and read a couple of the books I’ve started – I have those things packed in my bag – but let’s be honest here: you don’t go to a party in a field where Skid Row is going to be playing without being drunk the whole time.

So think of me as you do respectable things this weekend, I certainly won’t be doing anything respectable. 

I hope you all have a fabulous Labor Day Weekend as well!

Love yous,

Annie Jay

PS: I’ll tweet pictures of myself looking drunk and disgusting if I get a signal.  <3