Posts Tagged ‘friend’

New Kids on the Block. Takes me back to the rec room in my mom’s house… it was a huge room over the garage that had sofas, beds, exercise equipment, and most importantly a TV and VCR. Leslee, Steph, Dawn Marie, and I spent a bajillion hours in that room watching NKOTB videos. That is where we made the posters we took to the front row of their concert at Carowinds. Yes, we actually did that. When hurricane Hugo hit, we were out of school longer than we were out of power, so we really put in some quality time with the boy band from Boston while the adults were clearing fallen trees.

Who do you need? Who do you love? When you come undone?” 1993 riding in the back of a friend’s Amigo down Ocean Blvd. at Myrtle Beach, going to eat seafood. High school graduation trip. One of the few moments I spent with my boyfriend that week. Duran Duran had a comeback CD and it reminds me of that early summer. Love. Rejection. Anger. Sadness. I can smell the salt air when I hear that song.

James Taylor – You’ve Got A Friend. Riding around in “Scooby”, the name of my friend’s car. He was my best guy friend in high school and we would spend hours driving around the back roads and talking. We always listened to music and it was often James Taylor. He was there to listen when there was no one else. That friendship will always mean a great deal to me and this song will always make me think of those evenings riding around NC, with a friend. 

Myrtle Beach the year after graduation, Candlebox played the entire week. I shared a rental with 5 other girls. Some of the girls partied the entire week, staying intoxicated around the clock. Some focused on finding cute boys. Some of us partied part of the time, spent time on the beach, and just hung out with friends. My best friend sliced her finger open at 3am while trying to make spaghettios, after she stole my bed and put me on the sofa, and I took her to the rental office in search of a first aid kit. I was not happy. She was too drunk to take care of herself. “Now maybe. I didn’t mean to treat you bad. But I did it anyway.”

Blind Melon – No Rain. Riding around with Kerri in my black 92 Celica, talking about our on-again-off-again boyfriends and looking for the next party. We were 18. “All I can say is that my life is pretty plain. ya don’t like my point of view. ya think I’m insane…”


Aerosmith – Get A Grip. Concert with 3 of my girl friends and my boyfriend. My friends were drinking beer from the concession stand, and they placed them under their chairs to dance and scream to the music. The next time my girl reached down to grab her plastic cup, it was gone. The next I know, all 110 lbs. of her is screaming at the group of very large Harley Davidson riders standing behind us. She was underage, purchased the beer at the arena illegally, and was now making a scene and loudly announcing that she wanted her MoFo beer replaced RIGHT NOW! My boyfriend was not a wussy guy. I had seen him get in fights with guys our own age, but he was not about to jump in the middle against 5 huge motorcycle dudes twice his age. We asked her to shut up and just get another beer. She was pissed that we were not verbally jumping the bearded dudes with her. Hearing that Aerosmith CD takes me back to the mighty beer confrontation of feisty K. It also reminds me that Steven Tyler plucked a ~15 year old girl from the audience to mack on , ewwwwwwww!

Prince – When Doves Cry.  At a comedy club in Charlotte. I was 18 and I was out with my boyfriend, sister and her boyfriend. My sis and my boyfriend were too shy to get up on the stage, didn’t want to look like idiots. My sister’s boyfriend and I put our names on the list, didn’t so much care about looking like idiots. We waited and waited, as it seemed sis and bf were the only shy peeps in the crowd. This was a small place and every person there was having a great time and beginning to act like they had known the strangers around for years. We took our spot on the stage, and we began to sing… “Dig if u will the picture…”   Well, a couple of other girls got impatient and jumped onstage to join in on our karaoke. As they began to sing, my sis’ bf got pissed! He wanted no part whatsoever in sharing our mics with these party girls we didn’t know. They hijacked his song and so he bailed, literally jumping from the stage in a hissy man fit. Hahaha!

Limp BizkitBreak Stuff. This is the song I would play on the way home from work, when I worked at an animal intake shelter and dealt with dog fighters, seeing abused and neglected animals day in and day out, and tolerated people threatening me, which at times involved physical outbursts. No matter how crazy it got, I had to remain calm and work on behalf of the animals’ best interest, regardless of how much it pissed off the people associated with those animals. It was cathartic to blast this song on the way home and blow off some steam…                         

“It’s just one of those days
Feelin’ like a freight train
First one to complain
Leaves with a blood stain
Damn right I’m a maniac
You better watch your back
Cuz I’m fuckin’ up your program”

Leona Lewis. My current relationship. There are many songs that are connected to where I am now… but there is one in particular that represents the beginning. I hear Bleeding Love and it takes me back to driving to meet my boyfriend for a date. It may sound cheesy, but the lyrics describe what I was feeling… I had decided to just do without men because of icky past relationships, and then I fell in love by accident. Many warned me that our relationship was moving too fast and that I was falling for someone who would not stay with me for more than a minute.

All of the lyrics fit.

I was going to post the video, but I just watched it, and well… it’s really stupid.


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I was reminded of this little adventure while talking to a friend the other day…..

A girl friend and I were in San Francisco a few years ago. This was my second trip to San Fran, but it was a very different experience than the first go round. The first time, we knew locals and they drove us around in their car(s) to their favorite spots, which was kind of boring. This time we were explorers. We used public transit to get everywhere, and those journeys, no matter how brief, provided colorful memories each and every time. I love that city! Just thinking about it makes me squeeeal!

We set out one evening to go to an Italian restaurant. We had asked around to figure out which one we should patron. A local guy we had met was emphatic that we must dine at one in particular. This was in the area that tourists call “Little Italy” and the locals make fun of it being labeled as such, and they never refer to it the same… or so we were told. Anyway, we made a reservation and then hit Union Square for some pre-dinner shopping. We were caught a little off guard when the streets of Union Square abruptly went from congested with other shoppers, hustling and bustling about, to completely abandoned in the matter of 2 minutes. Everything had closed and we needed to catch a bus. 

We figured out our route to the bus stop, but before we reached it, a scruffy guy on a bicycle started following us. He was circling around us as we walked and wanted to know where we were going. He kept repeating: “You are the most beautiful woman I have seen, just tell me where you need to go and I will get you there.” Really, all 3 of us are gonna pile onto your bicycle mister? By this point, we had had many encounters with “street people” and the homeless of the city. But this guy wouldn’t go away! Something about a person feeling the need to tell you, “I’m not dangerous… you don’t have to be afraid” tends to make one uncomfortable. We ditched that bus stop and set off to find another one.

We jumped off the bus in the area we had set out for, but we didn’t really know how to find the restaurant. We were late. This area of the city was still very active and loud. As we made our way down the street, we were stopped by a few flamboyant guys who were working the doors of other restaurants. Well, we needed directions, but they spinned me around and danced and tried to sweet talk us into dining at “their place” instead. This was fun and cute in the beginning, but was quickly getting annoying by the 3rd twirl. I was hungry. Anyone who knows me well knows that when I am really hungry, I get cranky! And it ain’t pretty.

We found our destination! Of course I do not remember the name. We asked the guy out front about our reservation… without verbally responding, he grabbed me and kissed me, almost on the mouth, but I jerked just quick enough that his lips landed just to the side of my mouth. I must have shot him one hell of a dirty look.

Keep in mind that I was separated from my ex and going through a divorce. I was in my “men need not exist” phase… and it irritated me when men assumed I wanted their attention.

He then proceeded to get pissy with me because I didn’t kiss him back in return. Are you kidding me? I want food. I do not want to stand out in the street playing kissy-face with some cocky Italian stranger!

We were soon to learn that this place had a reputation… we may have been the first girls to show up for dinner and not melt over the advances of Mr. Kissy-face.

We were seated upstairs where we had a view of the entire restaurant around and below. It was so nice to drink a glass of wine. Only men worked at this place, and every one of them was Italian, complete with thick accent. Each one that stopped by the table flirted and fawned over us. I mean, they do work for tips. I will skip some of the boring details, but I couldn’t help but notice that most of the diners were women.

At this point, we had our food, which was yummy, were on our second glass of wine, and feeling much better. Then, the lights turned off. Uh-oh, power failure? Dammit! Oh… not so much. Club lights began spinning around and the loud music kicked on. An Italian voice from the microphone announced: “It’s Tiffany’s birthday and we are gonna help her celebrate!”

Tiffany was seated in a chair in the center of the restaurant and was quickly being surrounded by the waiters taking off their shirts. One of the guys spread his legs and jumped on her lap! Tiffany was getting a full-on-grind-dry-hump in the middle of my dinner. My friend and I looked at each other and both had the light bulb… THIS is why the local guy enthusiastically told us we “would love this place.” That was the first and last time this vegetarian “had” Italian sausage during dinner.

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My friend Leslee inspired this post. She asked me to write about an “a-ha” moment for a click story on her blog Waiting for the Click

I was married for 10 years, almost 11 including the separation, but I don’t count that. I won’t go into how or why I got myself into the marriage or all of the awful things that occurred during the marriage (that would take another blog post or maybe a book to cover). This is about getting out and the “a-ha” moment I had in the midst of the insanity.

My ex was a vicious, threatening, horrible excuse for a person during much of the separation. He loved feeling like he had the power to screw up my life, even more than he already had. During one particular phone conversation, he was refusing to cooperate with anything that would enable me to take care of myself financially. He had run up debt that was either in both of our names or solely in my name. In fact, his accruing debt behind my back was the straw that broke it all and prompted me to kick him out months earlier. While listening to his booming voice-from-hell threatening to force me out of the house, thereby making me homeless and preventing me from keeping my animals, I went to the zoo! Or maybe I was trying to escape from the zoo. I threw my phone as hard as I could, and bust it into 20 pieces. It didn’t stop there.

I had remained calm and rational during most of the madness. Well, not this day. I went monkey-butt-marble-free! I was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. I was swallowed by my environment. I couldn’t escape my past. It was staring at me from everywhere I looked and it was taunting me wicked. I looked around and all I could see was one of the same rooms I had shared with him for 9 years… the furniture we had chosen, the art prints and personal items we had acquired together. Meanwhile, he was sharing a new home with his 25 year old girlfriend (he was 42 at the time). He fucked up my life for years and then cleanly moved on and started over. I was left in the same mess… the same debt, the same house… the daily reminders and memories haunting me. I am not exaggerating here… I felt haunted and smothered! Let me be clear, I did NOT want him back. I wanted to be completely free from him.

I proceeded to rip everything off the walls, and throw and bash all of my framed pictures on the floor. I was crazed and I wanted to rip it all down and start over. I wanted my fresh start damn it! I hated everything my surroundings represented and of what they reminded me. I was on a rampage and it had to run its course.

What did I accomplish? A completely trashed room, a broken phone, and other demolished personal possessions. But something WAS accomplished in the end. While I lay on the floor sobbing, I had my “a-ha” moment. Who is going to come to my rescue? Who is going to pick me up off that floor? Who is going to make it all better? Who will make me happy again? I only laid there for a short time before I thought to myself… no one is gonna pick my ass up and make things better… except me.

I peeled myself off the floor and stood up with a refreshed outlook and plan of attack.

In that moment, I let go of anger and regret. The only person those malevolent feelings were consuming and hurting was me. I realized that I had needed that explosion of emotion to get it all out and in the end switch my energy and redirect my focus.

I looked at my situation and decided it was time to get real and take control. I contacted my car loan company, my mortgage company and everyone else I could think of to get the ball rolling to officially separate myself from the monster. I couldn’t wait for him to cooperate and do it with me. There were difficult days ahead. The separation lasted longer than it legally had to because he refused to sign papers. I also knew that his mood changed with the wind and I would eventually catch him on a “less-hateful” day. I had to be patient. I had to play the game to get what I needed and to get out for good.

He thrived on me getting upset. He had his way for the last time. My “a-ha” moment pushed me to research every possibility for taking better care of myself, to keep my home, to keep my animals… and it was also the last time I allowed him to upset me. From that point forward, any time he would act psycho and begin yelling over the phone, I would simply say in a calm, matter-of-fact, manner: “You are now yelling at me, so the conversation is over and I am hanging up now.”

The divorce was eventually finalized and now I can breathe. I can take care of myself. I have control over my life and my happiness.

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