Guys always say that girls have it so easy when we go out because we don’t have to pay for anything. Well this girl right here has never really had that luck. Me being one of the few single ones in the group was puzzled by the fact that the married ladies got free drinks long before a guy even looked vaguely in my direction. What’s the deal? Is it that whole single-must-be-desperate vibe radiating off my skin? Is an immediate alert sent out when I walk in a room “[sound sirens] Stage 5 Clinger on the loose! Abort! Abort! I repeat stage 5 clinger on the loose!”
Finally one night, I felt an urgency (because this is important in the life of a woman, evidently) to learn the trade… “adventure woman, what is your secret?!” So adventure woman decided to walk pretty lady who shall remain nameless and me through the 7 rules of how to get a guy to buy you a drink. I must say, Chicago (once again) was blindsided by the trio-storm that happened that weekend. And I must admit, girl’s got skills… we only paid for one drink all weekend. How about them apples.
If you read my last post, you know I took a spontaneous adventure to Fairfax, VA to watch my boys, VCU, play against their rival GMU at the Patriot Center - they had the most epic Valentine’s date of the season. My adventure began with a yellow poster board, gold glitter, and a very serious question. On one side it read: “Be My Valentine Shaka!” With those words, I meant it, I really wanted that win, it was the only thing I wanted for Valentine’s day… my heart was full of black and gold love, and I wanted Shaka Smart to seal the deal with a victory, pushing those Patriots out of 1st place.
Driving fearlessly north on the interstate I realized I needed to fully prepare sir Panama of what exactly he was getting into by sharing a ticket with this black-and-gold fanatic. I don’t think even my words prepared him for the anxiety he’d witness in that nail-biting game. Seated in a section with mostly green and yellow, we boldly boo’d when needed and cheered excitedly while feeling those dirty looks glaring behind, beside, and in front of us. The game was tight and more intense than my little heart could handle on this special love day. But we were winning for the majority of the game, this was a calming reassurance (okay, that’s a huuuuge exaggeration, but the calming part sounded good. In all honesty, there was nothing calming about this game). At about 11 minutes left, I decided now was time to make my sign seen by the world… time to hunt down those tv cameras.
My sister had seats on the floor three rows behind the basket (I swear she knows everyone. That girl is ridiculous with her connections). I grab my sign and make my way down the narrow steps, head held high, marching down through the sea of green and gold poised head-honcho alumni. Evidently I looked out-of-place. After I sat down with her, I looked around and could see the most evil looks directed our way as if we were two Goths sadistically sacrificing baby lambs in the middle of a thousand bubbly cheerleaders. Head-honcho dude called security over, pointed strongly at me, “herrrrr… that girl in black and gold… checcccckkkkk herrrrrrr ticket.” So my ticket got checked, shoulda seen the look on their faces when my ticket was legit. Yep. I belonged there. Don’t hate.
While down there I made sure to bounce my sign around a little… showing off both sides with hopes of also reaching pretty lady who shall remain nameless in Chicago by way of tv cameras with the other side of my sign… I don’t think it worked though, the cameras, for some odd reason, just were not interested in my story, either one of them. Imagine that. How rude. It’s not like it was an intense game or anything. Sorry, lady, here it is:
(You see, pretty lady who shall remain nameless, she was a gmu cheerleader… we never could see eye-to-eye on basketball. I was hoping in the spirit of Valentine’s day, we could settle our differences… I may now retract my request at this time though).
Back to my seat I went to scare sir Panama a little more with my anxiety.
Then it came down to 48 seconds… we were up. The guy next to us (a VCU fan) decides he’s going to take off before the traffic get’s crazy – hey with 48 seconds what can happen – he thought. I waved him back (no clue who he was, but a vcu fan means bff-forever-and-always) “you can’t leave, 48 seconds is a long time! You leave now you’ll jinx us for sure!” Right then, mason fans go wild – 3 point shot… dude stands still… we make two foul shots, we’re up by four, with 10 seconds on the clock… dude leaves, again he thinks, “what can happen in 10 seconds…” I warned him again, but he left (see what I’m doing here, building my scapegoat… gotta have someone to blame)… they make another 3-pointer in those 10 seconds… we’re up by one point with two foul shots to take… we miss one foul shot, make the other, putting us up by two points… 3.8 seconds left… the shot happens… the shot from the movies… it was like time stood still… those 3 seconds will probably be Sherrod Wright’s best three seconds of his life… and the 3 seconds that broke my heart. Mason won by way of a 3-pt buzzer shot, all net… beautiful shot. One point… one… point. I just stood there my hands on my head as time stood still… it was like the slow motion scene in a movie where it takes 10.9 seconds for one toe to lift an inch off the ground as the cheerleaders, fans, and mascot jump simultaneously in the air. I couldn’t move. Heart. Broken. My poor boys, Shaka… oh Shaka… I guess I got my answer to my very important question. GMU Patriots, you broke my heart… my little hopeful heart. VCU, you boys played so well, really a fantastic game – you didn’t break my heart, I don’t know that you really could if you tried, you’ve had it for 25 years, no breaking it now, we’re in it for the long haul, you’re forever stuck with me. Heads up, you have more games to win, a tourney to push for, and a spot to take back.
Still, a top Valentine’s adventure on my list. Thanks sir Panama, Shaka, sister with the rockin’ seats, VCU basketball – because you still have my heart.
And no thanks to the 5 guys that broke my heart… gmu boys, you are just a bunch of heartless heartbreakers. Until we meet again…
I’m told that there’s an upside to this… The up side?… the Bulls won! and Adventure lady & Adventure lady’s husband won their soccer game. Good job guys. Haha.
Well it all began with a book, a Steve Harvey book to be exact. Some of you may have heard of it: ”Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man.” Now this book was given to me by my mother shortly after my last relationship ended (evidently even she thinks I have no game – no, not offended at all…). As I began discussing the idea of this book with my Chicago friend, who shall remain nameless, we found humor in it. If Steve Harvey wrote a book on relationships (and wait… there’s even a movie now… this man is genius I tell you), it must be entertaining to say the least. Well the more we pondered this concept “Act like a lady, think like a man,” the more we realized how wrong all of us females truly were in the dating game. AH! Epiphany! Why don’t we host a summit over the holidays in Chicago at the Hyatt Regency for all those fine ladies that just don’t have a clue, suggested pretty lady who shall remain nameless from Chicago. Uh duh… why didn’t I think of this?! (Okay, so this may not be on my bucket list, but I’m pretty sure I always wanted to host a summit on relationships… who wouldn’t?) We’re perfectly capable at teaching this concept… certified even, (by way of book reading and Steve Harvey mimicking).
So this is where the honey badger (Oh the honey badger is just craazeeey… it’s pretty badass) comes in… Now for those of you who don’t know these fabulous Narrations by Randall… you should catch yourself up to speed. I was sent this YouTube video a long time ago and tend to reference it in random conversation in hopes of channeling the Honey Badger’s spirit and bold behavior, often bringing looks of “is this girl sane” to many faces. But Honey Badger don’t care, so why should I? In planning this “summit” of ours we decided it was necessary for a review process to demonstrate how to “act like a lady and think like a man.” In fear of backing down to the challenge and letting these fine Chicago ladies down without a proper “how to” lesson, pretty lady who shall remain nameless and I decided we would channel the Honey Badger… (Honey Badger don’t care, it just takes what it wants). Now this became the overwhelming theme of the trip. If anything went wrong, we asked ourselves WWHBD (What Would Honey Badger Do… for those of you still trying to sound out the acronym). It seems we were not alone in this thinking.
Da da de daaaaa… Now for the 49er’s grand entrance to my long drawn out story…
Have you seen their strategy? This coach has won over my heart. Yes sir, you have. While I fell in love with SF (the city) a few years ago, I can’t say I was ever a 49er’s fan until this moment (click the link it’ll all make sense… well almost, let me also add that Steve Harvey compares his book to the opponent’s (the male species) playbook… Coming around full circle… now does it make sense? Good, I thought it would). Actually, while I’m quite the Saints fan (please Saints earmuffs for what I’m about to proclaim) I do believe their story swept me off my feet. Talk about adventure, true channeling of the Honey Badger… you are my heroes.
And I leave you with Narrations By Randall. Happy Hunting!
Chicago is by far my favorite city out of all cities I’ve visited thus far (which doesn’t mean it can’t still be beat, but it’s a tough one… so cities, you better step up your game in 2012). Since my very first visit when I was about 11 with my mom, sister, and brother, I was hooked. I was fascinated by how nice everyone was, how clean the city appeared, and the weather… incredible (of course it was Summertime… so I was clueless to the reality of this statement). When two of my best friends moved there about three years ago, I cannot even begin to express how envious I was (and still am). However, I benefit from this (muhahah… evil plan inserted here), I now have a place to stay when I’m needing a get-a-way or an escape from reality – and what better place to escape – sorry guys, you’re stuck with me. Between my last two trips, I have experienced a side of Chicago I had never met before… (now hooked is just an understatement).
These people I’ve met make my desire to stay longer that much stronger. Their electrifying personalities, contagious giggling, outrageous jokes, obscene adventures, and laid back attitudes are like none I’ve stumbled across before. There is this lack of fear or care of how they may come across to the world, they are who they are, regardless. This I admire.
Back in October when I was there with my married & engaged amazingly-awesome friends we were all planning an adventurous exploration of speed dating for the meer fact that I wanted to write about this experience. Seriously that was the reasoning and my friends are that awesome that they were willing to play along, take their rings off and entertain my curiosities (thanks friends you rock). However, upon looking into it we realized it was $50?! Oh heck no… sorry it’s not that serious. Still I was bummed, I was really looking forward to the alias we each had, the outfits we’d discussed, and our stories we had developed… oh well, just wasn’t meant to be.
But of course “just wasn’t meant to be” didn’t keep me from harping over my disappointment (yep, I brought it up on more than one occassion… get over it and welcome to my life). Just so happened I mentioned it to the “wrong” (or right depending on how you look at it) person. I explained my blog idea and development, my want to go speed dating, and my excitement for getting back into writing again. He stopped mid-step at an intersection, pointed to an abandoned table and a closed bar. “So let’s do it, you wanna speed date, what’s stopping you, there’s a table. Get your story straight, turn your camera on and sit down.” Ha. Talk about being put on the spot. I sure do talk a big game, never had someone really hold me to my shenanigans. Okay… crap, forgot my story. Time for a new one. (It sucked, not gonna lie, very uninventive and unoriginal… oh well. roll with it.)
Disclaimer: if you can’t handle adult language, sarcasm, dark humor, or made-up obscene stories – this video is not for you – sorry, the truth hurts.
