blanket stealer

I don't know about you people, but sleeping with another person in the same bed is not an ideal situation for me. I like to wrap my feet and self around in a blanket with a combination of three pillows. If you ask the BF, he says I have "sleeping issues." It's always me, he says, I'm the one stealing the covers with my crazy get-up with my pillows.

Since he has redesigned the bedroom to accommodate his PS2 fishing game, he's been the one dominating the blankets. I wake up in the middle of the night, shivering and trying to pull some of the blankets from the black hole that is his side of the bed. When I do try to get some of them back, I start to push him off the bed very slowly by inching my way on his side of the bed.

(He has caught on to my game.) When he realizes what I'm going to do, he always tells me to "get my caboose out of his backyard."

Is there such thing as sleeping etiquette? If so, I need to sign the BF up ASAP for a class or five of those.

Gone gaming

Boys are full of surprises. Just full of them. Remember when I posted about BF and his need for a man room? He kept talking about possibly changing around the master bedroom to accommodate his winter gaming obsession? Yeah, I kind of got over it and thought he would never actually pull it off. He talked and talked about it but nothing happened. I assumed he lost interest.....

While I was gone all day on Sunday, I came home to a newly cleaned and rearranged room with him sitting and playing some fishing PS2 game. Did you notice the words "newly cleaned?"

Give him an apron and call him Martha!

He not only moved each dresser, swept behind them and dusted all three, he also rearranged the wall pictures, too. I think that was his way of saying "thank you for letting me own the room for the winter with my lame video games, so I'm going to thoroughly clean because I know you won't." I mean, that furniture hasn't been moved for a year and half since we moved in! He did a great job and room looks so much bigger with the new arrangement.

Funny what boys will do in the name of love and video games, isn't it? Well, maybe just video games at this point.

F U PS2

This past summer I spent a week with a few friends in Charlotte/W.Virginia. Since gas prices were rising, I decided to cut my costs in half and drive all the way to Charlotte to visit them, rather than cutting off my right arm for a plane ticket. It was a blast. We spent leisurely days at the pool, shopping at local malls and even hitting a few bars at nights.

After spending three days with my friend Steph and her husband, I discovered the secret room upstairs - otherwise known as the man room. Her husband had it decked out with sport pictures, his favorite beer in his mini-fridge, PS2 or XBox and a huge ass TV. He even went so far as to draw a picture for his wife to keep out - see below.




Two days ago, the BF must have remembered this because I found this nice piece of artwork in my office. He has decided to create a new bedroom/game room for the winter. If you look closely you will see his description of the current space, which apparently he doesn't care for based on this drawing.



1) I hate the chair he is referring to as the gaming chair (notice the highlighting). He claims it's the "most comfortable and perfect gaming chair." No, it's not. It currently sits in the corner of the living room and acts as a table because we throw our laptops, coats and my purse on it. Gaming my ass!

2) My mirror isn't ugly. I purchased it over two years for the fab price of $50 when any other mirror that size would cost upwards of $200. If he gets the ugly chair, I get the ugly mirror.

3) Open drawers? Not 100 percent of the time, maybe just 50 percent of the time. This isn't anything new. Mental note - I should really think about transferring some of my clothes into the semi-empty one he is referring to.

Yesterday, I fully expected to come home to a new room with him sitting front and center of the TV in the gaming chair. It didn't happen this time, however I have a feeling when I'm least expecting it everything will moved around to accommodate his winter activity - F U PS2.

whereabouts

Several of my friends will ocassionally complain about the whereabouts of their boyfriends when they are out with friends. Mostly because they don't get updates or receive calls when they are out.

"He never calls me."
"I don't know where he is."
"When he's with his friends, I never hear from him."
"Why is he ignoring my texts?"

My answer was always, "He's with his friends. Leave them alone."

One of my pet peeves is when I'm out with my friends and their BFs call - all the time. Why are you calling? You know where she is and who she is with. It's even worse if the girls leave their phones on the table if we are out to dinner, talking and catching up. I've been known to steal a phone or two if necessary.

Put the cell phone away.

No one cares if he texts you about the make-up you left out on the counter for the fourth time. And, boys, don't be surprised if she doesn't answer her phone. Her good friends probably confiscated the device so she enjoys herself.

I don't have to be concerned with knowing where my BF is because I get days notice. He's known for sending me stupid e-mails or phone calls explaining where he'll be. Or, he concocts some elaborate story as to where he will be which is never true.

Here's what I get today from the BF.

Two things -

I will not be home tonight.

I will not be home all day on Sat 9/20 (secret male-only party)



My only rule - Just don't call me from the strip club. Call a cab to come and get you.

1st of the month

Every first couple days of the month, the BF and I have the same fight. It's not over dishes, friends, or who did or didn't vacuum. No, it's over the rent.

Our rent is due by the 5th of every month. Since we get paid on the first, I immediately write my check and tell him, "We need to pay the rent," as if he didn't know this. He likes to wait until the 3rd and almost get a late penalty because if it clears after the 5th, they charge you.

A typical conversation:
BF: Allison, it's not due until the 5th.
Me: No, BF, it's due by the 5th. Not on the 5th. By the 5th.
BF: Allison, if we get a late penalty, I'll pay it.
Me: No you wont. Just write your check on the 1st and we won't have this problem.

So, I receive a phone call today from the BF, conveniently right after I wrote my check yesterday for him.
BF: Alllison, where's my rent check?
Me: I hate you.
BF: No, really, where is it?
Me: I hate you. You know I wrote it for you yesterday.
BF: I didn't get it.
Me: I'm breaking up with you.
BF: (laughing) No, really, I didn't get.
Me: No, you really did and I'm hanging up now.

At this point, he's now laughing hysterically on the phone.

He knows just how to push my buttons.

Blindfolded

Ever since I came back from a trip to L.A., I'm all about sleeping with an eye mask. I used it on the red eye home and I can't believe I've slept so many years without one. I feel so refreshed when I wake up in the mornings now. When I pull that over my eyes, it doesn't matter what the BF is watching because I can block it out. It's an amazing mask, I tell ya. It can be anything from that stupid baby's voice on Family Guy or George from Seinfeld (I love Seinfeld). All the sound seems to fade away when I sleep with the mask now.

However, the BF hates it. He says it scares him because all he sees is this "freaky mask" looking at him in the middle of the night. It's not freaky -- it's an eye mask for god's sake. I figured he'd get used to it, right? I mean, I take up the entire bed and he's gotten used to that. I'm constantly running 10 minutes behind and I have champagne taste on beer money. All of which he has gotten used to in the last two years of our courtship.

But, I've been noticing that my mask is at odd places in my room in the morning. The other day I woke up and it was across the room and then it was on his side of the bed. Now. Let's think about this. I don't think I'm lunging this across the room in the middle of the night. Do you?

Meeting the Parents Part 1

The joint parental meeting is tomorrow. The first parental meeting. To say I'm a little nervous is an understatment. I even made plans with a friend to head to Room Service to check out the store and go to lunch, and then just realized this morning that I have the parental lunch meeeting tomorrow. (Sorry Michelle. Let's do it later?)

We are taking both sets of parents out to lunch to meet each other for the first time. I figured lunch is perfect, right? I figured it's less pressure and less intoxication. After delaying it for months (maybe even a year), I'm finally OK with them meeting. Truth be told, I really don't care if they meet either way. The BF is comfortable with it. So I guess I have to drink the Kool-aid too. Besides, I've never been to the restaurant and it's gotten the seal of approval from the Cleveland Foodie.

I tried to find some funny commentary on the web from other people when their parents first met, but I couldn't find a damn thing. Nothing funny happened! Nothing? Not even a humorous YouTube video! Well, there's a f'ing sign if there ever was one.

Feel free to share your stories and here's to fun and interesting weekend to all!

Today marks the spot

It was two years ago that the BF and I made it official. (Applause or tears - you choose.) It was two years ago when I was the intern and he was the full-time employee that I just couldn't resist (this is his story, not mine). After many months of what I thought was "our" secret, our cover was blown to more than one of co-workers. (Here I thought no one knew we were "secretly" dating.)

In honor of this day, I'm not going to give a list of thank-you's for the past two years, but rather a list of your welcomes.

Your welcome:

-for dating you.
-for laughing at your jokes when no one else does.
-for increasing your sense of style.
-for expanding your taste buds at local Cleveland restaurants.
-for having an amazing, talented and beautiful girlfriend.
-for not being a head case.
-for riding on your motorcycle with you even though I fear for my life because you drive like a maniac.
-for not making fun of you to your face for your OCD with cleaning or your hair.
-for being neat and clean (Ahem).
- for not stalking/calling/texting a million times when you are out doing "guy things."
-for being hot and ambitious.
-for being BFFs with your friends (I think they like me more than you).

Now. Where's my gift?

101 days of pure pleasure

There's nothing like some early sex talk from the Today Show to kick off your morning.

In order to reconnect, this couple decided to touch, feel and caress each other for 101 days. The BF hears my TV and tells me to "take notes."

My question is -- what the F were you doing before? Apparently, not a whole lot. You know, kids, jobs and all that other non-sex stuff got in the way of the fun you used to have. (Can I stay 25-years-old forever?)

I ask the BF what he thinks about this challenge.

Me: "BF, do you want to have sex with me for 101 days?"
BF: "No, it's impossible. But I'll take oral pleasure for 101 days."
Typical male response.

So, 101 days. Could you do it? Do you want to do it? Is it impossible? Is it necessary? If you don't want to watch the clip, just wait because they are also writing a book about it.

MP -- it's your time of the month

Let’s face it. Men have some form of a period. Rapid mood swings and irritability all come to men in the form of the MP (male period.) If you don't believe me, read more here on the MP.

Sure, guys blame it all on the girls. We are "crazy" during that week, "evil" and the "way too moody" for him. But, what about men? They have it too -- just not in the fun form we women get to experience it at.

Here's the one where I don't know if this would apply to me --
If you want to broach a touchy topic…
Ask: from 8-10 p.m.

From 8 to 10 p.m. on any given day, he's watching Deadliest Catch, a movie or some documentary that's in HD. Just the other day I saw him watching some underwater sea adventure -- just because it was in HD. How do I compete with that?

I don't. I wait for one of my favorite movies to be on or TV shows (he hates E!) comes on.

Him: "You've already seen this shit about Lindsay Lohan."
Me: "I missed the last five minutes of the Daily 10, so I need to watch the whole thing through."

At this point, I can normally negotiate something if I change the channel. Weak spot found -- He can't stand the celebrity gossip.

Lights out

Well, Cleveland got its ass kicked by some thunderstorms tonight. It's amazing what three hours without electricity can do. Lots of Quality Time (QT)!

Unapproachable my ass

"That's because you are unapproachable." That, my blog friends, is a phrase I heard from the BF while he was courting me back in 2006. He would always point out that I was unapproachable. He even said that if he saw me at a bar....he never would've approached me. That I would've shot him down if I were with my friends. Ummmmm I don't know about all that. But, when I saw this approachability test on Cosmo, I couldn't resist to test his little theory even though I knew I was right.

According to this ever-so-scientific study, I'm an open people-person. I'm not the cold-hearted girl you don't want to to talk to. I'm the girl who stands in a social space, like a kitchen, and make myself available to chat with anyone. As a side note, people always talk to me. I know the BF thinks I'm unapproachable, but you wouldn't believe the people that talk to me.

Just the other day I was in Linen's and Things, this woman started talking about how she bought the perfect bed-in-a-bag, but didn't realize that the "comforter" was actually a duvet. She kept referring to the "duvet" as "nothing more than a sheet" and how "could anyone use that for covers." I tried to explain it to her but she didn't get the concept of a duvet. And, I couldn't get a freaking word in. Anyway, she preceded to tell me all about her bedroom colors and the bright blue wall she painted. I was exhausted just listening. But, my point is, I'm freaking approachable. So approach me, biatch.

That question

Last week, I finally made my way over to our leasing office to officially sign our lease. Thank god those people are flexible. I had verbally confirmed with them that we were resigning, but I was about two weeks past their due date of signing -- oops. I like the leasing agents in that office. They are, for once, friendly, know my name and my apartment off the top of their head. As the leasing agent is going over the paper work, she advises me that nothing has changed and to initial on every page and sign two other places. So, we are talking and I'm half listening/half reading the lease when I hear, "So.....no proposal?"

Me: I stop initialling and think, What the F is this!? "No, there's no proposal."
Her: "Really? I thought for sure you two would be engaged. He's so cute."
Me: Gulping, "No, we aren't quite there yet."
Her: "Well, are you going to marry him?"

Seriously. It was bad enough that I was going to have to face that question at the wedding I was heading to that night, but I was now getting asked the future of my relationship by the leasing agent. I've concluded that maybe she wants to marry him and has a definite crush on the BF. More power to you!

Now, can I get a month of rent free?

Sign on the dotted line

It's that time again. We received a letter from our leasing office informing us we have until May 18 to resign our lease. We had our little talk, discussed our options and decided to stay in this sweet apartment for another year of living in sin.

It's been fun, weird, challenging, annoying and lovely all at the same. Although I joke, sometimes on a daily basis that I'm moving out, I'm going to sign up for another year with the BF. Who knew you had to work at a relationship! It can be work I tell ya. It's definitely not all sex and rock n' roll.

You want reality MTV? Once you are done milking all you can out of Lauren Conrad and her BFFs, come and film the BF styling his hair in the morning! Although it's not nearly as bad as Joey from the Real World, he might be able to give him a run for his money. I bet he could help him calm down the Sonic the hedgehog effect he has going on.

Wedding no-no's

Well, it's about that time again. Wedding season! You know, when you and your BF head off to weddings and the "question" is asked by every great-aunt or friend of the family -- so, when you are you two getting married? My usual response is one of a few things: When he makes more money, or an innocent laugh, take a sip of wine and say "not any time soon," or maybe when he stops cheating on me. OK, so maybe the last response is only for the few good friends to spice things up in really uncomfortable settings.

But really, when is it OK to ask that question? I'm going to say never. Or, you better be my very close friend to ask that. It's never OK to ask that question if you just met a couple, especially if they are both standing there. The BF and I went to 12 weddings last summer -- two of them were on the same day so we had to go our separate ways. I can't count how many times people asked us as we both stood there when we were getting married.

I felt the most uncomfortable for my friend Katie though. It became a funny joke to us by the end of the summer because everyone always asked her about it. I think we might’ve even counted a few times how many times she was asked – it kept things interesting. People who she hasn’t seen in years kept probing her about it. She’s way too nice to snub them and has way more patience than I do.

Here’s how a typical conversation would go:
Faux friend who she hasn’t seen in years asks: “How long have you guys been together? Oh, wow, three years. When’s the big date? Oh, you guys aren’t engaged yet? Well, I’m sure your time will come. “What does that even mean?

We can never be too sure what is going on in other people’s relationships. So, in my mind, it’s safe to say you shouldn’t ask those questions to people you just met. It comes off rude, nosy and to be quite honest, it’s none of your damn business.

My wedding season starts Memorial Day weekend. Let the questioning begin….

Cinderella has left the building.

Since I've said time and time again that the B.F. is the cleaning nazi, I'm surprised he didn't tell me that last week was National Cleaning Week. I would expect him to inform me of something like that. He'd like to point out something like that to me in hopes of sparking a need to clean.

It still doesn't. Nope. Not even a little. Thank god for separate bathrooms. I don't think we'd have lasted this long. Now that's something serious that has the potential to break up a couple -- sharing a bathroom.

Screw you, Lacoste

The B.F. has two colognes. One that I bought him, Lacoste and he has this cheap other stuff from Eddie Bauer as a back up cologne I guess. Today, he walks into my office and I immediately smell the Eddie Bauer scent -- I don't like it. It reminds me of high school when every 15-18 year-old owned stock in Abercrombie and the cologne. Who didn't wear it back then? So he walks into my office and we have a little conversation. I am now dumber for participating in it.

Me: Wow. (I get a breeze of cologne.) I don't like that cologne and you have a lot on.
B.F.: It needs to last until 8 p.m. tonight.
Me: I still don't like it.
B.F. I'm well aware of that. So that's why I wore it today.
Me: You wore it even though I don't like it?
B.F: Yes, I do it on purpose because you had a temper tantrum last night.
Me: I did not have a temper tantrum. But, really, you have a great bottle of Lacoste that smells much better than that shit you are wearing.
B.F: Yes, I do and I wear that but since you were mad, I'm now wearing this one to pay you back.
Me: Wait. You do that? Why?

Editor's note --I wasn't mad so he really makes no sense at all. He says it's to keep me on my toes.

He's full of shit, that's what he is. Full of shit. Guess that's a Monday morning for you.

Freedom for three days

Since Tuesday A.M., I have had our whole 1,000 sq. foot domain to myself. Just me! Can you believe it? The B.F. is traveling for work, and I'm destroying our apartment one day at a time with my shoes, clothes and empty drinking glasses. I put a dish in the sink and don't wash it. I kick my shoes off when I walk in, drop my coat where I please and leave both TVs on if I want to. And you know what? I love it.

However, my rampage will need to be cut short because Mr. Clean is returning tonight.

Role reversal

Since the B.F. and I have been living together for a little over six months now, we've indirectly taken on roles within the apartment. I'm a much better chef than he is. And, quite frankly, he's a much better at cleaning than I am. It's not that I can't clean, it's just that I can't clean up to his standards, which might even put Martha Stewart to shame.

So when we decide to go grocery shopping and then I cook, he normally cleans up after the mess I make. I make quite the mess when I'm cooking. I'm pretty much a bull in a china shop. I get everything out as I need it or it all at once. I'm sifting through cabinets and drawers looking for the right cooking utensil. But, something always develops from my madness that's pretty damn tasty. Needless to say, he sometimes has a big mess to clean up. Like I said, because I don't clean up to his standards, the only thing I'm allowed to touch are the pans -- I'm allowed to dry them.

Then last night he cooked and cleaned, and I offered to clean up because that's what I should do, right? Wrong!

B.F. -- Allison get away from the sink. You don't know what you are doing
Me -- You cooked, so I'll clean up the taco mess.
B.F.-- No, you won't, you don't even clean up the stove after you cook on it.

Here's my stove cleaning isssue. If I'm boiling water for some frozen vegetables or pasta, do I really need to intricately clean every nook of the stove? I don't think so. Well in mop boy's world, I really really need to. Although, in the grand scheme of things, I really shouldn't be complaining too much. I mean, I have a B.F. who likes to clean. In fact, he may just love it. He even mops.

In the cleaning wars, he wins. Hands down.

Give Up

Since it's that very important Wednesday of the Catholic religion, I thought it was fitting to take the idea of "giving something up" by translating it to my daily and exciting life. (A little self-reflection if you will.) What can I give up? My friend is giving up alcohol. Really. She's giving it up in the hopes of saving more money I think. I don't believe her -- she'll be out with my drinking in two weeks tops. A co-worker is giving up chocolate (I'd fail in one hour).

Here are some things I could give up, or at least try and cut down on:
-being late (no one likes a tardy person)
-cussing (I've been known to drop the f-bombs)
-disorganization (a constant battle between the BF and I)
-being a clothes whore (my credit cards would hate me)

And, more importantly, here are a few things the BF could give up or cut down on:
-being a clean whore (It's OK if soap is left in the sink. No one is going to die.)
-owning the TV and remote (my reality shows aren't that bad).
-riding the ass of other cars when they cut him off (he calls it defensive driving, but I think I'm going to die.)