Daniel Tosh Date

Well, I wasn't in the best mood heading over to the Pageant. We'd never been there. What would it be like? Where would we park if everywhere we looked was full? What if I had to pee (I did drink 8 glasses of iced tea prior, because I am a moron)? Would I be able to find the restrooms? AHHHHHH!

Why do I worry about that stuff? I don't know. I just do. The husband calmly and coolly drove us through the Loop and parked in a free, large, public lot behind the Pageant with no problems whatsoever. The only thing concerning was...

I may have gently petted Laura the Aura as I shut her passenger side door, saying my goodbyes. Since I was sure she'd either be violated or disappear altogether by the time we returned. The photo does not give the parking lot the creepy, crime-y vibe it had down so well.

Not wanting to take a picture because of my mood, the hubby finally talked me into one before we got out of the car. I did a smiley happy one and an angry, this-is-the-real-mood-I'm-in, Roar! Roar! one. I don't know why that one turned out kind of like I was trying to be sexy, which I was not. Although I think if I did try, it would also turn out comparable to this. Keep your clothes on, everybody. I know it's a lot of look coming right at cha there. I know, I know, giant foreheads are so hot right now!

Just another reminder about how lucky I am that the husband looks at this every day and hasn't run off yet.

I watched a lot of hippie dippie, arty farty people walking around. I felt older and out of place. But that's okay. I was with the hubby and I like him enough to deal with the crowd (I may sound harsh there, but he was the one who referred to them as a sea of douches, so see? I was being nice!).

Even though he did leave me in the middle of the less-than-comforting parking lot to go back to the car to put his jacket back.

I assured him when he returned that I had not been robbed or beaten or anything. Lucked out there, Buddy! I would have been so mad at him! 

We walked past sketchy looking scalpers (so weird) and were at the venue in a couple minutes. We passed the big black bus that we assumed was Daniel Tosh's ride. The hubby told me to take a picture but there were a lot of employees there and it seemed weird. So I did not. I did take a pic of the Pageant. When you see the pic of the place and stage later, maybe you'll understand why picturing a Disturbed show in that venue kind of blew my mind all over the place.

The second we walked through the doors, a woman had us step out of line and thoroughly padded us down.

She squeezed my butt checks. With a lot of... vigor.

I may have inadvertently dated a girl in college, but that was only because I didn't know it and thought we were friends. A personal visit at my apartment with a bouquet of flowers after I had my wisdom teeth out alerted me to a relationship I did not know I was in. My mother, having driven 4 hours to take care of me for a week, got to be enlightened at the same time as me. Yay. Oh, college. How I don't miss you.

Anyway, I had nothing in my pockets but I guess best be on the safe side. It was still very strange. I've never been overly (or underly, or exactly moderately, whatever that would mean, for the record) padded down before. I wondered if this person was that involved with foreplay in her own life, because wow. Took a lot of time, energy, and effort there, Lady. Then, she did the same thing to my husband, or so he told me, since at that point I was onto dealing with a ticket lady who was less handsy.

My husband said he had never been padded down like that either. Which I found surprising. Hooray for cultural tolerance at airports and other establishments other than the Pageant... Which I think was also tolerant because everyone WAS being treated the same. So it's fine. Just strange.

We got the letter G stamped on our hands because we were over 21. Later that night, at home, I told the hubby he better start mentally telling himself how sexy it is, since mine is going to be on there for the next 2 years. I wondered why G. Because "God damn, we're over 21!" Because it's "great" to be of age? Then I started singing Semisonic's DND in my head because it sound like G and G, and my brain kind of stopped working. Here's my hand now, after many a good scrubbing.

Ooo! Ooo! *Squirms and bounces in seat. I know, I know!

It must stand for "giggles" because it was a comedy show!

The husband's answer was a lot more logical. He said they must pick a letter randomly at night so that no one knows and therefore can't fake it. Ooooh. That makes sense.

Although, I have to say, thank you, Guy-Who-Demanded-To-See-My-ID-All-Seriously and then inspected it too long with a flashlight up close, all CSI and sh*t. Thank you for acting like I may be 10 years younger than I am. It's like the anti-ma'am. Awwwww. Kisses. I kept them inside, but wanted to do the one cheek, then other cheek, European/Tim Gunn style gesture. Which I don't think the bouncer-hard rock-type guy checking the IDs would have appreciated in the manner it was meant.

The Pageant was pretty interesting. A lot smaller and more intimate than I had anticipated. Lots of chairs were set up and we had help finding our seats. 4 or 5 high school boys were seated directly behind us and gave me violent fantasies...

As in, fantasies of me violently killing them. They did not take a breath the entire 45 minutes before the show started. And although I guess they were "friends", all they did was bash each other and talk and talk and talk and it was infuriating. I know they were high schoolers (spell check just tried to make that SCHOLARS! Whoa, spell check, you are MISTAKEN) from all their talk about high school, homecoming, teachers, Facebook, girls, boasts, brags, put downs, REALLY ANNOYING HIGH PITCHED FAKE LAUGHING, and just really awesome zingers. Yes, that was sarcasm. I almost had the husband get me something alcoholic. But then I was afraid I might actually punch a group of 11th graders and I don't see how the judge is going to understand how necessary it was. And the hubby would have had to come to my rescue and we would not have gotten to see Daniel Tosh.

The only redeeming audience quality was the couple next to us. The guy chit chatted with me while his wife was away for a couple minutes. He was super bald by choice as evidenced by the bandaid on the back of his head and he was a big, muscle-y guy who could have easily been an intimidating Mr. Clean. Once he turned to me and spoke, his eyes got all crinkly LIKE SANTA. He was so nice and genuinely seemed to be just a friendly, kind, happy-go-lucky guy. That helped settle me down. He said his wife had gotten these tickets for their anniversary and he was really happy about it. They looked really happy together. Awww. He asked if we were big fans of Daniel Tosh and I answered, "A little bit" because I don't get out much and I'm stupid. Why didn't I say, "Yes! We love him!" or something equally true? I don't know. My social interaction practice happens... Now. Lucky guy.

There were 2 opening comics, both pretty good, both doing short sets. Daniel Tosh came out looking basically like he does on his Comedy Central show. Deep V! But over a tee. He admitted right away to being under the weather but he got right into his act and was hilarious. He did over an hour of material and it was great.

The stage! Nice! Not a bad view in the place, I think.

The husband and I laughed a lot. I kept covering my face with my hands. He's that kind of funny - you're laughing because it's horrible and you shouldn't be laughing but it's funny because of either it being really wrong or really true or a lot of the time, both... He did material about the kid who died when he was decapitated by the roller coaster earlier this year - the one who jumped not one but 2 heavily labeled security fences to get his hat that had fallen off when he had ridden the coaster... That should not have been funny but he made it impossible not to laugh so hard that it hurt. Decapitation is not funny. I should know - my uncle died in that horrific way when he was in his twenties in a gruesome on-the-job in the line of duty incident as a state trooper. But watching Daniel Tosh, I laughed at decapitation. Yeah. Maybe I'm going to hell, but laughter feels so heavenly!

After the show, the crowd poured out and it was impossible to get in front, or in the middle. We filtered out at the end and walked quickly to the parking lot. Where our car still waited for us, unmolested! We got to enjoy sitting in that lot for about 20 minutes, as my earlier stress transferred to my husband as he lost his patience with what can only be described as the worst drivers in Missouri or possibly America attempted to all leave the parking lot at once. There was A LOT of honking. Once we made it onto the street, we were good. Home we went, exhausted, remembering too well why so many of our dates happen before 10 at night.

And like the elderly couple that we are, we fell into bed quickly and with lots of sighs and cracking joints, and we talked about how nice our bed feels. Then the sound of his snoring floated softly into the air and my insomnia took a much deserved break. I love blankets, pillows, warm kitties, the feel of my dog sleeping against my legs, and the sound of my husband's snoring. Last night, there was nothing in the entire world that I ever have loved or could ever love more.

A Deer, A Bear, A Horse, A Pegasus?

I had grand illusions of possibly being productive today. Might do a little of this, scratch a little of that off of the to-do list... Was gonna take my time to get ready for our date tonight. Ooooo. Ahhhh.

Of course, I also had a very full DVR. And all day Monday and Tuesday, I may not have super cleaned, but it was pretty close. The only things I didn't do were things like move the furniture around to clean under everything and swiffer the ceilings. Which I did last week. So, all in all, I had a nice, clean house.

You know how I was a nurse? In long term care. Long. Term. Care. In not the nicest places. I also have had pets my whole life, although not as many at one time as the hubby and I have had these past couple years. And, once, as a girl, my folks boarded a horse for me at a cattle farm for about 2 years (don't get the wrong idea there - it was an old, cheap horse, but I was so happy!). I also had a childhood friend who lived on a pig farm long before that. My point is, I have smelled smells my whole life. I am not unfamiliar with sh*tty smells. Literally and figuratively.

Yeah. Foreshadowing is a little too subtle a word for what I just did there, I know.

I let Mav, our Weimaraner, out into the backyard. I always go out with her and walk around, making sure she isn't barking at kids and bothering people in general. Making sure she's happy and not getting into anything. Watching for any thrown beer bottles on the ground from the neighbors. Protecting the squirrels. Not that they need it - the world's most mentally and/or physically disabled squirrel could still elude good ole Mav. Making sure there isn't a new lake hiding in our lawn from the other neighbor drowning his above ground pool under the fence just so. Creating a swampy, muddy mess in a large section of our backyard. Not today, thankfully.

Well, this morning, I came back to the house fairly quickly after watching Mav and picking up her business. I was calling Mav. Enticing her with the words "num nums" a few times. Usually she has pretty good recall with that promise of treats.

I came up the stairs, opened the door, and came inside. I went to grab her a treat. Usually she is already on my heels by this point and at the door... Hmm...

I turned to see her still out in the yard, far out in the yard, and she was doing something not out of character for her. She was smelling, then pawing, then shoving her head whole hog into the ground. The front of her followed, down she went, roll, roll, roll in whatever smell she had fallen so in love with. It's happened plenty of times. I always go to check it out. It's never anything I have been able to see, or smell. Once I think it was possibly one tiny, solitary mushroom. Other than that, it's always been invisible, non-human smellable smells. And I have a very delicate sniffer. Smells. I smell them.

Something told me to go out to her. Perhaps it was God. He had my back today, I spose. As I approached, I started to smell it. At first, I thought my brain was playing tricks on me. Then, I saw it.

Had a deer gotten into our backyard?

A bear?

A horse?

Wait, it is unlikely a horse since everything is so well fenced in...

So... A pegasus? Holy sh*t. Exclamation curse AND actual crap.

Mav was rolling in the largest, foulest, blackest pile of tar-consistency sh*t that I had ever seen. Or smelled. I have never smelled anything like this. Ever. And. She. Was. Covered. Even the underside of her collar was covered in sh*t. Not that I figured that out until later (after dragging her straight inside, through the house, and into the tub by her collar).

Ewwwwwwwwwww. Never. In. My. Life.

I hosed her off, then me, then Clorox wiped any surface and doorknob I may or may not have touched on our straight shot to the tub. Am still doing the mountain of laundry of towels. The shower curtain in case she touched it while I grabbed her shampoo.

Later, I get to try to pretty myself up for our date tonight. Yay. Ug. There is no way to make this girl presentable today. Had to wash my hair too early to take any care with it, blah blah blah, 8 glasses of iced tea, blah blah blah, sloppy joes for supper, blah blah blah. Did I brush my teeth today? Better do that.

Oh, I mean, candlelight and poetry and soft loving whispers. Spanx. Lipstick. Okay, lip gloss. Okay, okay, Chapstick. Gettin' in the dating zone...

IS IMPOSSIBLE!

I say presentable tonight will be wearing a bra out of the house. Wha-la. Fit for a social evening in public. Daniel Tosh, here we come, ready or not (him or us).

Daniel Tosh and Parkour

I am really nervous about the Daniel Tosh show this week. Will we find a parking space? Will he make me laugh so hard I blow snot on the person in front of me? Will we be able to blend in enough so that he doesn't see us and feels the need to make fun of us and possibly make me cry?

I have also decided I am no longer clumsy. Although my busted up left toe, 3 deep wounds on the side of my right foot, scratches on the back of my left shoulder, and colorful kaleidoscope of bruises on all my limbs would still have the good foundations of a solid argument. Too bad none of those injuries were caused at the same time (midnight walking into something large and painful, cat getting under my feet while I was walking, various, various, various).

I mean, from now on, I am not clumsy. Next time I try to step over the coffee table after getting up from the couch, trying to bypass my husband's feet up on one side of me and my giant dog taking up space on the other side of me, I will yell "Parkour!" as I land all haphazard and score new bruises. Bruises that are just bright reminders of my new Parkour hobby. Parkour!

Will I yell "Parkour!" in front of Daniel Tosh?

Stay tuned for the answers to this and so many other mind numbingly... numbing questions!

And if you are wondering what Parkour! is go here and then here!

C.U. Day

The husband's cough and congestion are officially back. *Bangs head on desk 3 times.

Invictus has sat on our tv from Netflix for 3 weeks. We watched it yesterday. Contrary to (my) popular belief, it is not about soccer. Excellent movie. Even with all the rugby. I think Nelson Mandela may be a really lovely alien, or at least have some sort of disease that we would all be lucky to get because it gives him so much more humanity than I think is possible.

The weekend passed without our leaving the house. This will definitely need to change in the future. It is way too easy to push "start" on the dishwasher and then claim to have had a productive, fun weekend.

In reality, I don't think we brushed our teeth enough or ate regular meals (jelly stuffed Japanese marshmallows are gone now *sad face). We should have at least changed from our pajamas into other pajamas. Sigh.

We're starting a busy month. This week alone, there's a cat getting 3 stitches removed, an appointment in the early morning hours with an exterminator, and Daniel Tosh. Daniel Tosh is definitely a date, but we're still a the point where it feels a little like work right now. It's at a place with a thing and a set time and we have to be there, all adult and conscious and dressed and parked correctly and on time... Yeah. I'm sure once we get there, in our seats, we'll be happy. Until then, it's a scheduled appointment like all the others.

Sexy Monday time. Today is cat urinalysis day. Yes, you did read that correctly. Have to go in a minute and find and crate a kitty for his urinalysis. Oh joy.

I also need to clean, and do laundry, and go to the grocery store...

I have to be sure to stop when the hubby gets home so I give him a cuddle. So we can each regain some fraction of our sanity. I shouldn't complain. At least I didn't have to get up at four and then go into a job with actual people and actual work. With the interaction and the computers and the meetings... Wow, do I not miss meetings. I would not trade my day with his. Not even on cat urinalysis day.

Honeycombs

Holy sh-Nikes (sha-nike-ees), Batman. October. We've had like one, non-sweltering summer day and now we're expecting frost over the weekend. All the damn leaves are still green and non-fall-like. I haven't gotten to wear boots. Not. Once.

In a couple days, we're seeing Daniel Tosh. I keep forgetting that is happening SOON. It feels like in a second, it'll be all NOW and we'll accidentally be at home, in our pajamas. Watching Running Wilde because we're sure we're the only 2 people on the planet that find it funny and it'll be cancelled soon. And eating toast like it's a snack because we don't have anything snack-y at home and when we put cinnamon sugar on top of the butter, it seems like a viable option. If we squint our eyes real hard and try to get into a cough-syrup induced mental haze, then it's almost like we're eating a really crappy donut.

Or a really awesome piece of toast.

I wonder where I put the tickets to see him.

The hubby's cough and sinuses are acting up again. Will Daniel Tosh make us leave? Will our feelings hurt more than our sinuses? *Sad, horrified face.

And is my body trying to tell me something? My taste buds aren't working again. I got to open a new box of cereal this morning, and I opened my cupboard of waiting boxes...

Usually, I say something genius-y like "Wow. I really like all these!" in surprise. Which is stupid since I AM THE ONE WHO BOUGHT ALL THE CEREAL AND WHO EATS ALL THE CEREAL ON A DAILY  BASIS.

This morning, the boxes all seemed blah except for the Honeycomb. Honeycomb goes fast around here. Even the hubby takes handfuls of it to snack on whenever he walks through the kitchen.

I had the thought MAYBE I SHOULD SAVE THE HONEYCOMB. I don't know why. For a rainy day? For the future was as far as my mind went. Like I needed to save it for a special occasion that was going to happen later.

As if maybe we'd never have more Honeycomb. But I like Honeycomb! See my dilemma?

Then, I thought, "What if I die?" I will have wished I'd had the Honeycomb. WHAT IF I DIE. SOON. Like after breakfast.

So I happily opened the Honeycomb, which still tastes like Honeycomb, although milk does not taste like milk. At first I was all, maybe the milk went bad, but by the end of the bowl, I deemed it organic and forgave it, thinking it was tasty. Gee, we've only been getting this brand and % of milk since last December. It is possible I would forget what it tastes like...

And I fought with all my might to push it back in my brain, gave myself a nice pile of excuses. You need caffeine! It's so early - ha ha! You didn't get any sleep again! You're a funny lady full of quirkiness, which makes you so awesome and lovable! You do really like cereal! You and the hubby are still somehow kind of, slightly, a little bit sick!

Still, really, Self? You're going to die and you want Honeycombs? That's the thing you think of? If this is your last hour or two on earth? HONEYCOMBS. Having Honeycombs is the big finale? Captain Crunch would have ruined your last meal?

My seize the day, triumphant-fist-pumping-last-lap IS HONEYCOMBS. Oh God.

Somehow this translated into action. I had a second bowl of Honeycombs. Like that would make me less stupid about this whole thing happening in here (*taps on forehead).

If I really thought I was about to die, wouldn't I eat like a tub of cake frosting from the cupboard? Or those Japanese marshmallow things I bought for my brother but ended up opening and eating yesterday?

Even better than Honeycomb.

Sweet tiny bearded baby Jesus, this is some good sh*t. I opened the strawberry one yesterday. My brain goes, well this is what it would want for its last meal. It = me somehow emotionally removed by my own thought process.

Maybe the 2 bowls of cereal were in my best interest, since I have no room to open and devour this bag and then possibly die a Japanese Marshmallow Death. So the Honeycombs were really in the interest of self preservation.

And I also think my husband has a new cutsy nickname for the day. As in, when he walks through the door, I'm gonna be all "My honey comb! Ooo dodo do do." *Pets his hair. In the future, when he's home from work. Am I psychic? Man, I better not die today.

Watching Castle at 3 am where a medium possibily predicted her own murder = this kind of morning.

This is how my Friday started. For some reason, I do not have high hopes for our weekend.

The Loop Date

We drove downtown after our time in Forest Park. Since we have a date to see Daniel Tosh perform in a couple weeks, we wanted to find the place he would be at and figure out where we were parking. We found the Pageant fairly quickly. Yay! Then, before I knew what was happening, we were in (foreboding music inserted here) The Loop.

Now, my husband has attempted to take me to The Loop before. It's been a couple years, though.

The Loop, for those who do not know, is the arty (I call it arty farty) area in the city. It's all Birkenstocks, hemp clothes, dreads, and tie-dye. I would have really liked it in college. However, since I was many years removed from those days, my husband taking me there ended up a little overly-dramatic the first time he attempted it. I believe he may have parked the car and I refused to get out and we came home. I just felt weird. Some people have to be in a mood to deal with street musicians and a high (brow?) crowd. I am one of those people. Not the high crowd - the ones that need to be in a mood to deal with them. Sigh.

I used to be a coffee shop type of girl. The tortured writer/painter type. Now I'm more of a read-books-instead-of-write-them, cuddle-on-the-couch-at-home type of girl. I want to still be all knowledgeable about the latest indie movies and the bands no one else has heard of yet, but now both of those things make my brain hurt.

I just felt too insecure, I guess, to walk around The Loop with my husband. Which is stupid, I know.

This time, we drove through, and we drove slowly. I looked in the windows full of local clothing stores and handmade items. The vintage record stores, little art galleries, little crafty shops.

PIZAZZ FUTONS. What a name for a futon store. Just saying it makes you feel like you've been smoking something, and you have to gesture very dramatically when it comes out of your mouth, otherwise you're not saying it right. Feel free to add jazz hands. It rhymes with Pizazz. A natural union there.

Then, we passed this.

Now, you may have noticed we don't eat out a lot. Partly, it's expensive. Partly, I like to cook. Mostly, I tend to get sick whenever we eat out. However, this gave me a craving for mac and cheese like nobody's business.

I'm a planner. I don't do a lot of spur of the moment stuff. And I'm not a Loop person, just remember me sitting in the car, refusing to get out. I've only lived here 4 years. It was not that long ago.

We drove around some more, made sure we knew where we could park for the Tosh show, and then started heading out of the city.

I said, "Are you hungry?"

And I INITIATED GOING OUT TO EAT. Then and there. And so we went, we parked in the same parking lot as was my previous fail, and we walked through The Loop and had a late lunch at Cheese-ology. There were flowy peasant dresses, and men wearing fedoras, and employees wearing vintage tees.

There was also MAC AND CHEESE of the tastiest caliber. I went original and he went Philly Cheesesteak. It was served in cast iron skillets. Piping hot. They had Pepsi (the hubby's drink of choice) and a very tasty and calorie-free peach iced tea.

The mac and cheese was, I assume, not calorie free. I didn't ask. Why would anyone ask that? Some questions have answers you do not want. Best leave those questions in the room in your mind that is being visited by all things mac and cheese. That'll quiet 'em.

We had a very nice, sit down meal.  When we got there, the place was not very crowded at all. It was after we sat down and waited for our food that a long line of people came in. It was nice to already just be and be able to watch everything and everyone. And to enjoy my excellent company. The table was small so it felt nice. Safe. Close. No "let's-get-back-to-the-car I'm-scared-of-hippies" meltdowns or anything! A perfect little lunch.

We walked by a couple shops, restrained ourselves from going in. Got back to the parking lot, back in the car. Headed home. That was a multi-layered date! Date explosion!

But, did we go home? Not straight home, we didn't. Date A-bombs, away!