Hi, I’m Amber and I spill Things

Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, ‘Hi, I’m Amber. I spill things’? I mean, I know that as a general rule I am a messy person. Ok, so I’m an extremely messy person. As in, yes that was me that spilled the red wine on our white carpet. Yep, and I ruined the keyboard at work by tipping over my water cup. Um… ok, so it was also me that dropped an entire large Jamba Juice under the seat of my friend’s car. But, hey, I also cleaned it up.

I had a hankering for French fries yesterday. I drove through the drive thru and order a small. A small. It’s not like I ordered a number two, supersize me please, with a jumbo fries and chicken nuggets like the day before. It was a small French fry.

This is how many napkins I was given.

“Here, lady, have a napkin. Oh, wait, scratch that. You look like the kind of person who needs fifty.”

On a side note, I spilled my coffee on the way to work this morning. Luckily I happened to have a bajillion napkins in my car to clean it up. #savestheday (Oh wait, this isn’t Twitter. #darn)

Posted in Coffee, Driving, Food, Funny | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Proof My Car Hates Me

Is it just me or has Starbucks gotten a little… creepy lately?

This morning was one of those rare but wonderful mornings where I had time to go to Starbucks before work. I headed over to the one near my office, a different location than normal. I order my grande skinny vanilla late and pulled up to the window. The young guy working it popped his head out and said, a little too eagerly, “Hi! I believe I’ve seen you here before!”

I haven’t been to this Starbucks in months. He must have me confused with someone else.

“Oh, nope, not me.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve seen you in a different car?” He continued, as if I’d agreed with his previous statement.

Smile. Shake head. “This is my only car, and, really, I haven’t been here in, like… months.”

“Did you just buy it recently?” he asked, again ignoring my previous statement.

“Nope, I’ve had it for a while.”

“Do you ever drive a different one?”

Ok, Starbucks Guy, this is getting old and a little bit creepy. “No, this is the only car I drive.”

“I feel like you should be driving a different one.”

Yeah, me too. Now where’s my coffee?

Creepy Starbucks Guy leaned out the window and handed me my latte. I snatched it from his hands in a, ‘that’s mine! Don’t touch!’ kind of grab, ready to floor the gas and peel out. He started talking again, probably saying ‘What kind of cars do you like? I like red ones. Have you ever driven a red car before?’ when I slammed the car into drive, nodding a smile, and punched the gas.

My car died.

Of all the times for my car to die, and it chooses this one. My getaway was ruined. Creepy Starbucks Guy’s eyes widened and I waited for him to say “I really feel like you should be driving a different car”.

Yeah, me too, bud. Me too.

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The Dance Contest

Did I ever tell you about the time that Zack and I entered a dance contest?

Zack and I have two things in common: We love to shake our booties on the dance floor, and we can both be painfully shy. It’s an odd mix, one that usually requires us to consume a couple drinks before we are able to boogie the night away. Two years ago Zack took me to Tahoe for my birthday. We hadn’t been together for that long and there was still some of the sweet shyness between the two of us. Normally when I’m into a guy it would take me a while to let loose Footloose style in front of him, but this weekend was a different story.

It was the night of my birthday and I was bursting with excitement, fueled by new love and several gin and tonics. We were in a casino sipping our drinks at a small bar with a dance floor and stage next to it. As the floor filled up Zack and I found ourselves swaying with the crowed. Eventually the music took over us and we lost control of our bodies. There was no helping it. We were dancing.

Consumed with the beat in our veins, we decided to find another dance floor with more people, louder music, and more room to strut our stuff. Destination: Cabo Wabo.

 We entered the club and found, to our delight, a packed dance floor, a dj, and (gasp) a dance contest. We had to enter. Because what would be better than winning a dance contest in Tahoe on your birthday?

The DJ announced the start of the contest. Three songs, no intermission. We hit the floor and we danced, like no one has danced before.

I shook my tail feather. I dropped it like it’s hot. I shimmied. I dipped, I swayed, I shook. And the judges watched. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one point to us, so I kicked it up a notch. I busted out moves I didn’t know that I was even capable of. And Zack? Well, Zack knocked my socks off. I could barely keep up with him. Together we had this in the bag!

At the end of the three song marathon Zack and I exited the floor, sweating and panting for air. Then we saw it. A table, at the entrance of the club with a large, can’t-miss-it banner that read: Dance Contest, Sign up here!

Um, oops. We didn’t sign up.

So we lost after all, but only by a technicality. Because I know had we signed up we would have won. And really, it’s better that way. It wouldn’t have been fair to the other dancers to be up agains such fierce competition.

Yep, that’s my theory and I’ll stand by it to the end.
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

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My Dog is a Dirty, Rotten Traitor

Captain told on me last night.

We have a secret, the two of us. See, since he’s the worst shedder in the history of dogs that shed (I’m not kidding. Don’t even try to tell me your dog/cat/husband sheds more. It’s just not true) he is no longer allowed to sleep in the bed with Zack and myself. We came to that conclusion together and, really, it’s for our own sanity. You can only wake up and go in for a good morning kiss to discover your significant other has a plethora of white hairs on their lips so many times. He’s happy in his own bed, anyway. I got him a huge, fluffy, comfy bed that I’m tempted to curl up in for a mid-day nap myself. The other benefit is that the bedroom door is in plain view from his bed so his midnight growl-attacks at the shadows of the house no longer require that he climb out of bed.

Oh yes, the secret. Whenever Zack works out of town, works nights, or even works late, Captain and I snuggle up in bed. This is much easier done when Zack is out of town, of course, but it still works when he comes home at 3am or so. I always lock the bedroom door when he’s not home because, you know, burglars and thieves and rapists and such. This works out to my benefit. When Zack knocks, Captain jumps out from under the covers barking and I do a frantic sweeping of the bed to get all residual dog hair out of sight.

Zack is none the wiser.

Captain, he’s smart I tell you. Zack crawls in bed, Captain gets in his, and we peer at each other, me hiding a smile. He knows cuddle time is only when Zack’s not here. I swear when he’s looking at me from his bed he’s even given me the occasional wink.

Last night Zack worked until 5am. When he got home he knocked, Captain jumped, I swept. All was normal. Then Captain, in his excitement to see Zack, jumped on the bed, raced to the other side, and hopped off.

Zack stared at him in wonderment. I feigned surprise, saying “What the… did he just…? Well I never.”

Zack laughed and picked Captain up, saying ‘What were you thinking?’ and gave him a kiss. When he set him down, Captain hopped right back up on the bed (with his back to me, mind you) and looked at Zack. He cocked his head to one side as if to say, ‘What? I do this all the time.’

That’s when Zack knew something was up. His eyes narrowed. He looked at me. He shook his head.

“You’ve been letting him sleep in the bed, haven’t you?”

Well, Captain, you may be laughing now but the last laugh’s on you. Rat me out and no more bed for you! Ha. That’ll show you.

 

Um, ok… I take it back. How can I stay mad at a cutie like that?

PS I’m not the only offender. Nope, Zack, you can act innocent all you want, but the truth is… I have photographic evidence (insert evil laugh)

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Twice Upon a Time In Mexico

Read part one here.

I was falling. I didn’t realize how tall the wave would be, or that I would have so much of a gut-in-my-throat sensation of free-fall. It was, dare I say, almost enjoyable.

The moment ended in a snap as I found myself falling sideways. I crashed into the wave head first, tumbling through the icy ocean water. The piece of rubber connected to my ankle at one end and the board at the other strained under pressure. The rubber-band effect that took place flung the board right at me, but it didn’t connect for I was tumbling too fast.

I was upside down, then right side up, then sideways. I felt my right shoulder smash into something – the ocean bottom? I was running out of breath and began to paddle with al my might. Was I even headed towards the surface? I couldn’t be sure. Then, just in time, my head popped out of the water and I gasped for air. I opened my eyes for a split second. Salt stinging them, I squeezed them shut again.

Just when I though I was free, a second wave pounded me. Tumbling again, this time I attempted to go limp until the churning ended. It didn’t help. I thought my body would snap in half from the tugging, the pushing, and the harshness of it all. Finally round two ended and I surfaced again. I didn’t have time to clear my eyes when I saw a third attack on its way. ‘I’ll duck under this one and let it pass,’ I thought.

I dove as far as I could. The rubber, still around my ankle, yanked back. I was free from the wave but the board wasn’t. As the wave consumed the board in one swallow, I was along for the ride. The pain seared hot on my ankle, but that was soon forgotten as my torso was driven into the ocean floor.

This pattern continued for what seemed like a long, long time. I surfaced; I tumbled; I gasped for air.

Finally, the seemingly relentless ocean began to subside and I found the time between battles grew longer. Eventually they fizzled and I found my footing on the sandy bottom of the 4 foot deep sea. My ankle burned, my shoulder throbbed, and a gallon of salt water sloshed in my head. I attempted to arrange my swimsuit, ignoring the pile of sand that sagged in my bikini bottoms. I knew there was no use. I’d gone to battle with the sea, and the sea won.

Scanning my surroundings, I realized that I had landed about a mile down from our area. I would have to walk back, there was no way I was headed back into the water after that.

“Amber! Amber!”

I looked into the water and saw Zack headed my way. He looked… untouched by the sea. I stopped and watched him. I couldn’t even lift my arm in a wave of acknowledgement.

“Amber! I’ve been calling your name for you for the last ten minutes! Are you ready to try again?”

“Are you kidding?” I sputtered, tossing the board onto the sand. “I just went ten rounds with the sea! I’m never surfing again!

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Once Upon a Time In Mexico

 

As I stood in the sand, barefoot and looking out to the sea, I thought, ‘this can’t be right’. Standing next to me in board shorts and a sopping wet rash guard, Zack gripped my hand.

“It’ll be fine”, he murmured in my ear. Then he beckoned me to follow him as he made his way to the water.

I did. I don’t know why I did, but I did.

Lugging the long, waxy board, I struggled under the weight. The sun beat down on me and heat radiated off my body, creating little droplets of sweat that rolled down my back. The cold of the sea was a nice welcome. I plunged my entire body in, holding tight to the bobbing board next to me and scanning the ocean for Zack. There he was, just ahead of me. He waved and smiled, then beckoned once again that I follow him. ‘I can do this,’ I thought, ‘it’s not like you haven’t been on a board before’. I thought of the many times I had strapped one to my feet and ventured down a snowy mountain. Water itself isn’t new to me as I’ve spent many summers behind a boat, the only thing keeping my afloat being the board under my toes. ‘So what if there aren’t any strap?’ I asked myself, ‘So what if the ocean scares the bejesus out of you?’

I pulled my body onto the board and paddled towards Zack. I paddled for what seemed like hours. My arms were exhausted. I must have gone miles into the ocean. I focused hard on the paddling so as not to let thoughts of the dark ocean creatures that were surely just beneath my feet creep into my thoughts. It didn’t work. Soon enough I’ll be on the board and making my way back to the beach. That thought was comforting, at least.

“I think we’re out far enough,” said Zack, next to me. He looked at me, studying my face.

“Do you remember what to do?”

I nodded yes, all the while wondering if it wasn’t too late to back out. I could paddle back to shore, just as I’d paddled out to this point. Then, at long last, I gazed towards the shore. The gentle waves that lifted and lowered me seemed to grow as the lunged towards the sandy earth. The sea sucked mightily then spit back out, sending crashing giants tumbling onto the shore. That’s what I just paddled through? Terrified, I clung to my board.

“Ready?” Zack called out to me, “Here comes a good one! Start paddling! Paddle! Paddle… paddle!

I froze. Clutching the edges of my board I shook my head ferociously and squeezed my eyes shut. The wave surged beneath me and scooted me forward a couple of feet, but other that that no damage was done. Once it passed beneath me I opened my eyes and peered in wonderment as the wave took on new life, churning and spitting, then gurgling it’s way onto the hot sand.

“It’s ok. You can catch the next one.” Zack said. “Don’t forget to paddle this time.”

I didn’t forget.’ I thought, gritting my teeth.

I could see the next wave coming. Zack nodded to me and this time I took my position and began to paddle. ‘What are you doing? You must have lost your damn mind,’ I thought to myself. Suddenly I could hear the wave surround me. It picked me up. I thrust forward with my arms, throwing myself into a crouched position atop the board. I wobbled back and forth, and then suddenly the momentum of the wave pushed me forward.

To be continued…

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Dirty Little Secrets

This is my confessional post. Come on, you know you have stuff to ‘fess up to, too.

I don’t mind dropping $180 on a nice pair of jeans, but I buy my bras at Target.
Whenever I see that $60 price tag I think, ‘Ok, it’s pretty and all… but it’s underwear!’

Honestly… I don’t care if it’s organic or not.
If it looks yummy and it’s cheap, I’m buying it.

I could drink champagne every day.
In fact, there was a period where I did just that. I don’t remember much of it… but I think it was fun.

I’m terrified that when the day comes for me to have children I won’t be able to get pregnant.
I think I’ve read too many heart-wrenching People magazine articles where women come down with one rare condition or another and can’t have babies.

I love cream cheese.
Whenever I order a bagel and they hand me that mini-cup of cream cheese I always smile and say, “I’ll have two, please”, but really I’m thinking “ME NEEDS MORE CREAM CHEESE!!” When are they going to come out with a jumbo tub of cream cheese for the other spread-lovers like me?

I don’t like Raley’s.
Reason being: I went to Raley’s to buy Zack a bottle of champagne as we were celebrating something. I couldn’t find my license so I grabbed my passport. The cashier, who just so happened to be the manager on duty, was extremely rude to me when I handed her my passport as ID. She rolled her eyes and said ‘I can’t accept this’ and thrust my passport back towards me, like I was trying to pull one over on her. She was very loud about it, and everyone around turned to stare at me as I tried to explain myself. She didn’t want to hear it and once again informed me in a booming voice that I couldn’t use that as ID. Come on, lady, what teenage kid buys a $40 bottle of champagne? Note: It wasn’t the rejection I had a problem with. If it’s their policy, it’s their policy. The thing I had a problem with was the way the manager treated me in front of other people.

I have the sense of humor of a 5th grader.
Fart joke make me laugh. In fact, the act of farting makes me laugh.

These make me laugh, too:

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