New People are not aliens Bre...

After living in Boston for a few  months, I decided that it was about time I branch out of my comfort zone, join some groups, meet some people...you know be a social human being.  I have always been social and confident, but suddenly here I was plucked down into a new city, a new state, a whole new side of the country and I was in unfamiliar ground.  It was like dating again, but worse because well I was trying to impress the same sex, and let's face it, girls are tough...I mean mean girls was based on Tina Fey's high school right:

So any who, I finally worked up the courage and decided I was going to join something co-ed; I look at sports teams, and realized they're always softball.  Let me explain...I detest playing softball, I suck at it, people want to yell at me, you stand around a lot, I have poor depth perception, not my game.  Volleyball, yeah I could handle that, until I saw the heights of the people who played in those leagues or the colleges they played at...then I found it, the group for me...runners.  It made sense, I ran through high school, but wasn't amazing so running groups it was. 

This was it, the night, I was going to meet some of the people at a bar for a drink before deciding whether or not to officially join.  I was walking to it and had a moment of panic, I called a friend, Nicole and explained that I was concerned.  She informed me logically I shouldnt have gone alone, at least now she knew where to report I went missing from, and that despite all of my fears and suspicions...people are not aliens.

 

I dont know if she missed that part of Men In Black where the man dies and his brain opens and it is an alien, but if it happened to Will Smith, clearly it's only a matter of time until it happens to me.  So I decided to report where I was, and walk inside.   And guess what...aliens they were not, they were normal, runners who had moved here from other parts of the country like myself and figuring a running group would help them meet new people.  So the lesson learned from this is that yes, new people are not aliens, "the man" should have probably come with me to meet them in case they were, but when all else fails, call a good friend, like Nicole who at least takes notes on where you will have disappeared from.

Lesson #4...I switched to lessons

So while I realize the posts are old and far and few  between, I have decided to backdate them, to their original idea date.  You see, I was told I could never successfully write a blog with at least one post a month, and while I am behind, this is my attempt to prove them wrong.  So I had a discussion about this blog...

Man: Bre, you can't keep up a blog, and you can't have it all be Rules, that'll be boring and no-one wants to study your rules.
Me: Well it's not rules to live by it's rules of observation, or something.  It's like suggestions for life as learned from moving across country with a boy.
Man: That makes no sense, it's not rules. Nothing happens, and you certainly don't follow them, I mean you still watch Greys (Blog 2)
Me: Fine Mr. Engineer, I understand you're scientific mind can only handle concrete things so I will adapt.  They will henceforth be called....LESSONS.

You see Lessons suggest something you should learn in a set period of time.  I realize that this may also be incorrect in that I often fail to learn anything, however "Random Ramblings of  a Mad Woman" just doesn't have quite the same appeal.  Lessons imply this may be of some small value to you and it's not just time wasting away in your day that you'll wish you had back...I should warn you the likelihood of this happening is slim to zero.  You will wish that you had the seconds of your life back, and guess what you're not getting them...

Rule #3...Someone's always watching...

In case you haven't known me my entire life, or at least the last 5-6 years of it...I should share this simple piece of information with you. I loathe clothing.  Don't get me wrong, as a girl I love to shop, and my closet is full of all sorts of colors of tanks, tunics, graphic ts, button ups, ruffles, dresses, etc...but I frequently don't wear them.  You see, for several years now, I have had a few items on my bucket list, the first being: Where I wanted to go in college... :).  The second being to own my own island, in some part of the world where it is a perfect 77-82 degrees every day and I will not get sunburned...I realize that this is highly unlikely, but hey a girl can dream right.

Well anyway, during my college days I lived with all girls, all the time and did not have any male roommates.  This has multiple blessings; there's always tampons, face wash, nail polish, sewing kits, clothes, and shoes to borrow, or use depending on the item.  The downside: it reinforced my sense of loathing of clothes.  You see when living with girls, you all have the same parts, so why close the door when you change...it just means you have to talk louder to hear each other, and let's face it, that was just too much work for me.  So I did what any young lady would do as she develops her self-confidence, I did not always wear them, I believe I may have instilled free-balling Friday in B223, anything but thong Tuesday in 336, and Topless Any-Time in 1013.  Needless to say, I was like Terry Bradshaw in Failure to Launch:

I could not wait to  have a grown up house of my own where I could have a naked room, or floor, and just relax.  Then one day, while home by myself I decided that after showering, I'd just let myself air-dry while putting away my laundry.  I wasn't paying any attention, simply walking back and forth across my room (literally maybe 3 feet) to grab hangers and hang clothes up in the closet.  Suddenly, I heard the apartment door open, and the man was home.  The man stayed in the living room and suddenly yelled 

"Bre, what are you doing?" with slight concern in his voice...  

I responded with "putting away clothes in the closet". 

The Man: With Clothes on...

Bre: Well, I just got out of the shower and am air-drying but I will in a minute.

The Man: Bre, are both bedroom blinds shut? 

Instantly, I looked around to discover that no, both blinds were not shut, just one and dove into the closet searching for awkward things to thrown on in a small space.

Bre: Um I think so why?

The Man: Because we live in a highrise and there's people on the balcony across from ours and it looks like they were watching here.

Bre: Oh ya don't say...hmm, i didn't know that you could see our apartment so clearly from those balconies.

The Man: Bre, put clothes on and close the blinds, we live in the city now, and someone's always watching.

Lesson learned: someone's always watching and in this case, it's my perverted cross building neighbors. I also now always have the blinds closed.

Rule #2...Don't Have Girls' Night without Girls

As a brief introduction, there was a point in time when I thought I would be in medical school and studying to become a ob/gyn or a psychiatrist..  Actually this was the plan for most of my life until I entered college and worked for doctors and realized that I was too lazy to work that many hours.  So the way I got my medical fix, as unrealistic as it was, was from watching medical dramas, the most infamous being Grey’s Anatomy.

Freshman year in college, the immediate way of bonding with people was based not only on location, but whose dorm room you were going to pile into on any given night to watch a specified tv show.  Grey’s Anatomy was my in, as it had the medical drama and unrealistic aspects including that every doctor is highly attractive, finds residents and interns attractive, and has no moral code.  So every Thursday we sat a large group of girls watching Greys Anatomy through freshman, sophomore, and junior year of college.  (I skip senior year because I skipped it and went right to grad school).

Then came Freshman year of grad school and with new roommates came an increase in the tradition; Grey’s Anatomy, grew from just a Thursday night show to prepare for the weekend to a full out bonanza.  Not only did we watch the show, there was now an increase in bodies,  pizza, and beverages.  This worked out perfectly as not only were we able to oogle over men, ridicule dramatic acting, and awful writing, but we also did our part in stimulating the economy via consumption of crazy breads, hot n readys, burnett’s and/or whatever shannigans would occur.  This was my Thursday night for years, watching grey’s, consuming crappy food, and drinks.  So why would any of this change upon relocation???

My first Thursday in the big city came and I was there on my own.  The man was gone on a man date, which I was in complete favor of because it meant I was free to watch my shows without his judgment and I could continue one aspect of my former life.  So I sat down on the couch with my pizza (no hot-n-readys here), a glass of wine, and Grey’s Anatomy…it was the perfect Thursday Night or so I thought....

About halfway through the episode, something tragic happened, so naturally I got all teared up, which normally would not have been an issue because I would have been surrounded by girls who make me laugh about how ridiculous it was.  This time though, there were no girls, and so I was left...all by myself...with wine and a few tears which lead to...a cry.  Until I did the next best thing; texting and frantically calling girls….some refused to answer on the precipice that you don't talk during greys except for the commercial but eventually I got a few to break the rules.  They were faithful and true and made fun of me and assured me that they were still my friends and would visit soon…I came to an amazing realization as I sat  phone in hand, crying on the couch on a Thursday night…you can't have a girls' night without any girls in the immediate geographic area...

Rule #1...If MIT designed it...don't touch it.

For those of you who don't know, I have a secret desire to be Desperate Housewives-ish....or at least you know have the appearance of having everything together, when in reality I don't.  However, that is besides the point...this is the story of If MIT designed it...don't touch it.

This story begins on the Saturday that I arrived in Boston (so about 3 weeks ago).  You see, on this Saturday, it was dreary out and crappy so I had tortured the man by forcing him to go shopping with me for things I needed in my apartment ie; hangers, magnets, hair products, things that obviously, I a female, could not live without.  After hours of shopping for "stuff" for the apartment, we then proceeded to buy our first batch of groceries to make my Dad dinner as a thank you for moving me out here.  The dinner was successful, and dad was happy, as was the man.  I decided to top off the man's happiness by pretending to be domestic and do the dishes.

Now when I discuss doing dishes, I'm not just talking about loading the dishwasher, or washing a few things by hand.  The man is handy and built himself a beautiful bar during his college years, which some of you readers may have danced upon.  What goes along better with a bar than a bazillion pint glasses with various beer logos imprinted on them...nothing.  So these glasses should be handwashed and I decided that I was going to be domestic and attempt to do  the dishes.  That being said...I should also mention that the man has interned in Boston for the past 3 years and fallen in love with all things that are Boston; the red sox, sam adams, the bruins (but not the patriots)...so you get my point.  Since the man fell in love with sam adams, it only made sense that he have several Sam Adams Boston Lager glasses.  Now for those of you who don't know...these are no ordinary glasses.

The glasses produced for the Boston Lager are of the highest caliber, with the utmost engineering, and millions of dollars going into them.  This is not even a joke.  Sam Adams spent millions of dollars on having people at MIT design a beer glass that would maximize the flavor, aroma, and all that other stuff in order to make it taste the best.  

These infamous glasses as shown above, happened to be just one of the many glasses that I washed and set in our dish rack to dry before going to bed (also something I insisted that you have to have).  

As evening turned into the wee hours of the morning, a shattering like none other could be heard which caused me to shout aloud "GUNSHOT!!!" and the man to spring to life.  First of all, me yelling "gunshot" is completely irrational where I live.  To explain; 1. I live in a high rise condo complex where the average age is 63, and that's mostly because the man and I have moved in and dropped down the average 2. we live on the 5th floor, there's no fire-escape, and it's the 5th floor 3. We live in a suburb outside of Boston, it's not exactly a high crime area and I would know as I have journeyed home with the man in the wee hours and it's been perfectly safe.  So besides the fact that yelling "gunshot" was irrational and silly, I fell back asleep immediately without even thinking...the man however did not. 

The next morning the man asked me if I recalled yelling "gunshot" and I may or may not have told him I wasn't sure if it was real or a dream.  He then asked me if I recalled washing a very special glass...his sam adams glass...which I may or may not have.  Well apparently when Sam Adam's glasses fall to the floor their shattering sounds just like a gunshot.  It was at this point that I was told....If MIT designed it, you probably shouldn't touch it...or as I like to think of it...Reason number 1 for me to not do dishes.