Does it light up?

Buckle up kids, this is going to be a long one.

In my honest efforts to date only LDS men instead of picking up a frat boy at a bar to fulfill my physical desires, I have not dated a lot of men.  There was Mike the physical therapist, Aaron the guyIwasntreallydatingbutspentthenightathishousealot and Miles, aka Stephen Colbert.  And probably a couple of other guys I'm probably forgetting. 

I've been on a lot of first dates.

There was also Derek.  Except I didn't really date Derek.  I met Derek in 2004 at a church dance or on an lds singles website or some other way Mormons desperately try to meet each other.  He is from a town in northwest Georgia, as I live in northEAST Georgia and so we didn't spend a lot of time together.  We did go to my stake's conference together, and that was fun and we totally wanted to kiss as we were saying goodbye but we didn't blahblahblah.  BUT, because we lived so far away from each other, nothing really happened.  We talked often online and called sometimes, but no real established connection.  

Cut to December, 2006.

Derek and I had been talking and we were discussing how we both really wanted to kiss each other back in spring 2004.  We then decided it would be a good idea to get together just to make out.  Since we lived so far away from each other, we didn't want to have any sort of relationship, but we did want to kiss.  Each other.  It was then decided that I would be the lucky one to drive all the way across the state for said ncmo.  I did, and it was fun, but I wasn't swooning or anything.

March, 2007.

I had decided that I would go to Charleston for spring break (ah the beginning of my love affair with Charleston...le sigh...) and Derek and I were talking and thought it would be fun if he went too.  It would be cheaper, I would feel safer with another person, etc etc.  SO we decided he would come here and we would go on a date to discuss it (ie see if we wanted to spend a few days together in a new city).

Let me interject something here. 

In 2004, I was pretty young and immature.  I though that if ANY lds guy paid attention to me, I should totally date him, because we were both Mormon, it would work out.  Don't get me wrong, I liked Derek, he was funny and cute.  Come 2007, though, 2007 was the year of Benjamin and women's studies and my super long hot hair.  2007 was a year of finding myself, who I was, what I wanted from myself and life.  I was more independent, more outspoken and more liberal and more stylish.  That being said, back to the March 2007 date.

The man showed up to my house wearing a leather blazer.  A LEATHER BLAZER.  "Do they even make those?", you ask?  Yes, they do.  He also got in my car and said "Do we really have to listen to Frank Sinatra?"  Ahhh helll no.  Needless to say, the date did not go well, and he did not go to Charleston with me.  Which was actually fantastic, I learned a lot about myself driving to a strange, new place, alone.  And I'm not saying that to sound CLICHE, I really mean it.  That trip taught me a lot.  But I digress.  

Now to the present, January 2008

I started thinking about Derek and how we never really went on a "real" date (which isn't really true, please see March 2007).  Our branch was having an activity, and I thought it would be fun if he came to be my date.  I even told him he could spend the night at my apartment if he wanted, because it was such a long drive home.  And so the fun begins.

I opened the door and all I saw was goatee and polo.  Keep in mind that by January 2008, I am in full democrat mode, my hair has grown back out and I'm ALMOST back to babe status.  I ain't got time for no goatee and polo.  On that poor grammar note, I had forgotten what a HICK Derek is.  I guess my 2004 naiveté had blocked that.  He is a sixth grade English teacher and talks like such a redneck.  Remember how I said that he could spend the night at my house?  I like to think of the night progressing in this pattern: Before he got there, he was going to sleep in my bed.  When I opened the door, he was sleeping on the floor.  He only gets further and further away from my bed as the night progresses.  

We had some time to kill, so we went to the zoo, where he made fun of Athens' small zoo which houses animals native to Georgia, which I honestly find fascinating.  We then went to dinner, where he didn't talk much. I tried SO hard to carry the conversation, asking him about his students, what he was teaching, comparing Italian grammar to what he was teaching.  Nothing.  Then, finally, we went to the institute to meet everyone else.  SALVATION.

The basketball game wasn't that bad.  I sat between him and Joseph Scott (the funniest man alive) and I spent more time talking to Joseph than Derek.  At one point, I asked Derek to go and get me a drink so that I could express to Mallori my dilemma of how to make him go home (Mal had met him in 2004 at stake conference).  We left the game and Steph wanted to go to Cali n' Titos.  Even though we had already eaten, and even though I knew I was going to make this man drive home and it was after 8pm (he lives about 3 hours away) I said yes we were going to A. delay the awkward "you can't stay here" routine and B. guava empanadas.  And then, what happened next, almost had me storming off, leaving him in an ambiguously Latin restaurant which he referred to as an "eyesore".  

The man pronounced the word "salmon" as SALLMAN.  HE PRONOUNCED THE "L" IN SALMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  HE TEACHES SIXTH GRADE ENGLISH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I publicly and loudly corrected him, making sure to sound as condescending as possible.  We sat down, where Stephanie, the genius that she is, asked Robbie if she could sit next to me, which led to me sitting as far away from Derek as possible.  We left at like 9:30 and drove back to my apartment, my mind reeling as to what I was going to say.  I was just going to say it in the car and get it over with.  We stopped, and before I took the key out of the ignition, he was out of the car.  Dammit.

He walked over to his trunk and I just blurted out, "I know I said you could spend the night here, but...." at which point I trailed off.  He then said, "Ok. I'll just get you what I brought you". About a month ago, he had told me he had something to give me.  He opens his suitcase and pulls out a Georgia cup.  Which pissed me off because anyone who knows me would know that would piss me off.  He said he won it at some teacher auction thing, and thought of me.  Inside the cup were some magnets, Georgia gum.  And a keychain.  Let me say, on our first "date" (stake conference) he brought me a keychain that had my name on it, because I had told him it was difficult for me to find keychains with my name on it.  This keychain, however, did not have my name on it.  

It said "kiss me".  

Panic.

"Does it light up?"  (what the hell,Bonnie).  

"I think it does, but I think you have to be a certain temperature."

Zing.

My response?

"May I offer you a caffeinated beverage?"

I have not heard from him since.  

That frat boy keeps looking better and better.  

no problem, babe

Roi (grr):

I regret to inform you that I will not be updating my blog as thoroughly as I promised.  I know this is no way to gain a career in blogging, by not meeting my deadlines, but it is now 11:30, and I need to be asleep in 15 minutes in order to get 8 hours of sleep.  I'm kind of adamant about that.  You understand; my relationship with sleep is kind of like your relationship to the Manhattan.  Except my sleep doesn't involve alcohol.  Most of the time.  I do hope that sometime tomorrow I can find the time to pen the saga of the leather blazer, but until then, I hope this will suffice.  Save me a Blenheim's and Maker's Mark?  But hold the Blenheim's.  

Your favorite BSBS employee,

Bonnie  

vanity rears its ugly head

#1  Morgan says I don't post enough.

#2  This "25 Things" thing is all the rage on the facebook, but I know some of you don't partake of the facebook, so I decided to post it on here.  Enjoy.  

#1 Publix commercials make me cry. Especially the one about the little boy and the cake, and the old couple who make dinner for the young couple. CRY.
#2 I have an acute sense of smell and seek to make myself and my surroundings smell as good as possible. Hard to do with rotting rodents around.
#3 I obsess about my hair. Its like, the only thing going for me and I want it to be super long again.
#4 I did not eat a burrito until I was 22 years old.
#5 I have broken most, if not all, of my fingers.
#6 I love the smell of coffee, but I am not fond of the way it tastes.
#7 In elementary school, I constructed and learned how to play a dulcimer.
#8 I wish I had taken French.
#9 I love the smell of cigars.
#10 I sometimes feel really bad about some of the things I say.
#11 I do not like the Beatles. 
#12 I like to get 8 hours of sleep a night, and I could totally go for more.
#13 Marching bands give me goosebumps. Especially really really good ones from like metro atlanta. 
#14 I envy people that do not have to work in college.
#15 Charleston, Savannah and New Orleans are my favorite places to be.
#16 Ancient Egypt fascinates me, and has since I was a child. 
#17 I do not understand most science.
#18 I've developed an alarming crush on Jon Stewart. 
#19 I don't like sushi as much as I tell people I do.
#20 I sometimes cry thinking about how much I miss my dog.
#21 I think about Benjamin everyday.
#22 The members of my family are the most intelligent, funny and creative people I know, and I am humbled and honored to be associated with them.
#23 Sometimes when I use big words, I quietly panic, hoping I used them correctly. 
#24 I sweat. A lot.
#25 I don't love enough.

1.21.09

Oh italiano.  In my supreme laziness, I took the bus to the SLC.  Why is this lazy, you might ask?  Because it means I will take the bus back to my apartment, in order to avoid having to walk up that damn hill in the bitter cold.  Yes, my laziness has reached a new low.  Have I mentioned how much of my time Italian is attempting to take? Oh, it is a lot.  Homework, workbook, online exercises.  And at some point, I guess I will study for the test I have next Friday.  Yeah, that's right.  It is really pissing me off.  I ran home, rearranged my room, and went to work to inhale deeply the pungent scent of decaying rodent.  I had forgotten how strong the smell was.  Gross.  India told me the sad tale of how her honesty will prevent her from getting a puppy.  I attempted to get some reading done at work, but people kept coming in to buy stuff!  Eventually I was distracted by the crossword and gave up on homework.  I cannot have a repeat of last semester.  Must end affair with Jon Stewart.  

I think I'm paranoid

Chelsea and I are taking ecology this semester, and our professor is a 60 year old version of Ben Grindle.  What is important to note here is that we believe (or have developed a conspiracy theory) that Dr. McArthur's goal with the class is to make us supremely paranoid.  That we're going to run out of resources, that they tie babies to chairs in China, you know, those sorts of things.  If that was his intent, then he can consider himself a success.  

As some of you know, I have an irrational fear of mold.  That somehow, mold will kill me.  We discussed one day in class air-toxins and how there are all sorts of diseases out yonder that can infect you without you realizing it until its too late and then you're dead.  Well.  We had a bunch of mold on our fridge, and since I am scared of mold, I decided to clean it.  My thought process, as I am cleaning, went something like this: 

"I sure am glad I'm getting rid of this nasty mold so Parker and I can breathe better, and not die from mold.  Man, this cleanser stuff really stinks.  I hope I can get it all off of the fridge so it doesn't somehow contaminate the food inside the fridge. Oh no, if the smell is so strong, what if it gets in the fridge ANYWAY and poisons all our food?  And then we drink the milk and die?  What if by removing this mold, I'm actually releasing mold spores into the air, and we will breathe them in and we will die?  What if the water in the pitcher is now swimming with this mold and mildew cleanser and MOLDandwe'regoingtodrinkitandeattheeggsandthenwewillbothdieandnoonewillknowbecause

we'rebothintheapartmentahhhahahahha".  

I've also decided from that class that i will adopt, at some point, a baby girl from a Chinese orphanage.  

Also, to keep you all updated on my work life, remember when I wrote the post about the rat candy (if you haven't read it, you should)?  Well, we found one of the rats.  After it had gotten drunk off of the apple and orange juice we had stored.  And after Eric put out rat poison.  Some girl came down the stairs and said, "Your pet rat is on the stairs".  Eric promptly collected the stunned rat and disposed of it.  COD?  Blunt force trauma.  However, that is not the end of the tail (get it? TAIL?  because rats have long TAILS...and it sounds like TALE which would be the correct word?)  The entire store began to REEK of death.  Bill Bacon (mmmm....Bacon.....) found a dead rat in the elevator, but the smell remained.  We have decided that there is at least one rat dead between the stairs and the wall.  Which means we cannot get to it.  Which means the entire bookstore smells like death.  DEATH.  It is disgusting.  I cannot remove the stench of decay from my nostrils.  

Not only do I work in a place with a rodent problem, I work in a place with a dead rodent problem.  Come on, May 2010.....

 

love on the rocks

I completely omitted a very funny happening from New Year's Eve.  My friends and I went to Aldo's, an Italian restaurant in Atlanta.  My darling friend Dave joined us and I begged him to sit next to me so that we could continue whispering witticisms about the people around us.  He did sit next to me and soon, our waitress approached.

Russian waitress-"Will you two be on the same ticket?"

American patrons-"No, it will be separate."

American Dave-"She won't marry me."

-laughter from Dave, myself, and whoever else heard it at the table-

Russian waitress-"I hope that is not your final answer."

-embarrassment on my part and more laughter-

American Bonnie-"I'd rather not talk about it." (which I said hoping the Russian waitress would get it that THE WHOLE THING WAS A JOKE)

Dave and I thought it would be funny to allow the waitress to see us holding hands at some point during the meal.  So we did.  After a lovely meal and conversation, listening to other people discuss their phones and diseases and after I told my friend who is engaged that brown is too a heavy a color to use for a June wedding, our bills came.  

I joked and said that mine and Dave's would be a on the same ticket.

My food was on Dave's ticket.  Dammit.  And he paid for it.  Double dammit.

While this was a somewhat awkward experience, I learned a valuable lesson.  

Sit next to a man at dinner, hold his hand at some point during the meal, and he just might pay for your food.  

love in your mouth

I had THE MOST amazing breakfast this morning...er...afternoon.  I went with a bunch of friends to Atlanta last night to see the Peach Drop (is that a noun or a noun and a verb?  Peach drop?  or peach drop?) and I'm fairly certain that I spent more time on Marta than actually in downtown Atlanta. Anyway, I didn't go to bed until almost 5am and we all woke up at around noon today STARVING.  Being in Atlanta, we had a plethora of options for breakfast type foods at noon.  IHOP, Waffle House or...wait for it....

THE FLYING BISCUIT

I had never heard of such a place.  My friends Rachel and Lisa were raving about it, how good the grits were and the biscuits.  I was picturing some hole in the wall type place like Weaver D's, but we got there and it was a pretty nice, cutesy place.  And it is there that I had the most amazing breakfast I have ever eaten.  

I got the egg-stravaganza, which came with eggs, bacon, sausage, a biscuit, GRITS and FRENCH TOAST.  As you can see, my favorite parts of the meal were the grits and French toast.  Now, as some of you may know, I'm kind of a closet grits fanatic.  I first had grits from a bagel place here in Athens and they are delicious, with enough cheese in them that it comes off in a long string with the spoon.  Then, I was introduced to Carolina style grits.  They are kind of whipped, with a consistency similar to mashed potatoes.  Flying Biscuit did have shrimp and grits on the menu, and if you've ever been in my presence when the words "shrimp" and "grits" are used together, you've seen me almost weep with sheer joy at the thought of that delectable dish; however, I went with breakfast, but I was sure to order something involving grits.  These grits were fantastic.  Somewhere between regular grits and Carolina grits, they were warm and thick and perfect.  Mmmm.  And then, I tried the French toast.  OHMYGOSH.  It was whole wheat bread with some raspberry something drizzled over it and some other sauce and it was heavenly.  It tasted almost like a raspberry cream cheese danish, but better.  And less like it came from a gas station.  

So while I was eating with my knee jammed up against Lisa's and my fork gouging into Matt's arm, it was perfect.  I reckon I done rung in the new year right-friends almost in your lap and really really good breakfast at 1pm.