Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Adulthood Appears... Again.


No one read this blog, and quite frankly, I'm not sober enough to care. Atleast my typing is awesome.

This is a post about "adult friends." Not the kind of the friends you make sexy-time with, but the kind you meet out of high school. It seems the older you get, the harder it is to meet new people and maintain relationships. Maybe its just me, the perpetually awkward, but I get the feeling this is a common thing.

My boyfriend and I have had conversations about how our parents only have one or two friends that aren't family. I used to think that was totally impossible, having so many party friends in my youth. Now, as the years creep by, and friends fall by the wayside, I can see how that would happen.

And it terrifies the fuck out of me.

I used to be so social, using booze as a remedy for my constant awkwardness. I have a lot of friends on Facebook. I'm like... totes popular. But how many of these people would I want to have over for dinner? How many of them would I go to with intimate problems?

Very few. It seems all the "friends" you accumulated in your youth are quite worthless. You realize how vapid and shallow people really are, and those people are quickly abandoned. Your giant circle of friends turns into a whole bunch of people you just kinda know, with ten or so exceptions.

I spent my evening with an old friend from middle school, who went to a different high school, and then moved out of state. It's just a crazy random happenstance that she is engaged to the tenant downstairs. She was really fun, and I feel comfortable with her because I knew her in my youth. We were able to bond over the countless things we have in common, and I may have found another recruit for my yarn bomb.

But how do you make friends as an adult? Can I organize play-dates?

How did life get so complicated?

Seacrest out?

Gotta find a better way to say goodbye...

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Babies Come From Cupcakes, Obviously

K, so. My Better Half is curled up under his old boyscouts sleeping bag, face covered and all. I turned off all the lights to better suit slumbering, and now... Drunk blogging time!

I should probably figure out a way to disable the "Paige posted at fuck-all a.m. in the morning" feature. It's 4 a.m., I'll be honest.

K, so, I had mentioned, in passing, the impending baby shower. It was last week, I took a whole day off work. And, also, I stressed. The. Fuck. Out. This shower was important for two reasons:

1) My oldest friend, Haley, is pregnant with a little princess. She will name this child Temperance Paige. Temperance after a character on one of her favorite tv shows, Bones, and Paige after... MOTHERFUCKING ME. Holy god. I'm a god-mother.

2) I have never been to a baby shower. Never. Shit's supposed to be pink? You play some game with nasty candy bars in diapers? What the fuck am I supposed to do here?!


Neither Mom to Be nor myself have a home fit for a baby shower, so we had it at her old church. They provided tables and chairs and crystal platters and alllllll the things. I kind of wish I was raised in a non-agnostic household... this place had a full kitchen. Four ovens, two stoves, three fridges... How.

I called the Mom to Be's own mother like this:

Me: Glenda! Hey, all the ice trays are empty and I need ice for the punch and water pitchers! Can you pick up some ice on your way?

Glenda: Is the ice machine empty?

Me: Ice machine? What?

Glenda: Left of the fridges.


I'll stop gnawing your ear off and just show you photos. In 3, 2, 1...

I was so stressed until it came time to pipe the tops of the mini cupcakes. Filling that bag, then twisting the end and forcing frosting out the tip... I can't describe how wonderful that was.

I am so blessed to have cake experience. My good friend Alex, who lives in LA now, taught me a lot in fondant and buttercream. I owe him bunches.

My cupcakes vs the Grandma's brownies with little booties on them.

(Mine ran out quicker.)

"Paige's Pinwheels" which the Mommy demanded. They're really simple, but they always go the fastest. Cream cheese, olives, peppers, and shredded cheese, all wrapped in a tortilla. Gosh, I love redneck hors d'oeuvres.

Also, we served crustless ham and cheese tea sandwiches. I thought they'd be dainty. Please excuse the glob of mayo. A pregnant woman sauced them.

She did not want to take this photo, at all. Not shown in the close-ups: chips and french onion dip as well as mini ham and cheese quiches. Oh la la.

When I'm pregnant, I'm throwing my own shower. Seriously, I've stumbled upon too many cute things to let them go to waste.

The tables were pink and purple.

The stuff overflowed the table we set out.

Haley found a helper.

I call that practice.

So, that concludes my bout into fucking baby hysteria. Tune in next month when I actually see the child.

And have no idea what do, at all.

God, I'm bad with kids.

Seacrest out!

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

How I Met Your Mother Ruined My Life

Wet hair sucks. Its cold.

I've been watching a lot of How I Met Your Mother. This has led to a lot of thinking. I'm a few years shy of getting all of the jokes, but I'm just on the cusp of the HIMYM age group. Growing up? I don't wanna.

But then... I look over at my better half, who is asleep, snoring, on the couch. He startles himself because his nose itches--then is almost awake and wiping away fake drool--only to re-position himself and resume snoring. This makes me want to grow up.

I think life and love are like knitting. You jump in, assuming it will work out, only to find you don't know how it works. Stockingette and garter stitch seem easy enough, but eventually there's increases and decreases and cables and DPNS and circulars and all sorts of codes.

You know the drill. COsuchandsuch, K12, P78, C4F and C4B, KFB, K2Tog, K tbl, M1, Pfb, OMGSeriously.

But I think the key is getting your groove down (Like Stella had to get twice), and learning from there. I learned to knit in my teens and most of my work was basic moves. This is starting to sound like a sex manual in knitting terms, but I'm actually talking about relationships and life, here. Holy god, I'm sorry. Please don't k2tog in bed.

I'm talking about kYOURLIFEtog. You kinda go through the motions until you figure out how to weave in the ends. You do what you can in the present, working toward the main goal.

So pick some goals, which are just like FO's you'd like to achieve. I think I'd like to be a teacher and live in Nederland, CO, but I don't have the funds. So for now, I'm going to k-abit and p-somehereandthere. Maybe go back to school and achieve more than I've ever achieved. That's the knitting equivalent of learning to cable.

If you can dream it, you can be it.

BAM, Knitting references.

Just kidding, I'm drunk again.

Monday, January 2, 2012

I'm Sorry You Wore Tiny Shorts in Jail.

Oh, hello there. Happy New Year!

I'm wearing my Salvation Army holiday sweater. I know why they call them sweaters, cause I'm hot...

Anyway, I'm old. No, really. At the New Year's Party, we watched someone get pulled over from the roof of my boyfriend's place. We all hunkered down on the roof to watch a girl wearing short shorts in December get handcuffed after failing all the tests... We are bad people.

Wear pants? Problem solved!

So four scared people stayed the night, probably rightfully so. Who wants to get a DUI on New Year's. We pulled out sheets and blankets, bed and breakfast style. And, you know what? I kind of liked it. If I didn't have work the next day, I would have made them all eggs and coffee.

All sorts of situations are pointing to adulthood. I have a baby shower in a few days. I have to make eight thousand dozen cupcakes, and a lot of mini-quiches, and its in a church and this is a run-on sentence and I started a new scarf. But I love parties so much that I will rock this shit out. With my hypothetical cock out.

Also, I'm drunk.

What up blog?!

Living up to my title.