the time i won an EMMY...

It was a normal Saturday evening and I had enjoyed a cocktail at the dog park when my phone made the annoying ding meaning I had a work email. Naturally I checked it and the subject line read "we've been nominated for an EMMY".

Naturally I ordered a glass of champagne and read the email.

Nominated for excellence in graphic arts and animation - and my name was on it. Nevermind the fact that I can barely draw a stick figure, that my animation skills involve a stack of paper that you flip through, that my degree is in an aquatic related field or that I have had nothing to do with television - a project I produced was up for an EMMY!!!!

The next day we ordered plaques that said we were nominated - our lead project man had little faith that we could win, always saying "if we win" in rebuttal to my "when we win!" so the plaque seemed like a good consolation prize, just in case.

A week later we had gowns, dates and a table for the event. We arrived early for the champagne reception and soon found our table - in the back of the room. My "when we win" mantra started to fade, but I was at the EMMYs so I got over it and enjoyed the evening.

Then the wine service was cut off...

The nice part about being in the back of the room was that the bar was directly outside our table so we loaded up on vodkas and laughed our way through 23 pages of awards. Suddenly we were at our award, queue the nerves!  We all took a large sip of vodka and that is about all I remember because next thing I know – THEY ARE ANNOUNCING OUR NAMES!!!

The walk from the back of the room to the stage was the longest walk ever.  I fought the urge to twirl and realized half way to the stage I had no speech prepared.  I don’t remember what I said, they handed me that gold statuette and the EMMY winner in me took over, I like to believe that I was a natural on that stage.

My date welcomed me off the stage with a celebratory cocktail, we had photos taken, we laughed, we giggled and we let all the other EMMY winners around us know that we had won.

Celebrating is one of my favorite things so now I find something to celebrate every day with EMMY.  She enjoys cocktails by the pool, road trips, being the center of attention and, naturally, being in photos.

I have since decided that EMMY needs a boyfriend named OSCAR…

amish, with vodka

Recently I lost my best friend, partner in crime, constant sidekick at festivals, giggle buddy, one of the rare soul mates in my life.  Saying goodbye to a friend too early is one of the hardest things I have ever had to go through.  My life since has been a roller coaster - highs and lows.  She was my number one fan and she continues to inspire me.

Monday nights were our night to watch HBO and write silly blogs together - you see, I consider myself "Amish with vodka".  I have power and vodka but I gave up all the good stuff...

Three year's ago I decided to move out from having roommates, move into a cheap apartment that was all mine.  And then one day I decided to get rid of TV.  It was easy at first because I "borrowed" Internet from the neighbors, until four months ago when they stopped letting me "borrow" and my only form of entertainment became dance parties, books and a silly puppy.

So Monday nights I would pack up laundry, grab the dog, stop at the store for mixers and dinner and head over to my best friend's house to watch "Game of Thrones" and draft future blogs.  We would laugh, day-dream of being princesses, talk about life and love, discuss our future husbands and after a few cocktails make lists of future blogs. 

The silliest part was later deciphering what stories we told each other and what the blog post would exactly be about.  I still have no idea what some mean, but I will do my best to make myself giggle in her memory and continue to blog.

Consider this a preview of what is to come if you will....

    * New Year's, Beach Boys & Dead Phone

    * Vodka water - fixes the rust

    * Hand holding text

    * Scott the Cop v1

    * Scott the Cop vAnne

    * Accidental Dates

    * Blind date that wasn't

    * Scott the Dr.

    * 3,000mile Blind Date

    * Toga Power

    * 5 year booty-call (that ended badly)

    * New Rule: "Date Someone Taller"

    * Single and Wedding Invites

    * Registries...

And to include recent life.... The time I won an EMMY!

The last thing I said to my friend was "I love you" - so to everyone out there, remind someone you love them every day!

Until I find Internet again....

festival season

It is my favorite time of year - festival season!  This time of year is perfect for the single ladies as the men walk around in the latest GQ style, the booze is flowing and evening porch sitting is almost expected.

It is also a time for budding romances and bad decisions...

The season kicked off last weekend and looks like it will be going strong for a while.  This year started with a bang as we scored VIP tickets - meaning cheap beer, sort skirts, sunshine and late night pizza. 

As with every spring love is in the air.  Everywhere you look everyone is in love to the point where it is almost gross - people walking around holding hands, kissing mid-conversation, giggling, and Barry White all play a big part of spring.  As the weather warms up this love either grows into something or people realize they made some bad porch-drinking decisions.

The truth is - I am in love with love.  I can't get enough of it...

I love the butterflies and hand-holding and over-the-top mush found in the movies.  I love the giddiness that comes with those first few weeks of dating (and I miss the note passing "Do you like me? Check YES or NO" of loves from long ago.

That is why festival season is so great - you get to venture out and enjoy being in love with everything, every weekend for weeks on end!  You get to fall in love with your city, watch new love budding in the air, eat corn dogs (who doesn't love that?!) and fall in love with love, over and over! 

So, here's to festival season.  May it be filled with endless laughter, hand-holding, flowing dresses, first kisses, and bad decisions that we don't regret the next day.  Here's to being in love with spring. 

crawfish and my future husband

This weekend I was invited to a good ol' fashioned crawfish boil.  Unsure of what to expect I packed by cooler with vodka-lemonade (which in reality was just a big ol' bag of vodka, water and some crystal light), called my best friend and prepped for what was to be a fabulous evening with strangers.

It should be noted that I called by best friend at 2PM, I was showered, pretty and had the dog walked by 2:30PM and was out on the porch waiting from him by 2:35PM.  When I called to say I was ready he wasn't even dressed yet.

As luck would have it I had a chair, a bag of vodka and a cup, so I justified a 2:35PM cocktail by telling myself someone had to sample the vodka before the party...

One cocktail later my friend showed up and we went on our way.  Traffic was horrid and we finally arrived at the party, vodka in-hand, around 4PM.  There was already tons of crawfish piled on a table, with all sorts of veggies, a cooler of beer and a delightful strawberry-basil-lemonade for my wonderful bag of vodka.

Having never attempted to eat a crawfish I naturally dove right in.  Snapping tails, peeling shell and ending up with the tiniest piece of protein I have ever seen.  I am pretty convinced you burn more calories getting the suckers open than you do actually consuming them.  After a dozen or-so I grew bored of the creatures and ventured to sit in the sun with a cocktail in hand.

And then a southern gentlemen sat at the table of crawfish and taught me the art of eating a freshly boiled crawfish.

Who knew shellfish could be a turn-on?!  He never peeled the shells, he simply snapped the tiny lobster-like crustaceans and sucked.  Tail, brains and even claws.  Someone noticed me staring and asked what was so interesting - I giggled and pointed out the man, his pile of shells and told her to just watch.  Soon all of us were mesmerized.  We must have watched him for three cocktails as we giggled and blushed over his crawfish skills.

And that, dear friends, is how I decided my future husband must be able to properly eat a crawfish.  (Thinking about it still makes me blush)

of number eighty eight

He was a football player and when they named his position they sure got it right - tight end.  I was a sophomore in college, hanging out with our football team's center and he was fully aware of my crush.  I can still remember what I wore that night - a white tank top that showed off my toned shoulders, cropped jeans from Ambercrombie, black rocket dogs and my hair was in perfect Miami curls.  The center and I had ventured out with my roommates and were at the local hot spots.

The night was full of giggling and flirting. 

The center and I danced, joked about life and what we would be when we were old.  We might have even solved some of the world's problems that night.  As we went to leave from one location I was sparkling and enjoying the Miami heat and great company.

And then I met the tight end.

He was tall, blonde, perfect blue eyes and overall scrumptious.  As he walked towards us I am pretty sure I felt my knees go weak (and being in sandals it couldn't have been me being wobbly on high heels, it had to be love).  The center said he had someone he wanted me to meet and as I smiled and went to shake his hand my alter-ego took over.

And then I bit him...

That's right folks - this "man of my dreams" first interaction with me was me nibbling on his hand - I am sure he just looked so scrumptious it was inevitable...  I remember giggling like a school-girl and saying "yep, that just happened" but I have no other explanation for my actions that night.  A silly friendship grew out of that bite, my crush continued, the football team continued to win and I had a wonderfully embarrassing story to laugh at for the rest of my life.

And then he went pro, got tattoos, is now married and I am single, sparking and sharing my silly story with the world.

While the girl with the school-girl crush was a little devastated to learn of his recent nuptials, I am sure it is for the best - he would have grown tired of my sparkle and I would have grown tired of his foul mouth and bachelor ways.

serendipity in 26.2 miles

Me running a marathon happened rather by accident, and in 208 days I will again accidentally run 26.2 miles with my best friend.

But let's be honest - it's 26.2 miles of men in uniform as we run around Washington DC for the Marine Corps Marathon. My decision to run a marathon happened rather serendipitously and was caused by a breakup.

Four years ago a dear friend and sorority sister came back into my life. I believe the email read "just broke up with boyfriend, devastated, will you run a marathon with me?" There was no was I could say no. Out of marathon training - which consists of giving up your Friday nights so you can partake in a long run Saturday morning - grew a priceless friendship.

Living in separate states we emailed horror stories of training, talked eachother out of pizza cravings and laughed a lot at eachother. One might be curious how I was talked into running for hours and hours - simply put, my friend introduced me to vodka. You apparently don't have to worry about vodka calories like you do beer calories. And that, my friends, is where my love affair with vodka started (to see how it nearly ended please read last post).

I, of course, was single at the time and was convinced I'd fall in love with a Marine, preferably before I wanted to die around mile 25.2.

Months of training, endless laughs and a gazillion tears later we took on the nation's Capitol. I never did fall in love with a Marine...

Four years later this marathon has reconnected me with friends, pushed my focus during breakups to more important things and given way to some awesome celebrations. In 208 days we return - both a little stronger, both single and both willing to chase after love for 26.2 miles. (And to celebrate that I'm going to treat myself to a porch drink - vodka of course).

vodka confessions: adele

Somewhere between Valentine's Day and my 30th birthday this year I had the most fabulous vodka water cocktail, and then another and another and thus "vodka confessions" was born.

The night is a little fuzzy so I'll start at the beginning...

It was a love that happened very fast and was rather intense. Just like Alice I fell into the rabbit hole and continues to fall - hitting "I love you" and spiraling when the love stopped. He was older, divorced. I was young and carefree. I have no regrets about our time together - love that happens that intense and fast is destined to fail and I'm sure if I'd paid attention to my horoscope it would have told me the exact same thing. Eventually I hit the ground, single, and dusted myself off - ready for the next bout of love to hit.

And then Adele happened.

In the years since our breakup we have stayed in touch - checking in here and there. It isn't a friendship but it is what I assume is a sense of what real love is once it's "over". He has since moved into a creepy cabin in the hills with a new love and I have stayed in the city with my dog. Somewhere between Valentine's day and my 30th birthday I was no longer ok with this scenario...

And then vodka happened.

I should mention that it was a typical night. I'd enjoyed a run. Had salmon for dinner. Watched a silly romantic comedy and then I woke up the next morning and texted one of my best friends: "I think I Facebook messaged my ex a YouTube video of Adele" I had in fact Facebook messaged said video. It is probably wise to mention we aren't Facebook friends. Not only did I have to search for this fabulous video about moving on from a broken heart, I had to Facebook stalk said ex. The best part was my message with the video: "Don't read into this, but I kind of look like her"

Oh vodka and Adele - you are horrible friends. If I didn't love you both so much we would be divorced by now.

My only option was to laugh at myself, naturally. My friends laughed with me and the ex had to have laughed too - he wrote back to my message but I'm too chicken to read it. When asked how much vodka I'd had that night I had to, pitifully, admit that I had no idea...it was somewhere between dancing to Diana Ross and singing to Adele.

That day vodka taught me that if you can't laugh at yourself you have no business laughing at all - life lessons like these make me glad I didn't break up with vodka (or Adele).