Prince Charlie and Princess Wussy Chicken‏

So it seems as though my knight in shining armor, my prince on the white stallion, may have appeared.  Except, though, he was a guy in a t-shirt, jeans, white tennis shoes and an old ball cap on a white golf cart with green flames.  Me, being the princess that I am, was wearing a bikini top, jean shorts, flip flops, no makeup and my hair was a crazy mess.  I was swearing like a sailor and setting up a tent when he saw me.  Yep, I always make quite an impression.

It took a little longer for me to notice him; he's far more reserved than I am.  The first thing I noticed was his smile.  He has THE best smile I've ever seen.  He was joking around with some of the mutual friends we were camping with.  Then I heard him talk and thought to myself "Holy shit that dude has a really nice voice."  I shook my head and re-routed my thoughts.  I was there to camp and have a good time, not meet a guy.  I was done with guys.  They were nothing but an annoyance at best, abusive at worst.  I was better off not to notice any, no matter whether they had nice voices and great smiles or not.

The evening went on.  We all had a lot of fun, probably a little more than we should have.  At one point, everyone decided to get on the golf carts and see the other campsites around.  We were at a biker rally, and there were some pretty elaborate set-ups all over.  Everyone divvied up between two golf carts.  Since I am a girl, they didn't make me hang onto the back of the golf cart, they let me have a seat.  I was the only girl on this cart.  The other one had the other two girls on it with their guys.  As the universe would have it, I was on Charlie's cart, sitting right next to him.

I was laughing at something the guy hanging on the back of Charlie's cart said.  So was Charlie.  He looked at me, still smiling, and said "Oh, by the way, I'm Charlie."  I replied with "I'm Carrie."  He nodded and said "I know."  I was hell-bent on having a good time and ignoring the butterflies in my stomach.  I succeeded in having a good time and almost succeeded in forgetting the butterflies.  Almost.

We camped as a group for three nights.   By the second evening, I had began to wonder if Charlie liked me.  He seemed to make his way over to sit or stand near me often, and every time he got on his cart to go anywhere he asked if I wanted to go.  I thought "Well, almost everyone here has someone with them, but we don't.  And I'm the only one who doesn't own at least part of the other golf cart here, so he's probably just being nice."  Besides- I certainly wasn't "on" to impress anyone.  I was being loud and rude and relaxed like anyone is with good friends.  I didn't let the fact that he was a stranger (a cute stranger) keep me from being myself, and even if I had tried to tone it down, my friends weren't about to let me get away with it.  Inside jokes and good-natured insults were flying all over the place, and I was just as much a target as the next person.  To be more polite than usual would have made it all the more noticeable I was attracted to someone within earshot of the ribbing.

On the morning of the third day, Kay, Ellen and I were talking.  Kay said "Um, I think Charlie likes you.  Have you noticed how he's kinda always around where you are?"  I told her I had noticed it, but thought maybe it was just me.  After that, Ellen kept grinning any time she saw him walk around me or talk to me.  She agreed with Kay, apparently.

That night, Charlie asked me if I wanted to go and hear the bad karaoke like we had the last two nights.  I told him yes and got on his golf cart.  Two other guys went with us and we rode all over the campground.  It seemed like Charlie was trying to get rid of the other two, though.  He was driving fast and hitting a lot of bumps, making it hard for them to stand up and hold on to the cart roof.  They complained and he laughed.  When we got back to our tents, they jumped off the back and he turned to me.  "Wanna go?" he asked.  I laughed and nodded.  He hit the gas and we took off.

I was so nervous!  Here I was, driving around a biker rally with a guy I had known a couple of days.  What in the hell was I thinking?!  All I kept telling myself was "Have fun.  If he were that bad a guy, you wouldn't have friends in common."  Then he remarked it was getting chilly.  I actually was a little chilly.  He put his arm around me.  I laughed because of the blatant cheesiness of his move, but so did he.  He didn't move his arm, either.  We did go listen to the karaoke, and then we drove around more.  I think we were gone about two hours.  By the time we got back to the tents, everyone had gone to bed.  We sat on his golf cart with it's silly green flames.  We talked.  We watched some of the people a few campsites over.  Then, he leaned over and kissed me.  I was a little shocked, but he truly was sweet.  

The next morning, it became apparent very quickly that some of our friends had still been awake when we got back the night before.  They had also witnessed Charlie kissing me.  Aside from a few knowing smiles and teasing whispered at me, everyone was surprisingly normal.  I had expected them to give me/us a way harder time than they did.  We all went about the business of packing up our campsite and car by car leaving.

Charlie and I were the last to leave.  We sat around talking for at least an hour after everyone else had gone.  He asked if he could see me again.  I drove home on the proverbial Cloud 9.

Over the last couple of months I've come to realize that Charlie is genuinely a good guy; probably the only one I've ever dated.  He is kind, considerate and wants my family to like him.  He puts up with my dog eating his flip flops and couch cushions and cleans up after her when she pees on his rug.  He treats me like a princess, even when I'm swearing like a sailor and dressed like a bag lady.  I've never seen or heard him come remotely close to losing his temper, even after blowing a trailer tire at night going 65 miles an hour on a busy highway and not having a spare to change it with.  He takes me to his camp, lets me sleep as long as I want and doesn't complain when we get to his breakfast restaurant and can't order breakfast because I slept too late.  He spoils me in a way that only someone that's been treated badly can see and appreciate.  I do see it and I do appreciate it.  I only hope that I do for him what he does for me.

Oh, and the seat on the golf cart is mine now.  We drive it around his campground every weekend and listen to whoever is singing that night.  :)

Texting, The Internet And Stupid People‏

I've had something rattling around in my head for a few weeks now.  It may not be pretty, well-written or even interesting, but here goes.

1. Exes:  If you are so unhappy that you feel the need to send dirty messages to someone who you are not married to, maybe you need to spend the time you are chasing illicit tail to evaluate the state of your union.  Maybe, just maybe, you are slightly at fault, too.  As far as I can tell, marriage is supposed to be about compromise.  Is it out of the realm of possibility that you are not holding up your end of the compromising?  And how in the world is texting an ex that you miss sleeping with them helping ANYTHING AT ALL?  Also take into consideration the ex; if that person has a spouse/ significant other, you are now casting suspicion into that relationship.  If you have a regret from something you did in the past, don't let it cause a regret in your current reality.

While I'm on the subject of exes- plastering your opinions, regrets and whining about how you want someone back all over the internet is not cool.  Neither is talking about how awesome that person was in bed (even though it is flattering), especially in graphic detail.  Sending things to their house isn't wise.  Putting how pissed you are with your brand-new wife on an internet forum and then sending stuff to an ex's house really isn't wise.  You made your metaphorical bed, lie in it.  Sucks to be you; sucks even more to be your wife.

2. People who want tail but are not dating someone:  Texting pictures of your junk IS NOT A TURN ON.  In fact, it is a major turn-off.  Believing that someone may put out if they see a picture of your garter snake is insulting, too.  Equally as offensive:  When someone knows they have a text and open their phone to see it without a warning.  No, no matter how you try to justify it in your horny little head, "Maybe I'll see you this weekend" does not mean "Send me a picture of what happens to you when you stalk me on Facebook."  I have a friend (who is a lesbian) that claims her phone came equipped with a cock-block.  They all should. I'm willing to pay extra for it.

3.  Cyber-stalkers:  Most of you fall into one of the two categories above, but there is another category: the ex's new woman.  I know you all stalk the old flame.  Some people (like me) can even see it in their website stats.  Since some of you live in relatively small areas OR from a very distinct area OR Google someone's name and address and then land on their website, it's pretty easy to figure out who you are.  Duh.  You really need to get more creative in your cyber sleuthing.  And, just so you know, I am indeed skinnier, prettier and have way better legs than you do.  I chose to use those fabulous legs and walk away from that dude you picked up.  I do genuinely feel sorry for you.

As you can see, I'm feeling a little snarky and preachy today.  Sometimes people just need to be beaten in the head to get the message, and today I've got a ball bat.  Hope those of you who needed this were wearing a helmet.

Death Defying At The Farm Show

It's the beginning of August, and around here that means one thing- Farm Show time.  Joe was so excited to go, and I thought about how excited my brother and I used to get as kids.  I can only imagine how annoying he was to our parents; I, on the other hand, was a model child who practically raised herself.  That's my recollection, anyway.

Joe wanted to ride rides.  Once upon a time, I would have ridden almost anything.  In high school, my best friend Linette tricked me into going on the Magnum at Cedar Point.  At that time, it was the world record holder for most pants- shatting drop ever (or something like that.)  I vividly remember screaming every swear word I knew, inventing some new ones, and maintaining control of my bowels at 4000 miles an hour.  Linette laughed the entire time I was screaming.  I think she got more enjoyment out of my reaction than the ride itself.  I was just glad that I got off, in one piece, with clean undies.

We used to ride all of that stuff; if it went fast and looked like we had a chance of flying out and dying, we rode it.  We'd get out of the death-trap seat, me wobbling slightly and Linette practically hopping with excitement.  I was always the wussier one.  I swear Linette could ride a tornado and think it didn't go fast enough or turn as tight as it could.  She would still ride all of those rides even now if a back injury didn't prevent her from it.  

I don't ride those things anymore.  I can't.  One little thing served as the catalyst for my aversion to death-trap rides- Joe.  Ironic, isn't it?  He will ride almost anything without fear.  If I so much as look at some of them, I want to vomit.  I discovered my new found aversion to carnival and amusement park rides after he was born.  All I can attribute it to is being pregnant.  I know my behind did not return to it's previous placement once he arrived, and all I can assume is that my internal organs did not either.  I know that for as huge as I became, the only place my stomach could possibly have been located was between my ears.  That's a lot of ground to travel.  I've wondered if my guts are actually anchored by bungee cords, and once the cords had been stretched that far, they could just not possibly shrink back to previous proportions.  Kinda like over-stretched sock elastic.  I've tried to ride like I used to.  I've put valiant effort into still being fun.  I just can't do it.  It feels like my stomach flies around inside my body from my throat to my knees.  Sometimes it feels like the contents inside it will soon be outside, too.  I swore I would never be one of those wussy moms that wouldn't ride with her kids, but that was before I experienced the miracle of pregnancy.  Now I'll ride the more tame things, but the flying death-traps take off without me.  I hold the stuffed animals, drinks and sunglasses as I sit with the other moms at the exit.

Last night I was one of those moms as I watched Joe fly around on a magic carpet and then on some thing that went around in a circle and had half-naked mermaids painted on it.  Charlie went on that one with him.  I stood there, watching them zing around in a circle, holding the drinks and sunglasses, and I smiled.  I may not be able to ride those things anymore, but I get to sneak more junk food and pop in while my riders defy death.  I think I got the better end of the deal.