Still among the living

Sorry I have been MIA, but last week not a good week for me. Not only was I not home before 10pm any night of the week, but the weather is changing. The changing of the seasons-especially from warm to cold-always wreaks havoc on my head, and I spent the entire week with a migraine that had varying degrees of pain associated with it. It was pretty horrible. How about some random nonsense?

- I just found out that the first thing my grandpa said when he heard my sister had broken her nose was, "Well how's she goin' to pick her nose?" Awesome. I love my grandpa.

- It's possible I was so drunk at Meg's 30th birthday party Saturday that I yelled at Anderson Varejao as he was walking by me with his bodyguard on the way to the bathroom. I feel I should explain. Obviously I like Anderson Varejao as he is one of my beloved Cleveland Cavs. However, he used a bodyguard to walk through a crowd of roughly 10-12 people. What did he think was going to happen? In my defense, I don't think he heard me. And also the bar where we had Meg's party was awesome and amazing until about 11pm when it became a playground of douchebaggery, and it annoyed me. It annoyed all of us. Then Varejao walked by with his bodyguard, and I had just had enough. Sorry, Andy. I still really like you and your hair.

- Speaking of birthdays, yesterday was Steph's. We went to happy hour at Light Bistro where the manager instantly recognized Steph even though she's only been there twice before. We think it might have something to do with her/our volume. As Steph said last night, "We can turn any nice place into a keg party." Anyway, Steph is roughly 10 months younger than me. I turn 33 in December (shut up). Please do the math. So we were sitting at the bar, and Steph said something-I can't remember what-and this happened:

Manager/bartender: "Honey, you're thirty now. You need to act your age."

I slowly turned to look at Steph who was sipping on her drink, eyes down avoiding mine. "You told him you were thirty?"

Steph: "Sshhh! He doesn't need to know!"

Diane: "Steph! Hey, Ron, she's not thirty. Think higher."

We are mean friends.

P.S. Steph, Christy and Meg are back from Europe with awesome stories, but since this isn't their blog, I probably shouldn't repeat them here. I'm just happy they are home and had a wonderful time. But...I just need to tell you one thing: Steph held hands with someone. Steph...does not hold hands. She doesn't hug, she doesn't like touching. It's just not her. But she held hands with a boy. Anyway, it might not be obvious from this blog, but I am really weird about safety. Ever since my friend Matt died, I am a stickler for making sure my friends are being safe. It is annoying to everyone including me. But I can't help it. Matt's death changed me. So I heard some stories about some questionable things that happened in Europe (nothing illegal-we are not those kind of people), and I was yelling at Steph about it-right after she had told me about the hand holding. As I was yelling she goes, "Christy was bad, too!" So I said, "Okay let's go yell at Christy." And Christy turned to us and said, "What?" And Steph said, "We're yelling at you! You held hands with someone, too!" I had to stop, turn to Steph and whisper, "That's not actually what we're mad about. Holding hands is okay." She looked confused. I missed Steph.