The story of us!!

I haven't posted anything for a while. I have had a hard time thinking of anything interesting to write. So I will go with one of my favorite subject. My lovely wife.

We met over 3 and a half years ago at a local restaurant. By restaurant I mean bar. Restuarant sounds a little more romantical haha. She was sitting there with a group of people I knew and my cousin. I went to high school with this attractive young brunette, but never had spoken to her. I also use to see here come in at my old job at Sheetz. I had always thought she was very attractive, but being a shy guy, I never talked to her. So following the shy theme I got my cousin to ask if she was single and looking. It so happens she was, later to find out she wasn't looking, but an old boyfriend was in the room that night so I was used. I didn't mind. I got an introduction from my cousin and began talking to this girl. I bought her a shot and got her phone number. I was hoping this would be the part of the story where I would say "the rest is history,"but it was not. I had much more work to due to capture my future wife.

I invited her to a party at my house the next day. She did not come. I thought my efforts were lost. I did not hear from her for a couple weeks. She was in summer school and living in Radford only to come home on some weekends. I pulled an infamous drunk dial one night, but my efforts seemed futile. Then a tragedy happened. My cell phone broke. With the demise of my cell phone so was the demise of me having this beautiful girls phone number. I was pretty upset about this. So I just went along hoping I would run into her again.

The beginning of the summer went along and no more contact with this girl I couldn't get out of my head. I took a trip to Myrtle Beach with some friends and then a defining moment happened. I had been down on my luck during these times. I wasn't in school. I had a terrible job. I had no direction in life. I received a phone call while at the beach from a number I did not recognize. Guess who? This phone call changed my life in a sense. I was so excited until she said she wanted to hang out and I was at the beach. We talked for a little bit. She told me she would be home for the summer next week and we should hang out. Then began what I like to call the summer of love, or alcohol, or partying. It was a great summer lets just put it that way.

So we went out with a group of people the next weekend. It was fun. I was real impressed with her partying skills ahah. The point was I really enjoyed her company. She was fun, smart, and attractive. She was the total package. I puled a Waynes World moment. "She will be mine, oh yes she will be mine." It did not come easy. I had to do work. She wasn't going to fall for me easily. I spent countless nights staying up till 4 a.m. just to go to work at 6 a.m. just to hang out with her. My cousin went with us on our first date. I was putting in work. When I probably should have given up on her. I just couldn't for some reason. There was something about this girl. The night I realized it was funny, yet corny at the same time. We went to the Warehouse for a fun filled night. She got mad at me because I hadn't danced with her and did not talk to her much. I got mad and left to walk out to my car. Right before I got to my car. I realized that it couldn't end like this. I turned around to go back in and she was at the door looking for me. No words were exchanged. She took me by the hand and we danced to a Kenny Chesney song. Then I knew this girl was going to make or break me.

The rest of the summer was spent by me chasing the wonderful girl. I knew she liked me, but she had some doubts about my future. She didn't like the fact I wasn't in school. So I was going back to school. Which no matter how it would have ended up between us was the best thing I ever did and I owe it to her. I wanted to become a better person so I could be with this girl and I did. I knew she wasn't shallow and about money because I had none. In fact half of the summer when we would go out we would ride in my car. The interior in it was destroyed and the driver side door did not work. I would have to crawl in the passenger side to get in or dukes of hazzard it. She picked on me, but still rode with me anywhere and everywhere.

The summer was coming to an end and she was still not totally mine. She was on her way back to school and I had no idea if it would work. I thought I lost my chance. She went back to school and at first we did not talk much. Eventually we talked more and more. I started making more trip to Radford and eventually we made it official on facebook hahahahah. All my work paid off and every bit of it was worth it. Who ever said you have to work and fight for what you want was right. We dated and had our ups and downs, but when it came down to it. We couldn't stand not being with each other. This is the part of the story when I get to say, "The rest is history."

SAY WHATTTT

I have been having a hard time as of lately thinking of things to write about on my blog. I think I will save my wife's suggestion of Adysessus the epic of Adam Soyars fpr another time. I feel like writing about relationships. I wonder how to completely different people fall for each other.

I am going to start with my parents. Here is a little back story. My mother was born in Danville, VA. She graduated from GW high school. She got her undergrad at Stradford College in Danville as well. She then took on a bold adventure and decided to go to grad school in Arizona. With out knowing a single person in Arizona she picked up and moved. She finished her masters in Sociology and began working on her PHD. She finished her PHD after having me which is very commendable. She was a hippy by all means.

My dad was born in Columbus, Ohio. His real father abandoned him and his sister when he was young. They along with my Grandmother moved around many time lived with another man where his second sister showed up to eventually be adopted by my Grandma's third husband Bill Sells. Bill Sells was a very strict father to him. In many ways I think my dad resented that due to the hippy era my dad was growing up in. My dad never finished high school (though he later got a GED).My dad was a hippy in 60's and 70's in every respect. He did many things like being a roadie for many popular bands. He served in Vietnam (by force, not by choice). He met a woman in California, eloped in Las Vegas and had my half sister. He was divorced soon after that. After all his travels he and his family ended up in Arizona.

So we have a high school drop out and a PHD candidate. These two meet in a bar in Mesa Arizona and the rest is history. The started dating, soon moved in together, and then a little something unexpected happened. Me!My parents never decided to get married. My mom really doesn't believe in marriage especially for the reason of having a child. They stayed together for 16 years before separating.

This information is a little random, as it might sound. My point is that two people from two different parts of the world, with two different backgrounds fall in love. My mom is a Doctor in sociology and my dad had a GED. My mom is responsible with money and doesn't indulge in drugs. My dad was irresponcible and terrible with money.He also had a drug problem. So two different people in love. It is funny how it works out. I wonder sometime what my mom saw in my dad. My dad did have one great thing going for him. His personality. Everybody who met him loved him. He could talk to anyone and did quite often. I guess what it comes down to is my parents connected on a whole different level than just the educational, social levels. The fell for each other not for the reasons different for others. Some marry for money. My parents had none. Some marry because they are the same people. My parent were opposites. Some marry because of pregnancy. My parents did not. Some marry. My parents did not. I think their love must have been something bigger than labels and society's cookie cutter idea of love.

So when I look at my marriage what do I see. I see two people from two different back grounds, and from two different parts of the earth. I see an English teacher and an accountant. I see two people who grew up very different. I see almost opposites. I see in us the love I saw in my parents. I see two people who have connected in a way that is indescribable. We married, not because of money. Not because of babies, or because we were so compatible. We married because of our not so cookie cutter love. Our love has no label and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Cool Lyrics

I was listening to an album today in my car by a band named Algebra One. The band consisted of 3 VA Tech students. They use to do shows at a local place called Suite 6. It was an amazingly trashy place that I spent countless Fridays and Saturdays watching live music and embracing the punk/indie culture. When listening to this album I came across the lyrics in which I would like to share.

We have ONE week in summer to feel this ache
and about TWO hours before you awake.
Been waiting all night.
THREE hours of sleep
and FOUR just being a creep
Maybe FIVE weeks isn't enough
Feeling so sick.
Feeling so sick.
So let's make it SIX.
Lets make it six
or Seven more or seven more.
I've got EIGHT little tricks in store.
That's just fine.
I'm screwing up and looking at NINE.
I'll never win again.
I'm reaching up and touching TEN.

For some reason i thought these lyrics are awesome with the whole counting thing.
That is all.

I don't want to grow up!!

So, I have been thinking a lot lately at were I am in life, and where I was before I met my lovely wife. Before I met her I was a college dropout working at a golf course for minimum wage. I was living in a apartment with a friend, who was a waiter, and drinking quite often. Not much motivation or direction in life when I look back. I met my wife and needless to say I got my ass in gear. I am a college graduate and currently have passed 3/4 of the cpa exam. I have a great paying job and a nice home. I would have never foreseen back in the dark ages (what I call the before I met my wife days)that I would reach the enlightenment (after wife era).

Since I have reached this enlightenment era there are a lot of people who have told me they are proud of me. Many have said "you've grown up so much." This brings me to my point. What does being grown up mean? I must say I am a little lamer than in the dark ages, but I don't care I like being with my wife. Does being grown up mean lame? If this is so I never want to grow up. Does being married and having a decent job mean I am grown up? I don't think it does. I still laugh at fart jokes and Family Guy. I like being irresponsible for my actions because I was drinking. I still look to make people laugh as much as possible. I swear too much. Some days I want to drink at noon (I don't anymore because I fall asleep at 6, might be part of growing up). So after all this, am I a grown up? In my opinion, no. I don't think I will ever fully grow up. It just isn't in my nature. My dad never did. My mom can still relate to her hippy days. So I may never fully grow up. The question is, what is the definition of grown up?

Why I Hate Politics

You know what really grinds my gears? Politics and Politicians! There is something wrong with the whole political system, mainly the whole two party system. I have come to realize that republicans are always going to vote republican. Democrats are always going to vote democrat. I personally think this is bullshit. If Satan (R) "Hell" were to run against Osama Bin Laden (D) "who knows" what do yo think voting would look like? Republicans would vote for Satan just because he is republican. The same would happen for the democrats. They would not base it on whether the person would do a good job or anything like that. It is just based on belonging to a group. This is where the problems lie. You have senators who have illegitimate love children. People who write speeches to make them sound great. You have congressmen roaming around Washington with hookers and cocaine, but they are from your party so you voted them in.

I had my final Epiphany that I hated politics and politicians in 2009. Around the time the American Recovery and Investment Act was being signed into law I was in the middle of closing on our home. There was a tax break available to first time home buyers. The old one you had to pay back and the new one you didn't and was $500 more. I needed to find out if I needed to hold my closing back so I could get the best tax credit. I thought "hey I'll call my local congressman." I did and the secretary of his staff was very helpful and got me all the answers I needed. She called me back several times and just was overall a nice person. They won my vote, but only momentarily. A few months later I got a phone call from the congressman's office asking if we would be willing to have the congressman over to do a media event about the tax credit. I said "sure." I didn't think of it at the time, but I kind of felt obligated to do this because they helped me before. Wait a damn minute that is what they were supposed to do. It is their job and why they got elected. See you don't get anything for free in this world. Anyways my wife and I let them do their thing. I told the press secretary that we lived in the county. So the congressman shows up with dirty cowboyish work boots, and some dirty carhart pants. WTF I said we live in the county not on a fucking farm. It just really made me realize how fake politicians are. They really are just good actors. They are just always living as their characters (unless their banging strippers). The have hidden agendas and will work for campaign money by making promise to look out for their funders. I just don't agree with the political system and what it has come to. That's what really grinds my gears.

You Know What Really Grinds My Gears

You know what really grinds my gears? People who suffer from the disease know as "Debbie Downerism." I am just getting sick of being in a great mood and people coming along to fuck it up.

Now I know people have real problems. I sympathize with many of these people. I have had some screwed up shit happen to me in my life. I know some people who have had some really screwed up shit happen to them. The people who I know and respect did not let that ruin there life. They embrace it and move on to become better people. I commend these people.

The people I am referring to are the people who think there problems are a million times worse than everyone else. They sit around and feel sorry for themselves because "their life is so miserable." Really? Is your life really that bad? Some of these people are in therapy and numb to the world on medications and still they are miserable. Maybe I have been blessed in life with skills to let me see the good in life and be happy I'm still here.

These people also have a slight case of "my life is worse than your life syndrome." They constantly have to out do you in every bad situation. You could be having a bad day and tell them about it and you would never out do them. You could be like "my cat died today, he was old, but I am still sad." Their response would be "my cat was murdered by a serial killer and the body was sent to my doorstep and it really has been hard on me." The thunder will be stolen at all cost.

This might be a silly rant, but it just frustrates me that so many people can not see the good in life. What I try to do is look at it like this. Shit happens, but shit doesn't only happen to you. You might have had a bad day, but there are people who have really had bad days. Look at all this tragedy in Haiti right now. Do you think you can imagine what they and their families are going through. Think about that the next time you are having a bad day. You will realize how minuscule your problems are to other problems in the world. Someone always has it worse.

Boo Party.......Horray Beer!!!!!

Just another random event in a so far eventful life. So, back a few years ago when I was in my so called "wild days" I would go to parties quite often. I would also go out of town to go to clubs as well. I pretty much always had the usual suspects with me. They consisted of my roommate Brad, and my good friend Adam. On special occasions we would be graced with my friend Blake's presence. On one of these special occasion we got a phone call from one of our out of town friends known as "Mr. Excitement." His given nickname was an oxymoron. Nothing exciting ever happened when he was around. Every party he ever told us about sucked, or never happened. For some reason though every time he called we had this false sense of hope that he would finally earn his nickname. So after the phone call from Mr. Excitement we decide to take a trip to Kernersville, N.C. to attend a part with what Mr. Excitement described as having a lot of talent (attractive young ladies). Against better judgement Brad, Adam, Blake and myself take the trip. We decided to start drinking on the hour and fifteen minute car ride. We stopped at a Taco-Hut (which is the most awesome place on earth)to run across two drunk girls shouting at us trying to soak up any attention possible. We ammused them to find out they were like 16 so we got out of there asap. Anyways, I really only wanted to mention the awesomeness of the Taco-Hut and just remembered the random young girls. So we arrive at this poor excuse of a party. First off Mr. Excitement gave us shitty direction which in turn lead to more drinking in the car and more frustration. So after we finally arrive the party is a bust. It is a regular Jimmy Dean festival. There is about 5 girls and oh about 15 guys. This was not the ratio we were looking for. No one knew us or even really cared we were there. By this time we were pretty drunk from the car ride. We were not having any fun what so ever. So the second season of Dave Chapelle had been recently introduced to us. We all use to quote the Rick James skit quite often. We just to joke about grinding our feet on someones leather couch. So we decided this would be a good opportunity to do so. So what we grinded our feet on their couch, they were rich they could buy a new one. This was funny, but our exit to the party was better. While standing on the front porch smoking cigarettes a little mousy blonde girl approached us as she was entering the party. She said "like can you put my beer inside for me while I talk to everyone in the kitchen?" At first we wanted to cuss this ratard out. What did we look like servants? Instead Blake was thinking on his feet and said "sure no problem." This was case of some kind of random beer. Blake looks at me and says "Lets go." I said "sure." So we leave the party with the bimbos beer leaving behind a couch that was taken advantage of. So overall we made the most of the night. So we took the stolen beer to a stip club that lets you bring in your own beer. So overall we won.

I don't know if anyone will find this as funny as I did. Maybe it was a you had to be there moment.

It can be really boring being an accountant

Okay, this is a little off topic of my other post. This is sort of my day in the life of an accountant type thing. Today was a rough start to a day. I did not want to wake up and contemplated calling in to work every time my alarm went off (I have a snooze button problem).Unfortunately I did not. On my way to work on my usual route I run into a fire truck and a fire man. The fire man informed there had been a wreck and it will be twenty minutes before I cold get through. I really didn't feel like waiting so I went an alternate route. In said route, I hit some black ice and the truck got a little loose in turn 3. Nothing happened, but it did get my heart racing a little too early this morning.

So here comes the really boring work day. I arrive at work at 8 a.m. everyday. I come in, sign in and walk up to my very small office after a "you who" to my office buddy Dennis. Dennis is a 65 year old man who has " I'm getting to old for this shit syndrome." He is really the only reason I don't go completely crazy at work sometimes. He tells good stories and tries to relate every aspect of work to something he likes. He is a man of simple needs and really enjoys life. Anyway, I then go to turn on my computer and wait forever because it is a piece of junk. Then I do a quick internet session. You know email, facebook, and now my blog. Then I begin the work day. Most days I work on audits. This is boring stuff. I make sure that what companies say about there finances are correct. That's really they only way I can describe it, which solidifies the fact my job is boring. For instance today I spent my whole morning doing data entry of a Trial Balance. A trial balance is summary of balances of transactions that occurred throughout the entire year of a company. During an audit our goal is to get back up and evidence supporting the numbers on the Trial Balance. So I typed in eight pages of numbers. I then had to do yearly analytical procedures. This is when we compare last years numbers to this years numbers and if we see any drastic changes we investigate them. So that pretty much took up my morning. I then went home to lunch. Most of the staff eats lunch here, but I live close and would go crazy with out my hour lunch break. Then back to the office to finish my day doing random stuff. The staff at work can be quite entertaining. I have a Bi-polar boss who is dealing with a crazy wife who is 20 years younger than him, who use to be his secretary, and babysit his children. His son who is a spoiled brat who has daddy was never there for me issues. A married girl with two kids who is under appreciated. A funny, but yet some times scary girl who has some pretty crazy stories to tell and makes you glad you are not her sometimes. There is also Dennis who was mentioned earlier. My job ends at 5 each day where I go home, eat dinner, and then study more damn accounting. When at home I at least have the entertainment of my lovely wife and all her teaching stories. I am jealous of her job many days. Many days I am not as well. Anyways, this blog is rather random. The fact is I am bored at work and wanted to do something entertaining so I decided to write this.

No Matter What a Stripper Tells You, There's No Sex in the Champagne Room

Last night before our drunken turkey sandwich fiasco, this story came back to me. About two months before I married the woman of my dreams I embarked on the age old ritual of the Bachelor Party. Now if you know my friends, especially my best man Ben, you will know we do things to the extreme. Instead of a one night trip to the strip club, he decided a four day weekend in Myrtle Beach might be sufficient enough to celebrate my last weekend of freedom. The trip was fun. We had an entertaining first night where Colin yelled obscenities to unsuspecting people walking by the bar. We played 100 degree hungover golf. I passed out in the club with my head on the table. The owner of said club gave us protrone to drink (hence passed out with head on the table). My groomsman spent obscene amounts of money as well. None of the madness can compare to the end of the trip. The last night we were there our group was feeling the effects of three days of drunken madness. We wanted to do something relaxing. STRIP CLUB what better way to relax. Now I have been to a few of these establishments in my day, but this was by far the nicest strip club I have ever been to. The woman didn't smell of stupidity and failure, the drinks were not too overpriced, and the women were quite attractive. So as we got our front row seat women would come by and offer shooters and a table dance for $10. Nothing out of the ordinary untill SHE rolled up. Yes, I said rolled up. A woman in a wheel chair selling these shooters and table dances rolls up and picks her target. My friend Adam. Now Adam and I believe that they have his picture up in every strip club in America because of a story I will elaborate on another time. He is always the target when we would go to a strip club. So she rolls up to Adam (every time I say "rolls" it makes me laugh inside)and tries to solicit a shooter and a table dance. Adam wants no part of this, but Adam being the nice guy he is feels sorry for the paraplegic woman of the night. He decides he will purchase a shooter and a dance, but for me. So the stripper rolls up to me and gives me the shooter and I down it. She then asked me, "Are you ready for your dance?" My crew of flunkies are all hysterically laughing at this point because I am about to receive a table dance from a girl in a wheel chair. So I say I am ready. The women then gets up out of the wheel chair and starts to give me a table dance. All of my friends start dying laughing, all except Adam. He had the look of sure defeat and disappointment. The stripper could not even finish the dance because she was laughing to hard. Apparently, the stripper had borrowed the chair from a customer. He had actually sold her entire tray of shooters in under 30 minutes. It was the perfect way to end a fun filled weekend, but that part of it will stick with me forever. I don't think Adam will ever trust a stripper in a wheel chair again.

Bitch, Life is Serious!

So after a couple of days of contemplating. I have decided what I will write about on my blog. I think I am just going to tell some of the stupid random stories I have been a witness to over my life. if you are a friend of mine i have probably told you these same stories more than once in a drunken state. In fact I probably have told them to you more that once in the same night.

The first story that comes to mind is one that has stuck with me for quite some time. Well, the phrase in the story has stuck with me. When I was in my early 20's I spent most of my time in a local pool hall. I played a lot of pool and cards. when I look back I actually had a bad gambling problem. I use to get some thrill out of losing all my money. I am glad I can look back on that and think how stupid I was. Most people on that situation never look back. they stay in the same routine and lose everything in the process. Anyways, in this pool my roommate at the time and I were in the middle of a friendly game of pool. my roommate was a fun guy to be around. He knew how to laugh and joke about most things. Except money! When he was gambling for any amount of money it was no joking matter. He had a determined look on his face and took time on every shot like we were playing for $100 a game. We were actually playing for $.25 a game for fun. I was not taking the game so serious due to the fact it was only a quarter. He on the other hand in his competitive nature was serious. A regular pool hall flunky who hung around quite often was observing our match. She decides to ask my roommate "Why do you look so serious all the time?"His response "Bitch, life is serious." Everyone in the pool hall stopped and after a short silence started hysterically laughing. That phrase has stuck with me ever since. It actually makes me realize how unserious life really is. People take some things in life way too serious and I feel like it makes them not much fun to be around. My roommate was very fun to be around he was just highly competitive. Some things in life are serious don't get me wrong, but I can't help but laugh over how people can take things so seriously. For instance, when someone cries and throws something at the TV when there favorite American Idol gets voted off. Bitch, life is not that serious.