Note: The "Trooper" in question is not actually in the military. It's a metaphor, people.

March 10, 2008

It's All About Me, Isn't It?

Today is the first day that I felt like "me" in a LONG time - since January 2 to be exact. That is the day I returned home from a fantastic two week holiday road trip with Wine Guy, during which I made up my mind that he is the one for me.

On January 3 it all went to sh*t. First I contracted some sort of violent stomach flu that lasted four days, followed immediately by massive 8 1/2 hour hip surgery, and a painful 8 week recovery. Last Monday I finally returned to work, but after 3 days of frantically trying to catch up, I contracted an even worse violent stomach something-or-other that sent me to the ER, made my right eye swell up to a slit from too much retching, and put me out of commission until yesterday. The only good thing I can squeeze out of all this is that I am now highly confident in Wine Guy's nursing skills and patience levels.

But today.....ahhh, today. I went to work with a barely recognizable spring in my step (as much spring as one can have while walking with a cane) and actually functioned with some level of enthusiasm and competence. Heck, I even enjoyed a good old bicker with our overly sensitive Romanian receptionist. After work I actually exercised (not the tennis I really crave, but "running" laps at a beautiful pool swarming with perfectly sculpted 21-year old water polo players on a sunny San Diego day ain't so bad). Then I visited Target for a leisurely browse session (found a bathing suit, my first one piece since I was 10), picked up my favorite take out Chinese food, and came home to sip a beer and relax. Normal life has never felt so good. Yay me!

Beyond all that, I'm not feeling much like "composing" a blog entry (believe it or not, I do try to write something thoughtful). Instead I thought I would respond to two tags I've recently received from Nicole at SAHM Ramblings and Melissa at Cords and Fleece.

I've been tagged twice before and revealed all kinds of stuff, from the starstruck to the mundane. Check them here (tag #1) out here (#2). But here's a few more random facts if you're interested. Enjoy!

1) I broke four records in Track & Field during my one year stint as a college athlete. They're still on the books and usually come up as one of the first search items when you Google my name. Actually, it sounds more impressive than it is since my alma mater had only been co-ed for ten years by the time I arrived. Growing up in Southern California, we had several Olympians on my track team alone and I was hardly considered a standout. So I didn't even believe my coaches when they ran up to me after my event and excitedly announced, "You just broke the record!" I responded, "Well, this school sucks!" Oh, to be so full of teenage 'tude again!

2) I once hooked up with a guy just because I thought he looked like Richie Cunningham. Yes, I am one of the few women who likes red-headed men. Or I did until this experience. He was British and a complete ass (insert British accent on this word please, "ahhhss"). Once he got to my apartment, I realized I made a mistake. I was timid and not assertive enough to tell him to leave, so I just rolled over and hoped he'd just get the hint and leave. Instead, he proceeded to quietly and brazenly jack off against my back. I lay there in utter horror with this awful slapping sound filling the room. When he was done I told him to please leave. I vaguely remember him acting terribly put out and mumbling something about how American girls are so "strangely aggressive" and always have such nicely shaved legs. Ewwwwww.

3) I have three older siblings. All of them were adopted (as infants). I was not adopted. I am also the only one of the four of us with a high school diploma, a clean criminal record and, ironically, a tattoo.

4) My two most hated places in the world are groceries stores and malls. Sometimes I doubt my womanhood.

5) My "type" of guy used to be huge football players. We're talking linemen. When I was 15 I made out with the 21 year old, 6'8" center for the USC football team (by the time I was 17 I realized how disgusting that was) and I lost my virginity to the center for my college football team. (OK, so maybe I just liked centers.) Sometime in my early 20s my tastes changed (or maybe the linemen just got fat) and I became drawn to skinny, tattooed druggie looking guys. Now I love nerds - and yes, Wine Guy is one.

6) There once was a generally believed rumor in my hometown that I was dead. It was spread by a (now former) high school friend 3,000 miles away who, it turns out, was a pathological liar. She used my "funeral" as part an elaborate lie (there were many) that set the stage for her surreptitious trip to visit a guy in New York - a guy who was not her boyfriend in California. She didn't intend for the lie to get around, but one of the people she told, told a friend who happened to know me. She told her dad who just happened to have been my high school English teacher - and on it went. It didn't help that my phone in NYC had been disconnected at the time (paying that bill wasn't always easy) so no one could get a hold of me. When I called home on Thanksgiving from a corner payphone, my 4 year old niece answered and said "Aunt [Trooper], everyone thinks you're dead." Happy Thanksgiving, huh? (For the record, I am very much alive.)

7) And finally....Of the many reasons why I want to move in with Wine Guy, one of the biggest is that my telephone talking time will be drastically reduced. I am a firm believer in the say-what-you-gotta-say-then-get-off-the-damn-phone philosophy. Wine Guy is not. He would be happy to call me every two hours to "say hi" if he knew I wouldn't get annoyed after the second call. I try very hard not to let my annoyance come out in my voice because I realize it is kind of nice to have a boyfriend who wants to stay connected. But, as I've said before, I have no ability to be subtle (a Sagittarian quality I've been told). So when I feel annoyed - even irrationally annoyed - I am quite obvious about it. I look forward to a whole new list of things to be annoyed about when we finally live down the hall instead of down the street from each other.

So that's more about me than you would ever want to know. Normally there are rules associated with tags. I followed all of them except the last two since I've already reached out and tagged fellow bloggers the first two times. But just in case you're wondering, here they are:
1. Once you are tagged, link back to the person who tagged you.
2. Post THE RULES on your blog.
3. Post 7 weird or random facts about yourself on your blog.
4. Tag 7 people and link to them.
5. Comment on their blog to let them know they have been tagged.

Dismissed.

7 comments:

Nicole said...

How funny! What a way to realize that red-heads are no longer your type... that one made me laugh!

Thanks for participating!

mimi of sexagenarian and the city said...

great stories. very somatic in orientation [for the most part].
also very california -- or at least, my eastcoast stereotyped notion of california.

Samantha said...

Redheads are totally not my type. My mom loves them and married one - she had this thing where she thought he looked like Judah Maccabee. Maybe he was supposed to have had red hair? Whatever, lol.

Now I like guys on the nerdy side as well :)

kristin said...

yay for nerdy guys!
I haven't thought about #6 in a long time...what an effing nut-job. It would make good short story material though. So outlandish.

Sorry to hear you've been sick!

Loverville said...

Isn't it funny how our types change over the years? Hm, I feel a blog post in me about this one...!

Cara Hurley said...

I am so glad to hear you are finally feeling like your real self again. Being ill really sucks!

x

Cara

Trish Ryan said...

Okay, those are some of the best dating stories I've read in a LONG time...well done :) And glad to hear all is good with Wine Guy.