(disclaimer: part one is much more interesting.)


So, the best friend dropped me off at my house at midnight. I decided to hit up the pub, since karaoke would be going for another two hours, and I was still all giddy and jazzed up from the concert.

It wasn't very crowded, but there were some new faces I hadn't seen before. That always makes me a little nervous, but excited at the same time. I sat with a couple friends, ordered a Red Stripe, and told everyone who would listen how awesome the concert was. Everyone was appropriately jealous

I decided to stray a bit from my "normal" songs-- I have about fifteen-twenty that I rotate, and there are two or three songs that I always do. Tonight, though...tonight was special.

First up: Pour Some Sugar On Me. That's right, I sang Def Leppard, and totally rocked it. Most of the bar was singing along as well, which was cool.

My second song was Talk...

All right, so this is a week late....just pretend it was yesterday or something.



My best friend picked me up after she got off work, and we headed down to Cincinnati. Neither of us had eaten, so we stopped off in West Chester for some Chipotle. Since I'd bought the tickets, she paid for my bowl, which was awesome.

The detour meant we lost some time, and we ended up missing most of Cheap Trick. I got to hear The Flame, though, which is my favorite, so that made me happy.

As we were walking around looking for an ATM, we ran into my dad, standing in line for beer. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked at me like, "wtf?" We don't see each other often, and I was wearing sunglasses, so it took him a second. (also, in his defense, I've lost a lot of weight the past couple years, so he's definitely used to seeing...er... more of me.)

Anyway, my stepmom is only eleven years older than me, so this concert...

I haven't eaten meat since September of 2007. I don't miss it, with two exceptions: BBQ ribs and Gold Star Chili. And even those cravings are fleeting, and don't happen often.

I don't discuss being veg, unless directly asked. Hell, I've never even "officially" told my parents (although I'm certain they know, even though they still occasionally ask if I want a burger or something.)

There are two reasons I don't really talk about it. One is that it's not a huge part of who I am. It doesn't define me, it's just another one of my quirks, or whatever you want to call it.

The second reason? Most people automatically become defensive when I tell them. It's as if their sudden knowledge of my eating habits means I'm going to start trying to convert them-- even if they've known me for a substantial amount of time, and I've never mentioned it. They start trying to justify why they eat meat, or how they could never give up meat, when honestly...I...

I'm probably going to ramble a little. Fair warning.



Let's start with the 4th. Spent most of the day with mom, since it's her birthday. We hung out outside for a while, and my aunt and cousin came over. Talked about Key West, and Mom showed off her pictures and such. Maaan, I wanna go there.

After they left, we watched He's Just Not That Into You. I thought it was hilarious. Mom found it funny, but maybe not as much as I did.

I headed up to T's around five-ish. His family was cooking out, so I was a little nervous about meeting everyone (except his brother, whom I'd already met.) His mom didn't seem all that impressed with me, but then, I think that's just the way she is. His grandma seemed to like me. His neices and nephew DEFINITELY liked me, which was cool. His brother-in-law didn't say a single word to me, but then, they don't really like each other, so I guess that's understandable.

T was in charge of cooking,...

I find it really interesting that almost immediately after breaking up with the ex, I dropped ten pounds, and my face cleared up.

I haven't changed anything, not really. But I'm happy, and I'm not walking on eggshells anymore, and that seems to make a world of difference.

Hindsight's 20/20, right? I can look back and see how terrible of a relationship it really was, and how much he messed with my head. At the time, though...well, I loved him. Isn't that the cliche?

Ah, well. Live and learn.