All that and a haunted buckeye

No wonder I am so exhausted today. My weekend was chock-full of fun and craziness.

I kicked things off Friday by whooping boyfriend's bottom at two rousing rounds of Rack-O. Ever beat someone by more than 600 points at anything? I have! Let me tell you, it is more fun than it sounds. We also shared a yummy Sumatra French press coffee at Enrico’s Tazza D’oro in Highland Park.

Saturday afternoon was filled with shopping in Shadyside, petting greyhounds (i want!), and delicious lunch at the Shady Grill (yummy California BLT with avocado and turkey).

Boyfriend asked what I wanted to do Saturday night. I said, "umm... go roller skating."

For some reason, the day before he ignored my suggestion to go sky-diving, but welcomed the skating idea with open arms. I don't get it. I haven't been skating for more than ten years though, so I'm glad he humored me.

After I found a buckeye in the pocket of my jeans for no apparent reason (thanks, ghost), we headed to Glenshaw's Romp 'n Roll for R&B Skate (true). There were tons of peeps getting funky on they skates. Some were invading my personal space with their funkiness, and almost knocked me on my tush a few times.

Our friend, who I shall refer to as "Sk8terboi," made the evening far more enjoyable with his highly-refined skating style. It reminded me of a little tike learning how to walk for the first time. I'm not actually sure you can even call what he was doing "skating," as at no point did I actually see his skate wheels spin. He baby-stepped his way around the rink in such an amusing fashion, that I had to shield my eyes from him so I didn't get distracted and lose my balance.

We had a blast, and though there were many close calls, neither boyfriend, Sk8terboi, nor I took a spill. By 10:30 the rink was packed to the gills and boyfriend had an oozing blister forming on his foot. It was time to call it a night. But first, we all had to smell boyfriend's fingers, which apparently "smelled like someone else's feet and sweat" from his rented roller-blades. Don't worry. When asked to smell someone's fingers, I always decline.

On Sunday I headed to my parents' house where my mom requested I join her for a day of decoupage (true). I made my friend something simply fabulous for her birthday. I won't give away too much, in case she reads this, but let's just say some of it is metallic and all of it is awesome.

Hope your weekend was filled with as many buckeyes, roller skates, and glue as was mine. It was truly outrageous.

xo

The case of the missing slipper

Last night I was looking forward to curling up on the couch with a David Sedaris book and eager to get cozy in my jammies and slippers. I saw one of my pink fuzzy slippers sitting in the hall between the bathroom and kitchen, but its mate was no where in sight. I found this to be rather odd, as I usually take off both slippers together, rather than taking one off... walking through the apartment before abandoning the other.

I searched for that lone slipper for several minutes before enlisting the help of the boyfriend, who helped me turn the apartment upside down. We were on a mission to find that damn thing. I was Cinderella. And my feet were cold.

Boyfriend, in the midst of cooking up a delicious dinner, had to forfeit the search because his water had come to a boil on the stove. After looking under every piece of furniture and in every conceivable hiding spot, I finally gave up. Had I accidentally thrown it away? What the duce?

This morning, I awoke from my slumber to get ready for work. Still wiping the sleep from my eyes as I stepped into the shower, I was in deep thought. "Don't forget your leftover portobello ravioli awaiting you in the fridge," I cautioned myself. "Even if it makes you a little gassy, it would make for a delicious lunch," the voice in my head continued.

It was after the shower that I saw it. Both of my slippers, lying together in a pair as though nothing had ever happened. "Oh, I guess boyfriend found my slipper?" my inner monologue rang. "But when? How? I don't understand!"

I ran to snoozing boyfriend, and gently awoke him. (Read:: shook him violently as though I had said "And this is what it would feel like to die in an earthquake!")

"HEY!" I excitedly hollered. "DID YOU FIND MY SLIPPER???"

Boyfriend gasped and quickly lifted his head, frightened.

"DID YOU FIND MY SLIPPER???"

"Huh? No!" Boyfriend was startled. But not as startled as I was.

"You didn't!? Really!? OMG! AHHHHHHHHHHHH! THAT'S CREEPY!" I was stunned, I didn't know what to do except hit groggy boyfriend over the head with my pillow several times as I screamed in horror.

As I finished getting ready for work, I kept my eye on the haunted slipper in fear that any remaining ghost particles might attack me--possibly when my mascara wand was uncomfortably close to my retina.

Before I left to catch my bus, I cautiously picked up the slipper with my thumb and index finger. I looked on the bottom of the sole for a cryptic ghost message, written in pig's blood. Nothing.

I examined the cloth for any ghost clues... and there it was. The label on my slipper sent chills down my spine. "Easy Spirit." I $h*t you not.

"Ok, I'm outta here," my inner voice proclaimed.

I grabbed my jacket and purse (but not my ravioli... dang) and ran for the hills... or bus stop.