Mel

{bedside manner} oh, if my nightstand could tell stories…

You know what they say about relationships: it's the little things. Which, at the almost-three-year mark, I've found stil to be true. When the boyfriend and I first moved into his city apartment I had to switch sides in the bedroom. WHICH put me on, basically, on the wall. Upon moving to Pittsburgh, our downtown loft gave us a bit of a challenge in terms of bed placement (stupid giant headboard). When we started the process of house hunting, I squeed a bit on the inside, with the (now, empty) promise of a bedroom large enough for the (stupid giant) King bed... and finally, my own bed-side staging area. {open to read more about my fun with inanimate bedroom objects)

Mel

{conversations with the boyfriend} it’s too loud; you’re too old.

Watching Inception (a terrible movie) on Blu-Ray...{open to read commentary}

Mel

{cooking for the boyfriend} the eggnog french toast incident

I can’t tell you how pissed I was when I picked up a container of Dean’s eggnog and read “corn syrup” on the label. I used to make homemade eggnog (and have been advised against because of the potential issues with raw eggs). But I’m sure that simply pasteurizing a product does NOT mean adding CRAP “to make it taste better.” I make my best attempt to purchase...

Mel

{holiday spirit} Mel’s Christmas Gift Guide for the men who annoy, tolerate or complete you.

Ho-Ho-Ho! Oh, so now it’s the last minute and essentially you’re fucked. But I’m going to share this gift guide with you anyway. So… CONGRATS! You survived long enough to not get dumped before Christmas. I mean, no man is that much of a dick he’d dump you the day before a holiday and after all the gifts are purchased, right? RIGHT?! Men’s gifts come in three easy...

Mel

{shit list} how many times do I hold back the swearing in this post?

I'm mature enough to know my own faults -- my character flaws (there are many) -- and accept myself warts, anxiety-fueled, enlarged pores and all. One of aforementioned... ahem, "blemishes" is getting irrationally angry without too much provocation. The boyfriend, he doesn't understand these angered outbursts because, well, he's an emotionless freak of nature. So, thankfully, it doesn't happen often. While some of his rational thinking has rubbed off (heh) on me in terms of subsiding my uber-sensitive side, the flare-ups of being really, really mad burns deep sometimes... so much so, that I have something resembling a minor panic attack, combined with the sudden ability to not be able to speak. True story.

Mel

We had a conversation about… Hanson.

Mel: Hanson is on Dancing With the Stars. Don't you want to watch it...

Mel

Is that a pick-up line?

In Chicago, after completely passing out from a day full of beer drinking, AB jolted awake out of nowhere and exclaimed:

Mel

Another year drunker…

On this day, two years ago, I went home with some random drunk. Scratch that, he wasn't so much "random" as he was a "stalker." Kinda. {open to read more}

Mel

Sleep Talking Permission

AB mumbled something while he was falling asleep. When I questioned him to clarify his usual alien language, he stammered (in clear English), "Just publish it."

Mel

The rhythm is gonna get you all right.

We’ve been living together for nearly two years. After recently obtaining joint accounts for our mutual bills, the natural progression (by my continuous nagging, of course) was to combine our iTunes music collections. We have, like, 8 computers in the house — each storing a different folder of music. I have an old PowerMac G4 with all my classic rock stuff on it, that I had no access to (given...

Mel

No, it’s not. You’re wrong.

As previously mentioned, the boyfriend and I suffer from a variety of communication issues (as I’m sure MOST couples can relate to). Because of that, we have the stupidest arguments. Anyways, I was totally PMS-bitchy this week and kitchen-sinked him about his poor cleaning skills and something about fecal matter on the counter. Seriously, he put the LID of the litter box ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER. I...

Mel

Topic of conversation

Neither of us in this relationship is a master conversationalist. Working from home, my socializing is with a cat (read: seriously lacking, save for a “meow”). And my million of friends online. The boyfriend, well… like any male counterpart, I suppose, has a certain mute button pushed when I start talking. Most of the times, he won’t even notice I’m speaking. Then when...

Mel

Fully Functioning as a Joint Couple

Now that we’ve finally got around to doing “it” (and by it, I mean surrendering ourselves completely to one another), we’re proud parents of a joint checking account. I mean, it’s wholly overdue, being that we’ve practically lived together since Date One (that fatefully-drunk St. Patrick’s Day) — now at our second cohabited place of residence. And have now...

Mel

Christmas Lists

I hate when ideas for gifts hits you well after the buyer has asked. Together, AB & I had a comprehensive list — mostly stuff for the kitchen — but then I realized this past weekend that our living space could use some new furniture pieces. For instance, a new TV stand, which I gather HE would never go for, but I hate having all glass matched with dark wood accent tables in the living...

Mel

You Know What I Hate?

Well, that title is rhetorical because there is an ever-rotating laundry and “honey-do” list of things I hate. Add to that: Crowds Dirty pans that sit on the stove for three days (and especially that grill pan that I cannot use the scrubber on… UGH) Touching surfaces in public (doors, revolving doors, railings, elevator buttons) Elevators, for that matter Slow drivers in the PASSING lane...

Mel

I don’t have a life insurance policy!

Since this flu/cold/immune system compromise thing has kicked my ass for yet another day, I missed our apartment building holiday party last night. Naturally, I sent AB down for food because they typically put out a serious spread (including beer and wine, which if I was well, would have been all kinds of awesome) — just a few nibbles, being that I don’t have much of an appetite. And he’s...

Mel

Return to Cleveland: for pork pig-out and birthdays

What is wrong with this picture? Downtown Cleveland feels dead to me now. This picture was taken on a beautiful day weather — see? the patios are all set up — on a SATURDAY. Oh, and one of those persons is a bum. With a REALLY long elevator pitch. I swear, I knew, like, eighteen-millionty people who had birthdays last weekend. The most important of whom, being AB, of course. This sentence...

Mel

Thank Josh Groban, No Sweetest Day.

Independent survey results show: ‘Burghers do not celebrate Sweetest Day (including one, “What the frick is Sweetest Day?” Best answer I could receive). Hopefully these needless card company-created holidays — apparently designed for Ohio and popular for Chicago residents, which is technically a bunch of ex-pat Ohioans anyway — will not cross outside the state border to its...

Mel

I’m going back to Cleveland, Cleveland, Cleveland.

(forever?) Huh. I don’t think so. No, not FOREVER, silly — to visit. Which still sounds weird, all things considered. I wonder if they’ve rented our old apartment. *thought process montage* /scene. Our October trip meshes well with Cleveland Beer Week (oh, the irony!)… or at least it’s uber-fantastic and drunken closing event, BREWzilla. And many thanks to Cleveland Foodie,...

Mel

“Stop Being White Trash!”

That’s what the female counterpart yelled at her male companion while he walked at least ten steps ahead of her on Penn Ave. Likewise in anger, there was another old man all sincerely pissed off that he couldn’t find an unlocked entry door at Heinz Hall. Then there was a guy across the street from us arguing with someone passionately. Without knowing the back story, these people were MAD,...