Last night I set my alarm for 4:30 like every workday morning. I really needed to get up on time because the night before I put, like, EVERY PAIR of pants I own in the dryer and when I have that many jeans in there it always takes two dry cycles. So what I normally do is get up, restart the dryer and go on with my morning routine. Then the last thing I do before I leave is put on my dry, hot jeans before I head out into the cold morning. I love that feeling. The hot pants protect me from the evil cold at least long enough to get into my car and get the heater started…

So last night I set my alarm clock for 4:30… PM! My body woke me up at what I thought was 3:09 on the cable box clock. This happens pretty much every morning, I wake up around 3:00AM, snuggle back into Ben’s warm body and fall back asleep. But this morning I kept starring at the clock because I fell asleep with my contacts in and the damn thing WOULD NOT FOCUS. So I roll over to look at the clock on the nightstand. It says 5:09. Wait. What? The damn cat must have waked across the alarm clock again and pushed the hour button so it’s ahead.. Stupid cat.

I figured better be safe than sorry though, forced a yawn to make my eyes water so my contacts would clear, look at the cable box again… 5:09. DAMMIT!

Okay. So I have two options. Option 1: Start dryer and hope to God the jeans dry the rest of the way in 25 minutes. Option 2: Wear a skirt. And option 2 wasn’t really an option because I’d have called in sick before I wore a skirt. Skirt… blech! *shudder*

So option 1 it is. I run downstairs and start the dryer then run back upstairs thinking I can just blow dry my hair tame enough to be presentable. I do this sometimes when it’s cold and I don’t want to wash my hair in the morning. I just blow it with hot air till it’s mostly tame then flat iron the honery parts. As I look at myself in the mirror for the first time though I want to spit in my own face. I have Pippy Longstocking style braids from yesterday. DAMMIT again!! No amount of blow drying is going to get it straight. And there’s NO WAY that I have enough time to flat iron… So I frechbraid it. And for ONCE I actually like to way my hair looks frenchbraided. The light and dark hair look pretty cool that way all weaved together. SCORE!

Okay, dress from the waist up, brush teeth, deodorant, perfume, makeup. My makeup actually looks pretty dang good considering the amount of time I had. I take a second to cherish my makeup and daydream about my Barbie collection on the way… then snap back into reality when I look down and it’s 5:37. DAMMIT! I need to be in the car and moving by 5:35 to be at work on time.

Run downstairs, throw open dryer, close eyes, reach in… they are hot! And dry! YAY!!! Throw on most favorite jeans, grab keys, open garage, run out door. My car is not in the garage!! DOUBLE DAMMIT AGAIN!! My car in on the street, all the windows are frosted up and it looks cold. Then it hits me… My pants ARE NOT DRY! They were just hot and FAKING!! My pants are, in fact, quite moist and instantly cold. Like, freezer cold. I consider for a split second calling in sick, climbing back into bed with Ben and forgetting Monday ever happened. Then I remember I’m a PTO Nazi and that’s out of the question.

I run to my car while making a giant middle finger gesture to the sky. It might have looked like I was flipping off God but really I was flipping of MONDAY. FUCK YOU, MONDAY!

As I got on the freeway I had wide open road and every single cell in my body wanted to run the M3 wide open. To cherish the feeling of acceleration, the roar of the motor through my intake, feeling every curve and bump in the road though my stiff suspension… letting the crappy morning fade away by the rush of speed. But something held me back and after taking the onramp with speed, I throttled down and let the car drift down to 67 and cruised.

About a minute and a half later the motorcycle that was a tiny spec when I got on the freeway in the car pool lane caught up and passed me. It was a CHP.

I take it back Monday, I love you. *hugs*

I ordered all six of the eye shadows from the Barbie Loves MAC collection today. Plus some stuff.

*is giddy*

I also took a picture of the wrist tattoo now that it’s totally healed. I am so happy with how it’s turned out. It’s EXACTLY what I wanted. Perfect.

I was telling Ben this morning how silly the girls are here at work. The ones that didn’t get flowers make sure to point it out and the girls that DID get flowers all say how “if he’d LISTEN for once he’d know I prefer YELLOW roses.” Or, “Yeah, that’s just what I need, more chocolate!”.

I feel sad for these girls. Sad that these women (who are ALL older than me) place so much value on such trivial crap. Like, choose to see the BRIGHT side of things. For ONCE. If he sent you chocolate he must not think your thighs are as big as you do, because if he did he’d have sent a box of Slim Fast. THAT would have been something worth complaining about!

During this talk I told Ben how lucky it makes me feel that we have eachother. Mainly, that I have him.

me: (K)(K)(K)(K)(K)
Benjamin: why all the kisses?
me: Well, I listen to the girls here find reasons to complain about Valentines Day and it makes me realize how lucky I am
Benjamin: well, I haven’t done anything today
so, how are you lucky today?
me: It doesn’t matter. You do things all the time
Benjamin: I do?
me: Yep.

So, why am I lucky? Let’s see…

1) I found The One. Knowing that with such certainty is a powerful feeling. Before Ben, I started to believe that feeling was just a myth. Something in movies and cheap paperback romance novels.

2) Maui

3) Ben has stepped up and proven to be a better father to my daughter than I ever thought ANY man could be. See, here’s the thinking positive part. I sometimes think that he’s too strict. I’m the lenient one, he’s the hard ass. That’s how our roles play out. BUT! He does these things, like coming home after a long day and sitting in shitty traffic for an hour and the first thing he does when he walks in is pay attention to Cassidy. Like, we exchange Hello’s, maybe kiss, or a ‘how was the drive’. But then he takes time to check on her. Is your homework done? Is your room clean? How was school? What did you learn today? Did anything funny happen? Have you figured out that quantum physics problem yet?

And I admit, there are days where I’m like, HELLO!! ME!! REMEMBER ME, ANNA, YOUR FIANCE, I HAD A GOOD DAY AND MY ROOM IS CLEAN AND LET ME TELL YOU THIS FUNNY STORY ABOUT THAT ONE GIRL WHOS BLOG I READ!!! But he does this because he loves her and he wants her to learn about being responsible and dependable and self reliant. Her future and the person she grows into is important to him. Cassidy and I are very lucky that he is a part of our lives.

4) He’s a bigger geek than I am and he doesn’t judge me for thinking that Voyager is the best Star Trek season or because I was Princess Leah for three Halloween’s in a row when I was younger. Or that I can totally kick his ass at Unreal Tournament. *swoon*

5) He’s passionate. And I don’t mean in the sexual sense. (Well, that too) He is passionate about life, about what he believes in and about the things he loves to do. I’m jealous of that sometimes. But it’s rubbing off on me.

6) He stuck by me when I was a manic, depressed, crazy wench. And be believed that I could get better.

7) I laugh. Everyday. At my own expense. Because him making fun of me is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. He’s the person that taught me to laugh at myself and best of all, to be able to appreciate the ability to do that.

I could really go on this way till my fingers can’t take it anymore. These are just a few of the things that I love, that I’m happy for, reasons that I think I’m lucky. Roses and chocolate are good, but knowing that I get to go home to the man of my dreams, my future husband, nothing compares to that…

Happy Valentines Day, Ben. (k)

You suck. Seriously.

I took the SK2’s to the UPS store by our house Saturday morning. I was there when they opened the doors at 9AM. The only reason they opened them was because I stood outside the door with my box in one hand and the other pounding on the door. They are ALWAYS open later then the sign says they are. Ben has had this problem with them in the past also.

Anyway, no biggie, it was like 9:02 so I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it but the first thing she tells me is,

Dumb UPS Girl (DUPSG): SORRY! We are open but I was trying to get the safe to open. It’s new and I can’t figure it out.
Me: Ooookay. I’m paying with an ATM card. Is that okay?
DUPSG: Oh! Yes, that’s perfect.
Me: Great.

So I get the paperwork all filled out and go up to the counter, she enters the info, we BS, I had her the card…

DUPSG: Oh no.
Me: What?
DUPSG: Our internet connection is down.
Me: So??
DUPSG: I’ll have to call another location to run the card.
Me: Whatever, as long as I get a tracking number.
DUPSG: Okay. *calls other location*

She hand writes the payment info on the receipt and hands it to me.

DUPSG: Don’t worry, this is a valid receipt.
Me: Well, I wasn’t worried till you SAID THAT.

*looks it over*

Me: Where is the tracking number?
DUPSG: Oh, it will be emailed to you within the hour.
Me: Okay.

I didn’t see this as a problem because that’s the norm. Whenever we email a package from there we get an almost instant email. Like, by the time I’m getting in the car outside I have it. This time since the internet was down I figured it might take a bit.

Then I spent all day painting and at 3:30 suddenly remembered and checked, no email. Call UPS store. They close at 3:00. GREAT! Call 1-800-UPS-SUCKSASS to get the tracking number and…

Dumb UPS Girl on Phone (DUPSGOP): You need to call the place you sent it from.
Me: It was a UPS STORE. It should be in the system already, yes? I have my receipt #.
DUPSGOP: Well, we can’t look it up here you need to call them.
Me: They close at 3:00.
DUPSGOP: Okay.
Me: It’s almost 4:00.
DUPSGOP: Oh.
Me: So is there a way you can look this up for me if I give you the address of origin and destination or the receipt number or what do you need?
DUPSGOP: Sure, what’s the tracking number?
Me: Are you serious?
DUPSGOP: Yeah, I need the tracking number to TRACK the package.
Me: Were you HERE 2 minutes ago?
DUPSGOP: Pardon?
Me: Nevermind. Do you know if they are open tomorrow?
DUPSGOP: Who?
Me: The. UPS. Store.
DUPSGOP: Oh, no.
Me: You don’t know what time UPS Stores are open?
DUPSGOP: We don’t have that information here.
Me: At UPS customer service you don’t have any way to check and see what time UPS Stores are open?
DUPSGOP: No, we don’t have that information here.
Me: So… you are UPS customer service right?
DUPSGOP: Yes.
Me: But you can’t tell me where my package is or what time your stores open?
DUPSGOP: I just need the tracking number.
Me: Goodbye.

It took me so long to cool down after that I waited till Monday morning to call the UPS Store. They guy I got was actually really helpful and took my info and got back to me about 5 minutes later. I repeated the tracking number to him to verify it and hung up happy I didn’t have a repeat of the Saturday afternoon conversation.

Then… when I used the number to track the package, no results. $%*&@#* So, I call back…

The UPS Guy I Liked During the First Call (TUPSGILDTFC): It’s not showing up yet?
Me: No, let me just verify the number.
*read back number to him*
TUPSGILDTFC: Yeah, that’s it.
Me: Okay, but it’s not showing up on the website.
TUPSGILDTFC: Okay, hold on.
.
..
…
TUPSGILDTFC: So… It hasn’t left here yet. It will get picked up with today’s packages and you should be able to start tracking it this evening?
Me: WHAT?!
TUPSGILDTFC: It hasn’t been picked up yet.
Me: Why not?
TUPSGILDTFC: It will go out on the truck this afternoon.
Me: Why. Hasn’t. It. Left. Yet?
TUPSGILDTFC: We were having computer problems that day so…
Me: I took the package in SATURDAY. It’s now MONDAY over 48 hours later and the package that I paid to have shipped on SATURDAY is still sitting there?!
TUPSGILDTFC: Well, we didn’t have internet access so the card wasn’t charged till…
Me: SATURDAY!! The card was charged SATURDAY, 2/10. You are The UPS Store #2762 correct?
TUPSGILDTFC: Yes.
Me: The charge cleared on SATURDAY, according to Wells Fargo, when the girl called another store to run the card because your internet was down because I couldn’t pay with cash because she couldn’t figure out how to open the safe!!!
TUPSGILDTFC: It will go out this evening when the truck gets here for the next pick up.
Me: Fantastic.
TUPSGILDTFC: I sorry for the mixup.
Me: So am I. Next time I’ll go to the Post Office, stand in line and pay more.
TUPSGILDTFC: …
Me: Goodbye.

As a follow up. I wrote this yesterday and as I typed out the last conversation, I got the email. Over 72 hours later. Over 71 hours LATE. I then added an entire paragraph here that I reread this morning and realized that ‘fuck those fucking fuckers’ was not great reading so I deleted it.

The End.

Sometime in the last week, I think it was last weekend, Ben mentioned to me that he had a wound on the big vein that is on the back of your hand. Hold your hand in a fist for a few seconds and you’ll see it but it’s much more pronounced on men because they are big and strong and veiny. He mentions this as I’m getting ready to do something and he’s still in bed and I’m kinda running around somewhat not paying attention.

Ben: And you know what’s weird?
Me: Hmm?
Ben: I don’t have any idea how I got it.
Me: Yeah, I get them all the time. I usually don’t remember how I get my bruises.
Ben: But this isn’t a BRUISE. It’s a CUT. On my VEIN…
Me: Okay?
Ben: How would I get a cut right THERE and not remember it?

I could see where this was going now.

Me: Like, maybe you were abducted by ALIENS!!!
Ben: I know, right! Because you’d think that I’d remember something like a cut RIGHT THERE on the VEIN.
Me: Ohhhh… Let me see it…

For the last week, if he’s done anything out of the ordinary he points to the vein. And anytime I’ve wanted to blame something on him I point to the vein. HAR! Ben is a comedian.

Friday night at Red Robin I was feeling pretty good for the first time in a WEEK. I think I actually made it 30 minutes without coughing violently. He asked me if I wanted to watch a movie when we got home so I asked what we had…

Ben: That Nascar movie with Will Ferrel, Lost Season 1: Disk 1 and Lady in the Water.
Me: No Lady in the Water. Scarry movie. Won’t watch it. I’m in more of a comedy mood anyway.
Cassidy: Lets watch the comedy!
Ben: Do you now what a comedy is?
Cassidy: No.
Ben: Do you know what a comedian is?
Cassidy: Nope.
Ben: A comedian is somebody who does funny things or says funny stuff and makes you laugh.
Cassidy: YOU!!! *points to Ben*
Me: *chokes on my Vodka tonic from laughing*
Cassidy: *laughs at herself even though she has no idea why she’s so funny*
Ben: So what do you think comedy means?
Cassidy: I don’t know! *laughs*
Ben: Well if your mother had been able to maintain her COMPOSURE you might have had a better chance of figuring it out…
Me: *looks cute*

And I can’t help it! Because, Ben!! YOU ARE FUNNY. And funny = comedian and when she pointed it out that way so innocently and with such matter-of-factness I had no CHOICE but to laugh!!

And I was only going to write about the comedian comment but you seemed kinda disappointed that I didn’t mention to the internet that you were abducted by aliens out of our bed one night. That’s what you should have talked about last time the camera was on you.