Thursday, March 01, 2012

High highs, ridiculous lows

Guess what I did yesterday, guys? I snuggled Baby A. I worked. I ate Greek yogurt.

And also what is The Highest High of What's Been A Pretty Decent Week: I MET MY VERY FIRST BLOGGER BUDDY AND IT WAS AWESOME.

Now, I’m not one to kiss, er, hug and eat chocolate mousse and tell but this Very Special Blogger happened to be in town and happened to send me an email and happened to be so kind as to agree to a 10:00 pm post-library (OMG, working until 9 sucks so bad sometimes) rendezvous and – yay! – internet friend becomes real friend.

It was so fun.

Meeting someone who you already know you’re going to like and discovering that they’re even more awesome in real life? The best.

It was an excellent – and way, way too short – visit.

The main highlight for my Very Special Blogger (yes, I’m just going to speak for her because I'm ridiculous like that) was obviously getting to ride in my awesome family sedan. ...with my hockey bag in the back. Because this is the Motor City and this is what we do: keep shit real.

Here’s another thing we do in the D: skip the bar scene and hit up the open-blissfully-late pastry shop, instead.

(Insert special shout out to the unknown photographer of these photos here.)

As far as I’m concerned, you can’t really go wrong with chocolate and a new friend.

I was slightly scattered and slightly flabbergasted when I arrived at my Very Special Blogger’s hotel. But it wasn’t my fault.

The Coach had just called me.

And here is where we get to the Bitter, Unjust, Terrible, Awful Low of the Week:

The Coach called me.


(20 hours before.)

(Way to be on top of that breaking news, dude.)

(In his defense, I was definitely sleeping at the time. Or watching Baby A. Or working.)

Apparently, he was at some random Mexican restaurant that is across the street from where he was staying and he was drinking alone. (Nice.) (At least it wasn’t with some slutty chick.) And this group of soccer players comes in (The Coach isn’t a soccer guy; he is clueless) and he’s talking to “some older guy, one of their coaches” at the bar. They’re watching sports on TV and chatting. And Becks – MY BECKS – shows up and sits down with his coach (therefore sitting down with THE COACH) for a spell.

Is this real life?

The Coach and my Number One Imaginary Boyfriend for All of Time* are in the same place.

What the hell, friends? What the hell does this mean? What the fuck is the universe trying to tell me?

(The universe is trying to tell me that Becks and I will be together forever, right? That with patience and virtue I will soon become the proud stepmom to Brooklyn, Romeo, Cruz and Seven, yes?)

I mean, really.

It’s bad enough that The Coach moved away.

It’s bad enough that he’s doing a bunch of traveling and isn’t coming right home at the conclusion of his season.

It’s bad enough that Becks is married to that skinny bitch robot Posh.

It’s bad enough that Becks is the most famous athlete in the world and an international sex symbol and I have to share him with 7,194,204,232 other people.

And then they end up in the same place. The man who makes my life complicated. And the man who makes my life worth living.

What does this mean? No, seriously. I want to know.

This – by the way – is how he breaks the news to me:

The Coach: So, get this. I met DBeckham yesterday.
The Coach: For real.
Me: If you didn’t arrange a threesome, I’m going to have to cut you out of my life.

*In case you didn't know, me and Becks have been having an affair in my head since I was approximately 15 years old.


kim said...

Is that Astoria Pastry Shop? Now I want to go to Astoria.

A said...

Bingo! First prize goes to Kim! (Sorry 'bout the temptation.)

Mrs. Architect said...

Which blogger?????? So next time I venture to Toronto, you are SO joining us, btw. :)

k said...

fun fun fun! i love meeting blogger buddies!

my life is brilliant said...

SO much fun. And delicious dessert. Just let me know when you want to head out to VA Beach or Kansas!

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