On Saturday afternoon, I met up with fellow blogger Misty.
And I was nervous. Date nervous. In fact, if you count the Renaissance Festival, Saturday was our second date.
Thoughts started racing through my head:
- Does this sweater make me look fat?
- What if I trip and fall on my face?
- It’s snowing. What if snow falls on my head and ruins my hair? Maybe I should wear a hat.
- Are birds still flying south for the winter? What if a bird poos on me? I should definitely wear a hat.
- What if she doesn’t like smores? (This should have been my first worry. Obviously, my game was off.)
- What happens on the second date? Is that second base?
Misty and I met at a really cool store called Retro Metro. As we entered the store, I was even more nervous. I promised Misty the store had some funny stuff for excellent blog material and gifts.
What if she didn’t think the store was funny? My credibility would be shot. I could see rumors running rampant through the blog world: Thoughtsy doesn’t know funny. She’s as funny as a fart in a spacesuit.
But then…Misty laughed. And she laughed
smore some more. And she showed me this:
A supplement to my American Sign Language classes.
We found some really cool stuff at the store…like this stuff.
Next we had lunch. And by lunch, I mean dessert. And by dessert, I mean Peanut Butter Smores. Mmmmm…. Misty even let me have the last bite because she’s cool like that.
After smores, we went back to Retro Metro because the store was just that cool.
Anyways, I think I sufficiently impressed Misty because she gave me Pop-Tarts. This means there will probably be a third date…I wonder if she’ll expect me to put out?
Remember the Alamo? Now you can remember me, too. That’s me in the green shirt on the right.
Actually that little kid wouldn’t eat his broccoli, so I offered to help out by threatening him with the cannon.
I wanted to have a fun photo like me riding the cannon or sticking my finger in it, but because children were present, I opted against it.
Because the Alamo visit only took about 45 minutes, most of my free time in San Antonio was spent on the Riverwalk. I saw a woman fall into the river: purse and all. And she lost a flip flop.
Also, on the Riverwalk, are birds. Tons and tons of bird just waiting, ready to snatch up your dinner crumbs. One flew up, and he touched me.
Obviously, the birds still have me listed as Bird Enemy #1. I should have brought Esme with me as a bodyguard.
It’s snowing here in…does Maryland have a nickname? It should. I mean, New York gets to be “The Big Apple.” Maybe we could call Maryland “The Big Cheese.” Just because I find the word “cheese” hilarious.
I bet Wisconsin is already “The Big Cheese.” Let’s brainstorm possible nicknames for Maryland.
- Black-Eyed Susan State. That’s too long for a nickname. And it has a ring of spousal abuse to it.
- The Crab State. That makes it sound like we’re a state overrun with sexually transmitted diseases.
After some research (and I by “research,” I mean Wikipedia—which doesn’t really count as a reliable source), I found that Maryland already has some nicknames.
- The Cockade State? That just doesn’t sound right.
- The Oyster State? We’re obviously sex obsessed over here in Maryland.
- The Free State nickname is interesting. Maryland never passed a law enforcing Prohibition. Because we rock. Or because we’re alcoholics.
- The M-R Ducks State? I’ve lived in Maryland for 28 years of my 29-year life, and Kiefer just explained the “M-R Ducks” things to me last summer.
Apparently (I’ve never heard it), some people in Maryland (not me) say, “Them are ducks,” and it sounds like “M. R. Ducks.” You can read the story here.
::head hung in shame for my fellow Marylanders::
So, yes, I’m from Maryland. And yes, it’s snowing here in my grammar-and pronounciation-challenged, sex-obsessed, alcoholic state.