Right, here are the submissions. Vote on them and stuff, preferably before the end of August.
Quote:
gcar90:
Summer
Let’s see, the official start of summer is June 21. However School doesn’t usually let out until about the first or second week in June. To make things easier on myself, I’m just going to start this thing off with June first and write from there. Summer isn’t over for me, and I’ve still got one huge event to cap off the summer. Been preparing for it for a solid year, and there are still a lot of things left to do. I’m getting married on September 13, 2013.
Starting with June. June 18th, is the birthday of my fiancé (HarryOatmeal). So starting June 1st, I ordered his birthday present, ordered a cake, made plans for his special dinner, made arrangements with family members, all in preparation to celebrate his big day. I make it my goal, every year, to spoil my Harry, on his birthday, for the simple reason that he wasn’t pampered enough when he birthday rolled around as a kid. While I do something different, every single year, I try to incorporate the same elements into Harry’s special day. Those elements are food, family, fun, cake, and presents.
This year, I invited Harry’s stepson (Chris,) and stepdaughter-in-law (Shelby) to come enjoy the festivities. It started with a drive all over our home town. The intention to have some fun, tease, and get Harry a little turned around on his day. The drive took us by his ex-wife’s house, where I slowed down, and had everyone wave. The ride ended at a nice local restaurant. During Harry’s birthday meal, I excused myself from the table and alerted the restaurant staff that it was a special day for my Harry. The Staff and OWNERS of the restaurant treated Harry, Chris, Shelby and myself, to a rendition of “Happy Birthday” and an original composition entitled “The Walmart Song.” As a side note to the story, Chris and Shelby work for Walmart, so “The Walmart Song” was an added pleasant surprise and bonus.
After the restaurant, Harry, Chris, Shelby, and myself, took a trip to his brother Dave’s place, for cake and presents. Harry’s favorite kind of cake is Boston Crème Cake, so every year I get him one, with a special birthday message on top. This year, instead of the usual number candles, I had found some candles that spelled out “Lost Count.” From the moment I saw those candles, I knew they were perfect for Harry’s cake. They went on, were lit, Chris, Shelby, Dave, and I sang “Happy Birthday” to Harry, he made his wish, and he blew them all out. I cut the cake for Harry, passed out the slices, and everyone gave Harry his presents. Harry’s birthday was a huge surprise and success. He was happy, I was excited, everyone had a great time.
July I started taking some classes through my doctor’s office. These classes were suggested to me as a way for me to learn to find my own voice and break old habits that I used to hide from everyday life. I was resistant to the classes, at first, but by the end of July, I decided that these classes were actually helpful and useful to me. If nothing else they’re teaching me ways to improve my relationship with my honey. Nothing wrong with strengthening my bond with my soul mate.
I also signed up to participate in a very large contest. I had no clue what to expect. I just signed up for fun, with absolutely no expectation of winning. But somehow, round by round, I managed to survive, all the way to the end. This contest had everything, a scavenger hunt, Comics, Trivia, a tougher scavenger hunt, and, last but not least, a short story. The moment I saw that the final task was a short story, I sat back and cheered. I’m an aspiring writer, and short stories are right up my alley. Contests should be like life, you know, it’s not about winning or losing, it’s how you play the game. I joined the contest for fun, I enjoyed the experience, and in the end, I was rewarded by winning the whole thing. Life is magic, sometimes.
There are two days every year, that are really tense and high emotion days for me. One is my daughter’s birthday, the other is my own birthday. My daughter’s birthday is tough for me for personal reasons that I can’t go into on the internet. My birthday, which is July 29th, either is a complete disaster or just feels hollow, for some unknown reason. This year, my birthday started off bad. It started off with the next door neighbors being spoiled brats over something as simple as a parking space. On weekends, the neighbor is nice enough to let us park there, but when Monday comes, if our car isn’t moved, we’ll get nasty notes and other vicious nasty behavior. Naturally, my birthday has to fall on a Monday. We forgot to move our car the night before, and by the time we remembered Monday morning, the evil person next door decided, instead of parking somewhere else and leaving a note, she would back into the space, blocking my car in. So when we finally remembered to go and move the car, we couldn’t. I was on the verge of tears. We had plans for that day, to go out and celebrate my birthday. Can’t really do that if your car can’t be moved. Luckily, the wicked neighbor moved around lunchtime. So I moved my car, Harry took me out, and the day wasn’t totally ruined. Harry and I decided if the neighbor is going to be so vicious and vindictive over something as silly as a parking space, we simply won’t park there anymore, at all. She’ll have her precious space, and we’ll won’t have to bother with nasty notes or other vicious behavior.
Now we come to August. The month has just started and already I’ve got things to do and work on. Still taking classes, so I’ve got to keep going on that. But in addition to the usual activities, I’ve got some hardcore wedding planning to do. Hunting down a minister to perform the service, getting my wedding dress fitted and altered, work on planning the menu, getting the center pieces, and decorations started and finished by the end of the month. Also there’s Beatlesfest this month. Busy, busy, this month won’t stop. I pick up my dress on the 6th, meet with friends to do wedding stuff on the 8th, and I’ve got a list of numbers to go through to find a minister to perform the wedding. I want the minister lined up before we leave for Beatlesfest on the 2nd Friday of the month. I’ll do it, I’m stubborn enough to do it.
Beatlesfest is a convention for fans of the Musical group the Beatles to gather, enjoy good music, interesting guests, and other events associated with the love of the group and it’s members. Harry and I go every year. We take our cameras and get all sorts of pictures. In the past we’ve met people like, Chris O’Dell, Denny Lane, Lawrence Juber… etc. So many people it’s impossible to name them all. One person that shows up every year and is an absolute must not miss, is Mark Hudson. Rainbow beard, freeform fashion sense, good natured personality, Mark Hudson is a character and a half. He along with the fans is a Beatlesfest staple. He shows up every year. Harry has had the distinction of developing the rare type of friendship where he can literally say absolutely anything to Mark and Mark would laugh it off and absolutely adore it. To casual observers and security Harry might come off as a flaming asshole in some of his comments to Mark, but between Harry and Mark, it’s just good natured fun. There is simply no animosity between the two. They may only see each other once a year, but Harry and Mark are the best of guy buds. It’s a treat to see the two interact together. Mark Hudson is invited to our wedding in September, we’ve already sent him an invite by mail, but I’m taking an extra to give to him, as a subtle reminder. If he comes, great, if he doesn’t, well he’s still a good friend.
I have been waiting all my life to meet my soul mate, and become his bride. This September, I will accomplish that goal. September 13, 2013 I will become Mrs. Oatmeal. The closer the day gets, the more excited and nervous I get. I can’t wait. My dad is coming, he’s going to walk me down the aisle. My daughter is going to be my flower girl. It’s going to be a small wedding, we’ve invited 30 people in total, but well since people tend to bring people, the guest list has grown to at least 35. It’d be interesting to see exactly how many people actually show. One person that is definitely NOT invited to the wedding is Harry’s ex-wife. She mistreated Harry during their marriage, to the point where he no longer wanted to be with her. She may have been foolish enough to let Harry go, but I’ll not make the mistakes she did. She lost Harry, I found him. Finders keepers, I’m keeping Harry, forever and ever. The wedding, itself, is a mere formality. I’m already bonded to my other half, the wedding just announces to the world that it’s official. Mr. and Mrs. Harry Oatmeal, for all eternity.
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Quote:
killshot:
Killshot’s Summer
Mostly by choice, I tend to lead a relaxing lifestyle free from drama and other people’s problems. This has mostly worked out well, but I do feel I tend to miss out on some excitement by living this way. There isn’t much for me to talk about but I’ll try to polish up what few bits I have to make them seem more significant.
Exciting development #1: Killshot drinks a beer in front of his mother for the first time.
Although my parents are both Christians, I wouldn’t say I grew up in a Christian household. Mom would read me the biblical children’s stories like Jonah and the Whale and David and Goliath and we would occasionally go to church on Sunday, but that’s about it. Church was more of a social thing for my mother and dad was just kind of along for the ride. Despite god not being around much, my parents (mom in particular) were very controlling. I wasn’t allowed to watch any sort of movie that wasn’t G rated until I became a teenager. I couldn’t listen to any music with curse words and since I didn’t like country music, I just didn’t listen to anything. I had to go to bed early every night. I had to go to a friend’s house just to have any kind of exposure to these things. I don’t blame my parents for doing any of this because I was their first kid and they didn’t want to screw me up, but it has made me rather hesitant to do anything in front of them that I don’t think they would approve of.
Flash forward to this summer. I am staying with my parents until I can move into my apartment in the fall. I love cooking and I cook for them every night so I’m not just a freeloading bum. Because I cook, I also buy the groceries. While I’m in the store, I always linger in the beer isle and take a sort of mental inventory of what brands they have. I’ve semi-recently discovered there is more to beer than the piss water that is the big commercial brands and I have taken a liking to trying different microbrews. For a few weeks, I would stare longingly at the beer isle and image what certain brands might taste like. I start scheming in my head that I could plug in my mini-fridge in the basement and keep a 6-pack chilled without my mother noticing.
Then one day I decided I was 24 goddamn years old and if I wanted a beer I was going to get one.
I brought a 6-pack home and put it in the fridge with the rest of the groceries and got dinner started. When my mother got home from work, she looked around at what I bought and noticed the 6-pack I had in the fridge. To tell you how sheltered my childhood was, she had to ask me what it was. Not in a condescending, “what do you think you’re doing?” kind of way, she honestly didn’t know. When I told her it was beer, I had mentally prepared for a fight, but instead I got a disinterested, “Oh, ok.” Nothing. Not even a look of disapproval. I had been worried over nothing. So now that’s one more thing I can do in front of my mother without being consumed by irrational childhood fear. Baby steps.
Exciting development #2: Killshot works on his manly physique.
I have never been the athletic type. I don’t even know the rules to most major sports. I’m not very strong and I’m slow and clumsy. I am trying to change this, however. Despite what many of you may imagine me to look like, I am actually pretty thin and decent looking. I get a lot of attention from girls (because my job prevents me from acting on this attention, it is mostly unwanted) because of my looks. Just so you don’t think I’m trying to brag, I shared this information to frame the next part of the story.
While working my way through undergrad a few years ago, I did some volunteer work at a summer camp near where I live. The kids there were about 12-15 years old and the day I was working there they played some kind of game where one team does something and the other people have to copy them. I always felt silly and self-conscious doing these kinds of things, but the kids were having fun and I only needed to half ass it because I was just there to supervise. Then the lead team did a maneuver where one person jumped into the other person’s arms. I only had time to think “Oh shit,” before a slightly overweight girl who had been making eyes at me the entire time decided to charge across the field and leap into my arms. This girl couldn’t have been more than 14, but I was straining to hold her. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying how heavy she was out loud. After what had to be the most uncomfortable 5 seconds of my life, I just dropped her feet first on the ground. That was my wakeup call that I needed to get stronger. I almost destroyed the self-esteem of a young girl because I was too weak to support her weight for a few seconds.
And that brings the story up to this summer. I had tried to start getting in shape earlier, but I didn’t know enough about what I was doing or was just too lazy to get any results. This time I studied up on how to gain muscle. I joined a gym. I started going 3 days a week. I started getting fucking results. I can lift more than I’ve even been able to and I can see some noticeable muscle definition. The only thing I’m slightly concerned about is the fact that I am losing weight. I’m eating a shit load in order to gain muscle mass, but despite the fact that my diet now mainly consists of eggs and steak, I have dropped 5 pounds since the beginning of the summer. I suppose I should be happy, but I don’t quite know what to make of it yet. I’m glad I’m getting stronger, but hopefully I’ll never be in a position where the self-esteem of a chubby teenager depends on my physical aptitude again.
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See Next Post For The Rest.
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08-01-2013
