Please Deposit Another Quarter

The Best Boyfriend In The World just discovered the payphone.

It's been so long since he's used one, he forgot how. Also worth mentioning - AT&T has apparently ignored the Eastern Oregon phone booth. It's still a dime for local calls. At least that's what it says on the phone.

So, although Mr. Blue Sky still gets top billing because Eddie will sing it with me at top volume on road trips, for Video Friday I pay homage to the telephone with my 2nd favorite E.L.O. song, Telephone Line:

P.S. I like this version far better than the original E.L.O. music video. It's got that certain 'girl band pinkness' that I adore.

$152.50 an hour

The Best Boyfriend In The World isn't a happy camper right now, only being able to borrow a phone every other day to call me, and knowing that he will probably not be able to see me for the next 3 weeks, unless I somehow go to him.


So I checked it out.


Here's what it'll take:


I can book a flight on Alaska Airlines, leaving Saturday morning, because I would never shirk trick-or-treating duties with my daughter Friday night. I can catch the 7am flight to L.A. where I change planes, heading to Seattle, where I change planes again and end up in Pendleton at 5:45pm.


Then I'd rent a car and drive 119 miles to his hotel, where we'd probably have to book our own room, since he's bunking with another workmate. Mapquest says it's a 2 1/2 hour drive. Allowing for just 15 minutes to fill out paperwork at the car rental place, and knowing how fast I drive, I estimate I'd finally get to kiss my sweetheart at 8:30pm if my plane is on time.


Then, because I still have those pesky motherly duties to attend to, I'll need to return Sunday. The only flight out is at 6:10am, going to Seattle, then Portland, and arriving back home at 3:25pm. They tell you to arrive at the airport a good 2 hours in advance, but this is Pendleton. I think it'd be safe to get in at 5am, meaning I'd have to kiss my honey goodbye at 2:30am.



Total cost to see the Best Boyfriend In The World for 6 hours?


Roundtrip Flight: $762.50, including taxes & fees

Rental Car: $55.00 (includes 150 miles, taxes & fees)

Additional mileage fee: $27.00 (90 miles x .30/mile)

10 gallons of gas (I'm lowballing it at $3.25):$ 32.50

Cheap Hotel Room: $ 34.00



TOTAL COST: $913.00

Dedicated

He had to climb a mountain to call me.

OK, so he drove in his car to the top of the highest point in the Middle of Nowhere, Eastern Oregon. But still. He had to go looking for a signal, and finally found it.

I almost didn't answer my phone, because I didn't recognize the number. That's because Verizon has no cell service in those parts, so his phone is useless. But the Best Boyfriend In The World wasn't giving up. He borrowed his bosses phone, who mentioned that his phone sometimes works there, and started driving up.

That's dedication.

Color Me Unhappy

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A is me.
B is him.
Right now A is separated by B by 6 hours and 36 minutes of driving time.
A is not very happy.
Neither is B.
We just want to be together.
He is 70 miles from the nearest store and is living off of beef jerky, cereal bars and roasted peanuts for the next 4 days, shelling out $17 a night to share a crappy hotel room with some guy he barely knows while they fix a couple of bridges. I shouldn't call it crappy. I'm just assuming that for $34 a night, it's pretty crappy. Then again, it's probably the only hotel room within 70 miles, so I guess I shouldn't knock it.

Thanks to Google Maps for pointing out just how far away I am from my boyfriend.

Are Republican Sleeper Agents taking over in Coos Bay?

I would've been happy with one of these. Seriously.

I am seriously considering calling Barbara Boxer to see if she might be interested in kicking some Oregon ass. Seriously.
This weekend the best boyfriend in the world took me to his hometown of Coos Bay, Oregon to visit his family.
Turns out there's something of a minor lighthearted feud going on between  his niece and her grandfather, who lives next door. He's voting for the GOP, and has posted a McCain/Palin sign in the corner of the yard facing sweet Brook's house, just to get her Obama lovin' goat.
We told Brook she needed an Obama lawn sign. So we started looking for one to swipe. Seriously.
It was kinda hard. There's apparently a lot of McCain/Fey supporters in Coos Bay. Everywhere you look, McCain signs. Very rare is a declared Democrat. We did see a few lawn signs, but it was apparent from their proximity to McCain lawn sign clusters that they were guarding very important territory. What we were really hoping for was to find the Frank Tredway of the Southern Oregon coast...the kind of person who would have 11 or 12 Obama signs placed throughout the property. One on the porch, one in the window, another on the white picket fence, you get my drift. Somebody who wouldn't miss the disappearance of just one sign for a really good cause.
So this morning we went to the mall to get my sweet boyfriend a new cell phone case. Apparently the velcro in the old one has worn out because he's spending so much time on the phone with his girlfriend.
But I digress.
There's an Obama office in the mall. And it's walls are covered with Obama '08 signs. Just what we were looking for!
We walked in, and said, "Hey, can we get an Obama yard sign? We really need one."
A 50ish guy with a pink beard (Seriously. I wouldn't kid you about this stuff, you know that!) says, "Well here's what you do. Head on down to the other end of the mall to the Democrat Headquarters, they should have one there. They were closed a few minutes ago, but they should be there now. Or soon."
We're wondering why they don't just give us one. They've got plenty, they're all over the walls. I try to talk them out of one. He stands his ground, pointing towards the other end of the mall.
But my sweet boyfriend, he doesn't complain. He heads down there while I browse Sam Goody. Then returns 5 minutes later, empty handed.
"Closed. Nobody's there."
Well, it is Sunday. Normally I'd agree that this is a day of rest. But for Obama's sake people, there's like 10 shopping days til election! It's time to get serious, folks. Seriously!
So we head back to the Obama office and report the awful news. And then we say again, "So can you just give us one? We really want it. We're just trying to spread the good word here. You know, furthering the cause."
They said, "You'll just hafta wait til the Democrat office opens. They have the lawn signs."
"Yeah, but so do you....can't you just give us that one over there, one of the 12 you've got on the wall?"
"Gosh, sorry," pinkbeard says. "No can do."
"Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!"
We turned around and walked off empty handed, absolutely stunned that these guys were so sphincter tight with the signs that they couldn't give us one, and go replenish their supplies when the real Democrats arrived to work, fashionably late, whenever that was.
If McCain and his minion win the election because the Republican vote on the Southern Oregon coast tipped the scales in his favor, I'm blaming ol' Pinkbeard for being stingy with the Obama lawn signs. If he turned me down, how many other people did he send away who were begging for signs?
I'm thinking of calling Barbara Boxer and informing her that the people running the Obama office in Coos Bay are sleeper agents for the Republican Party; working hard to keep Obama lawn signs out of Coos Bay.
I just can't think of any other reason they wouldn't just give us the stupid cardboard sign.
It's just stupid enough to make me want to vote for McCain out of spite for the pink bearded guy.
OK, just kidding. But if McCain wins, I'm personally blaming that guy at the Pony Village mall.
Remember: 50's, tall, pink beard. Hard to miss. Sticks out like a sore thumb in Coos Bay. Kinda like a Democrat would.

Tears of Joy

I saved this voicemail from a few months ago for those moments when I need a little reminder that my alpha male, testosterone packed, multi-tattooed, football loving, heavy equipment operating, construction worker boyfriend is really just a pussycat, tamed by love.

"Baby, that was the most awesomest voicemail that I have ever received. And my first, very first initial reaction to it was to start crying. I am so happy to be with you."

Every time I hear it, I wanna cry a little bit too. He's the most awesomest boyfriend in the world.

I'm jumping on the Video Friday bandwagon!

I know I'm putting words into his mouth, but I know he feels this way.

I know it with all my heart.

It's Irish lilting James Morrison and his song, Better Man.

The lyrics are beautiful.

This Is What I Wake Up To Every Morning

In my voicemail, today:

You are the most wonderful, beautiful, sexiest person alive
and I absolutely adore you, baby.
You turn the switch on.
Yeah.
To full power.
I love you.


It could only be better if he were saying this in person instead of through Verizon.

I think the Moon & the Stars have aligned

Mercury's In Retrograde

I was talking to my good friend, Snarkypants, the other day. Asking her why all my girlfriends were calling me with fucking emergencies all of a sudden.
"Mercury's in retrograde," she said, matter-of-factly.
"What the hell does that mean?" I replied.
"It means you should be snuggling with your boyfriend next to a fire."

At first I'm sure I had a scrunched up, puzzled expression on my face, because I just didn't get it.
I just have no understanding of the moon and the stars and Mercury, and I have no clue what retrograde means.

Then I realized that two nights before, I'd done just that. My boyfriend and I, at a party, snuggled under my poncho next to a bonfire. He actually came running over to me and asked me to lift up my poncho so he could stick his head up through the neck hole, fitting both of us into my garment like Siamese Twins. It was cozy.

Guess everything's just the way it's supposed to be

Pardon My French

Note: I'm ripping this post off of my old blog. It's one of the only ones that seems appropriate to post here, because it's actually based on a simple fantasy about the type of man I wanted in my future. Although it wasn't based on a real person at the time, that fantasy has become a reality, and the future is now the present. So...well, here it is:

I wrote a poem.
Musings on a potential future lover.
No one in particular.
Just where my mind went while I was in the Safeway produce aisle a few days ago.
I translated it into French, using Babelfish.
Then I translated it back into English.

Translated Into French:
Quand je suis au magasin d'épicerie et les fraises ont lieu dans la saison, je pense à sélectionner les baies les plus rouges et les plus mûres et les alimenter à mon amoureux dans le lit.

Quand c'est un beau jour, je pense à la façon dont gentil il devrait s'étendre dans un pré, faisant une sieste avec mon amoureux, et lisant des livres ensemble.

Une nuit claire, je pense au sujet de ce que serait il comme au stargaze de mon baquet chaud, et contemple l'univers, les bras de mon amoureux enroulés autour de moi.

La nuit quand je vais dormir, j'allume mon côté gauche, et imagine mon amoureux derrière moi, m'embrassant, mettant en forme de tasse mon sein dans une main, le reste de nos doigts et des jambes entertwined, peu embrasse décorer mon cou.

Translated Back To English:
When I am with the store of grocer and the cutters take place in the season, I think of selecting the reddest bays and ripest and of feeding them with my in love in the bed.

When it is one fine day, I think of the way in which nice it should extend in pre, making a nap with my in love, and reading books together.

One night clear, I think about what it as with the stargaze of my hot bucket would be, and contemplates the universe, the arms of my in love rolled up around me.


The night when I will sleep, I light my left side, and imagines my in love behind me, embracing, formatting of cup my centre in a hand to me, the remainder of our fingers and legs entertwined, little embraces to decorate my neck.

When I am outside with friends, I imagine that my in love is with us, an arm draped above my shoulder, according to the conversation and the laughter, and leaving me sip on his beer. I imagine my in love to seize my jacket of the back of the chair and to whisper in my ear, "love of I your friends, but leave suits us between in the bed."

I think of suction on his lower lip. To slightly run my fingers in bottom of its chest under its button of belly, but above its buckled hair and to intend its breath to catch. I imagine to draw his hair right, and to leave fingerprints on my in love behind.

That's What Girlfriends Are For

Just One More Reason Why I Love This Guy:

I don't even remember why I brought it up.
I was just telling him a story, about something that happened to me last week, about a guy from my past who contacted me out of the blue, and how I felt about that.
Me, I'm a girl, just talking the way we talk, about long-ago feelings and things.
Him, he's a guy. He's imagining me kissing this dude. Imagining me imagining myself kissing this dude.

He listened, we talked for a few minutes about it, and then he just got up, gave me a kiss, took me by the shoulders and said, "Baby, this is the kind of thing you should be talking to your girlfriends about."

It's not that I can't talk to him about anything; I can. Fact is, there are some things that he would rather not have to hear about, but he understands my need to get it off my chest. And he directs me to the people best qualified to listen to me talk about stuff like ex-boyfriends and pap smears and junk. Because that's what girlfriends are for.

What Do You Wanna Be When You Grow Up?

Lofty Dreams
I was discussing the possibility of a career change with my boyfriend.
Not my career, his.
Because, although you'd think my glamorous job in radio would surround me with enough ego and drama to runneth my cup over, it doesn't. But his job building a turning lane on Highway 140 for a big road construction company is filled with drama, drama, drama. And he's kind of tired of it.
I said, "What do you think you'd like to do if you quit your job?"
"I think I'd like to go back to school and get a degree in art so I could teach wood carving," he replied. And then, a mere moment later, he said, "Or I'd like to be a professional football player or a fireman!"