Edmonton? Are you KIDDING me?!

I will always remember January 17th, 2009 as a horrible, horrible day in my life. You see, the Pens traded away my absolute favorite player, Dany Sabourin. And do you know WHERE he went?! EDMONTON. Which is in ALBERTA. Which is in CANADA! Right above Montana!! Until now, the Edmonton Oilers were the only team in the NHL that I didn't really care about. I was completely indifferent. I didn't know any of the players, so I didn't really care. But NOW... ugh.

I got the Pens Alert about it yesterday, right before we decided to go up to Mellon after their practice and get some more autographs. I started crying. I started bawling. I screamed into my bed. Then Megan played music and I did that thing where you laugh and cry at the same time. Then she and Deanne danced around and I laughed even more. And cried. I got to see him one last time yesterday and made an ass out of myself by crying the whole time. The rest of the day was spent bursting into tears randomly. Every time I thought about him, I cried. In fact, my eyes are burning right now from it. I can't cry anymore. It's ridiculous.

We had a very special relationship, and I mean it. Not to sound like I'm making a lot out of nothing, we really did. Here's how it all began: First off, if I say that we "rushed" a game, I'm referring to the Pens' Student Rush program. Basically, one hour before every home game, they start to sell the remaining tickets for that game to students with valid IDs. For $20. Now, these are A/B/C level seats. That usually run anywhere from $75-$100 and even more. It's an incredible deal. Anyway... I started off last year despising Sabourin for being put in when Fleury played badly. Because Fleury was my fave. That all died off and I really don't know how or when, but soon Sabourin was my favorite. Especially after Christensen got traded to Atlanta. During playoffs, I came up with a brilliant nickname for him: D!Sab. (Before, it was just a boring D-Sab with a hyphen, but ever since my thumb slipped in a text and spelled it "D!Sab" it's been that way ever since. I like it, because I think it adds a little pop and when I think of Dany Sabourin, it's always !!!!!!!). I don't know where the idea for the nickname came from. It just happened. Deanne bought me his shirt over summer break. I was ecstatic.

We rushed the game against Carolina on October 23rd, and I wore my Sabourin shirt. Deanne wanted her Dupuis shirt signed, so we went down and I ended up getting Sabourin to sign my shirt. He never stops because, well, no one really waits for him to. So I walked down to where his truck was and held up my shirt for him to see his name enblazoned on the back. I could see him laugh and I pointed down to the second gate where he usually left. Then some bastard seeker was all like, "Did he say he was going down that way?" And I replied, "No. But I said I was." D!Sab signed it and I told him how awesome he was against the Bruins. I was ecstatic.

Then, on November 6th, Megan wanted a Crosby jersey signed for her brother-in-law, so we went up to Mellon before a game we weren't rushing. (Irony: it was against Edmonton, D!Sab's new team). Within the first five minutes of us being there, she got her Crosby jersey signed and then Sabourin came walking out with friends and kept walking out to the sidewalk, bypassing his truck. He turned the corner around the security booth and I was right there. He looked me in the eye and I swear to God we were face-to-face. He smiled and looked at me expectantly, the look on my face probably gave me away. I was too scared to ask him for a picture, and was thus debating it in my head, but when he smiled at me, I blurted it out. I think he had remembered me from getting my shirt signed two weeks before. He said yes:

I was ecstatic. Doesn't he look so happy? Probably because no one asks him for that kind of stuff... I told him how awesome he was against the Sharks.

The second-best Sabourin encounter came the very next week on November 13th. The Pens were playing the Flyers and we were rushing. I wanted to make Sabourin a sign that said "D!Sab", but I didn't want to make it and have him not know what the hell it meant. I got the bright idea to ask him permission first. Yeah, my conscience was not working that day. If he had been anyone else, he would have run away screaming. But he's D!Sab. He is the sweetest man ever and absolutely adorable. My goal for last year and now this one is to give him a hug. I had my perfect chance, and I completely forgot. Who knows when I'll get it now... So after their morning skate, I went down and I felt like a complete idiot because I didn't have anything for him to sign. He stopped and rolled his window down and this is kind of how the conversation went:

Me: "I don't have anything for you to sign... but can I ask you a question?"
I kind of had my arms crossed and was leaning a tad bit on his open window, and after I said this, he looked at me all wary-like.
Me blurting: "Can I call you D!Sab? Like D... Sab?"
He laughs in an adorable and nerdy way, like he was gasping air into his lungs in short bursts, you know? It was th cutest thing. "Yes, okay."

That night at the game, the Pens weren't doing so hot. Emily insisted I make my D!Sab sign during the first intermission. So I did. It's in two different shades of blue and says "D-Sab". Pretty simple. Philly was winning and Fleury had allowed two shorthanded goals, so Chelsea kept grabbing my sign during the second period and making me hold it up, just jokingly, as a signal to put Sabourin in:

Keep in mind, this was back before I put the ! in D!Sab. haha

After the second intermission, I screamed like a loony when I saw that Therrien had indeed pulled Fleury and put Sabourin in. He didn't allow a single goal throughout the remaining period. Or in Overtime. Or in the shootout. Which went into multiple rounds, btw. He was a wall. I was a nervous wreck, but I. Was. Ecstatic. I don't think I breathed at all whenever the puck came down our end. But I had no reason to worry, because he was a wall!

After the game, we started walking back to school. I didn't want him to sign my sign because I didn't want him to think I was a stalker. D!Sab came out right as we decided to leave and we stopped about ten feet past where he was signing. I wasn't going to, but Deanne and Chelsea made me. I ran back just as he was finishing up and almost got hit by him as he was starting to pull away. He was rolling his window up and I kind of shouted, "One more, one more!" He rolled it back down and I shoved my sign in. He read it and laughed. All my conversations with him are this awkward, I swear to God. I always think of what I'm going to say beforehand, but as soon as I look at him I lose all my breath and my mind goes blank.

Me: "Do you like it? I made it just for you!" DUH.
DS: Laughs again. "Yes, it's very nice!"
Me: "Awesome job tonight!"
DS: "Thank you."

He was listening to techno music and I loved that. So great. Then I got out of the way so more people could get stuff signed and I hear a guy go, "Sabou, man! You kept us alive tonight!" And I grinned like a fool, I was so happy for him. We began walking again and got about 50 feet when he went blowing past, his techno beat going THUMP THUMP THUMP. :D

Not much happened until my birthday. But holy fuck, was it worth the wait! We rushed, of course. And as it was the Islanders, we managed to get pretty good seats together. I sat with Megan, Deanne and Emily in B3. Which is in the opposite corner of the runway where D!Sab sat in case they needed him. The Pens were destroying the Isles. And I was steadily drinking the whole time. Yeah, it was my 21st birthday, haha. It was 8-2, including Sykora's first career hat trick, midway through the 3rd and I was wearing my Sabourin shirt and I had my D!Sab sign and I really wanted to see him. Corey and Jim had seats right by the runway and I texted Corey and he said there were four seats right behind him that had opened up. Some lame-asses decide to leave early when the Pens are sure to win/lose. Fairweather fans piss me off. Except in this case when I appreciated the people who left.
We moved over to where he sat next to the runway and I was RIGHT NEXT TO D!SAB!! Creeper pics courtesy of all of us:

Adorable.

So dramatic.

This picture sums up my entire birthday experience.

Megan, Corey and Jim kept yelling at Sabourin and saying it was my birthday, but he was talking to a trainer:

ahaha

I got out my D-Sab sign and turned it sideways so he could read it. He grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. I died a little. Megan finally got his attention and told him it was my birthday. I then turned and looked and he said, "Happy birthday!" I thanked him and turned back to the game. I was kind of watching, but not really into the game when Megan grabbed my arm and whispered, "Oh my God, Cierra! He's getting you something!" I had no idea what she was talking about and I told her so. She continued, "Sabou said something to the trainer and he headed back into the dressing room." I looked and sure enough, the trainer was gone. Well, I thought he could have left for any other reason under the sun, but a little part of me still hoped... And then I started flipping a bit. "Megan, what if he DOES bring me something? I would die."

And then the trainer returned with a PUCK and a SHARPIE in his hands. I completely lost it. I started whining to everyone and kept repeating, "Oh my God, oh my God! He can't give me that! I can't! I'm going to hyperventilate! I'm going to puke!" I seriously worked myself up so much that I was going to do either of these things, if not both. Corey, Jim and Deanne laughed a little but then looked at me, worried. Deanne later said that all that was running through her mind was, "Do NOT puke on Dany Sabourin if he gives you that puck." HAHA! Then Dupuis got HIS first career hat trick and all else was forgotten. I celebrated along with everyone else and turned my back to Sabourin, making sure he could see that I was wearing his shirt. Then, the usher next to us tapped me on the shoulder and handed me the puck:

I hugged it close to me and thanked D!Sab very much. He grinned and nodded and I sat down again, all sorts of discombobulated. Needless to say, it was the best damn day of my life. As we were leaving, I started crying and I swear to God, I said all of the following: "You guuuuuuuuuys! That was the sweetest thing everrrrrrr! He didn't have to do that. I didn't even ask! Sidney CROSBY wouldn't have even done that for one of his fans! And it's so sad, because I'm his only fan! No one else loves him!..." I was too oblivious to even realize that instead of sympathizing with me, my friends were laughing at me. This is me after the game in the snow:

It was beautiful. The pefect ending to the perfect day. 12/11/08. <3

Brianna bought me NHL Monopoly for Christmas and I thought it would be a cool idea to get all of the Pens to sign the board. So this past week, on January 14th, I took it up to Mellon and had some of the guys sign it. Like with my shirt before, I held it up for Sabourin when he got in his truck and he grinned. He pulled around and rolled his window down...

Me: "D!Saaaaaab!"
He grinned again and I handed him my board.
DS: "Hey! How's it going?" OMG he started the conversation! This meant so much to me.
Me: "Eh, okay."
I was too blown away by the fact that he started the conversation that I kind of put it on repeat.
Me: "So, how was your day?" Keep in mind it was 11/12 in the morning. The day had just begun.
DS: "Pretty good, how about you?"
Me: "It's pretty good!"
DS: "Are you cold?" I'm completely numb, actually, may I have a ride in your huge truck?
Me: "Yeah!"
I got the feeling he was saying it to keep conversation going, but I couldn't find a way to elaborate without sounding like an idiot. So I clamped my mouth shut. Smart move on my part. Otherwise I probably would have spouted off about how it was totally worth it because I love him more anything and would have his illegitimate children if I didn't think faithfulness was so important in relationships.

Friday we went up again. I thought it would be too soon, and he would indeed begin to think I'm a stalker, but I had a picture of Sabourin that I wanted him to personalize. He signed it and that was that, nothing too special happened. Except that now he knows my name. ;D

I must say that we never go up to Mellon that much. Seriously. I just got so obsessed with getting my board signed, and Deanne has a hat she wants signed. We are definitely done for a while, as we all hate seekers with a deathly passion. (Seekers= dumbass fucks that get players to mass-sign cards and jerseys and pictures and such so they can sell them on eBay for triple the cost)

Yesterday, I got the text. We went up to Mellon and I was a mess the entire time. I cried when I saw him come out. I cried when I gave him my IceTime with him featured on the cover and I cried the whole time he signed it. He was smiling and looking at me that way that people do when they see you cry and they want to show you that it's all okay and you should really stop blubbering like a baby in front of your favorite hockey player and all the stupid seekers.

Me: *sob* "I can't believe you're leaving!" *sniff*
DS: "I know. It sucks."
Me: *sniff* *sob* *hyprventilate* "Well, good luck!"
DS: "Thank you."

Of course, he kept smiling the entire time because this is probably what he wants. Every goalie in the NHL wants to be #1. No one ever strives to be the back-up. And Marc-Andre Fleury has already cemented himself as the Pens' go-to guy for the next, oh... seven years. D!Sab needs to get away from Pittsburgh so he can be #1. And there I was, bawling like a silly girl. Goodness. I hope he doesn't think I am totally lame. I really do wish for his happiness. I just had to get my selfish tendencies out of the way first.

Here is where I must mention how awesome and supportive my friends are. They took care of me at my birthday game when I couldn't keep track of any of my shit. They helped me get my act together when we saw D!Sab for the last time when all I wanted to do was lay in a ball on the sidewalk, crying. They pushed me to approach him and had everything all ready... if I didn't have them, I would be an even bigger mess. Not to mention all the cheering-up they've done since. I love you guys!

In retrospect, it was soooo embarrassing. The part that really sucks is that we only play Edmonton once and that happened months ago. But like Jim said, at least he knows I'm a dedicated fan and he means a lot to me. I'm still very proud of the fact that I am Dany Sabourin's fan. Not one of his fans, his FAN. Crosby, Malkin, Fleury... they all have so many fans and see so many people that it's really hard for someone to stick out, and not in a creeper-like way. They see so many faces every day that they all become a blur. But after days of being the only person to make D!Sab stop, I think I've established myself. Besides, I gave him probably the coolest nickname he will never forget. We are united by the D!Sab and I will continue to follow his NHL career, no matter where he goes. And if that means I have to cheer for Edmonton, then so be it.

GAME OVER.

The shittiest day of my new year (hopefully) is going to end in roughly an hour and a half. It's been a blast, it really has. However, I will also mark this day as the turning point in my ridiculously wishful life. I'm a dreamer. I have a lot of dreams and this was just the day to get that particular ball rolling. First off, I must say, no matter how much TMI it might be, I started last night. So maybe that will allow you to emathize with me a little more. Here's what happened. It's not going to seem like a big deal, but keep in mind that I'm flying my red flag at the moment.

1) One of my suite-mates, D, joined me at school today. This is an inconvenience as I have had a little too much Christmas vacation and family-time and would like to be alone. I'm moody enough without my period, but this peeved me off. She stayed in her room playing music, and I stayed in mine. I played the Offspring's "Why Don't You Get A Job?" Remember this. I'll snap because of it later.

2) The D-SAB sign I made for my favorite member of the Penguins won't stay on the fucking wall. I've got tape all over the thing, but it keeps falling.

3) My sister, nicknamed Neener, went back home because she has school. Neener is my anti-cranky. She always knows how to make me laugh. I miss her already.

4) Ronna, Chad and I went to see Marley & Me. I read the book and knew what to expect, yet I still cried during the last 10-15 minutes of the movie. This dampened the collar of my shirt and made my nose all red and shiny when my makeup came off. Also, crying in front of people makes me cranky.

5) We stopped at their house on the way to school to pick up my camera. Ronna came out to the car with my memory card, apologizing and saying she would buy me a new camera due to the fact that their LABRADOR puppy had eaten it. The irony of the situation pissed me off. To come home from Marley & Me to find that their lab puppy had eaten my camera just took the cake. I bought the camera on Friday. It lasted a whopping two days.

6) No one was answering any of my texts. This pisses me off because I text. A LOT. And it's just frustrating when no one replies to you.

7) Ronna dropped me off at school and I came up to our suite and this is where I lost it.

8) It was the same as I left it. D was in her room with the door shut, blaring music. And lo and behold, what was she playing? The Offspring's, "Why Don't You Get A Job?" I couldn't listen to it. My warped, red-flag-flying brain could only think she had heard me playing it earlier and had downloaded it while I had been gone or had (even worse) shared my iTunes library. She was playing it at an unreasonable level and I couldn't whip my iPod out fast enough to drown it out.

9) My D-SAB poster met me cheerfully from my bedroom floor AGAIN, dammit. I cursed just a bit as I taped it back up there, nearly exhausting my supply of tape.

10) At this time I was hit with such a strong urge to leave. To turn around and walk right back out that door. I had to get away. I felt trapped. I turned up my iPod and paced the room quickly. I would stop from time to time and grab the roots of my hair and bunch it in my fists. I was bawling. This lasted for about 10 minutes before I got my phone and slammed out of the suite to the basement to call my mom. She cheered me up a bit.

11) Went back up to the room and turned on the tv. Fun With Dick and Jane was on. This helped. I love Jim Carrey. Turned it up and haven't heard D's music since. Thank the Good Lord above.

12) Got online and checked my Myspace and here was the last thing I needed to see today. One of my friends, M, has posted pictures of her New Year's. And right there up front were TJ and his new girlfriend sucking face. So I creeped a little bit and looked at the rest of them. Which did nothing to improve my mood. Nothing at all.

I am a woman scorned and I have had enough. I can't do this anymore. It's a combination of a lot of things, really. The stars and planets have aligned and the universe has finally gotten my attention. This is it. He wants a war, and I shall give him one.

Sabres, Pucks, Stretches and Orgasms

The first time the Buffalo Sabres came to Mellon Arena this season, Deanne and I tried everything in our power to get cheap-ass seats. The problem was that the Pens were debuting their powder-blue third jerseys similar to the ones worn in the Winter Classic earlier this year. We didn't have any luck and I was heartbroken because Buffalo is my second favorite team.

THIS time around we were actually able to rush and it was great. Plus, Deanne bought me a Miller shirt for my birthday and I was pumped to wear it. Even though it hurt my heart to openly support the opposing goalie when Dany Sabourin is my favorite Penguin. Whenever the Pens play Buffalo, or any other team I love for that matter, I always want the game to end the same way: in OT, with the Pens pulling out the win. This way, both teams get a point. Shootouts are bad because I like a lot of opposing goalies. Like Miller, Biron, Theodore, Tim Thomas... NOT.

Anyway, as everyone knows, my two favorite Sabres are Ryan Miller and Paul Gaustad. And since I was already wearing a Miller shirt and had made a sign for him last season, I had a great and not cheesy at all idea for a sign. Gaustad's nickname on the team is Goose. So, I made a sign that said, 'PUCK PUCK GOOSE!' And in the left-hand corner I wrote '28' and in the right-hand corner I wrote 'Please?' Yeah, it was lame. But I didn't care, I was too pumped. Molly made a sign for Pominville and Connie made a sign for their head coach, Lindy Ruff. Deanne made one that said 'Buffaslug' and had an arrow pointing to me. Rude!

We ran down right behind the goal and sat there for warm-ups. I propped my sign right up against the glass and every time Gaustad came around, I banged on the glass like a mad person. Warm-ups last for 16 minutes, the first 11 of which were terrible. Gaustad was teasing me so badly. It seemed as though he was the only Sabre not to read my sign and it was making both Molly and I very aggravated.

Molly decided it was because he couldn't understand it. I didn't think he was dumb, so I thought it was okay. But she insisted on turning her sign around and writing on it. No pens. No sharpies. She whips out her mascara, but that failed. We borrowed this thin marker from a woman and Molly wrote, 'Gaustad, puck?' I leaned that one against the glass and our little mindgame continued. I pounded on the glass. I moved my sign around in a dance. I moved it up and made a pouty face below it. I displayed the Buffalo on my shirt proudly. I stuck my arms straight up in the air and pointed down at myself shamelessly. No go.

Gaustad even had the audacity to stand right in front of the net and shoot pucks into the top corner, right in front of me. He stood in the corner chilling and chatting with the guys, waiting in line to shoot. He did everything with a huge smile on his face. He glanced over at my sign from time to time. He was behaving terribly, I must say. He was ignoring my sign and it was frustrating. Therefore, Molly and I had begun to bring out loud oaths of 'bastage' and 'asshole' and 'jerk'. THEN he gets down on the ice and STRETCHES RIGHT THERE!! Right in the corner. I, of course, was watching with my mouth open as he got down on the ice and twisted from left to right and did this swivel thing with his hips...

And then he looked up at me from the ice and our eyes locked. He was looking to make sure I was watching, and I was. Hell yes, I was! He knew full well what he was doing to me, and he was loving it. I was caught. Like the proverbial deer in the headlights. He smiled before getting to his skates and there were about four minutes left. Then, it happened! And I saw it. His eyes flashed up to gauge where the glass ended and the netting began above my head and then he flipped a puck into the netting. It came down between me and the guy beside me and I immediately started scrambling for it and I was kind of shrieking, 'It's mine! It's mine! It's mine! It's mine! It's for me! Can I please have it?!' And the guy next to me was only bending down to hand it to me but I found it first and I sat up and it was cold and wet in my hands and I couldn't breathe.

I displayed it to everyone and held it up to the glass. Molly kept hitting me and making me stop. She said I should leave him alone now, but I was so pumped. She wanted me to show that I could be calm and cool, but I was flipping out and so happy! I kept banging on the glass and grinning like a fool and holding the puck up and mouthing, 'Thank you!' With a few minutes left, he tried to flip three or four more into the netting, but it didn't work. He skated away down to the runway and we went back to our seats.

The game was all right and the Pens ended up losing, 4-3. I tried to cheer for the Sabres, but it just felt so wrong, so I cheered for the Pens. Gaustad even registered an assist!! We stood up waiting for the players to come out after the game and Gaustad was taking so long. The bus driver had to move the bus out further from the garage so cars could get through. Whereas other players avoided us by walking around the other side of the bus where we couldn't see, Gaustad continued the teasing game by walking right below us, pretending to be texting. He walked the length of the bus and then in front of it. Again, I stared.

Molly wouldn't let me ask him to sign my puck, even though I wanted to so badly and they aren't coming back this season. She said that she didn't think it would work out and she didn't want me to get hurt. Such a sweetie! Gaustad got on the bus and the bus driver was nice enough to leave all the lights on inside so we could creep on the players. Gaustad sat next to Pominville on our side of the bus, and right behind Miller. Pominville kept looking out the window, along with the guy behind him and I unzipped my coat and held up my PUCK PUCK GOOSE sign. Pominville looked at it and Gaustad glanced over before smiling and saying something to Pominville. He's such a tease!!! But he's so wonderful at the same time. It's not fair, I tell you!

We got in the car and this is why I love Molly to death. Because the minute we left the garage, she started talking about how she was so happy that Gaustad did that for me and that he was such a nice guy. And then she embarrassed me by saying how no other hockey player would do that, even for the hottest girl in the world. But he did it for me. So I must be the hottest girl. To hear something like that just boosted my confidence and topped off an already-perfect evening.

Apologies

I was pressured into starting this blog by my friend, and until a month or two ago, it's been a nice way to vent about a certain someone and the way he treated me over the summer. Blogs are therapeutical they say. This one has proved to be so. I haven't thought about TJ for a few days now, especially not enough to want to write about him. I did text him and wish him a happy birthday back in November, but since then I've gotten two new phones and lost his number. Which is the best thing to have happened, I believe. He did add me on Myspace (whooo) and has been checking his page more recently since, I've discovered through creeping techniques of my own.

I've decided to move on and stop blogging about him. It's only going to get worse as I go along because all of the time we spent together is blurring together and my already-foggy memory has been battered and run through the gauntlet that we in college like to refer to as Finals. I've always been a fan of the old FINALS = Fuck, I Never Actually Learned this Shit.

However, I believe my life has been exciting lately and I will continue to post randoms about my life. Doesn't matter much anyway. Ashley's the only one that reads this and if she's still curious, I can fill her in over winter break.

Hey Jealousy

I liked TJ, I really did. But I just couldn't get over the whole height issue. Our sizes are so backwards that it's unfair. My low self-esteem didn't help a thing. But flirting was fun... I guess you could say I'm a tease, haha. The whole situation was just something so new to me.

I've never had a real boyfriend. Yeah, there were the stupid little "relationships" in grade school, holding hands and pecking in my treehouse. But they don't count. They don't. I survived middle and high school without a boyfriend and it's been the same story throughout my entire life. I just don't take the chance. I'm afraid of rejection, so I never approach guys. I figure, if they like me they'll make a move, until then... The worst part is that I'm a hopeless romantic. I like to blame it on all of the Disney movies I grew up watching. I want a fairytale ending. But they just don't exist in today's world. The whole thing is depressing, really. Half of all marriages end in divorce. That's so wrong.

Anyway, he kept texting flirty things until this one day when I got scared that he was getting too close and I let him know that I wasn't interested. I told him there was someone else I had in mind, and then told him about Chris. This was actually before I got all those bad texts from Chris. He backed off a bit, saying that it was all in fun.

But then came the one weekend. I should probably call it The Weekend, because it means so much to me. I was laying in bed on a Friday night because I have no social life and I couldn't sleep because my job had totally screwed up my internal clock. So I texted TJ. Which is what I do when I'm bored. He was having a fire and had invited this other girl from our work, Carrie. I joked around (not really) and asked him if he was going to put the moves on her and he said he was trying to. I didn't take that too well. I got insanely ridiculously jealous. It was almost embarrassing to have established that I didn't have feelings for him and then get jealous like that.

I kept pressing him for more information, and from what I gathered, it wasn't working out too well. Mainly because the idiot had shown her my text. So he kind of dragged me into it. Thanks a lot. Even I knew that wasn't such a good idea. Whatever. And of course, that made it even harder for me to sleep, knowing they were off drinking and having fun.

My reaction made me realize that I did like him, obviously. But now what was I supposed to do? I finally drowsed off and accidentally left the volume on my phone up. He started texting me again around 2:30 in the morning and I was fully awake as soon as I saw it was him. He asked if I was awake, and I said of course! Now I don't know how we got on the subject, to be honest, but we started talking about us again. Then he told me that he does find me attractive. But then he pulled the "You're too good for me. You don't deserve someone like me. I have a lot of problems" bullshit and it pissed me off.

The next text I sent contained two words, "Try me."

In Fate's Hands

At the same time all this was happening, I had also given my number to Chris, the hottie from 2nd. He texted me one night and I thought I was going to lose it. So I kind of had all these guys thrust into my life after complaining all the time about being single. I still didn't think of TJ in that way yet, because I was too preoccupied with Noah and Chris. Especially after Chris and I started texting.

But to make a long story short and get back on the right track, neither one of them panned out. First of all, I asked my friends for help with my dilemma and they chose Chris over Noah. And then I found out that Noah was sleeping with this other girl on our shift. Who also happened to be engaged, FYI... and I didn't want any of that, so I put all of my attention on Chris.

And then my friend said she saw him at the Applebee's where she worked and he was with a girl. So I casually approached him about it and he of course steered clear of that subject. Then one night he started texting me the worst things. He was sending me really dirty things about threesomes and just all sorts of bad stuff. he apologized the next day and said he had been drinking, but I saw a side of him that I just didn't like.

I didn't really have that high of hopes for either one working out, so they weren't big let-downs. TJ and I were still texting back and forth through all of this, and we didn't really start getting flirty until the one day when he texted me and said he was bored. This was right after work. I'm always dead to the world right after work. I can't tell you how many times I almost fell asleep on the drive home and every morning as soon as I got home I would eat some breakfast and then go straight to bed. I would fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Anyway, he texted me that he was bored. And I said, because I was so tired, that he should come over and we would have a nap. I was just kidding. I wasn't even thinking about it, I was just so tired. He actually thought it sounded like a good idea. And then of course my heart did that little flippy thing that they do sometimes and I started thinking. It was a thrill. Like when you get on a roller coaster and you're all buckled in and they begin to pull you up the hill. That's how I felt. Excited in a way. You know what I mean? I got goose bumps and would get this goofy-ass grin just thinking about it. I still do.

Divine Intervention

My first night back on 3rd was one of the best. I was so happy to be back. But they forgot to put me on the schedule, so they had to look for something for me to do. While waiting to ask Renee what to do, I waltzed by TJ and he said,

"Get to work!"
"I can't, I'm not on the schedule. That means I get to go home."
"Ten bucks says you'll be back over here packing for me."
(Yeah, so I include quotes. They may not be direct, but they're as close as I can remember and they help me get it all out better, so don't judge me. lol)

I hoped so. Lo and behold, he only had one packer, Melissa, and he needed someone else. So I got to take the cups off the chute and pack them in boxes. Again, it was the same old thing. I stood there quietly packing boxes while Melissa and TJ chatted. They're pretty good friends, and Melissa flirts like a fiend with everyone, so I kind of got a bit jealous here. But then they got a little carried away with their conversation and I had to go over and make up some of my own boxes. Which wasn't a bid deal at all. I didn't mind. I just thought it was funny to see him get all embarrassed because he was supposed to make me boxes. He's also supposed to put bags in the boxes to line them, but he sucks at it and it's so funny because he gets so mad and frustrated when they won't stay in the box that all you can do is laugh.

He asked me why I came back and I told him about my epilepsy and he said that he has it too. Common bond! The little voice in my head was going off. I'm going to tell you right now that most of our conversations revolved around him. I didn't mind. I bet he doesn't even know how many sisters I have or what my major in school is. We talked about the time he spent living in Georgia and how he worked for the sheriff's department down there. He told me about how he had to be tazed and sprayed in the face with pepper spray as part of his training. OUCH!

While he lived down there, he played the bass guitar in a rock band called Six Dreams Deep. Which I just thought was the coolest thing ever. Especially since that's what I've been wanting to learn for a few years now. They played local shows all over the place down there and even Warped Tour. He got to play with Joan Jett and he was so excited to tell me about it. His eyes lit up when he talked about his band and everything they did.

Later that night I was talking to another printer and TJ's one good friend at work, Jason. He said that I should ask TJ for his number because apparently people from work hung out all the time on weekends and they were going to be at TJ's house that coming weekend. I was in the middle of telling him "no way, Jose" when speak of the devil, TJ comes walking over. Jason tells him that he should give me his number and I walked away because I didn't want TJ to feel obligated to give it to me because I was standing right there. I went back to my work station and TJ came over.

"You left. I was going to give you my number, but you ran away."
He held out a piece of scrap cardboard with his name and number scrawled on it.
(Here's where I turned into my frustrating, dramatic emo self. I do that.)
"I don't want you to give it to me out of charity."
"It's not. I want to. Here, do whatever you want with it."

So I texted him. And he texted back.

This Week the Trend

One day in the beginning of June I took off work to go to a doctor's appointment in Pittsburgh, which is about three hours away from my house. I have epilepsy and my doctor suggested I follow a normal sleeping pattern in order to avoid having another seizure. Working from 11pm-7am didn't really allow for that, so I went into work the next week and requested to be sent to 2nd shift for a trial run. I was pretty pumped because there's this hottie on 2nd that I had my eye on. There was an opening, and I took it. But of course, my last night of 3rd I worked with this kid, Noah, who kind of has the rocker look with gauges in his ears. He had me laughing the entire time. Then I started getting interested in him... (I'm a serial crusher. I tend to fall for any cute guy that is nice to me. It's bad.)

One night I was out putting lids together in the warehouse (soooooo boring!) when Hottie walked by and began wrapping a strap onto a big roll attached to the wall. So I did what I usually did while employed by these people and I made any excuse to stop working and socialize. I grabbed a strap from nearby and went over and began wrapping it on the huge roll next to him. I can't even remember what we said, only that I thought he was adorable! He smiles. A LOT. He laughs about every little thing and is honestly in a good mood 24/7. It's infectious. The first thing I loved about him was his height. You have to understand, when I see a guy that's tall, I go nuts. It makes me incredibly happy. He's about 6'3", which is perfect. It's yummy. He has brown shaggy hair and brown eyes and a cute smile. His teeth are a little crooked, which I found to be so endearing.

Halfway through that week I realized that 2nd shift was not for me. I was late three out of the five days that I was there, and I missed everyone on 3rd terribly, even though the people on 2nd were just as nice and awesome. Every night that I had to see the 3rd shifters on my way out made me want to stay and work with them. So when I went in at 3pm on Friday, I talked to the 2nd shift foreman and requested to be moved back to 3rd for the following week. He consented.

But I wasn't done yet. I asked around for Hottie's name on my last night and they told me it was Chris. I also found out that he was a returning college student, and that last year he worked on 3rd but was always late, which I thought was funny. I had told my friends about my inner struggle between Noah and Chris and they wanted pictures, so I found Chris after work on that last day and got into stealth mode. I was all sly and genius and told him that he looked like a friend of mine and could I take a picture of him and send it to my "friend"? He agreed, lol! He's the nicest guy, but he's a tad bit dim. Which I thought was even more endearing. Anyway, I was sad to leave him, but I was super excited to head back to 3rd and Noah.

Working Class Hero

Before I get too far, I'll fill you in on what TJ looks like. First off, he's 5'7". And he's a skinny ass. He's just a little guy. And he's Italian, Sicilian, actually. He and his father were quick to tell me that. They're very proud of their heritage, and they should be. He looks Italian. It's great. He's got that dark skin complexion that gets really deep when he's out in the sun. His eyes are amazing. They're a beautiful dark brown and look almost black at times. When I looked him in the eye, it was almost like he could see my soul. I felt like we were the only two people, and everything else literally faded away. They also held all his pain. He's been through a lot, more than any person should, and you can see it in his eyes. There's a sadness there. And when he smiles? It's infectious. I would be having the worst day and as soon as he smiled, I forgot about all the bad. It's not even a smile, that's a bad word to describe it. It doesn't do it justice. He grins. He doesn't fake little smiles, he goes all-out. And it's great. He's got a beautiful grin. And it always reaches his eyes. They shine. And his perfectly white teeth sparkle out of his tan face. It's the best thing in the world when he's happy like that. It all sounds so cliche, but it's as if nothing can go wrong. Everything in the world is right.


TJ has tats. He has quite a few. I never figured myself as a tattoo kind of girl. I always thought they were fine on other guys, but not boyfriend material. But I love his. First of all, they're all on the right side of his body because he has some scarring on his left from the grenade. I'll start with my favorite. It's this huge kind of tribal design that goes pretty far down his right side and his ribs. In it are 4 zodiac symbols: his, both his parents', and his sister's. It twists all the way up over the top of his shoulder and onto his chest. On his shoulder he has this face. It's kind of creepy, but it's one of those things you feel drawn to look at. Right below that he has a band that goes around his arm and has dagger-like designs coming down from it. He has his last name in big letters across his upper back. He also has angel wings on his shoulder blades. He hates them. He thinks they're "chick wings", lol. He wants to go and get them made to look more BA.

On his forearm he has three tats as a reminder of his time in the service. One is of the gun that he used while over there, and it has a helmet on top of it. Which I always thought looked like a brain until I realized what it was. Another one is the same design as a badge he got. And the third are the words NEVER FORGET, which was written on one of his medal recognition letters. He plans to turn it all into one half-sleeve, but hasn't had the chance to go back yet. But the best thing about his tattoos is that he drew up all the artwork for them. They're all original pieces. If that's not sentimental value, then I don't know what is.

11:11 P.M. (Part 2)

We talked about pugs for a bit. And how he used to have one when he lived in Georgia, but had to give it to a friend when he moved back up to PA. Now he wants a black pug puppy. It didn't take long for us to warm up to each other, and he quickly became one of my favorite people to work with. We all pretty much just spent the time talking and joking around with each other, bullshitting.

Over the next few weeks we didn't work together at all. He joked and called me emo every time he walked by and I'd laugh and say, "Damn straight, don't you forget it!" Once I remember I was boxes of foam for our line and he was nearby getting ink for his next run and he came over and said,
"You know I'm just teasing when I call you emo, right?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Okay. I didn't want you to take offense or get mad or something."
"No, no, no, no, no. Don't worry about it, it's cool."
"Okay, good. Now get back to work!"

"Get back to work" became our new thing and we never missed the opportunity to sling it at each other. We would work next to each other, but not with each other. Which didn't really bother me, because we hadn't made that real connection yet. And besides, nothing would ever come out of it because he was too short. And I didn't go for the short guys because of my already low self-esteem issues...

11:11 P.M. (Part 1)

I went into work that night and saw our names on the schedule together and had no idea who he was because I hadn't worked with him before. Luckily, Vikki was also working with us, so I followed her into the back corner of the factory. (TJ says that work keeps his mind occupied, so as soon as he finds out where he's supposed to be, he tears off without looking back.) Here's how it went: the printed cups came down this little ramp in stacks of 12. Vikki stood there and packed them in a box, and then I took the box and put bags of lids and straws in it before sending it through the tape machine and stacking it on a wooden pallet. TJ's job was to make sure the print on the cups looked right, load stacks of cups into the printer and make up boxes for Vikki, other than that he pretty much talked to us.

For the first half hour or so, I basically carried on with my job, listening to them talk back and forth, not saying much. It's part of my nature. I'm perfectly content to sit and listen to other people talk, not contributing anything to the conversation. Then the subject of music came around and we all talked about our interests. TJ said that he liked rock and metal the most and I commented on how I knew as much because every night he comes in to work with his music absolutely blaring. I always thought his truck was going to rattle apart. And then he told me about how he can't hear out of his left ear because he had been in the service and while he was over there, a grenade exploded close to him and he lost all hearing in his left ear. So he plays his music loud enough to hear it. He also can't see very well out of his left eye and has a pair of glasses that he wears at work to help him. (editor's note: he looks ADORABLE in his glasses! hehe)

The first thing he ever said to me was, "Are you a vegetarian?" I was wearing a hoodie that night that said ADOPT A TREE, I had stolen it from my sister, who's in the middle of this vegetarian stage. I remember saying something along the lines of, "Oh God, no!" Then he asked if I was a hippie and I laughed and said no. And then he asked what kind of music I like and I admitted, with a little shame, that my tastes tend to run off in the emo direction. That went over well, lol! He started teasing me and calling me emo, and I didn't mind one bit. I don't mind. It was all for fun. I have the emo glasses, the side-parted bangs, an industrial in my ear... I'm pretty emo. And then he said, "So there are two things I know about you: you're emo, and you love your pug." I was a little thrown about the pug part because we hadn't talked about them, but then I remembered that I have one of those sign thingies in my car that says I LOVE MY PUG.

The Curse of Curves

I arrived at work that first night scared shitless. I didn't talk to anyone when I got there, and I probably came off as a frigid bitch. The foreman took me on a tour of the factory, explaining how each machine worked. When we got to the area where TJ was working, I remember thinking he was hot. He's got that badass look with tattoos and the faint signs of facial hair. You know, just the shading around his lip and chin. He's hot. He really is. I didn't want to leave and go on to the next machine, I wanted to stay there and watch him work. Partly because I was interested in him, and partly because I was interested in his work. He's a printer. One of the elite, you might say. There are only 7 printers on our shift, putting the designs on the cups. I find the whole process fascinating, with all the different ink colors and the fountains and the tin sheets. It's cool to me. Probably because I'm a dork, lol.

I thought he was hot, yes, but out of the question. You see, he's short. I'm tall. He's 5'7" and I'm 6". Quite the difference. He's also really small. A scrapper, if you will. And I am quite literally twice the size of him. My height makes me insecure. That coupled with the fact that I'm carrying around some extra pounds makes me REALLY insecure. Guys don't talk to me. And I don't talk to them. I've never initiated a conversation with a guy because I've already got myself convinced that they won't like me. Guys talk to skinny, pretty girls that are outgoing. Not me. So with these thoughts running through my mind, I turned and obediently followed our foreman to the next work station.

For the next few weeks at work, I began making myself at home and finally got comfortable with the other people on my shift. TJ never really crossed my mind because I never worked with him and he kind of kept to himself. Then the day finally came when I DID work with him.

Here It Goes

Every story has a beginning. And every beginning has an end. This is the story of how TJ dropped into my life in May and thrust me out of his in August. A friend of mine once told me that everyone has a story. And all they want is for someone to sit down, shut the fuck up and listen to it. Well, pop a squat and get comfy, because this is my story. Our story. And let me warn you right now, it'll probably be choppy. Like all of the papers I write. My mind just bounces around from one thought to another in a split second and I have the sneaking suspicion that ADD might be present...

It all began back in May when I started work as a 3rd shift assembler at a factory that makes plastic cups. Yeah, I know, what a shitty job. And it all came courtesy of my father, who firmly believed the experience would encourage me to stay in college so I didn't have to spend the rest of my life there. And he was absolutely right. And it didn't help that I finished school on a Thursday and started working that Sunday night either.

I hate starting new jobs. I am the most anti-social person I know. It all stems from chronic shyness. I don't know how or when it developed, or when it will finally go away, but until then, I don't talk to people. And I worry about the dumbest things you could possibly imagine. I get myself so worked up about these things that I often spend my life on the verge of an emotional and mental breakdown. And I cry. A lot. I'm pretty lame. And I'll be the first to admit it. Wow, this is sounding boring. And whoever is singing over there has an okay voice, but she can't really hit those high notes... perhaps she should take her headphones off so she knows just how loud she is. Ahhhh, the joys of the school library! I just hope my laptop arrives soon so I can avoid this place. Til then, I'm stuck. I hate to leave you hanging, but it is bedtime. At 10:30, you ask? Told you I'm lame.