Theories papers, scrambled eggs and finger guns

So I’ve definitely had the best week ever. It all started with my new gig–I get to cook four days a week for a family with four adorable kids for money and it pays $10 an hour. Why is this fantastic? Because it involves some of my favorite things: getting to wear leggings to work, cooking whatever I want, adorable kids, and freedom at work. Not soul-crushing working-for-the-man work.


This past Thursday I made chocolate chip cookies with three of the four kids and it was a blast. There are two boys (Baxter, 12 and Brayden, 4) and two girls (Maya, 11 and Parley, 2). There was a lot of fingers sneaking into the cookie dough while they thought I wasn’t looking.


The next thing that made my week absolutely amazing was my theories paper. Remember how I mentioned it was taught by my favorite teacher, Dumbledore? And how that class is going to be horrible? Well I had to turn in my first paper for that class on Wednesday and we got them back on Friday. Before Dumbledore handed the papers back he spent fifteen minutes lecturing us about all the things we were supposed to be paying attention to, how he didn’t understand why we didn’t follow the parameters of the assignment, and that if we got 38/100 on our paper to do the re-write early.

grave danger

For theories, it’s expected to do that horribly on your first paper. Or even all of them. So my heart sank as he finally began passing them back. Then I looked at my paper and saw I scored 85/100 and almost hugged Dumbledore, did a happy dance and flaunted my paper in everyone’s faces.


The next thing that made my week awesome was that I finally reached my true wits-end with my room mates and told them it was time to do their part around the apartment and clean. For my room mates, doing dishes has been very, very low on the priority list.

keep it clean

It’s safe to say the kitchen has reached a state of cleanliness that I hadn’t expected from them. Now there are a for more things about my week that have definitely made my life interesting–my monthly gift being one of them.

soft pretzels

On the bright side, as soon as it’s over I turn into the happiest person on earth, which probably also added to my great week. But during, I had to tell Caesar that I was “stepping on to the crazy train for a few days” and to ignore any abnormal spike of emotion.


He did great. He did the dishes AND made me food. While I’m talking about Caesar, we had a fun night last night. He came over like he has for the last few weekends and we played Jak and Daxter, Uncharted and NHL all evening while drinking. Caesar is the most adorable drunk person ever.

drunk boyfriend

Caesar also had a terrible, terrible week at work. I won’t go into the story, but let’s just say one of his colleagues is an absolute child and Caesar does not do well when antagonized. So knowing he was coming over and needing a little bit of an escape, I bought him his favorite whiskey, Jameson. I’ve never had it before and typically the only whiskey I like is Fireball.


While purchasing Jameson, I got into conversation with the Hyvee alcohol salesman who told me about his last St. Patrick’s day and his vast experience with Irish Car Bombs. I’ve never had one of those and while he described what was in it, I could imagine he had a very rough morning after having 6 of them in a fifteen minute setting. But he convinced me to buy a few things for it and I also bought the seasonal Shock Top sampler–and the Honey Bourbon Cask Wheat is by far my favorite.


After one beer, 2 shots of disgusting cherry vodka, and 1 shot of rum (I was trying to clear out my deep freeze) we decided to try and make the Irish Car Bombs. Well, I was absolutely great by then, so Caesar made them. At first, I couldn’t taste much other than coffee and wasn’t a big fan of the Irish Car Bomb.

irish car bomb ew

But after fifteen minutes, I was a huge fan of the Irish Car Bomb and Caesar had finally caught up to me. For whatever reason, we decided at one point to go check out a frat party around 1 am and got dressed to go out. I can only imagine what we looked like.

irish car bomb hmmm

We started walking up the street, and about 200 yards away from my apartment we decided it was too cold and neither one of us actually wanted to go dancing at a party. Caesar especially didn’t want anyone else dancing on me… and then words were exchanged.


Caesar said the L-word. We stood on my front porch and drunkenly, he said it. You know the saying, “drunk words are the most honest ones”? I couldn’t say it back and feel like I really meant it, it’s like I was Zooey Deschanel when she gave Jake Johnson finger guns after he said he loved her. I’m not saying I don’t feel that–for heavens’ sake I think it often when I’m with Caesar but it’s so soon, isn’t it? It’s nearly February. I met him in mid-December. Is that too soon? Or is “soon” a pre-determined timeline given to us by society? Why do I even care, why does anyone care?

only we can knowWe had a great evening once we went inside, or so I remember and fell asleep around 4am. This morning Caesar asked me if we could forget about what he said last night and put the L-word on the back burner. I laughed and told him we could. But can you really put something like that on the back burner once it’s already out there?

you felt it

Who knows. I’m happy with it out there and I’m happy forgetting about it for now. If “putting it on the back burner” makes Caesar happy, then that’s what I want. On another side note, he made me breakfast this morning. Caesar is also begging for my attention–time to go!


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