Fourth meal...or Fifth meal...maybe sixth meal?

So right now my house in West Palm is being turned upside down while it's renovated and prepared to be put on the market. This basically means that every morning at 8 AM my buddy Juan, (my new BFF from Home Depot), comes in and starts hacking away at the floorboards in my kitchen like a crazed Britney Spears with an umbrella (we all remember when she went nuts and hit that car with a shaved head, right?). Anyways, Juan finished pulling up the boards last night and put this crazy resin on the floor that we were not allowed to step on until this morning.

...Now here's my issue. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to live with me senior year in college (my amazing and tolerant roommates Emj, Ann, Katie, even J-Stan (might as well have been our roommate)) knows that I have some sleeping problems.  So to remedy this little issue I take Ambien. Now they claim their side effects are: "engaging in activity such as driving, eating, or making phone calls and later having no memory of the activity" (thank you, WebMD)...I'm sad to say this is incredibly accurate. So around 12:30 at night I go from being a restless Courtney, to something a little more reminiscent of this guy:

om nom nom nom nom!!! Cookies!?!?

I will eat the most random combination of food in the fridge. Got some hot dogs in there? got some frozen corn? That sounds like a normal combination of a meal, right? I've eaten ravioli with no recollection and nachos without knowledge. Emj's poor frozen burritos served as collateral damage probably more than once.

Well, Lisa (my mom) is privy to my "eating habits" and so she warned me that I was NOT allowed in the kitchen because the resin was drying. Apparently, her verbal warning was not enough, she had to make physical obstructions as well to take further precaution. What nerve!

Clearly, my mom has no faith in my self-restraint. And clearly, she shouldn't:

From that footprint it looks like I slid into the kitchen. But, somehow, in my graceful dexterity of a cat, i was able to "leap" into the kitchen, pivot on one foot while opening the fridge, and pull out the leftover chicken from two nights ago. Kind of creates a paradigm of being both incredibly impressive and utterly pathetic, no?

*sidenote: "pivot" was a nod to my Kent roommate of 4 years, Ms. Bailey Daniel; I'm almost positive we watched the "Friends" episode where Ross moves the couch up the stairs whilst yelling "PIV-OT...PIV-OT...PIV-AT" at least 200 times*

I took this photo this morning...after Lisa politely asked "Court, did you try to get into the kitchen last night?" Where obviously, my quick response was a cool: "No, don't be silly, the resin was still drying, I would have gotten stuck."

I should have taken a picture of my socks that were worn at the scene of the crime. But give me a little credit here, I'm a Criminology major, and I've seen enough episodes of Law & Order to know that you should always dispose of the evidence!

What did you call me?

Hello all! So I'm new to this blogging world, but all of my friends have these nifty blogs about baking, crafts, and all kinds of other fun things. It would be put very nicely to say that I am "not very good" at crafts or cooking, so really this blog will just be things that happen in my day-to-day life, funny things people send me, funny things that happen to me...you get the picture.

So anywho, Tuesday I finished my first year in grad school! Woo! I turned in my two research papers and booked it home in a record 5 hours and 15 minutes. My boyfriend, Sean, is in the US Coast Guard and (unfortunately for me) has to frequently go on 3-5 day excursions, the nautical term is "going underway" (For some reason, my friends have laughed at this terminology because their minds are in the gutter ::cough cough:: Alex ::cough cough::) but nonetheless, I was lucky enough to get home the day before he had to leave!

So, let me just preface this story that Sean has an incredibly high threshold of pain (unlike myself), so it's rare that he'll even pop an Advil for a headache. Well, needless to say he had a root canal yesterday and so they gave him a heavy dose of narcotics for the pain. So once he took one, the poor thing was looped beyond recognition: giggling, his eyes were glazed over, he basically looked like he had just eaten a couple of special brownies. For the record, Sean doesn't "giggle," He has this awesome hearty laugh that I've tried to imitate with little success.

I was delighted when he arrived on my doorstep with these, (it's our 11-month anniversary. Yeah, it's cheesy, but I loved them, so lay off.):

Later, Charlie (mom's BF) grilled us some delicious steaks and some chicken, as Sean continued to giggle through dinner.

When we were watching TV in my room, he suddenly looked over at me and (once again) giggled like a school girl.
I said, "What are you laughing at?"
Giggles McGee just simply replies: "hahaha...I don't know...I was just thinking about guacamole." ::smiles really big:: ...oh the wonders of narcotics.

....Fast forward about 2 hours later, he had to drive back to Boca. So we did our normal, sad goodbyes on my doorstep, and here's where it happened. Normally, my knight in shining Guy Harvey has a couple of choice nicknames, which I'm not going to lie, I actually do enjoy. I've never been much for nicknames or pet names, but the ones he's picked are pretty good. So imagine my surprise when he whipped out this gem:

He hugged me tightly, looked me in my eyes and goes: "my wittle teletubby"

^Courtney, obviously ^

WHAT!? Was he calling me fat? Short? TUBBY? He saw the look of horror on my face as I slowly backed away in disgust.  And he says "what? aren't they cute little creatures or something?"

...Wait...for....it...

...so now I'm a FAT CREATURE!? He was digging himself his own grave and he was digging it fast. I was about to put the head stone in place when he apologized; he's never seen the show and he continuously reassured me that I am not tubby nor am I a creature. I couldn't be mad at those glassy, glazed over apologetic, deep blue eyes of his.

So we said good night, and he giggled as he walked away. Hopefully tomorrow when we go jet-skiing, he will not have taken said medication before he sees me in a bathingsuit. My pride was hurting, but at least his root canal wasn't.

PS Keep in mind he'll probably be mortified if/when he reads this--he is amazing, I've just never seen him hopped up on narcotics (and probably never will again) so I figured it should be documented for posterity.