Archive for the 'marques' Category

Infinity times infinity

Published
by
ashley
on February 18, 2009
in i am ridiculous and marques
. 3 Comments

So today marks an important occasion, one of my favorite days of the year. It’s my anniversary today, which means that for another year, I was not annoying enough to drive Marques away.

I credit Marques with a lot of things - he really boosted me up and out of the self-destructive phase that I was going through when I met him. He’s taught me a lot about being fiscally responsible and why it’s not a good idea to go to Target and spend 67 dollars on clearance junk when you only have 80 dollars in your bank account (for the record, yes, I used to do this, and it was much more helpful when Taco Bell had burritos for a dollar). Together, we’ve discovered a lot of new things (much of it related to television and/or food, our two favorite things) and places. We moved to DC together, we’ve lived together for essentially the entire time that we’ve been together, and I somehow managed to cure his cat allergies by constant exposure to Waylon.

This is the earliest picture of the two of us that I have, I think it’s from spring 2006. Marques has a lot of hair in this picture - he has much less hair now. I have not a lot of hair in this picture - I have much more hair now. I still have my lip ring in this picture, but it fell out about 7 months after this trip. We look really young. This was taken in Pittsburgh, actually, during an Ikea/Andy Warhol trip. We bought a new blanket there that day, and we still use it every night. In the hotel room that night, I ripped it open and spread it on the bed for us to use (I hate hotel room blankets and I bring my own) and Marques spilled Gatorade on it. The cherry stain is still on the blanket to this day. I look at it in anger.

I cannot tell you how many times Marques has had to hear something like, “Baby, what if I only had one leg, would you still love me?” or “Baby, in the upcoming zombie apocolypse, would you be able to shoot me if I was a zombie?” or “Baby, don’t you think our life would be better if we had robots?” or the inevitable daily “Baby, if we had a bowl of ice cream/bottle of water/insert thing I want Marques to go get here, I’m pretty sure that we would be much happier right now.”

If we were ever to procreate (fingers crossed on the never), he would want to name our child Althea after the Grateful Dead song. This has caused more arguments than you would ever know. I want to name our kid Magnolia, so I suppose I can’t talk.  Sidenote: there are WAY more nicknames for Magnolia than Althea.  We don’t know what we would do if our unborn child was a boy.  Maybe he wouldn’t have a name.

He gets angry about little things like stoplights and missing the first 5 minutes of tv shows. I get angry about stupid things like not having mayonnaise on my sandwich or Marques stealing my pillows. I have a specific order of pillows that I have to have on my side based on the pillows - it goes Cowboy pillow, green pillow, Batman pillow, blue pillow, Gnome pillow. Sometimes when I get home from work, I will see Cowboy pillow on Marques’s side and know that he is a STEALER.

We don’t take very good photos. Inevitably, one of us looks horrible while the other looks passable. Photogenic we are not.

When I first met Marques, I was working a 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. shift, so when I got off work, we would drive to Taco Bell and eat burritos or we would come home and eat popcorn and popsicles for dinner. SERIOUSLY. I’m surprised I didn’t die of scurvy. We drank a lot of Kool-Aid Jammers, though, so perhaps the citric acid in my Tropical Punch cured that. I couldn’t cook in the first apartment we lived in - it was tiny and cluttered and had carpet in the bathroom and was always full of dirty dishes.  I remember I bought a fan near Easter because he was always complaining about how hot it was (no central air - this is what happens when you spend all of your money at Target and Old Navy - you can’t afford a decent apartment) at night. We put the fan in the window and it made the bedroom smell like the outside. Sometimes I’ll be outside at night and the air will smell just like the way our bedroom smelled and it makes me smile.

I don’t know what our anniversary plans are - dinner, of course, and then Lost (appropriate, as Lost was the first show that we started watching on DVD). Curling up with Waylon and eating popsicles sounds fun too.

Happy three year anniversary, shmoo. I so look forward to the next one. And the next one. And the next one. Infinity times infinity.

And a happy Valentine’s to you as well.

Published
by
ashley
on February 16, 2009
in i am ridiculous, life and marques
. 0 Comments

This weekend, I felt like the following five things:

1.  A big giant ass because Marques totally knew what his Valentine’s Day/anniversary present was (the complete series of The Wire) and I didn’t even wrap it in a inconspicuous manner (you know, the old box-inside-the-box trick) and when I DID wrap it, I had to wrap it in CHRISTMAS PAPER with doves on it saying ‘may peace be with you’ (none of that religious Jesus paper in this household, no sir.  Other Christmas paper themes that I have banned include anything to do with Santa Claus, anything elves, anything poinsettas, basically anything to do with Christmas.  The only reason that we had dove paper was because we got a free roll at World Market and I cannot pass up anything free.).  He was very happy with his present, though, because he loves The Wire a LOT and I actually love The Wire too but I did technically fall asleep during some season 1 episodes and honestly, sometimes I get a little confused as to who people are and their real names versus their street names.

Anyway, I was a bit disappointed because the other night he had guessed it was The Wire.  BUT I suppose that’s what happens when I buy people’s presents 6 weeks beforehand and I can’t keep things a secret.  Here are some sample statements I told Marques about his present:  “You’ll like it a lot, it’s like one of your favorite things,” “Hey baby, let’s watch The Wire on OnDemand OH WAIT I should’ve gotten you The Wire for Valentine’s Day so we don’t have to wait 4 weeks for new episodes,” “I spent between $65 and $95 for your present,”  “It’s no bigger than the Baking with Dorie Greenspan book and no smaller than your average hardcover book.”  I mean, honestly, how could he not have guessed what it is?  I try to plan ahead for things and always fail miserably.

2.  Unable to breathe. I’ve been sick all weekend, culminating on Friday with a fever that made me delusional that Marques was actually in the kitchen making me dinner (he actually did).  I rarely ever get SICK sick - I normally just get a slight case of the sniffles or a tummy rumble and it usually happens if I don’t get enough sleep.  I like to think that I am like a robot in that I need a certain number of hours of rest to recharge, otherwise I am less than at optimal perfomance and that’s when the germies swarm in.  But this weekend, I was sick-sick, in that I had a fever and I moaned and groaned the entire weekend.  Friday was the worst - I got off the metro with chills and feeling just awful, but I was determined to eat red velvet cake ice cream at The Dairy Godmother to kick off Valentine’s Day weekend. And I did, but then I quickly had to pump myself full of over-the-counter medicine.  Now I just can’t breathe out of my nose, which is fine, who needs to breathe anyway?  Needless to say, this weekend was chock full of the sexy.  If by sexy you mean my blowing my nose every 5 minutes and occasionally having snot trickle out of my nose without my knowing it.

3.  Very loved.  Even though I’ve been sick, Marques did a really great job taking care of me.  He made my favorite sick dinner on Friday (chicken and noodles) and did laundry and cleaned the house a little.  He made me bowls of cereal and took me to see Coraline and was really just the kind of boyfriend mom’s wish their daughters had.  I think he’s just preparing me for spring training, where my kind sweet loving boyfriend will disappear into a puddle of Albert Pujols goo.

4.  Who the f is Daniel? This feeling would only make sense to Battlestar Galactica watchers but seriously, WHAT BATTLESTAR?

5.  Very full of sugar.  Marques bought me KitKats, my favorite candy EVER, and I made a pineapple cake for us due to a severe craving brought on by multiple viewings on foodgawker.  I have to make the Daring Bakers challenge sometime this week too, and let me just tell you right now that I might as well just apply it liberally to my hips, the amount of cream and chocolate in this recipe.

Our anniversary is Wednesday, though - that’s three years together for those of you keeping score at home.
Three years is a really long time for me and I’m grateful everyday to have a boyfriend who so willingly puts up with my annoyingness.  Though I am still annoyed that even after three years of keeping the lights low so he has to squint to read, Marques still doesn’t need glasses.  Science doesn’t work.

Do good unto others and you shall receive a cheap laptop bag

Published
by
ashley
on February 4, 2009
in apartment and marques
. 1 Comment

This is why you should do good things for other people.

This evening, Marques and I left the apartment to go laptop bag shopping for my new laptop -  wheeeee!  As I stepped into the parking lot, I noticed a brown leather wallet on the ground.  I immediately bend down and pick it up and look inside to see if it was anybody we knew.  Unfortunately, no.

The next step was to go to the leasing office so they could get her name from her license and go to her apartment and give it back to her.  Unfortunately, when I got there, they had apparently decided to close early for the day.  Ugh.

I look through her wallet, hoping to find a business card of some sort, or some sort of card with her address on it (her license was an out-of-state license).  No dice.  So I decide I’m going to knock on some doors in our building and find this girl because I know that if I had lost my wallet, I would be on the phone with Wachovia, crying profusely.

So we start knocking on some doors.  A lot of people weren’t home yet.  Finally, after the fifth or sixth door, we find her, and I give her back her wallet.  She didn’t really thank us, which I found a bit odd, nor did she seem all that grateful, but I chalked it up to disbelief in the fact that she dropped her wallet in the parking lot.  Good deed done for the day, no money stolen.  As we were on our way to Target, I told Marques, “Good karma will come back to us for what we just did.”

At Target, I’m searching for a laptop bag.  I am reluctant to spend more than $35, but the shelves are not making that very easy for me.  Everything is 50 or 60 dollars.  I am annoyed.

I finally find a purse-type bag on clearance for $27.98.  It’s not bad, comfortable, kind of cute even.  I decide on it, partly due to the fact that it’s 28 dollars, and head for the checkout.

When it rings up, it rings up $9.98.  The first thing that goes through both of our heads is, “This is because of the wallet.”  I pay, take my bag, check the numbers to make sure it hadn’t been mistagged, and head home.

Do good things for people for whatever your reason.  I would’ve returned that wallet with or without my awesome laptop bag discount.  But I firmly stand by what you put into the universe comes back to you - this I believe.

Saying yes (and no) to snow

Published
by
ashley
on January 27, 2009
in i am ridiculous and marques
. 1 Comment

I would like to preface this by saying how much I love snow.  Because I do.  I love watching snow fall and I love the big thick flakes and the little thin flurries and I love how it sticks to my coat and my hair.  I don’t really love it when it sticks to my glasses because then I can’t see where I’m going.

When I lived in Huntington, I could have sworn that Huntington was under some sort of protective bubble, much like the giant glass bubble in the Simpsons movie.  The entirety of West Virginia and Kentucky could receive snow and ice and Huntington would be clear as a bell.  Ten miles down the road, sure, snow.  But Huntington rarely received snow.

Now that I’ve moved away to a city with much more promises of snow, it seems like all Huntington gets these days is snow.  Everytime I log on Facebook, I see an outpouring of status updates - “Cara is excited for snow!” “Ruth Ann is wading in the snow!”  “SNOW SNOW SNOW.”  COME ON.

And then this morning, Marques came in the bedroom to wake me up and said, “Look, outside, there’s snow!”  At first, I was excited with childlike wonder and glee, ripping off the covers and peering out the window.  I was delighted to find a snow-covered wonderland outside. I immediately thought, “Man, I wish I didn’t have to go to work today so I could stay home and play in the snow and drink hot chocolate.”

But then my next thought was, “Shit.  I have to walk to the metro in snow.”

See, I don’t own a pair of boots.  Part of this is because I don’t do any sort of heel.  I’m pretty sure whatever natural arch I had has been destroyed by years of Chuck Taylor wearing because my feet are now as flat as a board.  I have, on occasion, tried to wear kitten heels and have failed miserably.  I am doomed to a life of flats, which is fine, except when it snows.  I also don’t wear or own any leather things, not for any ethical reasons or whatever, but mainly because I don’t particularly like the way that leather feels or looks.

So I woke up early and had Marques drive me to the metro (shame!) and I brought an extra pair of socks to work which he scoffed at, calling me a nerd, but who’s laughing now?  My feet got a bit wet on the way in (I did not wear Chucks, I wore a pair of Sauconys, which are still fabric but have a bit more protection than, you know, just canvas) and now I don’t have to worry about that anymore, or be concerned that I will need to have my feet cut off due to frostbite or whatever.

And now I can sit and watch the snow fall and make hot chocolate from the 18 packets I have in my desk (but no marshmallows, siiiiigh) and I can actually be happy that it’s snowing.

This is why I like living with my boyfriend

Published
by
ashley
on January 25, 2009
in baking, i am ridiculous, marques and television
. 2 Comments

I’m in the living room, he’s in the bedroom.  I’ve just finished eating breakfast - this morning I veered from my usual cereal and scrambled myself a couple of eggs with some sharp cheddar, as well as delicious toast with blackberry jam.  I’m trying to figure out what to do for this month’s Daring Bakers challenge as well as figure out how I’m going to bake a pie today, do laundry, shop for a mattress, sweep the floors and make a nice Sunday dinner, all before 9 p.m..

However, from the bedroom, I hear the strains of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” and I immediately realize my boyfriend, lost in a world without Sunday football, has relegated himself to watching the movie Titanic.

What a dork.  I can’t wait to go make fun of him about this.

This is the last day of our acquaintance, 25

Published
by
ashley
on January 6, 2009
in family, friends, i am ridiculous, life, marques, television, waylon and work
. 4 Comments

It’s 12:17 a.m., which means that today is officially the last day I can call myself 25 years old.

And in 24 hours, I’ll be 26.

26 is nothing.

My boyfriend is just two years from 30.  He’s the one who should be concerned.

I always tell myself every year that this is going to be the year when I grow up, when I stop playing so many video games and start contributing to a 401k.  Last year, I resolved to learn to like wine and to start appreciating mushrooms.  Still hasn’t kicked in.  Though I did try.  I still have hope for the wine, but definitely not the mushrooms.  Blech.

I’m also constantly concerned that this is going to be the year where I develop a severe food allergy, like to peanuts or to shellfish and I will have to be one of those people who carries an epi-pen around with them.  I am deathly afraid of developing a food allergy only because I am quite irresponsible and I realize that I will not be the kind of person who asks a restaurant to tell me the type of oil my food was prepared in (especially considering that we eat at a lot of ethnic restaurants where English is not the first language).

You hear stories all the time about some unsuspecting girl who dips a spoon into peanut butter, ready to savor the peanut butter goodness and when she brings the spoon to her mouth, her throat closes up and she dies.  And always, the friends and family attend the funeral and everybody commiserates - “She always enjoyed those peanut butter cookies from Subway” or “She loved dipping a spoonful of peanut butter into a bag of chocolate chips” and nobody knows how this allergy formed so quickly.

One of my resolutions for 2009 is not to cut my hair.  I can handle that, I think, because I want to make sure that my hair is long enough to curl or put up or whatever Lorrie wants us to do for her wedding in June.  But secretly, it is also because I am literally dying to have hair like this girl:

(sidenote:  Someone please hack into our Netflix queue and stop us from receiving British sci-fi shows)

By the end of 2009, by the beginning of my 27th year, hopefully my hair will be similar to that hair.  Fingers crossed.

I realize that none of us knows how many years we have in our lifetimes.  I am grateful that I’ve made it to 25 years and 364 days old.  I hope that when I’m 26, lots of things will happen.  I hope I become a better baker, and I hope my hair naturally grows into Gwen Cooper’s hair.  I hope that Marques and I will stay together for another year (really, no other man would put with my constant making-up-songs and burned rice and crinkle nose, not to mention my frequent pop-culture references) and I hope that we are both healthy and happy.  I hope that I do eventually get a new pair of Chuck Taylors as I am tired of walking around with wet socks in the rain.  I hope that I go on vacation this year to a warm and sunny beach with lots of mini-golf and spicy shrimp (though I do not hope I develop the aforementioned shellfish allergy).

On my last day of being 25, I will go into work, and we will publish a newspaper.  I will eat leftover rice for lunch with an orange and maybe some yogurt.  I will buy myself a green tea lemonade or maybe a salted caramel hot chocolate if it snows.  I will come home late to hugs and kisses from my boyfriend, and I will make us a big pot of turkey chili to ward off the cold.  I will maybe hit the treadmill, though it is doubtful because we’re receiving season 4 of Battlestar Galactica tomorrow (one thing that happened while I was 25 - my nerd quotient tripled.  I am the biggest geek in the world) and I’m sure that we’ll want to spend at least 2 hours watching it, curled up with Waylon.  And at midnight, I’ll be 26 (though not officially, that happens at 4:13 in the morning) and when I wake up, it’s more of the same.

I love my birthday.  I love my family.  I love my boyfriend.  I love my cat.  I love my coworkers.  I love my job.  I love my friends.  What it all boils down is that I am thankful that the year of me being 25 has passed and I still love all of these things.

(Now it’s 12:42 a.m. and I am that much closer to not being 25 anymore!

Things that I am thankful for, in the spirit of the holiday

Published
by
ashley
on November 25, 2008
in cooking, family, friends, i am ridiculous, life, marques and work
. 4 Comments

1.  I am thankful every single day that I have all of my fingers, all of my toes, both of my arms and both of my legs.  I realize this is a silly thing to be thankful for, but I am lucky to have all of these extremities (especially since I hate wearing gloves).  My grandfather lost two of his toes in an accident when I was very young and I can remember staring at the shiny scar tissue, both awed and repulsed at the same time.  I am also a pretty independent person, so I would be quite unhappy having Marques open my peanut butter jar for the rest of my life.  So yes.  Thankful for fingers and toes and arms and legs.

2.  I am thankful to have a boyfriend who would spend the rest of our lives opening my peanut butter jars should any sort of accident befall me.  He would probably even make me a peanut butter sandwich if I asked him nicely.

3.  I am thankful that I have a body that it is working condition with no diseases or illnesses aside from the occasional common cold and , and that I escaped my college years without any sexually transmitted diseases, stomach pumpings from alcohol, or babies.

4.  I am thankful that I have a good job that I enjoy, with a really awesome boss and amazing, hilarious coworkers who like to talk about food as much as I do, and will eat all of my baked goods, even the ones I burn.  I know that there are a lot of people who have jobs that they don’t enjoy, so I feel doubly-thankful that I have never once dreaded going to work while I’ve worked here.  Except on days when it was 95 degrees outside, but that wasn’t really because of work, that was just because I didn’t want to be a sweatmonster while walking to the metro.

5.  I am thankful for Chuck Taylors.  I have been wearing them for quite a long time and this extended period of time has worn any natural foot arch down to nothing.  My feet are essentially duck feet without webbed toes.  So I am thankful for Chuck Taylors for continuing to support my flat feet… which they caused.

6.  I am thankful for kittens and puppies and sneezing panda cubs for being so adorable and providing me many hours of entertainment while at work.  Also LOLcats.

7.  I am thankful for my best friends, who still talk to me after all of these years.  They are all beautiful and fun and so funny and easy to talk to and there are no other people in this world I would rather drink a pitcher of margaritas with.

8.  I am thankful for food, in that I enjoy making it and eating it.  I love cooking and baking things - just last night, I made a giant pot of chili and a giant pan of coconut macaroons for my Mom as a Thanksgiving surprise (I was originally going to make them for Christmas, but I got too excited and made them last night).  I love trying new restaurants and new foods and I love McDonald’s ice cream cones (guilty pleasure).  I am very glad that we do not live in an age of Soylent Green and foods in pill form, even though that would be kind of cool and very sci-fi.

9.  I am thankful for David Bowie.  David Bowie is what I listen to when I feel like dancing.

10.  And of course, I am thankful for my family, who I get to see this weekend.  I have a small family, but it’s fun and not stuffy and not the kind of family that pressures you to go to Yale and not the kind of family that puts out wine and cheese for the holidays.  My family is the kind of family that you play Mario Kart on the wii and argue over board games.  I am really glad that I have the type of family I do, despite all frustrations (my grandma asks 56 questions to everyone, my mom texts me constantly and sends me picture messages of her cats).

So with those ten things, I am out.  I am leaving to go home tomorrow morning, spending 6 hours on the road.  I will spend my time seeing old j-school friends, my best friends, eating Thanksgiving dinner, baking cakes, watching movies with my mom, shopping and being pretty happy.  Happy Thanksgiving everyone!