Cheeky Rags!

July 7th, 2009 | 8:46 pm

This past Halloween, Zack and I planned to go camping with some of his friends. Now…Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because I like to dress up. I like how costumes make me feel like I’ve transformed into something new for a change. However, I’ve always wanted to go camping, so I was semi-content.Then Zack told me that everyone else was still dressing in their costumes anyway-SOLD!

I drive to NOLA after work one Friday, meet up with Zack, get into my gear- I was Raggedy Ann and I looked pretty darn cute. We leave NOLA to go camp  somewhere in the middle of nowhere (aka Mississippi). We arrive at the camp site. Zack and I walk up to everyone huddled around the fire. 

And no one else has on a freaking costume! I had been had! 

 

camp

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I Didn’t Start It

June 16th, 2009 | 9:05 pm

I’ve know Gordon since sophomore year of highschool. We were pretty tight through our couple years in highschool (though we didn’t go to the same one). We eventually dated our freshman year of college. After we split up, we had a love/hate relationship for a long time…about 7 or 8 years to be exact. But we eventually outgrew the hate and now we’re back to being friends like we once were a long, long time ago, though I don’t see him as often as I used to.

I do see him out occassionally and get random phonecalls every now and then, though. I received a phone call just last week actually. It was about a 5 minute convo- short, sweet and to the point. It went something like this:

Him: So today I pulled up to my house and there was a fire truck in front of it. My garage caught on fire.

Me: I was in Baton Rouge working all day. I swear. 

I’m glad after all these years and all we’ve been through, I can still beat him to the punch of his own jokes.

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The Vietnam War

June 15th, 2009 | 11:57 am

I’m certain the table did not come from the Walmart, but here’s a story that I received via “Submit a Story” (which all of you should do!)

—–

Hi Cheeky. I just absolutely LOVE your stories. They make me smile. I have a great story for you. This one involves my girlfriend, Cindy. She’s so silly. She has this really nice table and chair set that she got from the walmarts a few years back. There’s nothing wrong with it – solid wood, all the legs work, seems to be pretty sturdy. Well, I mentioned a while back that she shouldn’t sell it and that she should hold on to it, because you never know when you may need a table. I mentioned to Cindy that I’d take the table down to NOLA to store in her brothers garage. No problem, I live there anyway. So I was over at her house last weekend, taking apart the table, when I noticed it was made in Vietnam – the Democratic Peoples Republic Of Vietnam that is. Now, I happen to be a proponent of buying American goods. I like American. It’s usually pretty good quality, supports our economy (which is pretty important right now), and generally, it makes me feel good to know that I’m helping a fellow American put dinner on his family’s table. Well, I feel that if I can afford another table, that I’d rather have an American made table. But Cindy doesn’t agree! Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve. … Women!

—–

It’s quite possible that she had barely any money when she purchased her set and just so happened to find a good deal, not caring where it was made because all she wanted was a place to sit and eat. I’ve been in her place before.

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Communist

June 10th, 2009 | 11:52 pm

My little condo was beginning to feel very small. I like a lot of ’stuff’. But I keep adding and adding…at some point, I needed to give something up. 

My dining table and chairs- I never really used it to ‘dine’ on. Zack and I had discussed, though, that I should not sell the table and chairs because eventually we’d need one when we make a house together. So I don’t sell it. Zack and his friend spent the night taking everything apart, so that Z could load it up in the el and take it to my brother’s house for storage.

On his way home from my brother’s, who mind you…lives in New Orleans, Zack calls me and I thank him for taking care of the table and reiterate that as soon as he gets a new place to live, the table is ready to be taken by him.

Then, with the utmost seriousness, he tells me that he won’t take it- apparently while he was taking apart the table, he saw that it was made in Vietnam and he refuses to support Communism. I thought he was trying to be so serious so that he wouldn’t bust out laughing, but no. He meant it. He told me to give my table to Goodwill and we’ll buy a new one because he refused to have furniture from Vietnam. But really, he wouldn’t be supporting child labor…I may have apparently when I bought the set a few years back. But he wouldn’t be.

 Give my table to Goodwill? Did I hear him right? Why, yes, I did. All I have to say to that is pft. 

He should have told me before he brought it down to New Orleans. Boys…

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This Little Piggy

June 3rd, 2009 | 5:30 pm

Dancing. I’m always doing it- around the house, in a store, from my office door to my car…and even at parties. Zack and I were at his friend’s law school graduation party. We were having a blast. I started dancing…I got Zack to dance with me. It was good, wholesome fun.

I never let anyone pick me up. I kind of hate it- not that I think I’m too heavy or anything, I am just always worried I’m going to be dropped. 

Well, Zack decided to pick me up, throw me over his shoulder and start spinning around. I, at that point, started requesting to be put down because my dress was flailing all about. He put me down. He put me down real good.

Good enough to break my toe! A nice little non-bendable, slightly bruised toe. And yes, I walked with a limp for a few days.

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Late Bloomer

May 27th, 2009 | 6:14 pm

I come from a small town- one of those towns where everyone knows everyone, where funerals turn into parties, and where we all keep the same hairdresser we’ve had since we can first remember.

My hairdresser is a family friend, whom lives about 20 minutes past my mom and dad’s home in Chalmette. I live about 2 hours away from mom and dad. So being that I live so far away, when I want to get my hairs all fancied up, I need to go on the weekend. 

Weekends are normally dedicated to Zack. 

Awhile back, I needed a haircut- very badly. The night before, I tell Zack that I need to leave kind of early because of the appointment. Zack, being a trooper, said, “Hey, I’ll take the ride with you.” Word. I like the company on the drive there and back.

So we awake the next morning. I shower, get ready; Zack showers and starts to get ready…

As he’s looking through his closet for what seemed to be quite a bit of time, I finally mention that if he didn’t hurry it up, I would be late for my hair appointment.

His response: “I can’t decide which black tshirt I want to wear.”

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Socialite

May 17th, 2009 | 5:00 pm

I’m typically a wall flower. I hate being the center of attention; unwanted/un-needed attention makes my face and ears turn red. This problem became an even bigger problem when I was in a relationship with Omar. He loved the lime light. I, though, was not as comfortable around tons of people. He deemed me “socially awkward”. Call it socially awkward or whatever else you’d like, I just wasn’t into everyone being focused on me. I’m just not that vain. He’s probably reading this blog post now, thinking to himself- Yes! She has another post about me. Is that right Om? You’re so vain…you probably think this blog post is about you, don’t you? Don’t you?!?

Well, it’s not.

Last weekend, Zack and I were walking out of the  grocery. I was on the phone with my mom and didn’t realize that this couple was waving Zack down. He walked over by them and began talking to them. I finished up my convo with mom and walked over. I try to be conscious of the fact that I don’t want to be socially awkward. The old Cherry would have waited to be introduced. Not the new Cherry though.

As soon as I walked up, I put out my hand to shake each of their’s and proudly introduced myself. The conversation ended about 5 seconds later. I politely said, “It was very nice to meet you both.” Zack and I went on our way to the car.

After we were out of their ear shot, Zack says to me, “You thought I knew those people, didn’t you?”

Turns out they were a bunch of drunks who needed a jump on their car, though the car was running while we were talking to them. I’ve turned into such a socialite, befriending New Orleans’ finest! Take that, Om, who’s socially awkward now, huh?!?

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Mustache Mayhem

May 3rd, 2009 | 10:36 am

Zack is quite the character. He likes having facial hair. He looks good with facial hair. I dig the beard most when it’s trimmed up. Well, he gave it a nice little trimming the other day. He shaved the whole beard off- and left a MUSTACHE! He’s celebrating “Mustache May” ( http://www.mustachemay.com )

This particular web site encourages guys from all over to sport a ’stache during the month of May and take a picture each day that relates to the “theme of the day” and then post it online so everyone can comment on how rad the mustache is. Well, yesterday’s theme was: It’s like a pet for your face.

I suggested that he take a picture with his head hanging out of a car window, ya know…like people let their dogs do. 

So yesterday, I drove up and down West Napolean (to create the windy effect) while he stuck his head out the window and took pictures of himself and his mustache.

I’m just waiting for the day (and I’m sure it’ll come) when we go to eat and need to ask for a table for three-myself, him, and the mustache. He’s lucky that I embrace it.

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The High Life

April 30th, 2009 | 10:17 pm

Marga and I were at dinner the other night. We got to discussing our guys. We both expressed how much we dislike when we’re at a bar or party with a guy and they just leave you because they’re always, always the center of attention. I thought maybe I was just socially awkward, but it made me feel better knowing that Marga despised that too. We are one in the same.

So fast forward to the next night. I had bought Zack a ticket to see a band. He came to Baton Rouge, we head over to the venue, meet up with his friends. Zack goes to get drinks and I ask him to grab me a Miller Light. I’m not much of a beer drinker, but we’re trying to cut back on spending lots of moula. So instead of my normal gin and tonic, I went for a beer. He gets the drinks; the first band starts and eventually finishes up. He askes if I want another drink and i said yes, can you get me another beer. He says he’ll go get it if I hold our spots.

I talk to Zack’s friends, whom I do enjoy very much. But…I’m not the most interesting person and sometimes run out of things to talk about. So I start to people watch and realize that it’s been about twenty minutes since Zack went to get more beer…yet no sign of Zack. 

So, I think to myself. F this. I’m going to go get my own drink. Who needs a man? Surely not me. So I walk up to the bar and as I’m pulling my card out to pay, Zack grabs my arm and tells me that he got my beer already. 

Really? You got my beer already? Because I had been saving our nice little spot on the balcony for 20 minutes and you were no where to be found.

So I got to take my beer from his hand. I first look at his half drank beer and think to myself…geez, thanks for leaving me for twenty minutes while you enjoy your beer and let mine get hot. Then, I look at my beer.

He got me a Miller High Life.

Thoughts started bouncing back and forth in my head. Are you kidding me?! Really?! You got me a High Life- the crappiest of all beers- even worse than Schlitz?!? 

So I question his choice of beer…well ‘interrogate’ is more appropriate. And he says it was cheap. Cheap? Wrong answer, babe.

I bought him the ticket to get into the music venue and he can’t even get me a Miller Light like I wanted. Every sip I took of the High Life, I held my breath. Ugh. 

I’m certain about one thing…I surely wasn’t living the high life that night.

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Tough Love, Omar

April 30th, 2009 | 8:55 pm

Omar, Omar can you come out and play
The sun is shining bright; it’s a beautiful day

That’s part of a little diddy I wrote awhile ago and it’s probably only funny if you know why I refer to that particular ex as ‘Omar’. Funny story, it is…I’ll save that one for a rainy day.

Anyways, I was just sitting here flipping through the channels and landed on vh1- Tough Love was on. If you’re not familiar, it’s another reality show- all these girls are in a house trying to learn how to make relationships work basically. Well it just so happened that this was the episode where the ’special guests’ come to visit- special guests being their parents, friends and exes. 

Well, one girl answers the door and it’s her ex Omar whom she disliked with a passion apparently.

Her Omar kind of resembled the ‘Omar’ I dated- i think maybe it’s the receding hairlines that really does it.

Omar, did you break yet another girl’s heart and then got called to be on Tough Love? Tell us the truth- Cheeky Cherry lovers are dying to know!

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