The Big "O"...the Olympics

Quick update before I get started:
Thanks to many of you for the sweet texts, calls and messages about my dad.  He got an okay report, but more than likely we're going to get a second opinion.  When your surgeon says, "We won't do the surgery until you experience shortness of breath, chest pains and black out", it's not super encouraging.  One would think that doctors would be all about preventing black outs, but apparently this one is not.

Okay.  So today we are going to talk about one of the most important things in my life.  No, it's not my prized Bon Jovi Hatch Show Print.  It's not my Harry Potter collection.  It's not even my John Wall autograph, but at least we're getting warmer. 

It's sports.

As with most things there are great sports and there are silly sports.  Great sports would be college basketball, college football, hockey and kickball (I'm pretty much the best player on our team.  Quit laughing.)  Silly sports are golf (even though the pants are entertaining), baseball (I'm sorry, but unless you are watching the game live, not many things are more boring than watching guys stand around in tight pants waiting for something to happen...shout out to the scoreboard children though!), and wrestling (do I really need to explain?).  We are lucky that the Mayans didn't predict the world's doom earlier than December because this summer is host to the Olympics!  Only once every four years do people decide to care about the discus, female weight lifting, and curling (is that still a thing?).  Millions of people all over the world will be riveted to their tv screens watching the best of the best compete to show the world who really is the best. 

The Olympics infuse almost every American with patriotism normally only showcased on the 4th of July.  We watch together, high-fiving eachother when the USA brings home another gold, as if we had some part in the accomplishment.  Oh yeah, because I wore my lucky socks Michael Phelps totally won that race.  Although, if the Olympic trials are a glimpse of what is to come, we should maybe insert Ryan Lochte's name in there instead.  Perhaps Phelps should lay off of the $5 footlongs at Subway and practice a wee bit more. 

I can't wait for the heartwarming stories of athletes overcoming adversity, the excitement of a race that comes down to the last one hundredth of a second, and hearing the first few chords of The Star Spangled Banner as our athletes receive the gold. 

And since it's in London, there are bound to be many many Prince Harry spottings.  As if I needed any more incentive to watch...

Q:  Did you play sports when you were little?
A:  Yes, I took gymnastics for years and played softball.

Q:  Who is your favorite athlete.
A:  Any UK basketball player.  Except Daniel Orton.

Q:  If you could win an Olympic gold medal in any sport, which one would you choose?
A:  Ping Pong

Hi, my name is Anna and I’m an only child.

Hi Anna!

I say I’m an only child like it’s something that I would need therapy for, but so far I think I’m okay.  First, let me get this out in the open:  I hate being an only child.  Please, if you are considering having children, have at least two.  Don’t go crazy and have eight at a time, but please don’t stop after one. 

I understand why I’m an only child.  My mom wanted to stay home with me when I was born, and thanks to the great state of Kentucky’s lousy teacher compensation, she could only do that if it was just me.  I loved having my mom home.  We were constantly going on walks, to the library, and playing with our dog.  I was, and still am, great friends with another only child and our mothers would have us play together several times a week, so I wasn’t lonely.  I also developed a great imagination.  I was great at entertaining myself.  Plus, when you have an awesome grandfather that builds you a kick-ass tree house complete with a pulley system elevator so I could bring all of my Barbies with me to the top, there really is no excuse for boredom. 

But that’s pretty much where the positives end and the negatives begin.  For example, all of the hopes and dreams of the parent are placed on said only child.  I frequently like to remind my mom that she’s lucky I turned out as well as I did.  She doesn’t seem to appreciate when I say that, but I know deep down she’s pleased.  My parents motivated me to be the best at everything I could, especially academically.  At the time, I hated that my parents expected me to be Valedictorian of my high school class.  But, when the college I wanted to attend offered me a fantastic scholarship because of my grades and activities, I had to resign myself to the fact that once again, mom and dad were right. 

I’ll never forget the day I told my parents I wanted to be a History professor.  I think my mom had tears in her eyes…tears of sorrow.  My entire life my parents had always said, “You can be anything you want, just please don’t want to be a teacher.”  Even though I wasn’t planning on teaching in the public school system, they were not thrilled I was going to teach at all.  Both of my parents were teachers and while they value the profession, they didn’t want me to work so hard for so little compensation my entire life.  Luckily for mom and dad the whole I-want-to-be-a-professor thing didn’t last, but I know they were worried for a while. 

Another disadvantage is that there is no one to blame when you do something wrong.  Like that time I broke my mom’s music box her great grandmother had given her?  No little brother to blame.  I couldn’t even blame the dog because it was on a shelf that was too high for Critter to reach.  Or that time I braided my hair when I wasn’t supposed to and I couldn’t get one out so I thought I would just cut it off?  Yeah, I had to fess up to that too.  I couldn’t say little Suzy had gotten gum in my hair.  Life is not fair sometimes.

I could go on and on about other disadvantages to being an only child, but I really want to touch on the main one:  when your parents need you, it’s just you.  I watched my mother, also an only child, take care of my grandfather for years.  If I can be half of the daughter she was to him, then I’ll consider myself a success.  I remember how hard it was when he passed away.  My grandmother died in 1994, so my mom was left all alone.  She called herself an orphan, and it about broke my heart.  The time will come one day when the roles reverse and it will become my job to care for my parents.  My dad has been experiencing some pretty serious health issues since March and it scares me for many reasons.  This past weekend when I was home I broached the subject of them moving to Nashville.  Although they aren’t far away, I would like knowing I could get to them in 20 minutes if necessary.  They said once they figured out my dad’s situation they would consider it, and I hope they do. 

I don’t like thinking about it, but when a parent is sick you can’t help but think about what you would do without them.  What if my dad isn’t there to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day or have the father-daughter dance?  What if he isn’t there to see his grandchildren?  He isn’t knocking on death’s door or anything, but these are very real thoughts I’ve been having lately.  Life can change in the blink of an eye and it helps me to think about all possible scenarios so that I can prepare myself. 

We’ll know a lot more after today when dad meets with his heart surgeon.  I’ve run through the best case and worst case scenarios hundreds of times since I came back from home on Sunday and even had a pretty major breakdown involving ugly cries and a major headache afterwards.  I’ve tried to prepare myself for whatever so I can be strong for my parents and tell them how silly they are being when they get scared.  I won’t let them know that I’m scared too.  And you had better not tell them.

I’m trying to end this entry on a lighter note, but it’s hard when all of my thoughts are very heavy.  I think it’s odd that people are surprised when I say I’m an only child.  I guess thanks are in order?  Only children have a bad rap for being selfish, spoiled, and bratty.  My parents prevented that by forcing me to work for what I wanted.  I would say that I’m spoiled in love (aww) but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.  I’m definitely not spoiled in material things.  I remember in high school everyone had Adidas pants.  I have no idea why, but that was such a thing.  Everyone who was anyone had a pair and I wanted some.  So, when I told my mom I wanted a pair, she looked me straight in the eye.  I thought to myself, oh yeah…this is going to happen.  But then she said, “Well that’s great Anna Charles.  Go get your wallet and we’ll go to the store and you can buy them.”  Yeah, not exactly how I wanted that conversation to go.  I ended up saving my money from babysitting and bought a pair myself.  Yes, I had them way after everyone else, but I also wore mine with more pride because they really were mine.  And I continued to wear them until I wore a hole in the knees because damn it, if I paid for them, I was going to get my money’s worth!

Until next time…

Q:  What is your favorite childhood memory?

A:  Riding in my little red Jeep in the backyard with the dog chasing me.  I may or may not have dented a few of our trees in that thing.

Q:  What was your favorite game when you were little?

A:  Dreamphone.  George was so hot. 

Q:  What was your favorite tv show when you were a kid?

A:  When I was really little I loved ‘Dumbo’s Circus’.  After that, it was Full House and TGIF all the way.

Oh, those Na-ashville...NiiiiIIIIIIIIIIghts!

So, think of the title of this post as if it were sung by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John in Grease.  Maybe it will make more sense.  Or not.

So last weekend I did something I had not done since the SEC Tournament was in Nashville a few years ago:  I closed down Broadway.  Of course, last weekend didn't end up with me making out with a guy in my car for an hour in a parking lot, but it DID end in my friend C somehow convincing Dominos to bring us pizza at 3 a.m. even thought they were closed.  So, I'd say it was equally as successful. 

There are several different areas of Nashville nightlife, and it seems you get a different experience depending, on where you spend your hard earned $$$ on drinks that you could make at home much cheaper.  But, I guess you can't find sticky floors, dart boards, and creepy old men hitting on 20 year olds at your home/apartment/parent's house, (unless you're at your old Fraternity house on alumni weekend) so you get dressed up, hail a cab, and vow to not worry about your bar tab until you're recounting the previous night's events with your friends the next morning.

Let's break down Nashville nightlife, shall we?  (Disclaimer:  I have not been to some of these places since college.  The atmosphere may have changed...but I doubt it.)

Demonbreun:
During the day it's the place for the Music Circle crew (and Belmont students desperately searching out internships) congregate for chicken fingers at Otters, sushi at Sushiyobi, or whatever the heck it is they serve at Red Rooster.  At night it becomes the area college students (both of age and under) flock to in order to find their latest notch on their dorm bedpost.  I have fond (?) college memories of frequenting Dan McGuiness, Tin Roof, and On The Rocks (RIP) on weekends.  One of our favorite past times was to stand near the door and take bets on if people would get caught with fake IDs.  Whoever lost the best bought the next round.  I remember someone bought a spiced rum shot once.  Worst.  Shot.  Ever.  I did visit Tin Roof last year for a concert for a friend's birthday, but it wasn't memorable.  Well, Tin Roof wasn't, but it did become the location of the greatest cock-block ever courtesy of my friend K, so it does hold a special place in my heart.  Other than that, Demonbreun is meh.  Unless you want to take me to Sushiyobi for a volcano roll.  I'm down for that any time.

Downtown:  I am not usually a Downtown Nashville girl.  I dislike tourists with a passion (yeah yeah, I know they stimulate our economy...yada yada...I saw too many CMA Fest tourists/Fan Fairies turn down one way streeets downtown and make me late to work, and I'm still bitter), and I know I could never be a New Yorker because of that fact...and the fact I like to eat.  But that's another story.

I have to be in the mood to go downtown and that usually only happens about twice a year.  Unless Kentucky is playing in the SEC Tournament...then I happily spend every waking moment with the fans of the Blue & White.  Can't wait for 2013.  That parking lot had better get ready for Round 2... 

But, when I do venture Downtown, I usually have a great time.  If you want to dance to songs like Dixieland Delight or Wagon Wheel, this is the place for you.  By the end of the night, everyone has made a new best friend.  Bachelorettes pose for inappropriate pictures with men that could be their great grandfathers, country music fans are buying beers for the random hipsters that brave unknown territory, and the locals are banding together shouting about how Nashville is the greatest city in the country.  A religious experience can also be found in Downtown Nashville:  Paradise Park tator tots.  If you have had them at 3 a.m., you know what I am talking about.  If not, you haven't lived.  Add that shit to your bucket list.

Midtown
I'll end with Midtown, since that's where I spend most of my time.  Yes, I know there are other parts of the city to hang out in.  However, I'm not cool enough to hang out in East Nashville or rich enough to hang out in Franklin, so this is what I know.  Hillsboro Village has fun places, but that's more of a daytime/sports event area of town to me.  Although, Taco Mamacita off of Edgehill is hands down my favorite Sunday Funday place.  Shout out to Sangria Sunday!

Okay, so Midtown.  It's convenient.  You get dropped off in the area and you're surrounded by bars within walking distance, which is imperative if you decided to go for shoes that make your legs look amazing rather than shoes that you can actually stand/walk/dance/hobble in.  Broadway Brewhouse is usually where we start the night, even though I despise that I smell like cigarette smoke the second I step inside.  It's famous for its Bushwhackers (think alcoholic Wendy's frosties), dart board, and ring game.  I do not understand the game of darts, but I thoroughly enjoy hanging out near the dart board and watching other people play.  A place that is itching to overthrow Brehouse as our #1 spot is Rebar...especially for birthday celebrations.  At least three people, plus me, have had our birthday celebrations there.  On Sundays they offer a Bloody Mary bar and although I haven't tried that (because the thought of tomato juice makes me cringe), I hear it's quite popular.  All I know is, they let you take over one of the rooms, the waitresses are really nice, and sometimes they'll even let you turn one of their game tables into a flip cup table. 

Winners and Losers are also in Midtown and fun can be had there as well.  I haven't spent as much time at either as I have Brewhouse or Rebar, but I've danced to a few songs there in my time.  I think they're basically the same, you just go to each for different reasons.  You go to Losers if you're feeling down and want to surround yourselves with other low self-esteemed people and hope for the chance to take two negative people and combine them for a positive reaction.  Or, you go to Winners if you are confident that this is going to be a Charlie Sheen "winning" epic night and you are willing to take on any challenge thrown at you.  Actually, I have no idea why you would pick one over the other, you probably just go where your friends are.

And if you want to be classy in Midtown, head over to Tavern.  One of the bartenders there is quite attrative and from New Zealand.  Done and done.

So there are my views of entertainment in Nashville.  It's funny that this blog entry makes me sound like I'm constantly out and about, which is not the case.  I go out a lot less than many of my friends, yet I always have a blast when I join them.  I usually prefer going to dinner with friends and then hanging out at a friend's house solving relationship/workplace/world problems with a glass of wine (pinkies up, y'all).  But, a Nashville night is pretty darn enjoyable too.

To continue with the nightlife theme, my friend S gave me the below questions.

Q:  What is your favorite drink?
A:  Besides milk (seriously...but I would never order it at a bar), I do enjoy a gin & tonic.  It's the 65 year old man in me.

Q:  Are you a cowboy boot girl?
A:  Up until a couple of years ago I would have said no way.  I was very anti-country anything.  But then I actually bought a pair and realized I could wear them with dresses, jeans, pajamas (?), whatever!  So they have become a staple.  Plus, they have a little bit of a heel and they're comfortable.  What more could you want?

Q:  What is your favorite bar?
A:  Does it count that it's not in Nashville?  Sidetrax in Chicago, all the way.

"Gentlemen may prefer blondes, but it takes a real man to handle a redhead”

So, confession Saturday, I’m not a true redhead.  After years of dying my light brown hair blonde, with brief dalliances as a brunette, I finally dyed my hair red last August after my best friend’s wedding.  She politely asked that I not make any drastic hair decisions before her wedding, and being the kind person that I am, I agreed.  I mean, if that’s the hardest thing I have to do as a Maid of Honor, then I hit the wedding party jackpot.  So as of August last year, I have had the privilege of joining the elite Redhead club.  It’s funny, but I have noticed there is a significant difference between redheaded men and women.  Men are usually called ‘Gingers’ and their red hair doesn’t seem to endear them to most women…unless they are Prince Harry.  I have to disagree.  I dated a redhead for almost five years and I thought he was very handsome.  He also dispelled the myth that redheads have fiery tempers.  He was definitely the more calm individual in the relationship.

I began thinking about other myths surrounding the crimson tressed folk and decided to share my experiences and see if the myths stack up. 

Myth 1:  Redheads have fiery tempers

I know I already touched on this a little, but I was talking about D and not myself.  I’m going to call this myth a draw.  I already had a fiery temper, but I don’t think my red hair has made it worse.  I still honk my horn at idiotic Nashville drivers, curse way more than any Southern belle ever should, and insult people in my mind (well, sometimes out loud, let’s be honest), just as much as I always have.  Maybe my hair finally matches my temper?

Myth 2:  Redheads turn into vampires when they die.

Okay, so those ancient Greeks liked to get creative with their myths.  Since I have never died, I am unable to give a conclusive answer to the theory behind this myth.  But if I do, in fact, turn into a sparkly vampire after my demise, you have my permission to stake me.  Unless I get to hang out with Christopher Meloni.  I would be completely fine being part of his coven, or whatever you call a flock of vampires.

Myth 3:  Red on the head, fire in the bed.

I am not even going to touch that one.  (That’s what she said?) 

Myth 4:  Redheads are witches.

I wish.

Myth 5:  Redheads bruise easier. 

Even though I’m an artificial one, I will definitely agree with this.  So does my leg and the GINORMOUS bruise that is still living there, THREE WEEKS after I ran into my bedframe.

Myth 6:  In Polynesian culture, it is thought that redheads descended from high ranking ancestors and is a mark of rulership.

I mean, obviously.  You all know how bossy I am.

 So there you go.  A fake redhead’s thoughts on being seen as a real redhead.  Until next time…

Q:  Have you ever called your boyfriend by your ex’s name?

A:  No, but I did call my friend’s husband the name of her ex.  That went well.

Q:  What is your most embarrassing moment?

A:  Too many to count.  But, one that stands out happened two weeks ago.  I was walking to my parking garage downtown and a sudden gust of wind lifted up my skirt, giving everyone by the bus terminal a view of my butt since I was wearing a thong that day.  You’re welcome MTA, you’re welcome.

Q:  What did you want to be when you were little?

A;  A fireman.  I wanted to drive the red truck.  I really liked red.

There's a Dating Site for That?

The title of this blog comes from a nickname given to me by my dear friend M, who is engaged to my dear friend L. L is the favorite redhead, as she should be considering she is M's fiance and a natural redhead, but I feel honored to be second in his book. I like to think I'm like the runner-up in the Miss USA Pageant...or is it "scholarship program?"...whatever. Although I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have said that 'Pretty Woman' was an inspirational movie for young girls. But, Julia Roberts' character was a redhead, so maybe I would have. I digress.

I've had blogs before, but never really stuck with them. There was the time I decided to read one book a week from a list of The Greatest Novels of All Time. That lasted about three books when I discovered that the so called "greatest novels" had little to nothing to do with magical creatures, kick-ass heroines, or wizards, which are pretty much literary staples for me. There was also the time I had a blog that showed the parallel between everyday situations and an episode of Sex & The City. While I stand by my original thesis, I discontinued that one too. Some say I have a problem with commitment. Apparently some are right, but that's an issue you'll have to take up with my therapist. Kidding, I don't have a therapist. Not that there would be anything wrong if I did, but anyway. There I go on a tangent again (10 point word).

So no guarantees on whether or not I'll stick with this one, but let's get started. I wish I were one of those girls who didn't talk about stereotypical girl topics on their blogs like cats, nail polish, and their One Direction obsession, but I'm going to. Especially since I am extremely fond of cats (actually just one. There should never be more cats than single girls in an apartment.), nail polish and One Direction. Yes, I'm 27. Don't judge. I'm going to start out by discussing one of my least favorite things: dating websites. Many people have tried them and I must admit I am one of them. I didn't make beautiful music with EHarmony, OK Cupid's arrow missed me, and I was mismatched on Match (See what I did there?)  A few people in my life say it's because I'm too picky, but is it too much to ask for to find a single, University of Kentucky basketball loving, driven, non-girls jeans wearing man, who doesn't live with his mother, is not an only child and likes Harry Potter? Apparently in this town, it is.

But I ask those who say I'm picky to consider this: maybe I'm not picky enough. Maybe I would have more luck if I signed up for a more tailored dating website. I could find a nice, Jewish boy on J-Date. But why stop there? Let's get even more specific. What if I joined Cougar Life? I mean, I'm only 27, but apparently the average age to get married in the South is like 19 (completely made up statistic), so technically I could be a cougar. I mean, college Freshman orientation is right around the corner. I'd make sure they were 18. Or, if I'm not feeling particularly confident in my looks, I could join the Ugly Bug Ball, which touts itself as a dating website for the non-aesthetically blessed. Apparently there are dating sites for those obsessed with vampires (the real ones, not the sparkly Twilight pansy ones), fans of World of Warcraft, and Ayn Rand readers. If there was a Harry Potter one, I would happily be a charter member. There is a site for cat lovers too. Except I really only like my cat, so any relationship from that website would be doomed from its inception.

I haven't looked, but maybe there's a site out there dedicated to mothers who desperately want their daughters to date and get married. It's funny how one day the switch flips from not wanting any part of the male anatomy near their daughters to mothers being willing to pay someone to take their daughter to Chillis. Guess who would probably get signed up for that one? Earlier this week, when I told my mom there was a new girl at work close to my age, her response was, "Does she have a brother?"

I'm sure there are sites out there even more bizarre than the ones I have mentioned in this post. But don't send them to me. Seriously, I don't want to see them. Unless it's a Harry Potter one.

Thanks for joining me on the first installment of this new journey. I don't really have a theme for the blog, so it will mostly be whatever is intriguing/thrilling/annoying me each day. I'll end each post with me answering three random questions a friend comes up with.

Q: If you were in the Hall of Fame, what would it be for?
A: My uncanny ability to ask someone how their significant other is doing, within mere minutes/hours of them breaking up.

Q: Harry Potter or Twilight?
A: If you dont' already know the answer to this after reading my blog, you miiiiight want to forego reading future entries and go find the Miss USA contestant who said a hooker was a role model for young girls. She seems more your speed.

Q: Are you a Belieber?
A: No. He looks like Dani from A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila 2. Don't judge that I watched that show.