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downtoearthmarkets · 26 days

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In celebration of Earth Month, we will be sharing a series of recent interviews that tie directly into the environmental mission of Down to Earth Markets. In 1991, our founder Miriam Haas started the company’s first farmers market in Ossining. To kick things off this week, we sat down with Miriam and her husband Jon Zeltsman to learn more about the company’s origins and the work and vision they poured into bringing farmers markets to our local area.

April is Earth Month and you founded Down to Earth Markets in 1991 based on concerns over the routine spraying of food with chemicals, so the company had an environmental mission from the outset. How did your awareness about this issue come about?

Miriam: Back in the sixties and seventies, Jon and I were engaged in the counter-culture movement, but not to the extent of “dropping out”. Given our questioning of the mainstream and its social mores, we were anti-spray and have always been interested in the organic movement and gardening. Wherever we lived, we wanted a garden in which to grow food, even when we lived in an apartment.

Did either you or Jon have any background in farming or farmers markets?

Miriam: My dad always grew vegetables. He spent a lot of time dabbling in the dirt and I followed after him. I was drawn to it and was always putting things in pots and planting things. Jon and I grow a lot of our own food and cook a lot. Recently we took a course on growing saffron which comes from crocuses and now we grow our own saffron and use it to make paella and saffron rice. Between the yield from our garden and what we buy at the farmers market, we don’t really go to the supermarket except to purchase dry goods.

Jon: My mother was a gardener. I grew up in New Jersey which is of course nicknamed the “Garden State” because of its agricultural heritage and rolling farmland. As a kid we’d go to farm stands which were everywhere selling Jersey corn and tomatoes. When Miriam and I lived in Southern Illinois while I was going to design school, we had a farm that we fertilized with night soil slurry. The plants loved it and grew like crazy. We had basil that was over five feet tall!

How did your interest in organic food lead to the formation of Down to Earth Markets?

Miriam: After moving to Ossining in 1987, I wanted access to organic food. So, I formed a cooperative of fifteen families with young kids in Ossining that we named Families for Safe Food. We arranged for deliveries of organically grown produce from a health food distributor.

Managing the coop was very laborious as there was no internet back then so everything was done by telephone. Plus, we’d freeze while divvying up crates of food in the barn during the winter, although the kids would be running around having a blast. After a year or two of doing this, I thought to myself “There’s got to be a better way.” So, I approached the Village of Ossining about starting a farmers market.

What was the local agriculture scene like when you started?

Jon: Up until the early seventies, you’d see lots of farmers selling at roadside farm stands. The catalyst for the formation of farmers markets largely came about in protest to Nixon’s Secretary of Agriculture who favored large-scale corporate farming and was pressuring small farms to go big or get out. At that point farmers markets started to spring up in reaction. There were a couple of farmers markets operating in Westchester, with one in Yonkers run by a church and one in New Rochelle, but New York City remained the central focal point.

Why is shopping at your local farmers market important from an environmental standpoint?

Jon: The importance of farmers markets and other venues that sell locally produced food is that it enables agriculture to decentralize. And, from an environmental standpoint and sustainability point of view, decentralization is essential on many levels, from producing lower emissions to ensuring better food safety to providing access to in-season produce. The pandemic really brought to the fore the vulnerabilities in our food supply chain as it all broke down. Decentralization creates a safer, stronger food system with small, local farms as its backbone.

These days, farmers in our region are honing their season extension skills so that they can grow throughout the winter using greenhouses, cold frames, row covers and other technology. These types of advancements make both farming and farmers market shopping in the northeast viable year-round, giving us a reliably sustainable option to commercially grown and industrially produced food.

Is local OR organic food better for you in your estimation?

Jon: Because the local farms at our farmers markets are small scale operations, that automatically means that proportionally they are using less inputs such as chemical spraying. The farmers know that the cost of the chemicals is very high, so they really don’t want to employ them unless they absolutely must. There is an economic incentive for our farmers not to spray in the first place.

Miriam: The main reason I started Down to Earth Markets was to provide access to organic food, which was hard to come by at that time. However, it took about five years to recruit a local farm who was certified organic! Due to our regional microclimate, there are a lot of challenges with 100% organic growing due to the conditions, which promote fungus, especially with fruit such as apples. Instead, a lot of our non-organic farms rely on surveys by Cornell University’s College of Agriculture and Life Sciences to count pests such as the number of insect eggs present on crops to determine whether spraying is necessary in the first place and how much input is needed to fix any issues. With this information, farmers can intervene with as little spraying as possible before the problem escalates. So, if I had to choose between organic and local, I would choose local every time.

What is the role of farmers markets with all that’s currently happening environmentally?

Jon: For our farmers and vendors, these markets are their livelihood! So, there will continue to be a niche for farmers markets, especially as problems like climate change escalate. The demographic of people who shop at our markets want to feel empowered to make a difference and supporting local agriculture and small farms is a way to do that.

Miriam: We are happy to have played our role in getting many Down to Earth markets to the point where they are resilient enough to flourish and move forward.

Over their decades running Down to Earth Markets, Miriam and Jon have started forty farmers markets! Their commitment to the vision of small scale, local food production as a building block of community and environmental sustainability has been unwavering and will continue to guide the Down to Earth team into the future.

#downtoearthmkts #farmersmarket #farmersmarkets #earth month #localfood #organic food #meet the founder #eatdowntoearth #buylocal #shoplocal #eatlocal #agriculture

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brotherbo · 2 years

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Why do I have family in Switzerland?

On Tuesday Sam and I arrived in Milano, Italy, and hopped on a train just over the border into Southern Switzerland to stay at my cousin Romina’s house. Romina’s mother, my great Aunt Tara, and her sister Leila, also live in Lugano and we had the opportunity to hang out with all of them over the past couple days. For Sam it was a first look at Switzerland land and a peak into the variety of lifestyles one can live in here. For myself, an opportunity to connect with family, and hear stories about my roots. Yesterday my Aunt Tara brought over a necklace she envisioned me wearing and gifted it to me. Though I’m not fully sold on the supernatural elements of the minerals and their ‘balancing’ qualities, she emphasized the significance of the places which they’ve come from as a point of connection to my heritage. Check out the necklace in the picture posted above and understand how it came to be that I have family in this beautiful part of the world.

Amber, Hungary – The bulk of the necklace is made from disk-shaped amber which comes from the Balkans. My Great-Grandfather “Albert,” the father of my paternal grandmother, grew up in a town outside of Satu-Mare (present day Romania), called Halmeu. (Satu-Mare is well known as the seat of what is today the largest Hasidic dynasty, with some 30,000 families affiliated. Though today they are primarily in NY.) “Albert,” born “Beilu Holzman” was one of seven children. His first language was Hungarian, though he wouldn’t speak it for many years later on. (When he finally heard about his brother Nahum who had been living in Ramat Aviv and went to visit almost forty years later, Tara reports they spoke to each-other non-stop for days, all in Hungarian.) I believe four of his younger siblings and his parents were slaughtered in the Holocaust - I remember finding their names in the books at Auschwitzs a couple of years ago. In his younger years later he studied in Antwerp, Brussels, to be a diamond cutter. At some point in the 1930’s he left Europe and made his way to America. When he arrived there he was set up with a wife, Stella, and was trained in dentistry (the thought was that his fine handling of diamonds would lend itself to success dealing with teeth.) He and Stella had a child, my Nana Rachel, but not long the second world war began and he was sent off to work in Papua New Guinea as a dentist for the troops stationed there. After coming back he wasn’t interested in continuing the marriage and they got a divorce.

Crystal, Switzerland – The central crystal stone on the necklace is from the Swiss alps. According to my Aunt Tara, after the war was over and Berlin was divided between East and West, my Great Grandfather Albert was sent by the American government to Berlin to spy on the Russians. There he fell in love with a German woman (not Jewish) who was an ice skater turned movie star. She was married to a movie director but left him to be with my Great Grandfather. They had two daughters, Tara and Yvonne, who both grew up in the New Jersey with my Great Grandfather and their mother, Gerti. He worked for a number of years as a stockbroker. Years later they moved back to Europe, finding a home in Zermatt, Switerland, and later moving to Lugano Paradiso. Their daughters came over as well and made a life for themselves here while my Grandmother made her way West to California and married my grandfather Ken. For the first couple years of her life my Nana didn’t know her sisters so much. Because she didn’t grow up with much family aside from that, she cherished her connection to her sisters and has always made an effort to keep in touch. I grew up seeing my great Aunts and their children at family events, they would come spend some time in California here and there, and we would always pop over to visit in Switzerland if we could.

Musing – I am a product of Albert’s life choices and circumstances as much as any other relative of mine from that side, and maintain a relationship with those family members because of it. He is for me, an interesting point of connection to my Jewish heritage maybe moreso than my non-Jewish identifying family see for themselves. (Though my cousin Romina said if she had to choose one religion to learn more about, Judaism would be it.) It’s tough not to wonder how a Jewish man whose family was slaughtered by the Nazis made the choice to marry a non-Jewish German movie star of the 1930’s. According to my Aunt she was “exceptional” in many ways, and when they settled in Lugano she taught history at Franklin College. I would have loved to sit in on one of those classes. I wonder how he would relate to my identity as one that primarily looks to Judaism for wisdom? I was also told that in New Jersey he would attend lectures at the Unitarian church. It seems he was interested in ideas… did he find those in Judaism less compelling than others in the market? Was it simply that he didn’t want to be in any way associated with Yiddishkayt after his family was murdered just for being Jews? Could the circumstances of his life as a Jew born in Halmeu at that time have pushed him to reject the Jewish traditions he received at home? Circumstance heavily shapes the opportunities we have and the choices we make in life, but what compelled him to move to Berlin and spy on the Russians? Did he have a choice? As my father remembers it, he was a European gentleman type, I’m a casually Californian dude. What do I carry of his other than my beloved family here?

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

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Hello El!!

I bring my exchange info for an matchup. If say creepypasta/marblehornets matchup for this.

So my name is Shay, I go by Whiskey because it's a preference in liquor on my end. I go by they/them pronouns, AFAB and I'm bi and omniromantic, I do have an mild preference for men or masc aligned people. I'm a Libra sun, Virgo moon and Aquarius rising. I'm also introvert (INFJ-A) and I'm constantly sleeply. I do have C-PSTD, Bipolar II and GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder).

I'm Caucasian/White and I stand at 5'9. I have celtic and Danish heritage, My family where vikings. I'm really tall and legs double the size of my torso, as in my thighs are as big as my torso in length, same with my calves. I call myself spider legs because of that. I have this natural like wolf cut going on that is this dark green with my roots be my natural dark chocolate brown hair. My eyes are hazel with gold flecks that shift in color which I found out is normal for people with hazel eyes. I paint my nails black a lot because I find the color pleasing. My build wise is like a rectangle like shape with broad shoulders. I'm pretty strong and I'm proud of my strength. I'm currently starting to get into shape and lose weight so I have fit shape but not like over for. Just the right amount of fat over my muscles. I have a lot of stretch marks,, mostly around my waist and my biceps. I call them my stripes or lighting marks. I have plans to get snake bite piercings and wear like the ring ones in them. I'm getting an tattoo soon that is like this and then I want a burning match tattoo on my color bone. My ears are piercing and I like wearing fake gauges, spirals and then the ratings that have the dangly stuff and cuffs with them. I also wear like those stereotypical hot topic chokers. I wear a lot of long sleeves and skinny jeans, I do like ripped skinny jeans. I also love flannels and black boots like doc martins or converse.

I think you can assume by the statement of me liking whiskey I am the rebellious sort which is true. I have drank a bit and tried weed, I don't do it anymore tho.I have been told if people don't know me and see me from afar I'm intimidating to approach. Even being spooky and intimidating, I promise I'm just a big softie. I usually assume the mom friend of the group with my friends. I always worry about them and make sure they take care of themselves. Sometimes I do it so much I forget to take care of myself. I'm really gentle and compassionate, along with being extremely empathetic. I can be stubborn and bit judgemental at times, mostly working off first impressions myself when getting to know each other. I have an hard time being insertive and putting my foot down with my boundaries, scared to lose people even if the hurt me. I'm an introvert through and through, liking to watch from the back and observe the way things go on around me. I do my best to be an optimist because I can't see the point in see everything wrong in this world, it helps me to see the good. I love going on adventures with my close friends and love being a chaotic bastard with them. My dnd alignment is chaotic neutral and I'm Hufflepuff. I do live by the saying do no harm but take no shit. But I won't hesitate to fight someone for the right causes.

I do always constantly look like I am going to funeral of some sort because I own nothing but black. The color makes me feel really comfortable but it's not my favorite color. My favorite color is green but I like sage green, forest green, mossy green, etc. The earthy greens are my favorites. I have a love for the forest and woodlands, finding a sense of home in the woods. I do love archery and something I'm definitely going to be picking up along with playing the drums. I also smoke herbal cigarettes as well as alternative to smoking.

You know that I often get called a cryptid and at this point, I am just one. Cryptidcore, Midwest Gothic, and Pacific Northwest Gothic are my favorite aesthetics. I have a huge love for cryptozoology (the study of cryptids), parapsychology (the psychic phenomena and other paranormal claims), original creepypasta stories and to be honest anything like spooky and creepy. I want to be a mortician and I'm attending school for that. I also really love the dark, especially if I have some good music blasting through my earbuds. I am a sucker for long road trips and seeing things, filling the adventure heart I have. My favorite animals are coyotes and I also like horses. I like to write a lot as well. My favorite cryptids are The Beast of Bray Road, Not Deer, Jersey Devil and Jacklopes.

Thank you so much and I'm so glad I got a chance to reach out to you. It all started with me wanting to send memes to you and being a little 🌲 anon.

Also here is what the tattoo I'm am getting done looks like ↓↓↓

Your matchup is... Jeff!

Sorry this took me a hot minute, I've been out all day! But here's my part of the exchange :}

In general:

Alright, I read this over and just immediately thought about Jeff, mostly because of your personality!! I have so many things I want to get into and want to say though. SO, let's get right into that.

Things he likes about you:

Physically speaking, as that is how I always start, Jeff really, really loves your height and your legs make him fuzzy on the inside. He just loves it SO MUCH. Your hair is gorgeous, and he's never going to stop wanting to run his fingers through it. Whatever color it's dyed as becomes his new favorite, and he loves seeing your natural hair poke through as well. Your eyes are so gorgeous in his opinion and he finds himself getting lost in them. He thinks your nails being painted black is nice because honestly, he's prone to painting his nails black as well. He finds your body so great!! Wants to hold you and loves feeling new muscles when they get built up. Regardless, he just physically adores you. Your stretch marks are also something he adores as well, and he will fondly call them your tiger stripes and admire them in their entirety. He would love your piercings and the tattoo you want to get. Also really, really loves your choice in jewelry. Chokers are hot in his opinion lmfao. Ripped skinny jeans, flannels, black boots, converse!! just everything about your style works so well with him. And your personality!! That slight rebellious edge am slightly intimidating nature??? PLEASE

General cute stuff:

I feel like the two of you are going to spend some evenings in painting nails. Jeff is slightly touch starved and will absolutely run his hands over your body and just adore everything about you. I can also see Jeff working out with you as well!! He will be your number one supporter regardless of what you're going to be doing. He finds it so sweet that you take care of other people. Jeff also understands you being an introvert, because he's kind of the same way. He would absolutely would hang back with you and just exist. He likes observing as well. However, he also can be a bit of a chaotic guy and will go on adventures with you! Scary places, nature, wherever you want, Jeff will go with you. He'll also read up on fun little places and then go with you. He will absolutely get you green things just because he knows that you like that color. Jeff will also take you on walks in the woods, and he'll also let you wear his clothing!! Jeff actually smokes weed semi-regularly, so while you smoke herbal cigarettes, he's going to be lighting up alongside you as long as you're comfortable. He'd probably like the herbal cigarettes as well. Jeff would love to hear about your love of cryptozoology! He's met so many beings in his life that fit that that he'd just go buck wild being able to tell you about his stories and experiences as well. Parapsychology is also something he'd love to listen from you. He finds you going into the mortician business so incredible, and that you like the dark. Your music?? Please share that with him!!

You two as a couple:

Jeff knows that you are intimidating but so, so sweet. He finds you so admirable and honestly, he needs that kind of caring, loving influence in his life. He finds you being the mom friend of your group super fun and while he's not a dad friend, definitely loves saying things to remind all of your shared 'kids' to listen to you. He wants you to take care of yourself!! He wants you to be kind to yourself!! You being stubborn is something he understands because honestly he can be stubborn. Judgmental? He gets it but honestly might challenge the notion from time to time. He will remind you about boundaries and how important it is to set them. Time to time, he may step in just to help you out. He will also remind you to be assertive, mostly because he would hate to see anyone take advantage of you. Jeff will read up on C-PTSD, Bipolar II, and your anxiety simply so he can be more prepared to help you in any way he can. He deals with some things himself, but he doesn't always know how to handle others. So, he would definitely read up for you and end up becoming your rock when you need it. Honestly, just let him take care of you in his own way. Rough around the edges?? Absolutely. But he's so soft for you. He will help you in any way he can, whether it be weathering the bad days and loving the good ones. Let him adore you.

Closing Thoughts/Other Things:

Hi love bug, or as I will often fondly refer to you as, Dr. Cryptid! I was so happy to read all of this about you. Thank you so so much for sending this in and once again doing mine! I loved reading all about it, and I love talking with you. Thank you so much for that lil pine tree emoji and memes. Also, please take care of yourself!! There's only one of you in the universe and it's so important to love and cherish yourself. It's always okay to say no or know when to bail. Never take care of so many people that you leave all your energy with them and none for yourself. I look forward to our future convos and just friendship in general. As always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed!

#jeff the killer #jeff the killer headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta matchup #matchup #jeff the killer x reader

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years

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The Pit or Talking and Punching

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Damien makes Kirby pursue Roddy through making promos on him.

Kirby's POV:

The week went by quite quickly, when I woke up on Saturday I heard Rod going over things that he would say in a promo.

"Morning, Rod."

"Oh, well Good morning, beautiful."

"What are ya doing?"

"Going over my introduction to Piper's Pit, I'm filming it later so I thought I'd go over it now."

"Wait, you have your own interview segment?"

"Yeah. Honey, do you mind if I embellish facts a little?"

"It depends on what you say, but I see no harm in it."

"Thanks baby. C'mere sweetheart."

He walked over to me, straddling my lap and leaning down into a passionate kiss, pulling away when air became a necessity.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, Rod."

"I want you to come watch the interview later."

"I'll come with you if you want."

"Let's go get coffee, or breakfast," Rod got back up and helped me to my feet, "Holy shit."

"What?"

"Even when you've just woken up, ya so fucking beautiful."

"Thank you, you sexy little Scottish warrior."

"You Welsh rose, c'mere."

He pulled me down into a kiss, biting my lower lip and backing me against the wall, before we both realised what we were doing and sorting ourselves out.

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away."

"Don't worry, Kirbs, I got a bit hot there too."

I did my morning routine and followed Roddy to the D200, we stopped and grabbed some coffee before continuing to the taping. I saw Damien and he managed to talk me into cutting a promo on Piper.

"Rodz wasn't enough to stop me. Next Monday I will prove, in Edison, New Jersey that S.D Jones isn't enough to stop me. After that I'll be making my way towards the one person who needs to put their money where their mouth is. PIPER!" I took an exaggerated breath in, "Piper, you said that if I want a challenge than you'll be happy to oblige and I know that you have the guts to back it up, but do you have the STRATEGY or LOGIC to prove yourself better than ME! I DON'T CARE IF YOU SEND SCHULTZ OR ORNDORFF IN BEFORE YOU!" I took another breath in before whispering into the mic, "Just know that I'll be waiting Piper, waiting and watching from the shadows. If I have to destroy every other man or giant in the WWF before I get to you, I will Piper. Trust in me, that I will consume your soul and make you just another carcass lying broken and defeated on the mat, your blood will be mine."

I went up to Damien after doing the promo and he asked if I wanted to do another prom after my match and I agreed. Sunday went by as did most of Monday, including my match against S.D Jones, which I won after hitting him with the Cheshire Grin. I headed backstage before I was put in front of cameras and handed a microphone by Gene who quickly stepped away.

"I told you, Piper. I told you. Rodz, no challenge. S.D Jones, no challenge. Put your money where your big, loud mouth is boyo. PROVE TO THE WORLD THAT YOU ARE A MAN AND NOT A BOY, PIPER!" I took a deep breath in and got closer to the camera and mic to whisper the next line, "Prove to me that you are no coward," I backed off slightly, "Prove IT! NEXT FRIDAY, BINGHAMTON, NEW YORK! I FACE GEORGE 'THE ANIMAL' STEELE!" I went back to whispering, "Steele, you may be an animal, but you are no match for a hellhound. I will rend you limb from limb. I will have your blood and I will eat you alive."

Another week went by and on the Friday I won against Steele and had to do another promo on who my next 'victim' will be to intimidate Piper into hopefully making a promo to combat my efforts, seeing as the last two threats went unanswered.

"Another week, another victim, Piper, and still no answer. I DON'T DO THIS OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF MY HEART! I thought I had made that clear enough, boyo. I know what you're gonna do now, you're gonna go talk to your friends, Orndorff and Schultz and you're gonna get somebody to protect you, maybe Big John Studd, perhaps? Hmm? A giant to protect you against a giantess, seems almost poetic to me. PIPER! I CALL YOU OUT AS YOU HAVEN'T REPLIED TO MY THREATS YET! But I know you've heard them. I know because I hear you talking to Schultz and Orndorff. This Tuesday, Allentown, Pennsylvania. Me vs Steve Lombardi. Good luck Mr Lombardi, try not to bleed to death."

Yet again another weekend came and went with Piper doing two different Pit tapings. I won against Lombardi and did another promo on Piper. I was given a rose with the thorns cut off to make sure I didn't prick myself during the promo.

"Valentine's Day. The perfect day to eat the heart of your mortal enemy. PIPER! Oh Piper, do you know what I'd like to do to you. I'd like to meet you, face to face and then RIP YOUR HEART OUT OF YOUR CHEST AND WATCH AS IT BEATS IN MY HANDS! I jest, I kid, I know that a man of your heritage must have a hard time getting American women to fall at your feet and beg to see what's under the kilt. Tomorrow, I will be hunting you down and only you until you answer my call to action. Anyone who gets in my way is just another feast of the flesh to wet my appetite for your blood. Talk is so cheap when it comes out of the mouth of a man like you."

I went back to the hotel that night alone, Piper was out with Schultz and Orndorff. Opening the door I saw the bouquet of orange flowers and the box of chocolates next to the pink Valentine's day card covered in black hearts. 'Forever & Always I will love you. Roddy.' He's such a charmer.

"Do ya like it."

I gasped, clutching the card to my chest and spinning around to face him.

"I thought you were with the boys."

"Like I'd miss the chance to spend Valentine's day with my baby."

He pulled me into a kiss, passionate and slow, curving his left hand against my cheek and his right hand against the outside of my thigh. I leant into the kiss, biting his lower lip and holding his jaw in my hands.

"I'm sorry about the promos."

"It's fine baby, just be with me right now, alright."

"Alright."

I leant back into the kiss as Rod started backing me towards the closed bathroom door, kissing me and slipping his tongue into my mouth before shifting his focus to kissing my neck and nipping at my flesh. The rest of the night was a blur of passionate romance.

When I woke up the next morning, Rod's body was on top of mine and I could feel his flesh pressed against mine, both of us completely nude.

"Roddy." I whispered, trying to wake him

He stirred with a 'hmm' and eventually rolled off of me, getting up and going to the shower. As he showered I did my usual morning routine.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, Rod."

"I'm gonna start looking for a place to call our own, do you have anything ya want."

He got out of the shower and dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and his arms around mine, pulling me towards him, flesh to flesh, chest to bosom, his shorter frame allowing him to nip at my collarbones with small kisses, making sure to leave his mark.

"Some place away from people, but not too far away. Enough rooms for a big family, be that kids or if friends stay over. The potential for I dunno, a pool or an outdoor or indoor gym."

Rod managed to push me backwards out of the room and towards the double bed, pushing me down and walking off to get dressed.

"One of the rooms has to be a nursery of course." I mumbled out, just loud enough for him to hear.

He stopped midway through putting on his sporran, his back still turned to me.

"You mention kids once more and I'm marrying ya and putting a baby in ya. One more mention of children lass."

I decided to tease him, "Alright. Children. Toddlers. Babies. Pacifiers. Strollers," I could tell he was getting irritated and knowing that Rod could go off the deep end at any moment I stupidly continued, "Rod, I am the youngest of my cousins. I was three when my parents married. I went to all my cousins weddings. I was there when every one of them with kids had their first child. Do you think I like being alone forever? Roddy Piper, turn around and talk to me. I feel like a fucking outcast to my own family because I am alone, the tallest and the youngest but I am the only one who left their homeland to pursue a career. Roderick would you just fucking face me and tell me I'm not just a human sex toy to y-"

He cut me off with a rough but incredibly passionate kiss, pushing me against the wall next to the hotel room door, raising my left leg with his right hand and intertwining his left with my long, blonde hair. He managed to slip his tongue into my mouth and grinding his groin against mine, almost hungrily, grunting and growling like an animal, tears soon pricking the corners of his eyes as he pulled away.

"Fuck," He kicked his suitcase along the floor, "I can't take this, I can't take knowing that I make you feel so bad every time I wanna have sex with you. I want to be with you because I love you, I don't want to lose you or walk away from us but, I don't want to hurt you."

"Rod, my Mam gave me something to give to you," I walked over to my suitcase, grabbing a tiny black box and approaching him.

"What's that?"

"A silver ring." I admitted, blushing heavily

"A wedding band? Are you proposing to me?"

"No…"

"I'm never gonna remove this and you know this," He said, putting it on his left ring finger.

"I mean, ya don't have to wear it if ya don't want to." I sheepishly replied, covering my face with my left hand.

"You are bright red right now, Kirbs. Ya so fucking cute, c'mere," He pulled me down onto his lap, gently placing a kiss on my lips, "I would say that, this ring means we're engaged."

"Rod, ya don't have to-"

He cut me off with another kiss, "I'm only suggesting it, I've still gotta propose to you to make sure we ain't leaving each other, ya dafty."

"Roddy, I'd never leave you."

"Kirby, I'm still gonna propose to ya, ya not stopping me from doing it."

We split, with Rod going off to work and me stopping by to make another promo on the Rowdy one.

"Piper, I extend to you the potential to cut a deal here, boyo. If you manage Studd, I will revoke this offer, BUT, I OFFER YOU, PIPER, I offer you this one deal right here and now, I have heard what you say about me when the cameras aren't rolling, how would you like to make those words mean something? PIPER! I offer you A once in a lifetime deal. JUST for you and ONLY YOU! I offer you the chance to unmask the giantess, yes, you AND ONLY YOU, PIPER, will be allowed to remove my mask but only if I am allowed to mend whatever bridge I burnt when I called your talk cheap. I was wrong, you are smart, Piper, but put your money where your mouth is and answer me. Do you wish to take my deal, yes or no?"

By the end of the month I had seen less and less of Rod, every night he would call me and tell me he was 'sorting things out' and to 'wait and see'. We would travel together from show to show, usually with me driving and Rod sleeping next to me, until the night of the twenty-sixth of the February, Piper made us take a red eye flight out to Salem Oregon. We ended up sleeping in a motel that night. Piper woke me up at six in the morning.

"Honey, I need to tell ya something."

"Something good or something bad?"

"That depends," he chucked a pamphlet of some sort over to me, "What do you think of Oregon?"

"It's nice, quaint and quiet, very square buildings though."

"So ya like it."

I mumbled out a 'yeah' as I looked over the pamphlet, 'Welcome to Salem', judging by the contents of it, Rod wasn't just looking for us to spend a day's holiday here.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, my love."

"You wouldn't mind moving here, would ya?"

I stopped momentarily, locking eyes with the mad Scottish brute and realised he wasn't joking.

"I love you," The words escaped my lips, my excitement to much to contain, "Oh my God, Rod you're the best person in the universe, When do we move in and where's the house?"

"You said you wanted away from people, I got us a small place off the beaten track, I've already looked around it and paid for it, we've just gotta go get the keys from the previous owners and the house is ours."

END OF THE PIT or TALKING AND PUNCHING

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians

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mhdiaries · 4 years

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Wave 2 Frankie Stein Diary

The 15th day of September

Watzit got into big trouble today while I was at school. Somehow, he got into dad’s lab and snuck out with apart from one of dad’s projects. Good thing mom was looking out the window and saw Watzit trying to bury it. Dad was still pretty amped up by the time I got home. “That animal is too smart for its own good – I’ve got a good mind to replace its brain with a sheep’s or one from a soft sciences professor.” I think Watzit just misses me when I’m at school so I’m going to start getting up extra early to take him for a longer walk before I leave. Hopefully that will help – otherwise I’m going to have to kennel him during the day = (.

The 24th day of September

I used to think that being the “new girl” was the hardest thing about going to school but now I’m thinking that being the “not so new girl” is kinda hard too. When I was the new girl and I did something dumb everybody said, “You’re new – don’t be so hard on yourself – you’ll get the hang of it.” My friends have also done a lot of things for me, which is good and bad. Good because it kept me from embarrassing myself, and bad because there are some things I didn’t learn to do on my own and now everybody expects me to know those things and when I mess something up that I should know it’s like really, really embarrassing. Like I never really paid much attention to where my classrooms were when I started at MH – total brain short on my part I know – but it was just easier to follow Draculaura or Clawdeen and because they always insisted on showing me around I didn’t really learn they layout of the school. So yesterday we were on our way to class when I totally got caught up in a zombie flash mob and when I finally got away, I was in a part of the school I didn’t recognize and totally lost. I thought if I peeked into one of the classrooms that maybe a teacher could help me. I saw this big iron door and was about to open it when somebody behind me said, “That wouldn’t be a good idea.” I nearly jumped out of my stitches. It was Spectra Vondergeist. She said, “Oh, it looks like I frightened you… good.” Then she pointed to a sign above the door that read, Basement Levels, “Now unless you have a ball of twine or a Minotaur in your pocket you probably don’t want to go down there – follow me.” I followed her down the hallways listening to her stories about MH. They were all interesting but they kind of all were starring her. She did get me back to class though which was really nice of her. Of course, I was really late, and the teacher wanted to know where I had been – I said I got lost, the whole class laughed, and I got detention because the teacher thought I was giving her attitude. After class Ghoulia showed me how to GPS all my classes with my iCoffin so it wouldn’t happen again – oh well, just another lesson for the “not so new girl anymore.”

The 25th day of September

I went to breakfast with my dad this morning, which was scary fun although I didn’t think it was going to be at first. See, he goes to the same die-ner every Saturday morning and has breakfast with the same group of monsters and mad scientists. Mom said he’s been doing it for years. I asked her if she ever went and she just laughed. “I don’t take your father with me to shop for shoes and he doesn’t take me when he gets together with his friends to solve all of the world’s problems.” “Why not?” I asked. Mom gave me a hug and said, “Because my love, there are times when practical advice can just take all the fun out of life.” Then from behind us I heard dad say, “Unless it comes from your parents and then it is to be heeded at all costs.” Then Dad rushed us out the door because he wanted to make sure we got there before the banana scary pancakes ran out. I said, “I’m not a little girl dad, I can eat grown up food you know.” “Of course, you can my dear, but who said I was thinking about you?” Dad’s friends turned out to be really nice and pretty funny for a bunch of monster geeks especially when they started telling stories about dad ;). I could see that they all really like him though and since my dad has a very self-decapitating sense of humor it made the time totally fun. I don’t think I’d want to get up early every Saturday morning but I’m glad I got to see that my dad can be a regular monster too. Hey, who knew? Oh, and the banana scary pancakes? Definitely worth getting there early for.

The 1st day of October

My stitches are still coming loose at exactly the wrong time. Dad ordered some special monstertanium thread that he said was stronger than dragon’s breath and would totally fix the problem. Yeah – not so much. I was standing on a ladder in the gym helping Draculaura hang up a banner for this week’s pep rally when Clawd and some of the football team walked through wearing their game day jerseys. One of the guys on the team is a gargoyle from Scotland who has the dreamiest accent and the most scary handsome crystal grey eyes. I said hi to everybody by name but when I got to him, I totally blanked. I just stood there absolutely mortalfied and finally called him by her jersey number… “7” … lame I know… but then the rest of the guys started teasing him and I got so anxious that my arm fell and then the rest of me fell too. I don’t know how he did it but somehow “7” caught both my arm and me. All the guys started clapping and Clawd said, “How come you don’t catch like that at practice?” “7” was talking to Clawd but looking at me when he said, “If the passes ye threw were as pretty as this lass, I’d nay drop another.” At least that’s what Draculaura said he said. I don’t remember anything after I feel off the ladder except strong arms and crystal grey eyes.

The 7th day of October

Fear Squad practice was terrible today. Cleo was totally impossible to please, and we started and stopped several times before she finally just cancelled practice altogether. Then at lunch Purrsephone, Meowlody and Toralei were all saying that it was because of the blowup that Clawd had with Spectra and the rumor was that Cleo was going to break up with Deuce, Deuce was going to start dating Operetta and Clawd was definitely back in the picture with Cleo. I was really bummed cause they’re all my friends and I didn’t want to have to take sides. I saw Lagoona later and asked her what she thought about the rumors. She asked me who was spreading them and when I told her she just laughed and said, “Not every seagull that yabbers has found a fish.” Coming from Lagoona that somehow made me feel better, confused but better.

The 12th day of October

Monster Heritage Essay by Frankie Stein

That’s all I’ve written so far but I’m really excited about the assignment cause I’m going to get to learn so much scary cool stuff about my classmates. I thought that for part of my heritage research I would read that book that was written about my parents, but I couldn’t find a copy of it in the house. I asked mom why and she said the author had taken, “certain liberties with the truth” but if I wanted to check out a copy from the library, she would be happy to answer any questions I had. When I asked dad about the book, he used an expression I’d never heard before, but I guess mom had because she made that noise in the back of her throat that means some monster is in trouble. Dad hung his head and looked kind of creepish for a bit until mom stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. I don’t need to read a book to find out about my monster heritage. I get to see it every day – how scary cool is that?

The 16th day of October

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed we were planning to have the scary best dance ever until an evil teacher cancelled it and we had to have the dance in a secret location under the school. Everything was going as planned when this strange monster in a shiny suit with lots of hair appeared and started yelling that this was his dream and we were going to start over. I totally jumped into another dream but the only think I remember from that one was the intense feeling of being a stranger. It must have been stressful though cause when I woke up, I was upside down and one of my arms had fallen off. No more ghost chili pizza for me before bed.

The 24th day of October

I met a new ghoul today! At least new to me = ) Her name is Abbey Bominable and I think she’s really sweet even if she does take a bit to warm up to. Anyway we were waiting in line together at the creepateria and she was asking the lunch ladies to explain what was in the food. The line started to back up and some monsters were yelling at her to hurry up. I think she was starting to get frustrated so I told her to go with the screechza since it was pretty easy to recognize most of the stuff they put on it. She gave me a look so serious that I thought I had said something I shouldn’t have but then she smiled and thanked me. We sat together and I learned that she lives in the mountains about the school, loves to snowboard and that her first language is Yetish. She said she could understand what was being said most of the time but that the slang kept tripping her up because it was hard not to take everything literally. I told her that sometimes I still did the same thing. Then I told her that I would help her with her slang if she would teach me how to snowboard. She thought for a moment and then said, “I think that would be the cool that is scary.” Hehe I bet she learns slang faster than I learn to snowboard = ).

#monster high #monster high diary #frankie stein #wave 2

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2telluthetruth · 3 years

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before i watch some shit i gotta know how the story ends. if not, ima critically analyze the whole movie until i figures it... it usually takes me 30 minutes to figure out the whole plot but that’s besides the point. knowing the ending of a movie allows me to pay attention to alll the little things leading up to the end. the directors choice in lighting, the way that certain actor did a certain movement to portray a certain feeling, setting, like camera work, basically everything i just the last 4 years of my life studying get applied to my enjoyment of a film.

I wish life was like that... you get to like google how it all ends for you. like what will happen in your life all the way to the end. you can always have what you envisioned for yourself, your plan, your schedule of things but then life has a funny way of letting you know that shit happens. and you learn whatever it is you need to from that incident, apply the lesson, and keep going. it’s actually pretty simple. like looking both ways before you cross the street and still almost getting hit by a car because a person felt the need to speed thru an intersection because maybe he had a family emergency or he had too much to drink. regardless life will thro curveballs, ain’t that fucked up? like bitch. lemme read my book of life so i can move accordingly. but i guess that’s not fun anyways because God would just tell us what to do and there would be no free will. and we all know how people hate being told what to do with there life from a higher up lmao

....but idk none of this shit really applies to me. I guess I’ll just share my testimony here since I'm only people who really give a fuck about me would give a fuck about this post. ( Which i recently found out is ME, i’m the only person who opinions/decisons matter when it comes to me life)

SO HERE IT GOES

Since a child, I always knew i was going to be a very wealthy person. I’m smarter than my peers, i’m stronger than my peers, and way more wiser than most of people i meet. It’s very rare I met a person who’s intellect is as diverse as mine in terms of emotional knowledge and regular book smart shit. Like i’m sort of a hood intellectual, but like different because my Dad is a foreigner who comes from i guess what you would call a decent background, My grandfather was an engineer in Germany lmao. Like wtf. That’s very hard to do. Them mfs got some history of disrcrimnation if you know what I mean. And another ancestor of mine on my father side was adopted by the priest of a missionary because he was so smart, hence why my last name has french origins. and you know what i found out this year during my research dives on the different religions in the world..

There is a Saint in the catholic religion named St. Malo and his birthday is the same birthday as mine. He’s french as well. LMAO SO like i said I AM BUILT DIFFERENT. But that’s not what i really wanted to go talk about so let’s talk about how I’ve always knew I am dying a extremely rich woman. First of my name type shit.

So yeah.

I LOVE PERFORMING AND PUTTING ON A SHOW OKAY! SINCE BIRTH!

I’m not even dramatic. I remember dancing in front of my family all the time. Ask my auntie teena and she’d tell ya I would dance in front of anybody at any place in a drop of a dime. There’s literal footage of me dancing at every function at BayBay (Vivian) house. Lmao I still dance with all my family members at the bbqs I attend. Dancing really is my shit.

Singing is too.

I remember going to church with my daddy, some spot in LA/ the Jamaican jawn with uncle Jerry, and singing “Because of who you are” in front of everybody. No fucks given, And i kid you not I felt the holy ghost. That’s the best feeling in the world. Happened to me a couple times but I’ll tell ya bout it later some day when it matters. i remember one time coming home and singing and HITTING THAT HIGH PITCH ASS MARIAH CAREY NOTE! ( we got the same birthday too)

and i always loved music. the only time i didn’t cry was in my daddy cars listening to the reggae and bass booming thru the fucking trunk.

During school I remember performing all the time. School plays, I got the lead role. School assembly, I’m putting on a show. Shit even for my 5th graduation I choreographed the whole MJ we are the world dance routine. Lol for hispanic heritage month I always was the girl who had the authentic skirt for the folklore dance. it was black and red. Very pretty. Mrs. Sanchez was enamored with me girl. She was like your the star you gone be centerstage in the middle only black girl while everyone else wonder why your on stage lmao. We were so good we entered a competition and got a trophy.

Basketball was fun. I do not like team sports so that ain’t work out. Plus i think i suck. Well I couldn’t have been that bad because in middle school I made the All City team. I didn’t play because my hair wasn’t done I kept the jersey though LMAO. They was hot. HS was whatever. Lowkey only did it because of the niggas and cheer was boring/got too intense for me. I had commitment issues back then like crazy lmao.

Track was fun too. Made championships when I ran. Heart really wasn’t into to it if I’m keeping it G-Real. Didn’t fuck with the track meets plus the girls on the team hated me. I was always with the guys but the weren’t like the guys i hung out with all the time. them niggas was squares, homeschooled and all that. i hung out with delinquents lmao. Shit they always more fun. I know why Jesus hung out with the sinners mmkay. They loyal and know how to have a good time.

In middle school, I won a poetry contest about this poem I had about being a tree and not falling despite what happens. I also got like award for being the top 3% of scoring in the whole district a couple times. Moms got me a iPod touch lmao.

High school ASB President, got accepted into more than 20+ colleges, in AVID. Cheer team. Basketball team. My drama Teacher, Mrs. Borek called me the baby Viola Davis. I directed and produced my own play lol. Boy, when I graduated I was on stage with admin and faculty.

But anyways overall,

I’ve always been the cream of the crop in any arena I apply myself. And I’ve never ever experienced a situation where I’ve been down bad that I didn’t plot and maneuver my way out of it (besides the shit that happened this year 2020 but i’ll give my 2020 review later ). I’m continuously blessed. Even when I shouldn’t be.

In elementary, I could’ve caught a case because I punched this boy in the head and he hit the tetherball pole then the floor. Buddy was knotted up lmao

In elementary school during after school day care I banged this girl head on the table and a pole lmao.

In the carmelitos i gave this girl the business at auntie meanies house. Abri said beat her ass so I did. Trust me daddy, I’m always on go lmao. Her family was from some type of hood. They ain’t retaliate.

Middle school I was beating boys up after school never got in trouble. LMAO None of the girls wanted to fight with they scary ass.

High school I did the dumbest shit freshman year but didn’t get suspended. \bro i’m tired. i’ll tell the rest later. but closing statement life’s a gamble for people who don’ t know the code. once you figure out your role play to the best of your ability and pray to God to constantly look out for you. * 4:48

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chsamuseum · 3 years

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Quarantine Communities: My Foray into Twitch

My view of Twitch’s Homepage. (Courtesy of Kimberly Szeto)

Some may see the COVID-19 quarantine era as one of the toughest times for them; I have too. I have definitely gone crazy from the quarantine anxiety at home over the past year. But instead of seeing this in a negative light, I have taken this year as a time for me to grow, since I have gotten the chance to finally sit back and think about what I want to do in the future, especially after graduating from college last June.

In this digital age, people have been finding new ways to express themselves and to bring people together, and so have I. After years of watching other people create content on various platforms -- everything from YouTube, Facebook, Snapchat, etc.-- I finally made a Twitch, a streaming platform used by gamers and non-gamers alike. At first, it was to watch one of my favorite YouTubers, who had become a Twitch streamer to continue creating content in quarantine. Little did I know that I would stumble upon a wonderful community of study and co-work streamers after hitting it off with someone in my favorite streamer’s Twitch chat.

I am normally a pretty extroverted, social person, so for me, these streamers and viewers were a source of the comfort and social interaction I was craving. I have found a home with this supportive community, and they really have helped me to cope during the craziness of quarantining and not being able to go out and go about my normal life. This community even motivated me to stream as a hobby to spread the same love, encouragement, and support I received to my viewers.

Twitch has allowed me to connect with a network of an English-speaking Asian community around the globe. To me, this spans beyond the Chinese-American diaspora and brought me into a new world of connecting with people I never imagined I would meet. On Twitch, I was even able to find an ever-growing community of Cantonese speakers from around the world, from places like the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, and Hong Kong, which was a wonderful surprise and blessing. None of this would have been possible if not for the advances of technology and the extra time on my hands from quarantine.

Finding this community hit a particular chord in me because I have been trying to find ways to reach back to my own roots as a Chinese-American and an Asian-American. I grew up in a small town in New Jersey that did not have a large Asian community. Like many others in my shoes, I struggled with reconciling my Chinese and American identities when I was growing up. There was no safe space for me to explore my Chinese culture, and at times, I even pushed it away. I found myself having an identity crisis -- I genuinely enjoyed celebrating Chinese holidays, eating the food my grandmother cooked, and learning more about the famous Chinese dynasties. Yet, I was also embarrassed by my family at times when we were out in public, for fear of judgement from other people because we did not look or sound like them.

In high school, my family moved across the country to the San Francisco Bay Area in California, where I noticed there were more people who looked like me and talked like me. Encouraged by familiarity, I embraced my heritage and culture. I put more time into learning Chinese, both Cantonese and Mandarin, and consumed much more popular culture content from Asia, such as music, dramas, TV shows, radio, etc. I particularly desired to know more about my family history, which led me to pursue a B.A. in History with a concentration in East Asia and the Islamic World. In college, not only was I able to learn about Chinese history, I was able to learn more about Hong Kong and its people and culture; this is the very place my parents grew up and constantly reminisce about. And now, looking back to my childhood, I regret the times I struggled to interact and communicate with my grandparents with my limited Cantonese. I regret the times I told my parents I wanted to listen to Disney music instead of their 80s Hong Kong bops because now, those Cantopop songs are the exact tunes that get me through the day and put me to sleep at night.

But now if you were to ask who I was, I would say that I am Hong Kongese-American. My Cantonese has improved a lot. My go-to foods are dim sum, a Hong Kong style milk tea, and a Portuguese egg tart. I have finally accepted and come to terms with my heritage and culture, and Twitch has only helped me explore that heritage with other people who know and love it.

Catch some of my cute Twitch emotes such as me: 1) fangirling with an “add oil” -- an expression of encouragement and support -- banner, 2) sipping on some Hong Kong style milk tea and 3) happily eating a Portuguese egg tart. (Courtesy of Kimberly Szeto).

Accidentally stumbling in this Twitch rabbit hole has helped me connect with other people who have similar identities, backgrounds, and interests. I am not an avid gamer, but I was still able to find a community on Twitch where I stream myself co-working, playing games, and just chatting. At the end of the day, instead of feeling disconnected like you would expect from quarantining, now more than ever, I feel more connected with people, as well as my own culture and heritage.

Now, in light of recent events of the rise in attacks and hate crimes against the Asian community worldwide, it has been especially encouraging to see a community of Asian voices and supporters stand up to the racism and discrimination that has always been embedded in American society. These voices have grown stronger and stronger both in the wider community and on Twitch as well. The Asian American community on Twitch has spoken out about the violence and found ways to support the community, such as running charity streams where the donations will go to Asian American support funds.

In such a dark time, Twitch has become another place where we can stand up, break out of the model minority myth, and take the next step in engaging in uncomfortable discussions about racism. And for many of us, myself included, it has become our chance to rise up and stand with the community.

You may follow me and my Twitch adventures where I keep you company as I play some of my favorites jams, chat, co-work, and play some games...and maybe catch me singing.

My Twitch Recommendations:

JustHagan: Hong Kongese-Canadian variety streamer (mainly Kpop content and some games) -- the very YouTuber turned Twitch streamer who got me down the Twitch rabbit hole.

StudywithTiny: Chinese-Canadian variety streamer (mainly studies Korean and sings in English/Korean/French) -- the lovely madam I met in justhagan’s stream.

ahJingTries: Chinese-British study streamer (mainly studies Korean) -- whom I have gotten to know through StudyWithTiny.

camibasket: Chinese-American variety streamer (mainly plays Tetris).

jakuwwu: Chinese-American variety streamer (mainly games and chatting).

ckypiano_: Hong Konger who sings and plays nice light jams (music streamer).

vyctoryyy: Korean-American singing streamer.

seihyuni: Korean-American variety streamer (mainly coworking and singing streams).

HiJohnsies: Korean-American variety streamer (mainly singing streams).

cheap_vegetable: Filipino-American variety streamer (mainly singing streams).

horangsoon: Okinawan-Brazilian variety streamer (chill vibes study and chatting streams).

cynzyy: Chinese-Canadian variety streamer (mainly study streams)

Written by CHSA’s Education and Programs Intern Kimberly Szeto. Kimberly is a recent graduate of UC Santa Cruz with a bachelor’s in history and technology and information management with interests in journalism and international relations.

#CHSA #chsacomcon #community connections #twitch #online community #streaming #culture #heritage #quarantine

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notyourpapashockey · 4 years

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Hispanic Heritage Month Fan Highlight: Elan Lozano

NOTE FROM NOT YOUR PAPA’S HOCKEY: SOME PEOPLE DECLINED TO SHARE LAST NAMES, TWITTER HANDLES AND/OR PERSONAL PICTURES. WE RESPECT THEIR RIGHT TO PRIVACY, AND WE HOPE OUR READERS DO AS WELL. WE HAVE NOT EDITED ANSWERS ASIDE FROM SLIGHT SPELLING ERRORS AND ADDED CLARIFICATION.

Not Your Papa’s (NYP): Tell me a little about yourself - name, pronouns, where you're from, fun fact if you want, etc!

Elan (E): My name is Elan Lozano, I am a 29 year old Mexican-American male from Saint Paul, Minnesota. I am not only an extremely huge hockey fan, but I am a musician as well. I play the drums, a little bit of guitar and work at a music shop as well. I have a hockey jersey collection that is currently up to 20, but most likely will be more by the time this article will come out.

NYP: Who is your team (or teams)?

E: Minnesota Wild all the way!

NYP: Who is your favorite player and why?

E: Matt Dumba, no question. He’s the definition of a true leader in my opinion. He is always the first guy to help the younger guys get acclimated to the team. He is always there to pick up his teammates when they are hurt and the first to stick up for his teammates in a scrum or a fight. He is also finally getting recognized for it with his King Clancy Award this year, but he is an extremely huge community leader. He is always donating his time to multiple programs, charities and even strangers since the first day he arrived in Minnesota. He has done a ton of work with the ACES program and it is amazing to see. He has also donated money to help rebuild Minneapolis and for Black Lives Matter. It still boggles my mind that he has not been considered an option as a potential team captain when Mikko Koivu retires.

As a player, when he is on, the Wild are on as well. He’s a player that very much can dictate where the team can go. Plus, he has one of the best one timers I have ever seen. He has an absolute bomb of a slapshot! I honestly think if he did not get hurt halfway through last season, we would be talking about Matt Dumba across the league a lot more as one of the top offensive defenseman in the NHL. I have all the confidence that he will be able to turn back around and become the 20-30 goal scorer he looked like he was going to be before he was injured.

NYP: How long have you been a hockey fan and how did you get into hockey?

E: For as long as I can remember. I would guess around 6 or 7, so 22 or 23 years. All I remember was seeing The Mighty Ducks as a kid and being hooked! I mean, it was a movie that was filmed in my hometown. It was like it was meant to be. As far as NHL hockey, it easily has to be the 1999 Stanley Cup Finals. I just remember Dominik Hasek being an absolute madman in the net and making some of the craziest saves I have ever seen. Still, to this day, it amazes me how he made some of the saves he did. In my opinion, Dominik Hasek in his prime was the best goaltender to ever play the game. He almost single handedly won the Sabers a Cup. Shoutout to The Dominator. Still is one of my favorite players of all time.

NYP: What do you like the most about hockey?

E: This is [a] tough question. I do not know if I can pick just one, but one of the things I love most about the sport is the fact that an underdog can win on any given night, and I do not think you can say that about any other sport really. Especially, in the playoffs. How many other sports leagues can say that an 8th seed has a shot at winning their league’s championship if they are able to make the playoffs and get hot at the right time? Not many, if any at all. The feeling of anything can happen is just pure amazing.

Another thing I love about the sport is the passion of anyone who is involved or surrounded by the game itself. The players, the announcers, the writers and the fans. We all live and die with our teams. The players leave it all out on the ice. The fact that a player can get as big of a cheer for blocking a shot as they can for scoring a goal tells you all you need to know about the passion the players and the fans have for the game and for each other.

NYP: How has being Hispanic/Latinx in a white-male centric fan community affected your relationship with the sport?

E: My experience with the sport has been positive for the most part, but there are moments where things have not been so positive. I remember growing up and saying my favorite sport is hockey. You would have kids make comments like, “But, you’re Mexican.” I never took those kids as meaning anything hurtful by it. Most of the time, they thought it was cool that I was Mexican and liked hockey, but I learned quickly at a very young age that there was not a lot of Latinx representation in the sport and that has always disappointed me.

It is growing. Slowly, but it is growing. I always looked up to Scott Gomez and would do reports in school on him as much as I could because he was an inspiration to me. It is amazing to see that we have a Latinx GM for the Minnesota Wild in Bill Guerin. It is amazing to see Alex Meruelo as the first Latinx owner in the NHL. I cannot tell you how exciting it was to see Auston Matthews go First Overall in the NHL Draft. There was such a high sense of pride for me seeing a Latinx player go first overall and especially to arguably the biggest hockey market in the world AND be their star player.

The more negative experiences I have had have more come from looks or getting the feeling someone is talking about you because you are different. When I have been at the local bars surrounding Xcel Energy Center grabbing food and beer before a game, there are a few times I will get looks or get the feeling someone has been talking about me. It has happened at the arena a few times as well. I never let it bother me much because I am not going to allow someone to ruin my good time and waste the hard earned money I spent on my ticket to the game, but at the same time, I am human.

I can only deal with so much before I want to say something. I usually never do because, for one, I am usually alone and two, I am a Person of Color by myself at a hockey game. I would like to think a majority of the fans would have my back in helping defend me against racism, but I always get the feeling security or the cops at the arena would take the other person’s side if I did ever speak up. The worst part is I am a Season Ticket Holder and I still feel like very few people would have my back to support me.

NYP: What do you wish you could see from teams or players when it comes to Hispanic Heritage - especially teams in areas with large Hispanic/Latinx populations?

E: Simple. Outreach, outreach, outreach. Most of the time, the teams will go to the suburbs of the city they play in, but where the outreach is needed most is usually a lot closer to the arenas these teams play in. It would be as simple as taking the time to go to a local rec center and play some floor hockey in the gym with the kids. If you did that once a week or even once a month, you would get so many more eyes on the sport and get kids interested at a much younger age.

Outreach is the first step. The second would have to be donating not only time, but money and/or gear. The game is extremely expensive. From my personal experience, my mom did not have the money to get me the gear I needed to play hockey when I was younger. A few years ago, I was able to get myself skates and a helmet and started to trying to learn how to skate on my own. There was no way my single mom could have afforded to buy the gear and ice time I would have needed to be able to play.

NYP: In relation to the question above, what would you like to see your favorite team, specifically, do for Hispanic/Latinx fans?

E: I would give the two same answers as before, but I will specify it more to my city and to the Minnesota Wild. I live on the West Side of Saint Paul, which has a very large Latinx population, more specifically, Mexican and Mexican-American. I live literally 5 minutes from the Xcel Energy Center and in the near 20 years of the team’s existence, there has been no or hardly any outreach to this side of town. We could not live any closer to not only the arena, but to the practice facilities as well. There is no excuse the team has to not have more of an outreach in our neighborhood. We have a new rec center in the area, an indoor ice rink and the rec center also makes two outdoor rinks every year. There are plenty of opportunities for the Wild to outreach to the neighborhood I live in, but I have seen more outreach in the suburbs who are 30 to 45 minutes away from the arena. Even the Minnesota Twins rebuilt the baseball fields that are attached to the rec center and they are based out of Minneapolis, not Saint Paul like the Minnesota Wild are. It is extremely disappointing.

NYP: What is your favorite thing a team or player has done for Hispanic Heritage?

E: It almost feels disappointing that this is my answer because I feel like it should be something on a bigger scale to talk about, but it has to be an interview/YouTube video that SportsNet’s Donnovan Bennett did with Auston Matthews about his Latinx heritage that was released back in February this year. It was great to hear him talk about his family and his culture. It shows where he comes from. Sadly, the video has under 100,000 views at the time of me writing this. It is crazy to me that the Leafs, or the NHL for that matter, did not promote this more for one of its Superstars players in the league.

[Note from NYPH: the video has since surpassed 100k views but barely, it sits at 100,684 as of Sept. 23, 2020.]

NYP: Tell me about a favorite hockey memory.

E: Hands down, my favorite hockey moment is Andrew Brunette’s OT Game 7 winner against the Colorado Avalanche in 2003. I was 12 and I remember it was one of the rare times my mom let me stay up late to let me watch the game. No matter how late it could have gone, she was going to let me stay up and watch the entire game. She knew what it meant to me. Quick shoutout to my amazing mom for always being supportive of my passion for the sport of hockey. My mom even let me watch the game on the big TV in the living room.

I remember Brunette getting a break to the net and when he scored, it is a feeling I will never forget. I just remember jumping up and down, screaming and crying out of pure joy. The emotions came over me. To this day, whenever I see this goal, I get a chill down my spine. No one gave us a chance and we took down the mighty Avalanche. We were the underdog, and we fought so hard to get a chance. To get respect. That is why I connect with the game so much. I am that person in my everyday life. I have to fight for every inch and you have to do that exact same thing in hockey.

NYP: What is something you wish people knew as a Hispanic/Latinx hockey fan?

E: I think from a cultural standpoint, we have so much to offer to the game to make it better. We are passionate. We love hard! We dive headfirst into the things we love. We will fight, scratch, claw and defend our team to no end. Imagine having more players with that fire and passion on a team or in a front office. We have so much to offer the sport. We just need the opportunities to do so.

You can find Elan on Twitter: @MapexDrummer26.

#hispanic heritage month #hispanic #hhm #hockey #matt dumba #auston matthews #minnesota wild #latina #latinx #latino #interview #fan interview

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kellyannecontent · 4 years

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Dear Jimmy, Your family asked me to speak at your service, and I am so honored and touched. I’m also really scared, and I say that because you of all people will understand this. I’d like to run away and call in four days from now from the beauty parlor. I want to do a good job, because I love you, and because you always did a good job. I think the deal is I’m supposed to speak about the actor/artist’s work part of your life. Others will have spoken beautifully and magnificently about the other beautiful and magnificent parts of you: father, brother, friend. I guess what I was told is I’m also supposed to speak for your castmates whom you loved, for your crew that you loved so much, for the people at HBO, and Journey. I hope I can speak for all of them today and for you. I asked around, and experts told me to start with a joke and a funny anecdote. “Ha ha ha.” But as you yourself so often said, I’m not feelin’ it. I’m too sad and full of despair. I’m writing to you partly because I would like to have had your advice. Because I remember how you did speeches. I saw you do a lot of them at awards shows and stuff, and invariably you would scratch two or three thoughts on a sheet of paper and put it in your pocket, and then not really refer to it. And consequently, a lot of your speeches didn’t make sense. I think that could happen in here, except in your case, it didn’t matter that it didn’t make sense, because the feeling was real. The feeling was real. The feeling was real. I can’t say that enough. I tried to write a traditional eulogy, but it came out like bad TV. So I’m writing you this letter, and now I’m reading that letter in front of you. But it is being done to and for an audience, so I’ll give the funny opening a try. I hope that it’s funny; it is to me and it is to you. And that is, one day toward the end of the show — maybe season 4 or season 5 — we were on the set shooting a scene with Stevie Van Zandt, and I think the set-up was that Tony had received news of the death of someone, and it was inconvenient for him. And it said, “Tony opens the refrigerator door, closes it and he starts to speak.” And the cameras rolled, and you opened the refrigerator door, and you slammed it really hard — you slammed it hard enough that it came open again. And so then you slammed it again, then it came open again. You kept slamming it and slamming it and slamming it and slamming it and went apeshit on that refrigerator. And the funny part for me is I remember Steven Van Zandt — because the cameras are going, we have to play this whole scene with a refrigerator door opening — I remember Steven Van Zandt standing there with his lip out, trying to figure out, “Well, what should I do? First, as Silvio, because he just ruined my refrigerator. And also as Steven the actor, because we’re now going to play a scene with the refrigerator door open; people don’t do that.” And I remember him going over there and trying to tinker with the door and fix it, and it didn’t work. And so we finally had to call cut, and we had to fix the refrigerator door, and it never really worked, because the gaffer tape showed on the refrigerator, and it was a problem all day long. And I remember you saying, “Ah, this role, this role, the places it takes me to, the things I have to do, it’s so dark.” And I remember telling you, “Did I tell you to destroy the refrigerator? Did it say anywhere in the script, ‘Tony destroys a refrigerator’? It says ‘Tony angrily shuts the refrigerator door.’ That’s what it says. You destroyed the fridge.” Another memory of you that comes to mind is from very early on — might have been the pilot, I don’t know. We were shooting in that really hot and humid summer New Jersey heat. And I looked over, and you were sitting in an aluminum beach chair, with your slacks rolled up to your knees, in black socks and black shoes, and a wet handkerchief on your head. And I remember looking over there and going, “Well, that’s really not a cool look.” But I was filled with love, and I knew then that I was in the right place. I said, “Wow, I haven’t seen that done since my father used to do it, and my Italian uncles use to do it, and my Italian grandfather used to do it.” And they were laborers in the same hot sun in New Jersey. They were stone masons, and your father worked with concrete. I don’t know what it is with Italians and cement. And I was so proud of our heritage — it made me so proud of our heritage to see you do that. When I said before that you were my brother, this has a lot to do with that: Italian-American, Italian worker, builder, that Jersey thing — whatever that means — the same social class. I really feel that, though I’m older than you, and always felt, that we are brothers. And it was really based on that day. I was filled with so much love for everything we were doing and about to embark on. I also feel you’re my brother in that we have different tastes, but there are things we both love, which was family, work, people in all their imperfection, food, alcohol, talking, rage, and a desire to bring the whole structure crashing down. We amused each other. The image of my uncles and father reminded me of something that happened between us one time. Because these guys were such men — your father and these men from Italy. And you were going through a crisis of faith about yourself and acting, a lot of things, were very upset. I went to meet you on the banks of the Hudson River, and you told me, you said, “You know what I want to be? I want to be a man. That’s all. I want to be a man.” Now, this is so odd, because you are such a man. You’re a man in many ways many males, including myself, wish they could be a man. The paradox about you as a man is that I always felt personally, that with you, I was seeing a young boy. A boy about Michael’s age right now. ‘Cause you were very boyish. And about the age when humankind, and life on the planet are really opening up and putting on a show, really revealing themselves in all their beautiful and horrible glory. And I saw you as a boy — as a sad boy, amazed and confused and loving and amazed by all that. And that was all in your eyes. And that was why, I think, you were a great actor: because of that boy who was inside. He was a child reacting. Of course you were intelligent, but it was a child reacting, and your reactions were often childish. And by that, I mean they were pre-school, they were pre-manners, they were pre-intellect. They were just simple emotions, straight and pure. And I think your talent is that you can take in the immensity of humankind and the universe, and shine it out to the rest of us like a huge bright light. And I believe that only a pure soul, like a child, can do that really well. And that was you. Now to talk about a third guy between us, there was you and me and this third guy. People always say, “Tony Soprano. Why did we love him so much when he was such a prick?” And my theory was, they saw the little boy. They felt and they loved the little boy, and they sensed his love and hurt. And you brought all of that to it. You were a good boy. Your work with the Wounded Warriors was just one example of this. And I’m going to say something because I know that you’d want me to say it in public: that no one should forget Tony Sirico’s efforts with you in this. He was there with you all the way, and in fact you said to me just recently, “It’s more Tony than me.” And I know you, and I know you would want me to turn the spotlight on him, or you wouldn’t be satisfied. So I’ve done that. So Tony Soprano never changed, people say. He got darker. I don’t know how they can misunderstand that. He tried and he tried and he tried. And you tried and you tried, more than most of us, and harder than most of us, and sometimes you tried too hard. That refrigerator is one example. Sometimes, your efforts were at cost to you and others, but you tried. And I’m thinking about the fact of how nice you were to strangers on the street, fans, photographers. You would be patient, loving and personal, and then finally you would just do too much, and then you would snap. And that’s of course what everybody read about, was the snapping. I was asked to talk about the work part, and so I’ll talk about the show we used to do and how we used to do it. You know, everybody knows that we always ended an episode with a song. That was kind of like me and the writers letting the real geniuses do the heavy lifting: Bruce, and Mick and Keith, and Howling Wolf and a bunch of them. So if this was an episode, it would end with a song. And the song, as far as I’m concerned, would be Joan Osborne’s “(What If God Was) One Of Us?” And the set-up for this — we never did this, and you never even heard this — is that Tony was somehow lost in the Meadowlands. He didn’t have his car, and his wallet, and his car keys. I forget how he got there — there was some kind of a scrape — but he had nothing in his pocket but some change. He didn’t have his guys with him, he didn’t have his gun. And so mob boss Tony Soprano had to be one of the working stiffs, getting in line for the bus. And the way we were going to film it, he was going to get on the bus, and the lyric that would’ve one over that would’ve been — and we don’t have Joan Osborne to sing it: If God had a face what would it look like? And would you want to see if seeing meant you had to believe? And yeah, yeah, God is great. Yeah, yeah, God is good. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So Tony would get on the bus, and he would sit there, and the bus would pull out in this big billow of diesel smoke. And then the key lyric would come on, and it was What if God was one of us? Just a slob like one of us? Just a stranger on the bus trying to make his way home. And that would’ve been playing over your face, Jimmy. But then — and this is where it gets kind of strange — now I would have to update, because of the events of the last week. And I would let the song play further, and the lyrics would be Just trying to make his way home Like a holy rollin’ stone Back up to Heaven all alone Nobody callin’ on the phone ‘Cept for the Pope, maybe, in Rome. Love, David

David Chase in an open letter eulogizing James Gandolfini

#FUUUUUUCK!!!

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entertheembrace · 4 years

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One - The Morning After

What have I done? I can’t believe it. After sixteen years of marriage, the last ten spent as a traveling salesman, I have never been unfaithful to my wife. Never, that is, until last night.

The last twelve hours have been very strange and I’m not sure that I can trust my memory to tell me what is real and what is fantasy. I’m starting this journal to keep track of my thoughts until I can figure what, exactly, is going on.

It started last night in a New Orleans bar.

This week began like most others. I left Philadelphia late Sunday night to fly to New Orleans for a big software convention. As always when flying to New Orleans, I brought an Anne Rice novel to read on the plane to get me in the mood.

I met David and Harry, two other sales representatives from my company, at the hotel. The software convention starts today, Tuesday, and is supposed to run until this Thursday. We spent yesterday morning and most of the afternoon setting up our booth and then went back to our rooms to prepare for a night of wining and dining old clients and potential buyers.

This is how we ended up at the Hurricane Bar on Bourbon Street, where I met Marie.

After ten years of traveling all over the world, I have met many beautiful women. And, while I never had the urge to stray from my wife, the salesman in me can’t help but talk, and flirt, with most women I find myself in the company of.

Marie was a pretty girl. I say girl because she looked so young. I would have said she was eighteen at best, but since she had no problem walking into the bar or getting served a drink, I figured she had to be a little bit older.

Her clothing was simple, yet on her it looked exquisite, if not exotic. A simple white silk peasant blouse with a low, square neck had sleeves that gathered at the elbow and an elastic band around the waist, just above the hem of her long, black silk skirt that reached almost to her ankles. Beneath the skirt was a pair of black leather boots with heels. The tops of the boots were not visible, but wondering just how far up they went stirred the imagination…and a few other things as well.

Her skin was very white which contrasted with the black hair that hung to the middle of her back and appeared to be made of the same material as the blouse and skirt. Her features looked Middle Eastern, possibly even Egyptian, but that didn’t go with the pale white skin.

She stood with her back to the bar staring out at the crowds, looking like she was on a New Jersey boardwalk staring at the ocean.

In her hand was a red drink with a stick of celery protruding from the rim. As I watched her, I felt drawn to her. I felt the need to start a conversation with her just so I could hear her voice and feel the weight of her eyes looking at me.

I shook my head and shifted myself on the stool to make room for the slightly enlarging visitor tucked away in my pants. What was wrong with me? I was feeling like a college freshman at his first frat party looking at the upperclassman co-ed and dreaming of what if.

I was about to turn away to say something to Harry who was sitting next to me when I saw her drop her napkin from under her drink. I felt the urge to rush over and grab it like some medieval night picking up the hankie of the fair maiden.

Luckily, before I completely embarrassed myself, she moved to pick it up herself. As she bent over, I sat back to stare. The thin material of her skirt went taught over her backside showing a small, perfectly formed, heart shaped rear. Her blouse rode up just a bit to reveal the bright colors of a tattoo low on the small of her back.

While I may look like an uptight, starched shirt business man, I do have a hidden passion for tattoos. I have almost a dozen various tattoos strategically placed about my person that can be easily concealed while wearing most suits and business casual outfits.

Besides my wife and kids who see me in various stages of dress around the house, most people know nothing of the artwork unless they get a glance of it in the locker room at the YMCA.

The tattoos are all of a Druidic theme of knots and vines to honor not only my Irish heritage, but the wishes of my grandmother. My grandmother is a devout woman who attended mass daily, but mixed her Catholic beliefs along with various forms of fortune telling, hexing and general good luck charms so that she could be best described as the Irish version of a gypsy.

While I keep my tattoos private, I make it a point to admire other people’s body art when I can. The small flash of color and design below the hem of her skirt was just enough to pique my interest and to give me a reason to talk to her.

I approached her. She turned to look at me as if I were nothing but a curiosity. I pointed to her drink and said, “Isn’t it a little late in the day for a Bloody Mary or did you just get up?”

The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly up in what may have been a smile as she said, “This is a special drink that François makes just for me.”

I looked to the bar to see a tall, thin bartender dressed all in black whose long, greasy hair and white skin left you with the feeling that he needed to spend some more time in the sun and the shower. The name tag on his shirt read François.

I turned back to her and said, “I couldn’t help but notice that tattoo on your back. I didn’t get a very good look at it, but it seemed very intricate. What is it?”

She looked at me and asked, “Do you always ask complete strangers such personal questions?”

Taken back, I began to stutter, “No, I mean, I didn’t mean to...”

“All I meant,” she broke in, “was that I don’t even know your name.”

Her voice was like honey pouring from the hive. Her accent was a mixture of French and the Deep South, but nothing like the Creole accent I was used to hearing when in Louisiana. It was much more exotic.

“Mike,” I said stupidly, “Mike Murphy,” feeling more and more like that college freshman again rather than the thirty nine year old man that I was.

“Well Michael, I don’t share my tattoo with just anyone. I will, however, share a dance.” She took the celery stick out of her glass. The red drink clung to it heavily.

Slowly and seductively, she lowered the celery into her mouth while never losing eye contact with me. The sudden “snap” of the celery as she bit down and cleanly sliced it in two, was enough to make me jump and send a phantom pain to my lower regions.

She put down her glass, turned and walked to the dance floor, with just a bit of that tattoo showing. This is where I made my real mistake…I followed.

We danced for what seemed like hours, though I can’t be sure since I lost all track of time.

I seemed to be in a spell and was ready and willing to do anything that Marie desired or commanded.

The next thing I know, I was sitting on my bed in the hotel room. She stood in front of me, staring with those gray eyes.

“So, you really want to see my artwork?”

All I could do was nod. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or if I had control of myself.

Without fanfare, she pulled the blouse straight over her head. She wore no bra, yet there was no movement of her breasts. They hung there, turning upward in the way of only the young.

With a pull of a string, the skirt dropped to the ground to pool around her ankles. She wore no panties.

Her skin was white and smooth as cream. I sat in a daze, not sure what to do. She walked forward, grabbed my head and pulled it to her stomach.

Her skin was as smooth as the silk clothing that had been covering it moments before. There was a perfumed smell coming from her skin that I recognized but could not place.

I reached up and grabbed her hip and began to kiss her stomach. She shuddered and pulled away.

“I thought you wanted to see my tattoo,'' she said. Her gray, sultry eyes looked like those of a predator about to devour its prey.

She slowly turned around. Her hair was thrown over one shoulder covering it entirely. Her backside was right in front of me and I had an up-close view of that object that had caught and held my attention in the club; the tattoo, not the backside.

It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The colors were brilliant and seemed to swim in the milk that was her skin. The contrast was stunning.

The design is something that, thankfully, I’ll never forget. It was a silver and gold dagger running right down the line of her spine, pointing down with the tip of the blade stopping short of the top of her rear. The handle of the dagger was in the shape of a fan with beautiful etchings and a wave like design moving throughout it. Wrapped around the blade was a thorny vine leading up to a blood red rose near the top of the handle.

I traced my finger around the design which forced a fierce shudder from her. “What is it?” I asked.

She turned to me and said, “You could say it’s a family symbol”.

Before I could ask more, she pushed me to the bed and began pulling off my clothes.

Our love making was frantic and forceful with Marie taking complete control to try to satisfy what appeared to be an unsatiable appetite for sex. That recognizable scent seemed to pour out of her in her sweat, thoughI still couldn’t place where I knew it from.

She climaxed hard and loud within minutes, then slowed her movements and smiled down at me. I dumbly smiled back as my hands found her breasts and began to massage them. She bent down and began to kiss my neck. The kisses became nibbles. Suddenly, a strange feeling went through me as I realized that she had broken the skin on my neck. I didn't feel any pain, but I could feel her teeth sunk into my skin and a sticky, warm stream running down my neck.

“What are you doing?” I yelled as I pushed her up.

What looked down at me nearly stopped my heart. Blood was dripping from her lips. The gray eyes had become tinted with red so that the look of the predator she showed earlier now took on the un-human look of a monster.

Scared for my life, I tried to push her tiny body off of me, but she clamped her knees on either side of my hips and I couldn’t move. She smiled and continued to ride me.

Frightened, I continued to struggle, but there was nothing I could do.

Suddenly, a knife appeared in her hand. Where it had been, I don’t know but now all I could think of was that this was the end of my life and I’ll never see my family again.

I was half right with that thought.

She turned the knife on herself and sliced the skin of her left breast. Blood began to pool in the wound.

I stared, horrified. Marie grabbed my head and pulled my face to her breast. I fought but she only laughed and rode me harder. My body betrayed me in release and as I filled her, her blood filled my mouth and throat.

It was at that point that I sat up and screamed. My head swam and my stomach did flips in protest of my sudden movements. I was alone in bed, obviously the victim of an extreme nightmare.

It was all a dream, Marie was never here, we never made love and she never pulled out a knife.

Then I noticed the smell. The room was filled with the scent of sex and I had that post-copulation sticky feeling about me. It wasn’t all a dream.

If the sex was real, then what else was real? I ran to the bathroom to inspect my neck and shoulders. No cuts, no bite marks…that part was a dream.

I wasn’t feeling well. I lay back in bed to take inventory of myself.

My head was pounding and all of my muscles were sore. My skin was tingling and where it came in contact with the sheets it actually felt like sandpaper was being rubbed against me. Lastly, my stomach was growling for food.

I called room service to order breakfast and jumped into the shower for a quick wash-up.

I got out and got dressed. While putting on my clothes, again I got the feeling of sandpaper being dragged over my skin except for my shirt: the silk slid smooth over my skin without irritation.

I sat at the hotel room desk to try to figure out what was going on while I waited for my breakfast. Now that the smell of sex was gone there was a stronger smell…her smell. It was strong enough to make me think that Marie was back in the room with me.

The smell was something from my childhood, something reverent. That’s when it hit me. Incense. That’s what her perfume reminded me of, the incense that was burned in church when I was a boy. I remember that it was only burned on special holy days and at funerals. The incense was always burned at funerals, used to bless the body and the casket of the departed. Why would someone want to smell like that?

My skin was sensitive, my smelling was acute, and my head and muscles ached. She obviously slipped me some kind of drug, like a mickey. Why would she do that? What did she give me?

I needed to find her and find out. With the security clearance our company has with the governor, the last thing I can afford is to fail a random drug test. I needed to find her for that reason. I kept trying to tell myself that that was the only reason I wanted to find her.

How could I find her? Where would I start? I could go back to the bar and ask François, but I didn’t think I would get very far there.

I looked at my laptop. I’d do what every adult and most children would do, I went to Google. But did I have enough information to start? What did I know about her?

I had the tattoo. Reaching for a pencil and some paper, I sketched out the design. The beautiful rose wrapped around the threatening dagger was an unnerving site. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

As I sat looking at the picture, I suddenly picked up the scent of body odor. It was very slight at first, but it was getting stronger. I checked myself and smelled nothing. I looked around the room for the source to no avail.

When the scent got to the point where I felt I was surrounded by it, there was a knock at the door. The sound made me jump…I was overly sensitive to sights, sounds and odors, not to mention the strange feeling of my skin.

I answered the door to a man in his early twenties pushing a cart with my breakfast. I found the source of the smell. And while I could smell the body odor coming from my server, the smell for some reason wasn’t unpleasant…in fact it was almost pleasant. When did BO become a pleasing smell?

I told my server to put the cart next to the desk while I contemplated this latest fact.

“Are you a fan?” my server asked me, breaking my concentration.

“Excuse me?” I answered.

“I asked if you were a fan?” he said again while pointing at the drawing on my desk. “You don’t look the type.”

“Do you recognize that?” I asked excitedly.

“Sure” the young waiter responded, “That’s the symbol for Anarch.”

“Anarch,” I questioned, “what is Anarch?”

“It’s only one of the best Goth bands to play in New Orleans. Have you been to a show?”

I thanked him and escorted him out the door with a tip so that I could have some time to consider this new piece of information.

A Goth band. Could that be it? Was she nothing more than a Goth groupie? She was beautiful, but it would explain the dress and the weird actions. It would also explain where she would get the drugs that she obviously slipped me.

I turned to the laptop and entered the name Anarch into the Google search box and hit enter.

As I nibbled on my breakfast, I noticed that the smell of BO was gone but was replaced again by Marie’s peculiar scent. I also noticed that I didn’t smell my breakfast. Come to think of it, I didn’t really taste it either.

This was getting strange. It was then I decided to put all of this down in my journal to help me straighten things out.

I need to get to the convention center. I will try to sneak out early so I can have some time to sit and thank and then I will decide how I’ll go about finding Marie.

Of course, I’m still not sure what I’m going to do once I find her.

#EnterTheEmbrace #vampire #vampyr #witch #witches #fantasy #urban fantasy #dark fantasy #goth #gothic #horror

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mixdgrlproblems · 5 years

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Want a chance to be featured like Santos? @st.valenciagas • You are amazing! Thank you for being so active for the mixed community! We love you! We appreciate you! Your mix is beautiful 💜 • • #PuertoRican & #Ecuadorian. • • My mom was born in Quito Ecuador and my father is a Puerto Rican born in Jersey. Growing up as #Latino it was very very confusing. It wasn’t until I was about 13 that I realized my identity wasn’t just Latino. I was also a #mixedchild. My dad is what some people from the Latin Community might refer to as a #Mulatto. This means that he is of #Black and #White mix. The black portion comes from slaves that were brought from West Africa to the #Caribbean to numerous islands including Puerto Rico. The white portion comes from #Spanish/ #Portuguese Heritage. My mom on the other hand is referred to as a #Mestizo. This means that she is of #European and #Indigenous decent. Being a Latino can be so confusing when your mixed with so many different things. As I was growing up I saw that some people in my family were black and some were white. Some were indigenous and some had all three. Because society mostly depicts Latinos as their own separate group. I want the world to know that yes, I am Latino but i’m still mixed. Being mixed allows me to dive into my roots and enjoy all the beautiful things that make me who I am. Im Latino but I also descend from the #Taino Tribe of the Caribbean. I’m Latino but I also descend from the #Yoruban people of Nigeria. I’m Latino but I also claim heritage to Spain and Portugal. It’s important for me to always know myself and where my people come from. It’s not about saying ONLY it’s about saying ALSO. I’m mixed and proud. No one can take that away from me. I identify as a #gay #nonbinary individual. I will be attending college in the fall where I want to study political science and history. I want to delve more into my roots and understand all my cultures and I want to work with the government to raise awareness for the mixed community. I want it to where Latinos don’t have to be so divided from any other person. I want a more accepting world... 🌈🌎 #mixedboys https://www.instagram.com/p/Byf2qghFpOo/?igshid=u1juju7t8s0b

#puertorican #ecuadorian #latino #mixedchild #mulatto #black #white #caribbean #spanish #portuguese #mestizo #european #indigenous #taino #yoruban #gay #nonbinary #mixedboys

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eldritchsurveys · 6 years

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o94.

What is your name? >> Mordred.

How old are you? >> 31.

And lastly, where are you located? >> Grand Rapids / Xibalba.

What is the most unique compliment you have received? >> I’m not sure. I don’t really remember stuff like that for very long.

What's the most unique insult you have received? >> ^

How do you feel about tomato sauce with chunks of tomato? >> I prefer it.

Do people think you look like either of your parents? Does that offend you? >> Most people don’t know my parents in the first place. And no, I wouldn’t be offended if someone said I looked like my dad. I mean, I’m sure I do at least a little bit. That’s how shit works.

What is your nationality/heritage? Does it fit you? >> My nationality is USian and my heritage is Black American, Native American, and Haitian. It’s not a matter of whether it “fits” me or not; it has at least a fraction to do with who I am regardless.

Do you prefer regular bacon or turkey bacon? >> I don’t really like bacon (overexposure killed my taste for it -- which is why people should stop putting it in goddamn everything), but I guess either will do.

Are you more of a talker or a listener? >> I am both, but I find listening to be a lot easier a lot of the time.

Do you interrupt when people talk? >> I’m less likely to do this than most people, but it still happens sometimes, especially if it’s a subject I’m really excited about.

Do you think its weird when people talk to their pets like people? >> Not at all. How else are people supposed to communicate with them, anyway?

Where do most of your relatives live? >> New Jersey and North Carolina, as far as I know.

Is your weight proportionate to your height? >> Yep.

What is the last place, other than home, that you stayed overnight? >> An Airbnb in Chicago.

Do you prefer leather or lace? >> I think a combination of both is most ideal.

What was the manufacturer of the last vehicle you were in? >> Saturn.

Would you ever buy a motorcycle? >> I mean, I can’t drive one, so there’s really no reason for me to buy one.

What is the most unusual thing in your reach right now? >> There’s nothing unusual within my reach. I mean, there’s this weird little vinyl figure that I got from Reddit for participating in their SyFy Secret Santa thing a long while ago, but I don’t know how unusual that is, per se. It’s just funky.

Are you sitting by a window right now? >> I’m sitting by a sliding glass door, which is similar.

Does your door have to be closed in order for you to sleep? >> No, I prefer it open. Even though it means I have to do weird shit to keep the damn cat out of my room (I’d be less anal about it if he wasn’t prone to spraying all over my shit).

Do you have anything other than posters or pictures on your walls? >> No, just posters and a print from deviantART.

What is the furthest you have traveled alone? >> A thousand miles or so.

Have you ever ridden a train? How about a subway? >> I’ve ridden both many times.

What is the last thing you measured? >> Where to hang this Cradle of Filth poster I found at the record store.

Have you ever done something you told yourself you'd never do? >> I mean, probably.

What did you do on the busiest day of your life? >> ---

Have you ever traveled to another country? >> No.

Have you traveled to another continent? >> No.

What is something someone can say that always cheers you up? >> I don’t think there’s anything like that.

Do you think everyone is born innocent? Or do you think "evil" is predetermined? >> I don’t believe in either of these concepts. People are just people.

Are you tattooed? Or does it freak you out? >> I am tattooed.

Are you pierced? If so, where? >> Septum and earlobes.

Are attracted to or put off by people who are heavily pierced or tattooed? >> I’m much more likely to be interested in or attracted to people who are modified than I am to be repelled by them.

Do you have any predjudices? >> Of course. Judgement is a pretty common and useful function of the human brain.

Have you ever been called a derogatory name? ..What? >> Sure, your general “bitch” and “cunt” and that sort of thing.

What was the meanest thing you've been called? >> I don’t know.

Have you done anything productive today, anyway? >> Yeah, I took a shower.

Eaten anything delicious today? >> I haven’t even eaten yet. I should probably do that before I leave.

Do you have any pets? If so, what species/breed? How did you acquire said pets? >> No.

Have you ever gotten a pet at a shelter? You should. There's nothing wrong with shelter pets. [: >> If I were to get a pet, that’s where I’d get them from.

Have you ever taken in a stray animal? >> No.

Do you have or want children? >> I don’t have them and I definitely wouldn’t mind raising one.

How do you feel about marriage? Ever been close? >> I am pretty apathetic about it, all told. But I’m not gonna lie... the plans for our wedding really do sound lit. I didn’t know it could be this fucking cool, but once we started discussing the merits of a cemetery wedding I was like “ohhhh now I see the hype”.

Are you confident in your appearance? >> I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think my appearance requires confidence, per se.

Do you enjoy looking at yourself? Do people think you are conceited or vain? >> I do enjoy looking at myself. I don’t know if people think I’m vain, and I don’t particularly care either way.

Are you optimistic, pessimistic or "realistic" ? >> Optimistically realistic.

Do you enjoying taking pictures? >> Sometimes.

Do you take pictures of THINGS, or are you just a camera whore? xD >> Most of the photos I take are of myself, so I guess the latter.

Do you have a significant other? If so, what's your favorite thing about this person? >> Well, I have Sparrow and I have Can Calah. I don’t know what my “favourite thing” about either of them is.

How long have you been involved with them? >> Can Calah’s been around for seven or so years and Sparrow’s been around for 6 by her reckoning.

Do you think they are "the one"? Do you believe in "the one" or "soulmates"? >> I mean, Sparrow and I just fit together well, there’s not a whole lot of effort involved in maintaining our relationship... and that’s 100% ideal for me, because I am not actually good at romantic relationships. I have little interest in the trappings of them (I mean, they’re fun, but I’m not... like, invested), I don’t experience the whole emotional component the way other people do, and I’m easily alienated by a lot of random expected shit like having to say “I love you” and whatnot (yay, fucked-up socio-emotional development). Sometimes my relationship with Sparrow seems more like that “queerplatonic” thing that the kids have been talking about, which would line up perfectly with the suspicion I have that I’m just aromantic. Regarding Can Calah... yeah, he’s definitely Something. But our relationship is, of course, different from the kind I’d have with any human. That’s just how that works.

Have you ever dated someone simply for their looks? >> Nah.

What about dating someone simply because you felt too bad to say no? >> I’ve never felt that bad about saying no.

How do you feel about casual sex? >> It’s fine for those it’s fine for. It’s not fine for me.

Are you eating anything right now? >> No, but I will definitely have to eat when I finish this survey.

Does it drive you INSANE when people chew with their mouth open? >> Yes, but I’m also very sensitive to eating sounds. As in, like, I put my earphones in when Sparrow eats.

What about when they talk with their mouth full?? I hate that. >> I mean, whatever.

Does any food always make you sick but you love it too much to not eat it? >> No.

How do you feel about alcohol? >> As a dionysian creation, I’m definitely into alcohol. So as a dionysian creature, I try to pay it some respect.

Have you ever been drunk? >> Sure.

Do you like orange juice with pulp? Or... do you prefer not chewing your juice? xD That's how I feel. >> Yeah, I’m on your side. Either I’m eating an orange or I’m drinking juice; pulpy orange juice wigs me out.

Do you scream for ice cream? >> No.

Which orange came first; the color or the fruit? >> I don’t remember, but I did read about it once.

Chicken or the egg, really? >> It’s a circle, really.

Are you addicted to anything? >> No.

Do you tell white lies? >> Sure.

What is your favorite pair of shoes? >> The boots.

Are you more creative or logical? >> I am both.

Do you know what people mean when they say "type A personality"? >> I have a vague idea, yeah.

Are you in school? If so, for what? >> No.

What is your dream job? >> To not have a job.

Have you ever experienced a natural disaster? >> Sure. Hurricane Sandy was interesting.

Do you feel bad when bad things happen to other people? Or, do you not care? >> I don’t feel much of anything when things happen to other people, unless it’s in a tv show that I’m invested in, lmao.

If you don't, do you feel guilty about that? >> I’ve done nothing wrong, so why should I feel guilty? Not feeling badly for someone else doesn’t mean I want bad things to happen to them, or that I’m evil or some nonsense. That’s a false equivalence.

Do you laugh at things that aren't supposed to be funny? >> All the time.

Is it only funny til someone gets hurt? Then is it hilarous? >> Heh.

Does your favorite shirt have words on it? If so, what does it say? >> ---

Aren't you a little nervous about posting photos online? >> No.

Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness? >> Misdiagnosed.

Have you ever stolen something? >> I’ve stolen many things.

What was the reason you washed your hands last? >> I’d just used the loo.

How do you feel about getting blood drawn? >> I love it, it’s fun to watch.

What are you afraid of? >> Death, apparently.

Is there something you should be doing? >> Yeah, eating, and then getting ready to go see Thirst Trap Equalizer 2.

#surveys #random survey #survey

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zoebechtle-blog · 6 years

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Unlikely Chapter 1

I will be the first person to tell you - there was nothing about this relationship that made sense. On paper, we were painfully dissimilar: him, a sexy, successful Irish popstar wanted by half the world, and me, an American werewolf living in London. Well, not quite a werewolf, but it took monthly waxings to keep my Greek heritage off my upper lip. I barely topped out at 5’2” on a good shoe day, and leaned more towards the plump end of the body shape spectrum. My grandmother often spoke of my child bearing hips and tried to convince me that men liked a big ass and full boobs. She had yet to be proven right. Meanwhile, his chicken legs looked like they could barely support him. He binged watched ESPN and Golf Channel, and I had zero hand/eye coordination (the fact that I played soccer in high school was a fluke - there were no cuts). Before I met him I barely even knew what a melody was and had forgotten everything I had learned in elementary school music classes. He played the guitar like he was born with it, and pulled notes out of the air to make music that made my heart ache. As I said, nothing about us made sense.

I’d moved to the UK to attend grad school four years ago, and ended up staying. After spending my first year year here alone, and going on what can only be described as a series of tragic dates with men I’d met online, I was lonely and seemingly incapable of making friends. In an act of desperation, I texted my godmother’s niece, Hannah. The one and only time I'd met her we were six. She had told me that my hair cut made me look like a boy and I tripped her going up the stairs. It definitely was not love at first sight. I’d come to London with the number programmed into my phone, but determined not to contact the now-grown mean girl. However, desperate times...

It turned out that Hannah had actually grown up quite kick ass. She did something in the financial sector I could not begin to explain, but she was funny, charming, and when drunk could belch the alphabet. Given that my previous 52 Saturday nights had been filled with Netflix and listening to my neighbors fight or fuck, I latched on quickly. Over the course of the next few years I became friends with her crowd of friends, and a few people I befriended came into the mix. It was a small but lovely urban family, and for the most part we all accepted one another for who we were. I barely missed getting laid so good that my head pounded into a headboard while screaming out for God. Barely.

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Hannah was obsessed. Seriously. I was ready to brain her. The girl had finally swiped right and found a guy she was really into. For weeks we heard about him ad nauseum - Willie was Irish, worked at a firm four doors down from her in The City, and seemed like an all around decent chap. Being bitter, I naturally hated him before I met him. The nail in his coffin came the night Hannah casually brought up his roommate, and how she thought I’d like him. Nope. Not the dreaded friend fix up.

“Stop it right now. You know that’s a hard no.” I flung a piece of baby corn at her out of my stir fry to accentuate my point.

“C’mon. He’s proper cute, and is laddy without being a lad.”

“Yeah, because everything about me screams that I’m the lad type.”

“It’s not like a new type would kill you. There are only so many men in London who live in their mother’s basements with cats.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are ya?”

“Nope. Come on. He’s a musician and he’s hilarious. I met him at their house the other night. I think you two would get on. So does Willie.”

“Willie hasn’t met me. How does he have any idea who I’d get along with?”

“Obviously he’s heard all about you and the rest of the gang and seen pics on my Insta.”

I went back to my dinner frowning. It’s not that I didn’t want to meet guys, it’s that I was scared to meet them. Undoubtedly I would say something weird or awkward, or give out far more information than they ever wanted to know. A few dudes had piqued my interest over the years, but no one that I liked ever really liked me, and vice versa. A lot of mediocre to decent sex had been had (I’m not angel - momma knows what she likes), but that whole happily ever after thing didn’t seem like reality. At 27, I resigned myself to possibly getting a hamster (allergic to cats and who wants to walk a dog in London?) and embracing my spinsterhood.

This conversation and my lack of game stayed in the back of my mind for the next few days. Hannah was right about needing a change in my scenery. Especially since the failed date with the cat dude. My eyes itched in the memory. However, it was Thursday, and Thursday was quiz night at the pub. Most of our crew usually turned out to showcase our combined hundreds of years of education and to get a decent drunk on. I intentionally scheduled a light caseload on Fridays in the event of a hangover. I may get older, but wiser didn’t seem to be coming with the territory.

As luck would have it, I stayed late with a client this evening so I had to book it from the Tube stop to the pub. I texted Paul, one of our friends, asking him to save me a seat and order me a Stella. And a shot of Jameson’s. It had been that kind of day.

A text buzzed from Hannah as I got within a block of the bar. “Are you coming from work?”

“Yup. Got tied up in a session. Be there in 5.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Are you trying to come onto me, perv? Work clothes.”

“That you rolled around the floor all day in?”

What the fuck? I looked down at my black jersey pants and green boatneck tee. It wasn’t the most fashionable thing, but I did spend the majority of my day on the floor working with kids with autism. It’s not like I could do that wearing cashmere and stilettos. And who the fuck was I trying to impress? Two of the guys in our crew were gay, and I’d hooked up with the straight one already. These people had seen me vomit through my nose. Nothing I do could phase them.

Walking into the bar I greeted Eric, the doorman, with a wave (yeah, I’d made out with him once upon a tequila evening) and flashed a peace sign to Allie, our favorite server. We sat the same table every week thanks to the fact that Paul worked a few blocks away and often took a late lunch/early dismissal to get here in time to secure a table. Counting heads, I noticed the numbers were off. Instead of our usual 7-8, there were 10. Oh hell. New people.

As I got closer, I noticed Hannah hanging on the arm of one of the new faces. Great, it’s meet the boyfriend time. And he obviously brought his friends. I said a silent prayer that they weren’t stupid-we take pride in our 10 week unbeaten streak. Oh well, here goes nothing.

“What’s up, bitches?” I shouted as I wrapped my arm around Carly’s shoulder.

“Zoe!” Multiple people responded in salute as I squeezed in next to Paul. The empty seat was flanked by an unfamiliar blonde head, and being me, I didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence.

“A Stella and a shot, my queen,” Paul said, gesturing to the table while offering his ruddy cheek for a kiss.

“Thank you, pookie bear.” I leaned down and blew a raspberry on his cheek.

“Zoe!” I heard Hannah trying to get my attention from three seats away. Grabbing the shot and sucking it back (oh, burning), I made eye contact with her, silently yelling for her invasion of my safety zone, and waved.

“This is Willie!” She squeezed the arm of the pale, dark haired guy next to her. He grinned, and shit, I did like his smile. He practically was a heart eyed emoji looking at Hannah, so I could check my attitude for the night.

“Hi, Willie,” I shook his outstretched hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise, Zoe. I hear I need to be on my toes around you lot.”

“We’re friendly savages once you get to know us,” I assured him.

Hannah piped up, “This is Deo, Willie’s brother.” Deo had eyebrows that challenged my tact, but he gave me a friendly smile. I made brief eye contact and nodded. Fine and dandy.

“And this is Niall. Willie’s roommate.” The blonde on my left grinned at me and offered his hand. Well holy motherfucker. This is why she was asking if I had changed. He was beautiful. Seriously. The scene from Wayne’s World where Wayne sees Cassandra for the first time basically became my life. I swear I could hear “Dreamweaver” playing in the background. I averted my eyes as I felt Paul elbow me.

“Hi,” I was very focused on tucking my purse under the table and adjusting my jacket just so on the back of the chair.

“Hey there,” he said. His voice sounded like the shot of Irish whiskey burning its way to my stomach. Oh hell. His (large, beautiful) hand was still hanging out there, waiting to be acknowledged. Unable to respond to basic decorum, I gave him a sideways high five. Oh my god. Paul loudly snorted into his beer as my face flushed hotter than the sun.

My phone beeped, saving me from more embarrassment. I looked at the text from Jess, sitting across the table. “Breathe, Z. And wipe the drool.” My response was the middle finger emoji. While I was texting her, Brian sent a message from the other side of Hannah, “Your game is on point as always.” “Piss off. It got you into my bed twice in the last year.” Ugh, he was pompous asshole. Unfortunately, he was also genetically blessed, so I sometimes got weak.

Unsure what to do and faced with a dry throat, I knocked back most of my pint. Sweet, sweet beer. My right leg start jiggling uncontrollably as I stared at the table in front of me. I could literally feel the heat coming off of Niall, and knew with the tight fit of the table if I turned even slightly our legs would touch. I scooted closer to Paul.

“Oi, Z! You’re on my lap. Unless you suddenly grew a cock, I’m not drunk enough for that!” Oh fuck you, Paul. I could feel Niall laughing beside me, and prayed it was at Paul’s inappropriateness and not my obvious social anxiety. Sensing my nerves, Jess stood and announced a toilet break and motioned for me. Carefully standing to not rub my ass on Niall’s shoulder, I slid behind Paul, digging my nails into his shoulder and hissing, “Another pint and shot, dickface. And this round is on YOUR tab.”

In the bathroom, Jess pulled out her makeup bag. “Okay, we need to cover up this flush. You look like a drunk sailor.” Hannah burst into the room with Carly hot on her heels. Christ, we were such a cliche.

“I can.not. believe you didn’t tell us Niall Horan was coming to quiz night, Hannah!” Carly stole a lipstick from Jess’s bag and started re-lacquering her lips. “I mean, what the fuck? We’re your best friends!”

Hannah took the compact of powder foundation from Jess and started working on my face, even as I tried to smack her hands away. “I didn’t know he was coming for sure. I invited Willie so you all couldn’t dodge meeting him. He asked if it was okay if he brought his mates.”

“Wait, you didn’t know Willie is Niall’s cousin? Do you not follow any of their instagrams? They post pics of each other all the time!” Jess shrieked.

“Yeah, I found out last week when I went over to his house. He hadn’t told me before. I assume he didn’t want a girl using him to get to cousin.”

“Niall FUCKING Horan and you didn’t tell us!” Carly continued to rage, pulling out her bun and fluffing her hair.

I stood in shock while Hannah tried to put concealer on a zit on my chin that wouldn’t go away and Jess sprayed something into my hair. “Wait up. Who the hell is Niall Horan and why are we freaking out that he’s here? Should I be freaking out? I gave him a fucking HIGH FIVE.” I didn’t know who he was but I could feel the panic rising.

All three stopped and looked at me. “Zoe. Niall Horan...From One Direction.”

“Oh my god. He’s the blonde one. I only know the name of Harry with the long hair. The blonde one is super cute.” Three pairs of eyes looked at me as if to say, “Duh.” “Omg, I’m sitting next to him. I GAVE HIM A FUCKING HIGH FIVE, HANNAH. Jesus.” The layer of powder spackling my face was now useless. My flush could heat a thousand homes during a blizzard. “Is this the cousin you wanted to fix me up with? Are you insane?!”

“Wait, what? You wanted to fix Zoe up with Niall?” Carly looked offended, and frankly I couldn’t blame her. She was the hot one. Hannah was the sweet one, Jess was the responsible one, and I was the funny one. We all had our unassigned roles, at least in my head.

Rolling her eyes, Hannah resumed my impromptu makeover as I stood, still dumbfounded. “Yes, slag. You have a boyfriend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’d drop him in a sec,” Carly interrupted.

“Anyhow, yes, I wanted to fix up Z. His sense of humor is almost as evil as hers, and she deserves a nice, normal guy.” She poked me in the chest with a mascara wand to make her point.

“Hardly normal, isn’t he?” I responded, finally gathering a few of my thoughts. Jess laughed at my gaping jaw. “Han, I’m going to die at this table of embarrassment, and even if I don’t, Paul is going to murder me if we lose because my brain is cheese right now. I can’t TALK in front of a regular guy I don’t know. Nevermind one who is fucking famous.”

“Relax, Z.” Carly finally sensed my pending tantrum and threw her arms around me. “You’re fine. And remember, Paul is an asshole if we lose at trivia. Those bastards from Social Meme-ia are dying to break our streak. Tossers.”

An hour and a half later, we were in the middle of round two, and solidly kicking ass. I still had not made eye contact with Niall, though a few times during moments of excitement, I had bounced up and down and our legs collided. Each time I yanked mine back in horror, and I could hear him let out a little laugh. Carly had switched seats to be sitting across from us, and she was all but laying her tits on the table at him. I admired her confidence. Niall appeared to be eating it up, so good for him. Two whiskeys and three beers into the night, I was loosening up. Now I could at least blame my flushed face on the booze.

“Next two questions are for our science geeks in the crowd,” Ted, the quizmaster informed us. “Yes!” Paul pumped his fist and threw his arm around my shoulder. “This is all you, Zo!”

“No pressure or anything, thanks,” I laughed. The two questions dealt with the brain, and I squealed in delight. We won top points and took a solid lead. I made eye contact with the leader of Social Meme-ia and raised my eyebrow cockily. And maybe scratched my nose with my middle finger. Take that, losers.

“Science geek, eh?” Niall nudged my arm, forcing me to look into his blue eyes that basically cut my soul. He smiled the sweetest, softest smile I had ever seen. I (thankfully) resisted the urge to caress his cheek. And I realized I had not responded and was just staring at him.

“Um, yeah. I have a biology degree.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Ni,” okay, when did he become ‘Ni’ and why was Paul bellowing in my ear? “My Zoe girl has three fucking degrees and is the queen of the science category. She kills that ‘FUCKING WANKER at Social Meme-ia every FUCKING WEEK.’”

Trying to apologize for my drunk friend, I explained, “Paul leans on me because the only organ he can name is a penis.” Did I really just say penis?

Niall’s face turned bright red and he started cracking up. “You are all amazing.”

“Thank you, Ni!” Paul again shouted in my ear, causing me to physically cover it from his thunderous drunk voice. Also, again with the Ni? Had they even spoken to one another before this exchange? I took a swig of my pint and realized he was talking to me again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, do you use your biology degree? What do you do?”

That’s an easy simple question. Even I can handle this. “Me? What do I do?” Okay, maybe not. He nodded at me encouragingly, and I polished off the rest of my Stella. “I use my powers for good instead of evil. I’m an occupational therapist at a clinic for autistic kids.”

“Very cool. I work with an autism charity in Ireland.”

“That’s cool.” God, Zoe. Open your mouth and let words fall out. It’s not hard. “Um, which charity?”

Allie came to the rescue with another round of pints. Niall motioned to me and himself, and she nodded in some understanding.

“What was that about?” I questioned.

“I ordered you and I another round of Jameson. I think we need to bond over shots-you’ve got a lot to say in that pretty head that you’re not letting out.” His grin split his face and I, to my own shock, found myself smiling back at him.

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