F: FOOTBALL!!!

I'm not talking "football" like the rest of the world calls it.  I'm talking good old, 'Merican FOOTBALL!

I love it.  The saddest day of my life is the day after the Super Bowl.

My teams, you ask?

Bears all the way.  See the letter C.  I remember doing the Super Bowl Shuffle when I was 3-years-old (I really do.  Dancing on the coffee table with my best friend).  Butkis, Payton, and Perry were my favorites as a child.... I know, Butkis wasn't playing anymore by then, but I watched the crap out of My Two Dads.  Though when I think of the team currently.... and what the McCaskey family has done in the past few months... damnit, got another nosebleed.  Don't get me started.  Adam is a Lions fan.  I have no problem with the Lions.  They're the Chicago Cubs of football.  Now Green Bay.... my ex's family were Packer fans.  Note: my ex.

And then there's the magic and love that is Notre Dame.  It's a sickness, my fandom.  In a drunken stupor, my grandfather wrote a letter to Notre Dame back in the 1970s asking for tickets to a game, expressing his undying love of the team, school, and tradition.  They got him signed up for season tickets, 4 seats every home game and bowl game.  You can imagine how the story goes from there.  If I was smart I would share with you the numerous photos of 2-year-old Dara posing for photos in front of my grandfather's homemade ND collages, with Touchdown Jesus, and Number 1 Moses.

Adam and I are scheduling our wedding this fall to either coincide with ND's bye week or the ND vs. Michigan game.  Yes, Adam is a Michigan fan.  No, I have not harmed him yet.

Threatened to withhold sex?  Yes.

E: Eating

So what if I used a verb?

You're probably eating right now as you read this.

What are you eating?  May I have some?

Sorry.


Remember the re-make of Ocean's Eleven and the glory that was the trio of Matt Damon, Brad Pitt, and George Clooney?  Brad Pitt's character, Rusty, it literally eating something in almost every.  Single.  Scene.

If that's Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, that's reason# 684 for me to hump him.

That is pretty much my life... eating, not humping (or is it?).  I heart food.  And in all honesty I'm not that thrilled with food being my emotional go-to (other than beer, see letter B a couple days ago).

Beyond holidays, I will eat until I am too full to do anything else.  It's as if I can't teach myself to pay attention to where I'm not hungry anymore and I keep eating because it either a) tastes good or b) it's be a waste not to (because I can't figure a proper portion size to save my life/diet).

Adam and I have been doing very well eating better.  We cook at home more, rarely get fast food, and avoid some of that highly processed mess.  But still.  I'll have leftovers from dinner for lunch with a decent salad, and quickly go out on my lunch bread to Culver's for cheese curds because GOD DAMNIT DEEP FRIED CHEESE CURDS ARE MAGICAL.

Rusty would eat the crap out of those, hands down.

D: Dara!!

That's my name, don't wear it out.

Seriously, do not.


I'm not kidding.


My mom was about 9 years old watching the Mike Douglas Show and his musical guest was Neil Sedaka.  Let me pause a moment to point out that I'm talking about this Mike Douglas...

Clearly not Catherine Zeta-Jones' better half.

Point of reference for you: Tiger Woods was on his show as a child prodigy in golf and shot a few puts with James Stewart and Bob Hope.  The more you know.  Moving on.

For whatever reason, Neil Sedaka has his daughter appear on the show, and her name was Dara.  Mom fell in love with the name, and 8 years later when I popped out of her, Dara is what I got.

See also nicknames by "friends" of mine: Dara the Explorer, Daria (didn't mind that as I loved the cartoon), and Dar-Dar Binks..... I hate you, George Lucas.

C: Chicago!

I mentioned yesterday that I'm from Chicago.

Northside, represent.  Go Cubs!  Da Bears!  Jordan!  Corrupt politicians! 9.5% sales tax!  Strong winds/more corrupt politicians!  FEAST ON ITS GLORY!

Also, light pollution.  LOOK A STAR!  Wait, no, airplane.

I lived there for the first 30 years of my life.  I still consider it home even if only 3 of my friends and family still live there.

Why did I leave?  Most of my friends and family weren't even living there anymore.  Also, it's expensive.  Also, Adam doesn't live there.  He lives in small-town Michigan, which is where I live now.  And let me tell you.... I'm still trying to adjust, even after a year and a half.

See also, Beer post.

B: Beer

Note: I am sacrificing my Insecure Writer's Support Group post this month for the Blogging From A to Z Challenge.  Yes, I could have easily have incorporated both.  Truth is I kinda forgot when I created this post originally and added this note the night before.  I'll be back on IWSG in May.

I've mentioned a few.... several dozen times my affinity of beer.  I'm by no means a beer snob; I have just as much appreciation for el cheapo "light" beers as I do Pacifico, Smithwick's, and the holiest of holies, Guinness.

This exact sign is in my kitchen.  For reals.

To a degree, beer has been around me my entire life.  And not by me ingesting it (good lord, I'm not that bad).  Growing up in an Irish-Polish family in Chicago, between being drunk, we had our stupid moments as well.  Sometimes together.  Watching the Bears on TV, 4th of July barbecues, Christmas morning (yes, morning), it was always there.  "Oh my god that's a terrible thing!  Being a child around drunks!"

No, it was never anything like that.  Drinking responsibility did occur in my family, even if there were a few bumps in the road; my mother had 2 DUIs before I was 13 years old, my grandfather hit his rock bottom and has now been sober for over 15 years, I goofed in college and had to sit out a week of marching band which was ABSOLUTELY TRAUMATIZING!  WE PLAYED BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY THAT GAME!

..... I share that with you as I enjoy a Stella Artois.  Shush, you.

A: AAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Sadly, I do not plan on talking about the most awesome cartoon from my childhood (after Rainbow Brite and She-Ra).

The scream of despair/delight is related to the fact that I have joined the 2014 Blogging from A to Z Challenge.  So it's more like, "AHHHH! Why did I join this?!"

Seems it's the hip thing to do.

And.

Create a better habit of blogging.  And staying on top of the blogs I follow.  And even comment on those blogs.  I really am a huge stalker when it comes to my online presence.  Kinda creepy, actually.  I'm that person you're friends with on Facebook who never says anything and you bump into me in person and I ask how that random thing that happened to you went and you're like, "Woah..... she knows me."

Here's Krumm to fill the void I left by leading you on earlier:

IWSG - March 2014

The Insecure Writer's Support Group is the sexy creation of Alex J Cavanaugh.   Its glorious purpose is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!  Visit the website and/or join the Facebook Group.



11 days until St. Patrick's Day.  Just wanted to point that out.  Moving on.

I do feel like I've turned my blog into it's own Insecure Writer's mini-Blog.  Those seem to have been my posts as of late.  Bleh.

Adam has been great, as always, trying to get my procrastinating and paranoid ass in gear and get back to writing, even completing, my ugly-first-draft of my WIP.  Goal for March was to do an hour of writing every day.

Ask me how many hours I've put in since the first.  Go ahead, ask me.

Nothing.

Maybe one or two days I literally did not have any time whatsoever to cram in an hour of writing.  The rest of the past 120 hours of this month I've struggled.

The moment I start to think about writing, I panic.  Not sweaty palms and nail biting panic, anxiety panic.  I do that a lot (in case you haven't caught that yet from reading my posts here).

Do I finish my WIP where I left off?  Wait, I don't know what happens next, I never planned that far.  Okay, so plan from here forward.  But hang on, I've been going back thinking about the plot so far and there's some holes I need to fix.  This one other way sounds better.  Damnit, I have to move forward in the story so I can show that so-and-so isn't really dead.  Shit, Adam just mentioned about this comic that has a 2-sentence length similar plot to my WIP.  Someone's done it.  Simpsons did it!  Fuck it, I'll just start over.  But wait I've got 91 pages typed.  Ugh, I'll have to undo so much.

You people wonder why I drink!!

......11 days until St. Patrick's Day......