Had a great weekend with the man visiting. I've moved into a new, also temporary place until we make the big move, so he got to see my adorable pad, which is still about 20% from being completely unpacked. The clothes and the shoes...they are a project.

As usual, we ate and drank too much. This is what happens when time together is like a multi-day celebration. It's hard to get into a normal routine when you have to pack in all of the stuff normal couples do over several weekends into a couple of days. This brought us to the discussion of keeping in shape. I'm a yoga girl. I'm fine with only doing that, it keeps me healthy and stops me from slapping people around, with its calming and balancing nature. He, however, has always been a sports guy. Soccer, basketball, whatever. The only thing is, this isn't a convenient or consistent way to work out, since it is heavily dependent upon getting a bunch of other like minded people together to get a game on. Also, it takes up a LOT of time, with the traveling to the place the game is happening, playing, and often, with the end result over some victory or losing beers, which ummm pretty much defeats the physical activity of the whole thing.

The fact is, if he could just find a workout he could do on a daily basis, that only takes a few minutes, he would be more likely to stick to a regular routine and stop complaining about the gaining and losing of the LB's. He really does obsess over it. The problem is, he cries boredom with any such workout, and I guess being bored for 30 minutes a day isn't acceptable. I don't see the big deal. He has a job. That can't be endless excitement all day long, right?

So he tells me he found a great workout. The sand bag workout. Awesome. So he read about some gimmicky nonsense in a men's magazine and now he wants to purchase bags of sand to heave to and fro? Silliest thing ever, right up there with the thigh master. It is, in fact, the men's magazine equivalent of the late night infomercial for the thigh master and all of its similar work out "tools". Only it's a bag of sand, so since it's not formed plastic in a girly purple color, it's totally a manly workout accessory. I'm sure that bag of sand will stave off his workout boredom...for 3 whole minutes.

How did he become so gullible and actually get on board with this idea? He's actually really pumped up about it. Help, people. I see sandbags cluttering the floors of my future home. I'm so not pumped about it. Unlike most clutter that I can just throw away if it gets annoying to me, they are heavy.

Jane, you ignorant slut.

I kid.

I should also stop thinking out loud as much. When a trip you plan on taking for less than $500 becomes $500 just for the flight, you're going to have the thought run through your mind that maybe you should reconsider things.

There's a site called farecast that can show you a charting of prices over the last number of days. Like this for my flight to see Elizabeth's niece get religionized.



I really like these things. Normally you can only feel the ass-raping of booking a retardedly priced airline ticket. With farcaster you not only get to see just how pricey your ticket will be, but you also get to see a fancy graphical representation of how deep they've inserted their junk.

Note the beginning of the graph. It's so cheap to fly that there appears to be no space between the price of the flight and zero. It bumps up a bit and then hangs there for a number of weeks. Then, from out of nowhere you see the chart rise out of control. It's as if some major, crushing blow was delivered to the airline industry causing an outrageous skyrocketing of prices.

What's that you say? Nothing happened? Then why does my ass hurt?

Coincidentally, this chart looks almost identical to any other location I could have flown these last two weekends. I checked my usual flight to Laguardia to see Elizabeth, which I've only paid over $250 for one time ($278, or something) and found those same flight patterns going for $850.

Vegas? $500.
Charlotte? $500.
Fargo? Who the fuck would go to Fargo willingly?

Also, this chart is a pretty close approximation to any given 10 minute period of teen life when you graph penis activity.

Bored on the bus...
Bored on the bus...
Bored on the bus...
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD!

Where is my notebook?
There is my notebook.
Close my locker.
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD!

Boner Crisis Management is a 24hr job as a teen. You literally can't anticipate anything longer than ten or twenty seconds in advance. Anything longer than that and it's possible you'll find yourself forced into action. Hands in the pockets to adjust, while simultaneously covering up your excitement, is a very popular technique. Sitting down, getting your shirt untucked, and many other time-tested maneuvers are available.

I think this well known male teen problem is why women grow up with a sense of fashion and guys end up without one. Guys are too busy planning how to properly select their jeans (Thicker denim conceals a raging hard-on better) and shirt (An untucked shirt is a must) for solid boner management and never have time to learn about color schemes and such.

At any rate, fares had unexpectedly risen like a young Bracelet's junk from a bump in the road, and I thought out loud about whether it was smart to take the trip. Admittedly, I only got one thought out before she had to get off the phone. So all she heard was the first story of our call, which detailed the kindness of a friend who wanted to fly me out on his dime to hang for his birthday weekend in the city. This would, of course, give me some time to see Elizabeth while there. Win win, right?

The second part of the call had me explaining the flight prices from my hub and getting my one thought out about whether or not the price of the religionizing trip had skyrocketed past a point of being realistic. Then work jumped in, or as could be possible, she got pissed and didn't want to talk to me.

I left the call wondering about prices and working the computer hard. Honestly, I usually only search with that level of focus and ferocity when I'm trying to find hermaphrodite on midget anime porn.

I was determined to make it happen, yet there has to be a point where it just becomes too much, right? I mean, we're talking a flight that should never be over $250 going for $500. So you add in hotel costs, food, and whatever else that always seems to snare a chunk of your change while away for the weekend, and you've got a much more expensive weekend in the works.

(Before all you artsie lofties get your panties in a bunch, I'm explaining my thought process and not what was my final decision.)

And here is where Elizabeth gets it wrong. We both had this planned for a long time, though we also had plenty of other stuff planned beforehand. These plans all require airfare and spending money. We live in different states and can't drive to see each other. I make a huge effort to see her as often as possible. It's hard to buy the ticket for 3 trips away when you have two big trips coming up and need to be strapped with cash for those. I don't have the amounts I've spent to have time with her. It's the vast majority of my money though.

I don't do that much at home. I golf when I can, which this year has been a lot, but early in the year you can play for $30 because it's still spring here and courses lower their rates. I play in some soccer leagues, but that's around a hundred a pop and they last for 8 to 10 weeks. I don't go out to clubs. The only thing I do sometimes is get together with friends out of town, hit up the casino, or both at the same time. I don't do this as often as people might think and I usually don't spend any more than I would in a weekend with Elizabeth when I do.

So I feel like I spend all my money to see her, and it's pretty much true. I don't have much credit card space hanging out to help in these situations. I don't have a huge chunk of cash saved up to use. I've been spending the majority of my free monies to see her as often as possible. I'm currently low on funds.

Two grand for dental work (Thanks Mountain Dew!) and an "always seems to happen to the Bracelet" snafu at work that paid out a smaller than deserved bonus plus the timing of checks and recent trips had me confused as to how I would make this week happen.

I don't see the trip of the week previous as a terrible thing. Airfare was free and I'd be spending a minimal amount while there. Plus I'd get to see her. The following week was going to be tough to swallow regardless. A month later would have been easy. A month before would have been easy.

That all being said, I was able to book a last minute deal offer that had to include a hotel stay. We needed one anyways. This brought the hotel for three nights and my flight down to a combined $475. With that manageable amount, I happily booked and informed my lovely lady. But apparently spending almost all my money and time to see her while possibly having to make a tough decision to cancel one trip for the first time almost earned me some sort of worst boyfriend ever award. Ridiculous. She's totally worth being broke for, though. I'd just prefer to not bounce checks along the way.

So I learned my lesson. Don't talk.

So if you're reading at home, here are the numbers so far:

0 - Number of things I get to bring with me besides my bed and clothes.
0 - Number of times I've been right.
0 - Number of rooms I can design in our future home.
0 - Number of arguments I'm allowed to win.
0 - Amount of traveling cash I have left.


It's shaping up to be a good solid "partnership" for me, Team Bracelet. I know most of you are already doing what we're planning on doing. How in the hell do you ever get a chance to buy anything for the house, go anywhere with friends, or masturbate furiously in private, without completely offending your significant other?

I seriously think I need an opyca of the ecretsa anualma.

(Don't worry guys, that code is unbreakable. Nobody will know it was you or what you were sending me.)

Next weekend, we are going to check out some of the places we may want to live, when we move, which is still an undetermined date. That weekend has been planned for months, because it is centered around my niece's christening. It also happens to be Mother's Day and both my mom and my stepmother's birthdays land within the week. But still, there are places to go see. Artsy lofty places, especially.

My man called me the other day to tell me he would be here this weekend, but it's because he has boy plans. I'll see him tomorrow, because he will be spending most of the weekend drinking too much and being a boy. I'm ok with that. What I wasn't ok with was the follow-up musing about whether or not he would be able to go next weekend. To look at places, to the family stuff, all of it. See, he hadn't bought his plane ticket yet, and the prices had suddenly skyrocketed.

I couldn't exactly lecture him about planning ahead and buying the ticket earlier. I am the worst procrastinator about those things myself. Luckily, I live near 3 international airports, so that keeps the airlines in check a bit, with all the competition. Him, not so much. I restrained myself from guffawing at the fact that he would be coming here to party with his friends, no doubt throwing down a good deal of cash for stuff, like beer and baseball stadium food and whatever else boys spend their money on. Strippers? Silly prop bets about nothing? I don't know. I'm fine with all of those things, by the way, and want him to have a great time with those friends he doesn't get to see very often. I'm just not fine with those things in lieu of plans we've had for months. But I restrained. I asked him to look again, and held my breath.

We are going, as scheduled, next weekend. Whew, it was a close one. I need to save all of my arguing skills for the battle of where we will live. I will come back armed with photographic evidence of why I'm totally right pictures of potential places.