Jeff and I got there early and watched them set up and kept our eye on the clock. A $25 pass bought unlimited beer for 2 hours and we didn’t want to miss a minute of it!

We were quickly joined by Ronnie, Sally, Alan, Kevin and Teresa. The perfect group for a day of drinking and fun. The clock struck 2 and we were off.

There were very few brewers compared to the Athens fest, but that festival was 4 hours long and $40, so it’s all relative I guess …

I was spoiled immediately by the Thomas Creek representative, who clearly knows his craft. He talked to us about all the different brews, answered all of our questions, and even dived into the home brewing topic. This was fun!

Unfortunately, though, he was one of the only ones who did. Most of the other booths seemed to be manned by McHales’ employees. They knew about beer of course, but they didn’t offer up the information without being asked and they seemed much less interested in sharing their knowledge. I got a lot of, “Try this you’ll like it” without a lot more information. I’m not really a beer aficionado but being around Chris has certainly taught me a thing or ten, and I like to try to pay attention.

I did find a couple of beers I liked that I hadn’t yet had – “Son of a Peach” by RJ Rockers out of Spartanburg and Skinny Dip from New Belgium. I also got to taste some current favorites – Abita’s Strawberry Harvest and Purple Haze. I love fruity tasting beers (obviously), but Chris has taught me that I like pilsners, hefeweizens, wheat beers, some IPAs, some pale ales and probably more that I can’t remember.

But really, it’s not just about the beer. It’s about who you’re drinking the beer with, and I was really struck on Saturday by what a great group of buddies I had around me. We had so much fun.

Unfortunately, our group made up a large fraction of the people there. It was pretty barren. McHales did a great job of setting it up but I’m afraid they didn’t market it very well. I heard about it from Ronnie and had to search really hard to find any information online.  But, we still got our share of beer from the experience!

Alan collects cups

We ran into our friends Elizabeth and Sandy. I saw Sandy cross the finish line at Tri the Rock that morning!

So glad one of my closest friends is back in town!

There was cornhole and Disc Golf. There was a climbing wall. But I mean, who’s crazy enough to climb a climbing wall after drinking a bunch of beer?

Ok, so I guess there’s something about boys and beer and climbing …

So, after all this we decided to go back to Ronnie and Sally’s for some swimming. Except, I didn’t have a bathing suit. So, a stop to Target on the way over fixed that. There’s something a bit odd about walking into a Target while drunk when it’s still daylight. Never mind picking out a bathing suit.

And of course the sizes are all off.

Teresa found me the perfect one, though – and I will actually wear it again!

We headed to the pool, jumped in and splashed around until the pizza guy showed up and then we ate the heck out of some pizza.

All in all, I’d say the Athens beer festival was bigger and better, but they were both equally fun. That’s what good friends will do!

But for now, I’m going to run 5 miles with Kevin today at lunch (we were going to swim, but it’s actually cold today!) So I’ll check back in later! But I’ll leave you with this picture, taken at Brewfest:

My friend Alan said he rescued a turtle that very same day from a different road in Rock Hill.

And on Sunday I saw another turtle hanging out on the side of the highway.

I frequently see them in the road while running, and unfortunately none of those are ever alive.

—

This may or may not be related, but I have met many, many people over the years who have had pet turtles. They keep them for 3 months or 3 years or something in between, depending on how long it takes them to move and not have room for them / grow bored of them / claim they got too big to handle. These people then return them to the nearest pond / lake / river, thinking it’s no big deal.

The thing is, it is a big deal. When you take in a pet turtle and start feeding it turtle food on a regular schedule, the turtle forgets how to find food for itself. What do you think happens when you let that turtle into the wild? Not only is it bad for the turtle, but apparently it’s illegal.

You don’t have to take my word for it:

From a site about Red Eared Sliders:

A captive RES will be more susceptible to predators, starvation and disease. They are not conditioned for a harsher environment and are dependent on people for their food and safety. A released captive must compete against a native turtle population, could disrupt an ecosystem and may possibly introduce new diseases. Released captives may dangerously stray from their area of abandonment. They will be vulnerable to predators out of water, to people and to vehicular traffic. They may not be prepared for harsh weather conditions or seasonal changes.

Releasing a previously captive turtle is not an acceptable or humane decision.

—

Another site mentioning the release of red eared sliders (they are popular pets):

The Problem: You find yourself in possession of a red-eared slider and, while you have grown fond of it, you no longer feel you can take care of it properly. You have called different local shelters and none of them will accept the turtle. You begin to realize you have a problem. It is illegal to release a captive turtle into the wild. Not only is it a poor decision for the turtle (who has most likely become accustomed to being fed turtle food sticks it will not find in the wild), it is bad for the environment due to the parasites it may pass onto the surrounding population of turtles. By releasing a red-eared slider, you also risk having that slider breed with another turtle of its kind. Once a colony is established, it can push out the native species living in the area. If you have been contemplating wild release of your pet turtle(s), please reconsider. Your decision could have a serious effect on the environment, and drastically impact conservation efforts.

The above web site takes turtle care so seriously they even have a will you can fill out for who will care for your pet turtle after you are gone.

—

If you have to get rid of a pet turtle, please do so responsibly. Call a vet and ask for a recommendation. Give it to a local rescue group. See if a friend or family member will take it in. Please.

—

This topic hits home with me. I’ve had Spike, my red-eared slider, for 12 years. Yes, 12 years. I rescued him from a roommate in college who left him for dead when she moved out of the house we all shared, and he’s been with me ever since. He’s a great pet and I’ve never even considered getting rid of him.

—

I’m writing this post not to brag about being a responsible pet owner or to chastise anyone who has done this in the past. My assumption is that people do not realize what they are doing to their turtle and potentially to the environment when they release a turtle into the wild. I write this post in hopes to help get the word out. Turtles are great animals. Let’s do what we can to keep them off the interstates.

Last summer Chris and I talked about strip clubs and it turns out he’d never been either. Really? I thought all guys had gone to strip clubs by the time they were in their early 20s. But that sealed it – we had to go together. Susan and Alan agreed, saying they would buy us lap dances. So we tried one night after the other bars closed – and found out the hard way the strip clubs closed at the same time. Bummer!

Summer came and went and other things took priority. We laughed at the name of the Athens strip club – Toppers – and jokingly suggested it to Colleen once, who thought it must be a pizza place. Toppers, get it?

Chris heard talk around town that this was not the cream of the crop as far as strip clubs go. In fact, the  reason there was no cover on Monday nights was because that’s when the ugliest girls worked – the girls with [insert favorite deformity joke here.]. Tuesday nights were $1 cover because they were the second-ugliest girls, and so on until you get to Friday or Saturday.

But it just happened to be a quiet Monday evening in Athens when Chris and I were bar hopping a few weeks ago and decided that if we were ever going to stop talking about it and just do it – why not now? We’d been drinking enough at all the other bars that it just seemed like an excellent idea.

Entering the strip club

We walked into the bar and showed our IDs to the girl behind the counter. “This is our first time at a strip club!” I proclaimed tipsily (is that a word?)

“Yeah, we’re here to see the, um, Monday night girls,” Chris added – and I shushed him immediately.

“What was that?” the woman asked.

“Be nice!” I said under my breath.

“What? Haha,” he answered, and we dipped out of her sight before she could toss us out of there.

Made a stop at the ATM for $30 – dances cost $10, so we figured that’s one dance each plus tip money.

Of course, we had no clue what we were actually doing …

The club

We walked inside and my first thought was that we were on set for The Sopranos. I have no idea why the bar reminded me of the strip club on the show so much, but it did. Probably because the stage was right there – I didn’t expect it to be that close. We made a beeline for the bar and ordered beers – that much, we knew how to do. I went to the bathroom after that and Chris said while I was gone a girl came to him and offered him a private dance, which he turned down. Why couldn’t that have happened while I was there? So unfair. I miss everything.

When I got out we took a seat one row back from the stage to try to figure out how this whole thing worked. And what I saw were – the girls were pretty. All this talk about Monday night girls being so ugly and deformed really was uncalled for – they were beautiful girls! So what if most of them have small boobs – is that how beauty is defined? If so, I take offense!

We watched the girls dancing on stage and approaching various people (all guys) to put their boobs in their face. This didn’t really seem all that exciting, so we weren’t jumping at the thought of taking a front-row seat.  The money for the lap dances was burning a hole in our pockets but we were rooted in our “safe” seats one row back – neither of us sure what happens next.

What happened next was last call. We were only there about 20 minutes. So we decided to come back another day to spend our lap-dance money, and we slipped out, pretty much unnoticed.

After the club

I think we need to go back to say we’ve really experienced a strip club. I felt too much like I was watching one on TV more than a participant. Next time, we need to go earlier – and next time, we need to bring more money. I was almost scared to ask for anything because of the embarrassment if it costs more than I had! I think Susan and Alan need to accompany, show us the ropes …

——–

Read Chris’ account of our adventures here.

How does this happen?

I didn’t know men even liked cats, much less single men who live alone with them …

Ronnie has an excuse; he and his ex-wife got the cats together and of course once you get to know George and Peanut you have to love them. But how did Alan get Lena or Chris get JC? I thought guys were dog people; the bigger the dog the better. Right?

——-

And everyone knows dogs and cats just don’t get along. So when Chris invited me to bring my dogs along with me on a visit to him, I laughed. “Are you trying to get one less cat?” I asked.

“They’ll be fine,” said the eternal optimist, clearly unaware of what a predator my doberman mix is …

But I love my dogs and the thought of bringing them to visit sounded awesome. I’m not crazy, so I left the doberman at home, but Breanna my beagle mix has accompanied me twice now.

And you know what? It’s not so bad.

The first visit Breanna got one half of the apartment and JC got the other half. Breanna would sniff under the door until JC would extend a clawed paw in her direction, sending her a message to get back.

This visit, however, the animals have been upgraded to sharing an apartment with the door open. And sans one 5 a.m. wakeup where they were tearing through the apartment at high speeds (who was chasing who? Not even sure they know …) they’ve been doing ok. Some growling has ensued, but no teeth-baring. Some hissing, but no claws.

——-

Does this mean dog people and cat people can be friends after all? Well, as Ronnie has been calling me Aunt Melissa to his cats for a while now, I’d say so.

And me, deeming myself clever, had a conversation with my clever partner in crime, Susan, about how funny it would be to call Erin and say, “Thanks for the ring, but why a W?”

So then Susan, who I may have already mentioned is my clever partner in crime, decided that the W needed to mean something. And that something would be WowGirl. When I wore the ring as an M, I was Melissa. And when I wore it as a W, I was WowGirl. And that, my friends, is how I became a superhero.

But oh, it didn’t stop there. WowGirl needed a super hot, sexy, and kick-ass look, and powers, and other superhero friends.

Step 1: The Look

In comes Chris, who draws WowGirl as he sees her – with stilettos and a belt that looks like the typewriter ring and a cape. He makes her super hot, sexy, and kick-ass, everything that a superhero should be. Except she’s missing a face. But he doesn’t like to draw faces. So that’s that.

Step 2: The Powers

WowGirl has the ability to stomp the eyes of bad guys with her stiletto. These powers are loosely defined, probably due to too many beers and not enough planning. Jeff does give her a theme song, though, something every superhero should have.

Step 3: The Superhero Friends

(As far as time lines go, this probably should be Step 1. But I digress.) I give you Zonic Sooooosie, who has X-ray vision and 5 Os, and who plays Susan in real life. 

Then there’s Sir H.C., whose name spelled backward is Chris and whose claim to fame is his, um, H.C. 

There’s Normous Knob, who drinks Knob whiskey and plays Ronnie during the day, and whose claim to fame is his, um, Knob.

And there’s Slab, which is what comes out if you try to type Alan on a Blackberry Pearl with auto correct type, and whose claim to fame is his, um, Slab.

Hmm, I’m seeing a pattern here … No wonder Zonic has 5 … um, never mind.

So, this story would probably be way better if we didn’t do most of the planning when we were drinking. But Sir H.C. and WowGirl did make Zonic a poster for her 30th birthday, which I share with you here:

zonic-poster

And for all you comic book fans that are potentially feeling a little bit pained right now, help us define WowGirl! If for no other reason, because she has the potential to be a hot, sexy, and kick-ass Halloween costume next year … and having a hot, sexy, and kiss-ass Halloween costume is really what it’s all about.

Then I loved it. New friends, new things to do. I felt closer to my family than ever before – it was my first lesson that you’ve got family no matter what. Then we moved back. And I hated that.

I wasn’t sure where I stood with anyone anymore. I hated it. I hated it for all of one day – the first day of school – before things were fine again.

————-

My exboyfriend John told me once during one of our many breakups, “You just hate change.” He was the first of a few exboyfriends that would tell me that. I always hated breakups because I hated the thought of this person who had been so special to me and who I spent so much time with, sharing so many dreams with - would just be … gone. Out of my life. Even if I was the one breaking up. Sometimes, especially then. Probably why I am friends with many of my exes.

————-

I decided to quit my first job out of college about 4 years into it. I worked there 7 years, so it took me almost half of my career there to officially decide when to leave. I loved the work, loved the people, but hated the schedule and hated the bullshit. So I wanted to quit - it only took me 3 years to actually do it.

————-

This past summer as we partied with the core group of friends that all hung out together, I couldn’t help but fearing the change. We all knew it was coming – Ronnie would leave for California, Susan would get a teaching job and Alan would get a roommate. Chris would move from 1.5 hours away to 3.5 hours away, and George would get less fat. There would be no more beer pong on Friday nights or smoking on the island during a good card game.

————-

I would love to end this post with something happy. Something about how, despite my resistance to change, it has always led to something fabulous. And that is, of course, usually the case. However, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to go through at the time.

“When God closes a door he opens a window?” Well, if that’s true, He’s still closing a door. … How does everyone else deal with change? Embrace it or fear it? Love it or resist it?

——-

Recently I bombed as a wing woman. Ronnie and Alan and I were partying at McHale’s one night when Alan spotted some pretty girls watching the live music. He pointed them out to me, and tipsy Melissa on a Mission came out (Colleen, you know what I’m talking about …)

Approaching the girls was easy. And boys, just so you know, flattery will get you everywhere. So I started there. “My friend Alan is too shy to come tell you himself, but he thinks you both are very beautiful.”

“Ooh, who’s Alan?” they both started looking around quickly. This was going well. They spotted him and responded happily.

Within a few minutes our groups were merged, and all was great for the rest of the night. One of the girls was married, and Alan was interested in the other one (Rita) anyway, so all was going perfectly …

At the end of the night, I asked Rita for her number so we could all hang out again. Of course, we all knew it was for Alan, but it was just easier this way. She gladly gave it to me, which I put in my brand-new iPhone. I gave her my business card with my number on it. We all planned to get together soon and parted ways.

The best wing woman ever, right? Alan began bragging of my skills the next day, stating I’m an even better wing woman than Ronnie. Very proud of my status, I broke out my (did I mention brand-new?) iPhone and pulled out her number to write on Alan and Ronnie’s white board. Went to her entry, glanced at her name and number, looked up to write her name on the white board, looked down again to get her number and – it was gone. Gone! I had just seen it! It was 803 … something … uh oh.

Looked everywhere in the phone, and it was just not there anymore. Not sure if it was a glitch with the new phone (they had a few at the beginning of the 3G release) or if it was my fault, or what. But it was gone …

I then had to break the news to Alan that I was the worst wing woman ever. We hoped Rita might still call; she did have my card. But no luck. We figure either a) she lost the card and was hoping we would call, or b) she’s still mad at Alan for not being a man and calling her himself.

Rita, if you happen to come across this, it was totally my fault and you should definitely call us! Alan would very much like to see you again, and of course, if you call it will surely redeem my wing woman status …