Bevvy G

You probably thought you were done with me for a while after thirty straight days, huh?

Nope. You see, I’m trying to be more active here on BG.com and I’ve got another series headed your way! (don’t get too excited)

As you may remember, Bev is bi-religious, meaning I celebrate both Christian and Jewish holidays. And as you may know, tonight is the first night of Hanukkah (Chanukkah). And I’d like to honor my Jewish heritage by doing one post for every evening of this year’s Festival of Lights. I could very easily continue my gratitude posts (I have so much more to be thankful for) but I think most of you are pretty sick of those. So what’s the new series, you ask? What can you look forward to?

Well, I’d like to borrow a line from my good Jew buddy, Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah Song and remind you that, “instead of one day of presents, we get eight crazy nights.” So, for the next eight days, you’ll be reading about eight of Bev’s crazy nights. 

*Disclaimer: Mom, Dad, aunts/uncles, Nan… you might not want to read these. I mean, I’ve never ended up in jail, the hospital, or an axe murderer’s torture chamber, but I have done some stupid shit. So go ahead and click on the link in your email so my blog views stay up, but you might not want to read past this warning. Let me know in the comments if you’d like a warning of when to stop reading on each Eight Crazy Nights post.

Night One: Bev visits New Orleans for the First Time

Backstory: I visited New Orleans for the first time.

I arrived in New Orleans fresh off a road trip with a former roommate/friend (both former roommate and former friend, if you’re wondering… that’s another story) and after unpacking our suitcases in the hotel (see this post for some other stories on this NOLA trip), we hit Bourbon Street for a night out.

(Note: Bev’s memories of these next eight nights is a little foggy, so the stories are generally short and sweet)

After the night out on Bourbon Street, former friend and I were in the backseat of a pickup truck (a part of me honestly thinks we were in the bed of the truck, but it doesn’t really matter), driving through the French Quarter and beyond. We ended up at these dudes’ house, and for whatever reason, they didn’t chop us up into tiny pieces and throw us in the canal for the alligators. We literally sat around in their yard, drank beer, smoked weed, and one of them drove us back to our hotel as the sun came up.

And thus began the greatest love affair of my life to date: Bev and New Orleans.

Oh, and just so you remember: O.J. Simpson… not a Jew.

-Bev

Guys, I posted thirty days in a row. I made it. Every day.

There was football, there was travel, there were drinks, there was cheer,
I mean, I’d toast to myself if I could have a beer!
But not tonight, not tomorrow, not for fourteen more days,
Though I can’t say that I won’t spark up and blaze.

But, for now, I must thank the last, most important dyad,
You know- the lady I call “Mom” and the dude I call “Dad”!
It’s MamaG and Smoke, guys, who else would you think?
The ones who created me and sometimes drive me to drink!

I really can’t list all the reasons they deserve a shout,
But raising me? T’wasn’t easy, of that there’s no doubt.
Hell, who am I kidding, they’re still putting in time,
Hoping and praying daily that I don’t commit a crime.

Luckily, so far, the only tort I commit is here,
Bashing on them for their antics, whether I’m far or I’m near.
They’re pretty rad parents, I really have to say,
Though one could argue only half their kids turned out OK.

So, a big ol’ thanks to Smoke, and MamaG, too,
This really isn’t even close to all that they’re due.
I don’t have much to offer; this poem will have to suffice.
And thanks for never selling me for a low asking price.

-Bev

Well, you’ve only got one more gratitude post after this one, and I’m going to go ahead and guess that you are probably grateful for that!

I can’t close out this month without shouting out my family and friends. I mean, I could really go on and on (and on and on) about how awesome they are and all the awesome stuff they do/have done for me, but ain’t nobody got time fa ‘dat. I could also tell some personal or specific stories of how amazing these people are, but I’d certainly leave someone out. And I can’t take that.

So, if I’m related to you (either by blood or by marriage) or if you’re my real-life friend: thanks, man.

-Bev

It’s the 28th day of gratitude, and today I’m thankful for other hot messes.

This particular example is from Norbert Mulligan’s little sister, Katie, but I’m proud to report that I know lots of other hot messes (Norbert Mulligan included) and so, so pleased that they make me feel better about myself almost daily.

(I spent a LOT of time looking, but I couldn’t find the epic Facebook wall exchange between Norbert and myself when had had gotten hammered and lost his phone at the bar the night before, but wanted me to pick up breakfast burritos and coffee for work.)

It takes a village, guys.

-Bev

You know what? Obviously I’m thankful for things like Champagne and Coors Light and cheeseburgers and Sauvignon Blanc and Shake Shack and ranch dressing, etc.

But you know what else? I’m also thankful for Whole30 and other different types of cleanses or programs.  And I’m thankful for coworkers who jump in to said cleanse, whether they really want to or not. And friends who don’t roll their eyes and ask 500 questions about the cleanse and why you’re doing it, but helpfully ask you out for coffee or walks instead of pizza or happy hour. 

And while, yes, I am counting down the days until I can enjoy those things in the first paragraph again (cough, 17, cough), I am also excited to get my diet back on track after basically being a walking French fry with a buzz since spring break.

Ya’heard?

-Bev

So, yesterday, I posted that it was Day 26 and it was Day 25, because of course I did. 

I’m thankful that I noticed that, but also keeping it because I think it’s funny. 

Now, today’s post is one that I have been looking forward to for a long, LONG time. Unfortunately, I thought I had been taking screen shots for the past few months, but I can’t find them. They’re probably somewhere with Uncle Bart’s nickname list. However, upon realizing my misplaced screen shot mistake, I have been stocking up on a few newbies in the past few weeks, and I have some goodies to share.

Today’s gratitude post is directed at the Daily Mail, which is a news source (?) based out of London. I am not exactly one to follow the “real” news, but I’ll be damned if I don’t love me some gossip tabloids. Specifically, Daily Mail. The headlines these people come up with are absolutely outrageous and I’m so here for it. Like I said, there have been even better ones in the past, but I can’t find the pictures, so here’s a little taste.

I sincerely hope that if I ever get stuck in my own bathtub for five days (Lord, help me to always keep a wine fridge in the bathroom), that it does NOT make worldwide news, and certainly does NOT feature a photo of my face. I’m glad Alison is OK though. Also, I wonder if they change names over at the Daily Mail. Because that? That is not the face of an Alison to me…

Before I saw this article, if someone had given me a million dollars to name the desired last meal of a serial killer in Tennessee, this would’ve been it. And then I could have my wine fridge in the bathroom. 

And I feel guilty if I let the kids watch TV for more than thirty minutes when I babysit. (Also, “bag of meth” and “Dollar Tree”- not the first time these phrases have been mentioned in the same breath, I reckon.)

“Hey, honey, how was your day at work?”

I mean, have you heard of writing a passive aggressive email to protest your HOA? Starting a petition? A flaming bag of dog shit on the stoop at the next HOA meeting? Let’s keep the Nazis out of this, people. In fact, let’s keep the Nazis out of everything, people. Dear Lord.

I mean, honestly, just read that one again. The run-on sentences and oddly sequenced clauses, phrases, etc. are another favorite feature of the Daily Mail. I generally have to read the headlines six times before they make sense. No commas. It’s chaos out there.

I just love how camel is in all caps. Go back and reread it with the emphasis on camel, if you didn’t already. Also, I feel for that camel. #StartleReflexIsStrongInThisOne

And this is my recent favorite. I love this and just have so many questions. Why was she half-naked? How does one fall through a ceiling twice? Was it the same ceiling and she fell through the same hole? WHAT IS HAPPENING? And is “Tennessee Cook Out” some kind of business? Why is it capitalized? Isn’t cookout one word? 

I LOVE YOU, DAILY MAIL.

Now, go download the app.

-Bev

Today, I’m thankful that I’ve posted twenty-six days in a row and haven’t lost any followers.

#4MoreDays

-Bev

We’re nearing the end of this month of gratitude, and I have so many things left on the list! I guess that’s a good thing. But for tonight, I have to say that I’m extremely thankful that my friends and I are not members of this younger Instagram set. Specifically, the ones who post these huge “happy birthday” posts to their “best” friends, but really, they’re just finding the best pictures they have of themselves with said “best friend” and then post some stupid Insta story with one photo per story. You know:

Happy (two girls at a bar. birthday girl is clearly hammered, but the “friend” posting the birthday wishes looks like Kendall Jenner.)

Birthday (birthday girl’s eyes are closed. “Friend” is sticking her tongue out in some sort of perfectly posed “playful” gesture.)

To the Most (group of five girls at a college football game. Everyone is looking at a different camera, except the “friend” posting the Insta story. She is staring straight into your soul and her contour/highlight is on point.)

Beautiful (“friend” has given up at this point. It’s just a picture of her own perfect face from a screen shot of a FaceTime call with the birthday girl, where the birthday girl is clearly in her pajamas and had just woken up.)

Girl (birthday girl isn’t even in this photo. “Friend” has taken a Boomerang video of herself blowing a kiss to the birthday girl. And she’s hoping every guy in SAE [is that even a frat?] sees it.)

So, yeah, I’m really thankful we aren’t those people.

-Bev

I hung out with my friends from high school this week since we were all “home” for Thanksgiving. And on our way home from the bars, Henrietta’s husband, Hank, was telling us about a recent scam where people are feigning emergencies, “borrowing” phones from strangers, then emptying their Venmo/bank accounts before handing the phone back. Bev is pretty anti-phone lock codes and fingerprint sensors (another post for another day) so I handed him my phone (open to Venmo) and he got me to the screen where I could enter a Venmo passcode and now no modern-day bandits can steal my millions thousands hundreds tens of dollars.

Which got me thinking…. of course I’m thankful for my friends (and family). But I’m also really thankful for my friends’ husbands. Not only Hank, who is clearly awesome… But all of my friends’ husbands. The ones who order me boxes of mint Chapstick from their Amazon accounts because I don’t have Prime. The ones who contact me secretly to help them pick out engagement rings and take me out for burgers and beers after. The ones who scrape my windshield when I stay overnight at their house. The ones who always make sure I have a drink in my hand. The ones who willingly stay home with the kids (I will not refer to this as babysitting) so their wives can come out to watch football, have happy hour, or celebrate birthdays. The ones who offer to come and set (and/or clean up) my mouse traps. The ones who carry my (very heavy) suitcases. The ones who would probably put me on a golf cart and ride with me to get me back to my room if I have a few too many champagnes in Mexico. (I mean, they would probably do that if this ever happened…)

So, Bev’s friends’ husbands: shout out to you. You da real MVPs.

I’m also thankful for Hank… for not cleaning out my Venmo when I set him up to do just that Wednesday night.

-Bev

Well, it’s Thanksgiving, and you know what I’m thankful for today?

Leggings.

I’m thankful for leggings, OK?

-Bev