<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d5015162370075776699\x26blogName\x3dSamish\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://seesamwrite.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://seesamwrite.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-1861527690466832881', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

My Favorite Year

Monday, April 23, 2007
My senior year of college was one of the best.

Why?

1. Last year of school
2. Living with the most kick-ass roomate EVER
3. The Palamino Suede paint in my room - as weel as the sweet zen style that carried throughout.
4. A gorgeous man that somehow stole my heart immediately - was hilarious, thotful, a great friend and actually made time for me - a nice upper, and definately something to be excited about after years of being treated like 3rd, 4th, 60th, 137th wheel...
5. Belly dancing/Yoga for credits
6. Holiday.

The list goes on and on, but most notably, the events that surrounded my apartment numbered 212 (the house of cabnet/chicken). I'd never commanded much attention from men - but I think something to do with #4 brought me out of the woodwork and got a number of men in my complex to pay a little attention.

All I can say is that when it rains, it pours:

I had recently obtained a cell phone the summer before my senior year. ALL summer long, i recieved random phone calls from guys looking for a Sam. I didn't sign up for a phone plan... i signed up for a dating service where I had to do NO WORK what-so-ever. My new number was flooding in phone calls from men leaving bizarre messages like,

"Yo, Sam... Did you get a girlfriend? Where are you? Ive been in the hospital. Hope you're doing well!"

I called back once and found out some guy named Sam used to have my phone number. I wrote it off and started tiring of all of the phone calls not for me after a few months...

When I got a puppy the following September (Ella Bella Fiztgerald), Suz and I used to leave the door open and let her run around at her leisure because she was a sweet-ass dog, and any dog of mine had to be independent like that. Plus, I had my name and number on her tag just in case she got lost...

One of these times, I get a call from the next door neighbor.

"Hi, is this Sam? Um... I have..."
"My Dog?," I say, finishing his sentence.

I waslk out the door onto our porch to see an extremely attractive guy with a big smile peering out the door of the apartment just adjacent to Suzanne's bedroom wall.

"Hey! I'm Sam."
"Yeah...me, too," he replies back.

I jokingly take a jab and ask if he used to have the phone number he just dialed to reach me.

"Yeah! I thot that number looked familiar."

This was the very SAME sam that used to have my phone number. I was convinced for a solid week that I was supposed to date him because that was too bizarre for real life...

Purusuant #1 was some dude that lived across the street from me. I'm prety sure his name was Chris.

He had yelled down at me from his porch a few times while I was parking.
I'd say hello - hoped he was well, blah blah blah, then ran home.

One morning, when i came out to my car, I had a note on my windsheild that said something like, 'This is Chris from Apartment ### and I'd love to cook you dinner sometime!"

Oooooh, right. Did I forget to mention he was a cuisine chef?
I thot for a minute... free food? Im down...

I left him a response on the back of his note that told him that would be wonderful - left him my number and told him to call me sometime -- then jammed the note into his doorway and snuck off to class.

The following Sunday, I got a phone call that Chris was making some extravagant meatloaf thing.. (suz can attest to this one). The thing about me (as I've already discussed) is that I"m good at grabbing attention - horrible at holding it.

So when I got on the phone with him, I made up some excuse that I was working on a realy huge graphic design project all day (I was) and couldn't make it over for dinner.

"That's Ok! I'll just bring it over to you!"

Awwwwesome. Free food and I don't even have to go on the date! Perfect!

So I was expecting to answer the door (really)... get some food... make some small talk - and get back to work.

So i listened for a knock.

Instead, I get a second phone call 10 minutes later.

"Hey! It's me (Chris). I left the food on your front porch! Enjoy!"

Hmmmmmk.

I went out to the porch and picked up a styraphome container and opened it as I slowly shut our front door. Inside was a heaping serving of Meatloaf. It was awesome. He's a great chef. The thought that I could be consuming poisoned goods crossed my mind for about a minute, and then I got hungry and scarfed half of it down in about 10 minutes.

I left him a note on his porch a few days later and ... never heard from him again. Odd...

Now, below me in apartment 112, lived two guys and a girl. I had seen one of them a few times - made polite chit chat - and said, "We're upstairs if you ever want to come say hi - sweet!"

On Halloween, I ventured to Downtown Flag for the Rocky Horror picture show because my bff at the time was going to check out some chic that was adamantly pursuing his ass.



Now... I don't like Rocky Horror. I never have, never will.
I went purely for moral support - and to laugh at my friend when he got pulled up on stage to dance (he hates dancing).

Afterward, we waited around to say "great job" to his bed buddy and "Rocky (a.k.a. the fine chocolate bear with ripped abs and smooth skin) comes up in nothing but his shiny gold Speedo and gives me a GIANT bear hug.

I can't tell you how uncomfortable I felt at that very moment...

"Hey! IT's Henry! I live below you!"

My stance eased up considerably.
"Oooooh! Hi! I didn't recognize you without your glasses and ya know.. you're wearing a speedo. Great Job!"

The next day I got another note on my doorstep. -

"Hey Girl - you's a fine woman. Come have a beer with me Sometime. - Hank"

Hank. Hmm.. do I know a Hank? I know no Hank.

I blew it off... only to find out after the fact that Hank = Henry and Henry = Hank and if you introduce yourself as one, don't write me a note signed from the other. Utterly confusing.

**********************************************************************

I'm not sure if Suz was my lucky charm (move here, please), Flagstaff, or the Number 4 (Apartment 2 + 1 + 1) - but I"m really crossing m y fingers for the latter, because I just moved into Apartment #4 with an address of Christmas - and Lord knows I need me a good man after the last few years...
|

About me

I'm Sami Jo From Denver, CO, United States Samantha loves to travel, lose herself in a good book, practice yoga at her favorite local studio, The Yoga Mat, and connect with friends, old and new. Her love of working with creative minds extends into her personal endeavors, as well. She and her husband conduct a project called "Songs For Jake," a music collaboration channel designed with the simple mission of getting great songs to one really big music lover. Through her business, Roger Charlie, Samantha focuses on publicity and management, working closely with authors, musicians, and creatives who find value in a more personal approach through communications.
My profile

Web This Blog

Archives

Previous Posts

Links