I’m not a huge hockey fan, but what I am a fan of is dimples and a sexy butt. (This is one of the primary reasons I married my husband.) I don’t follow hockey regularly.  If I want to watch two people beat each other up, I’ll just watch my neighbors get into it across the street.

Plus, the hot dogs and beer are cheaper at my house.

However, as a St. Louis resident, I know I should at least be able to identify the regular players on the St. Louis Blues hockey team. It’s not so much to talk to them about hockey, but to reserve judgment if they talk to me and (1) sound hoosier and (2) are missing teeth.

One of the most dreamy of the St. Louis Blues is the assistant captain, Alex Steen. Yummy.

I feel like I should insert some lame joke here about how I wouldn’t mind melting the ice with that hottie, or make some inappropriate comment about a word that rhymes with puck.

But I’m classy, and you expect more from me out of a blog post, so I won’t stoop to that level.

steen.pngI don’t mean to brag, but last week I went on a date with Alex Steen.

Okay, maybe he didn’t see it as a date, but I did.

I talked to my husband about it, so don’t think you need to keep this dirty little secret for me (although that would be a great way to find out if he reads my blog).

The date occurred last Monday night. I realize Monday night isn’t a typical date night, but I’m no typical girl.

It started out as a meeting for an animal rescue group where I volunteer.

The location was at a restaurant/bar and after our meeting a handful of people (the dedicated ones), stayed to drink more. We’re really good volunteers.

Later in the evening is when my date, Alex Steen, stopped by. Although I was a few drinks in, I can assure you it was him. Other people saw us together and they can corroborate.

I promise.

Granted, we were sitting around with a group of about five of us, but I’m pretty sure this evening counted as a date with Alex Steen. Here’s why:

1. He paid for my dinner and drinks

photo credit: sarah_connors via photopin cc

photo credit: sarah_connors via photopin cc

Okay, so he paid for everyone’s dinner and drinks, but whatever. That’s just the kind of guy he is. I secretly think he paid the tab because he heard about the kind of girl I used to be, and was hoping to get some over-the-shirt boob action. (He totally could have).

Why does this make it a date? How many dates do you go on where the guy pays for the meal and drinks? If you’re a smart dater, (and I am), those are the only dates you go on.

If a guy doesn’t pay on the first date, then I don’t return his call for the second. Any guy I go out with needs to learn early that I like to eat, and he has to support that habit.

Picking up the tab on a first date is customary when the guy is interested in the woman. This is obviously what happened here.

steen and dog

2. He touched my leg more than once

Yeah, that’s right. He touched my leg.

I shall never wash those pants again…if only they were my Pajama Jeans! Several times throughout the night his hand and arm brushed upon my leg.

I’m sure he will say it was an accident, and we were sitting so close that it was inevitable that he would brush up against me. But we both know the truth.

He sooo wanted me.

3. We talked about our common interests

Here he is rescuing a puppy with the rescue I work with.

I love dogs. Shocking, right? Guess who else loves dogs? Alex Steen!

We are a perfect match! I mean, how many people on this planet share a love of dogs?

Wait…um…that might be a lot…but he shares my love of this particular rescue. Doesn’t that equal a love connection?

Sure, many of my friends also love this same organization and I’m not planning our weekend getaway together (it would be at a Four Seasons resort and spa), but Alex and I share a true bond.

Just ask him.

4. He laughed at my jokes

Isn’t that another sign of a good first date? He regularly laughed at my jokes and even engaged in discussion with me.

Okay, maybe they weren’t so much jokes, as just sentences I made; and maybe they weren’t so much sentences as incoherent comments with a string of conjunctions strewn inbetween.

Whatever the reason, he was laughing at the same time I was, which is fine with me. Whomever said “as long as they are laughing with you and not at you” is an idiot and has clearly never laid eyes on Alex Steen.

5. He looked longingly into my eyes

photo credit: sarah_connors via photopin cc

photo credit: sarah_connors via photopin cc

Yes, he looked longingly. Okay, maybe it wasn’t longingly so much as he was looking into my eyes to see if I was sober enough to drive home, but either way, he looked into my eyes.

Can you say that about the dreamy Steenster?

He obviously cares about me if he didn’t want me to drive home if I wasn’t sober. He has my back because he obviously wanted to see me again. I’m sure it didn’t have anything to do with the fact he’s training for the season and didn’t want to be associated with scandal that would result in his “girlfriend” getting in a car accident.

He probably just didn’t want the stress of worrying about me. He’s such a caring guy.

So there you have it; all the reasons why last Monday I had a date with Alex Steen. Don’t be too jealous, as you can watch him on TV as you root for The St. Louis Blues in the playoffs.

But hands off the Steenster. He’s mine.

license16I despise getting pulled over.  Granted, there’s a special feeling that comes with knowing whatever speeding ticket I get will just be taken care of later.  It’s one of the very few perks of being a lawyer.

Considering I pay far more in the equivalent of student loans each month, I consider it a wash.

Recently, I passed a poor soul who was pulled over for most likely going 1 mile over the speed limit.  While pointing and laughing at him as I drove by, I realized there are probably some license plates that would get you pulled over more than the average driver.

What kind of license plates, you ask?  Here are a few I came up with.

If you’re thinking of getting a vanity license plate, make sure you don’t get one of these, unless you want to be pulled over regularly.  Instead, get something innocuous that’s hard to remember.

That’s what I did.

It works.  Just ask Ryan Gosling.  That poor guy still hasn’t been able to identify me and my stalker-mobile when I’m parked outside his home “keeping an eye on things.”**

**I think you know what I mean by “things.”

license plates

I'm not sure that this photo has anything to do with bosses, but I thought it was awesome.  Enjoy. photo credit: danielhedrick via photopin cc

I’m not sure this photo has anything to do with bosses, but I thought it was awesome. Enjoy.
photo credit: danielhedrick via photopin cc

For some reason, Nickelodeon hasn’t fired me yet.

If only I could say as much for my first job in high school at the grocery store.

<to that boss, let me just say that no one specifically told me I couldn’t comment on people’s groceries as I rang them up.  Perhaps that’s something you should put in the handbook.> 

As of now, NickMom is still publishing me, which is ridiculously awesome.  Today I’m on their site with a fancy decoder chart of what your boss says and what he actually means.

You all know what I’m talking about.  He says one thing and means something completely different.

Fortunately for you, this fancy chart lets you decode those messages.  I’m so good to you.

Yes, you have to go to NickMom to see it.  They need to see that at least 2 people read my piece so I don’t get fired and go the way of Marc Summers.

Ohhh…do you think he’d have a job for me at “Unwrapped?”  I can unwrap food with the best of them.

Some would say I’m even a pro.  Call me, Marc!

Here’s the link to read my fancy decoder.  You know you need to read it now.

arrows

 http://www.nickmom.com/more-lols/boss-to-human-translator/?xid=lisanewlin

 

arrows up

***This is a post from earlier this year.  I am reposting it because it could have been written yesterday…or last week…or today.  This is mostly just sad for me, but hopefully it will be entertaining for you.  

Grab a napkin and enjoy.  

Ew.  Not like that. ***

cupcake2

The empty container that formerly held goodness.

I know I should be mortified.  I should be disgusted with myself.  I know these things, and yet I feel nothing but satisfaction.

Maybe this is how Taylor Swift feels whenever she puts out a new album.  (Sidebar:  I secretly like most of her songs, but I will never publicly admit it.  She’s just a country girl looking for love.)

Anyway, back to me, where the focus should always be.  (That rhymes.)

Why am I ashamed? Because I ate an entire container of mini cupcakes.

Impressed?  You should be.

Granted, it wasn’t in one sitting, but it was within a 24 hour period, which I find both depressing and exciting.  The fat girl in me is proud of the accomplishment while the skinny girl in me is horrified and repulsed.

Fortunately, the skinny girl in me is squashed and practically crushed by the fat girl, so she can shut the f*#k up and keep her opinions to herself.  (She also needs to eat a ham sandwich.)

I’m saying this is a good thing and I don’t care what skinny people say…not even my husband.

Don't look at me with those judging eyes.  I've seen you lick yourself.  You're no better than me. photo credit: This Year's Love via photopin cc

Don’t look at me with those judging eyes. I’ve seen you lick yourself. You’re no better than me.
photo credit: This Year’s Love via photopin cc

I didn’t do this tonight, but did it about 2.5 weeks ago.  As my loving blog followers know, I recently had surgery and had evil Stan the gallbladder removed.

That’s a pretty big deal, or at least that’s what I’m telling my husband.

I don’t ever want to move anything, lift anything, or carry anything ever again so I’m going to ride this surgery into the ground…or at least ride it to the store where I will stay in the car while he runs in to get milk because “I’m just so weak.”

This whole surgery thing is a built in excuse for life…or at least for a few months.

Either way, I legitimately had surgery and I have the scars to prove it.  They are both physical scars from the incisions and what I assume will be emotional scars that will come when I get the bills and realize I need a second job to pay them.  (I’m thinking something where I get to wear a uniform…but not a hat.)

Due to the physical and emotional trauma my body sustained, it needs time and energy to heal from the invasive surgery.

What better way to heal than with some pre-packaged chocolaty goodness from Target?  It’s the perfect medicine.

I know people say laughter is the best medicine, but those people haven’t tried these cupcakes.  They’re wayyyyy better.  (Incidentally, I also discovered through this whole gallbladder thing that Percocet is also the perfect medicine, assuming you don’t mind constipation, of course.)

photo credit: Frederic Poirot via photopin cc

This isn’t me in the photo. This chick and her skinny arms have never downed an entire container of cupcakes. That’s where we differ.
photo credit: Frederic Poirot via photopin cc

The cupcakes were amazing, and I contend they were good for me too.  I mean, the sustenance my body received from eating an entire 12 pack of mini cupcakes can’t be quantified.

Okay, well maybe it can technically be quantified by calories, fat, and number of tears cried when I realized I ate them all.

Whatever.  Each bite was more savory than the last, and if I had it to over again, I would absolutely eat the whole container again.

Actually, the only thing I would do differently is this time I would buy two containers.  Isn’t two always better than one?  (Except when it comes to STDs.  In that case, I would say one is better than two.  I would also say get to the clinic and get that taken care of, you dirty dog.)

So the next time you’re at Target and come across containers of mini cupcakes, grab one.  You won’t be sorry.  Then bring it to my house so I can down them all in one sitting.  After all, you didn’t even get me a “get well soon” gift.

FOR SHAME!

finished cupcakes

It was everything I thought it could be.

NKOTBI’ve always loved New Kids On The Block (or NKOTB for those of you into abbreviations).  But then again, who doesn’t?

An all American boy band who wears t-shirts with cartoon strips and Bill Cosby inspired sweaters?  <swoon>

Five boys who know how to hit a high C like they’re making sweet love to it?  <swoon again>

Throw in some lightly feathered mullets and the dream weavers perched on a precariously low traffic light only to randomly pose for a photo for their album cover?

<triple swoon>

The album cover on the right is my favorite, and not just because it highlights the fact Jordan has enough eyebrow hair to weave a blanket for the homeless.  That’s just an added bonus.

Rather, this cover perfectly captures why I break for NKOTB.  I mean, what’s not to love about this?! (Aside from Joey McIntyre’s high waisted mom jeans.  Really Jo Jo?)

photo credit: marcia.furman via photopin cc

photo credit: marcia.furman via photopin cc

This photo demands respect. I challenge anyone not to give props to Donnie with that sassy hand on his hip. Those geometric patterns on his sweet cotton sweater says he’s good in art class but he also knows how to unhook a girl’s training bra with the flip of his Swatch-adorned arm.

<swoon again>

Let’s not forget about Jordan.  In this picture he looks like he was being goosed by someone passing by.  Perhaps he was.  If so, it was most likely a pedestrian who actually wanted to use the traffic signal to cross the street and didn’t appreciate 5 pubescent boys mounting it for the camera.

What about Jonathan Knight?  He barely made it into the photo, but that’s okay.  His boldly striped t-shirt/sweatshirt combo made him halfway visible, which is all he ever wanted.

The biggest question I have about this cover, aside from why the police didn’t shut down the photo shoot that was undoubtedly interfering with traffic, is why Danny in the center of this photo.

Seriously, why?

This is me and one of my besties at the NKOTB concert this year.  I swooned (and sweated) a lot.

This is me and one of my besties at the NKOTB concert this year. I swooned (and sweated) a lot.

That’s one mystery I’ve never solved, and I’ve spent countless hours drooling staring at this cassette tape.

This album cover is what made me first fall in love with these wacky kids, and 25 years later, I still want to kick it with the New Kids.  If only I could. As one of the greatest bands of all time, NKOTB still knows how to put a skip in my step and a throb in my loins.  (Well, all of them but Danny.)

Naturally, when I found out there was a NKOTB cruise, I knew I had to get in on it.  Or just physically get on it.  On the boat.  Not on the guys.  (Unless they’re into that sort of thing.)

Unfortunately, my dream of sailing the high seas while hitting high Cs (and drinking Hi-C) was not to be.  Cruising with the New Kids sold out in 3 minutes flat, and I’m not talking about a B flat.

Sadly, I wasn’t one of the lucky girls to get a ticket.  I can’t say I’m not devastated.  I could, but I’d be lying.

photo credit: Corey Ann via photopin cc

photo credit: Corey Ann via photopin cc

What was so perfect about the cruise was it was in “Summertime” which is my favorite time of year.  That, coupled with the fact those boys have “The Right Stuff” to get a “Block Party” going, makes me a sad girl.

I guess I shouldn’t be too upset about missing it.  I’m sure it’s just a bunch of “Cover Girl“(s) going, and I don’t want to be a part of that.

However, I’m considering approaching one of the lucky ticket holders and asking her to sell me her ticket.  Maybe I should be upfront and just ask her to “Please Don’t Go Girl.” Who knows?  It might work.  Stranger things have happened.

After all, Danny got married.

I’ve always been such a super fan of theirs, and I’ve supported their entire career.  “Didn’t I?” I know if I went on the cruise they’d “Treat Me Right” and we’d have a great time.  I’m probably even become their “Favorite Girl.”

Maybe they’ll have another cruise and I can get tickets for that one.  I will remain optimistic.

Until then, I will take it “Step by Step” and stay “Hangin’ Tough” until the new cruise date is announced.  I’m hoping I can go the next time around, as “I like the remix (baby).

I’m sad I can’t go, but “Whatcha Gonna Do About It?”

To my dearest New Kids, please plan another cruise.  I promise “I’ll Be Loving You (Forever).

This is me drinking beer at the NKOTB concert in June 2013. I've dreamed of this moment since the 6th grade.

This is me drinking beer at the NKOTB concert in June 2013. I’ve dreamed of this moment since the 6th grade.

matt on sailboat

That’s a girl’s hat he had to borrow because he forgot his hat at home.

It’s that time again.  It’s the time when I give my readers a peak into the infinite wisdom that spews from my husband’s mouth on a daily basis.

Actually, it’s crap.  It’s all crap, but it’s funny crap, so it works.  It keeps me laughing, which is all that matters.

Based upon the demands of you guys, he keeps you laughing too.

Don’t tell him that.

Without any further hesitation, let’s get to the mockery, shall we?

A memory like a steel trap

Matt:  “I totally told you about this.”

Lisa:  “I don’t remember it.”

Matt:  “Okay, maybe I didn’t tell you, but whatever.”

You can actually see him saying "Stop it."

You can actually see him saying “Stop it.”

Master of multi-tasking

I just peed and took my contacts out at the same time.  Hashtag allstar.”

A happy guy

Matt:  “Ew.  Shady Jack’s lipstick is out again. It’s so gross.”

Lisa: “Just don’t look at it.  It’s because he’s a happy dog.”

Matt:  “I’m a happy guy, but I don’t walk around with a boner.*”

*THIS IS DEBATABLE.*

A big dreamer

Matt:  “I had a dream that we got some really bad ass concert tickets from  Steve Wozniak (co-founder of Apple).”

Lisa:  “That’s weird.”

Matt:  “Then he got me a really good deal on underwear.  They were tighty whities, but still.”

Matt passed outA chick magnet

Matt: “I have a lot of scars from karate.*** It’s okay though.  Chicks dig scars.”

Lisa:  “How did you get scars from karate?”

Matt: “I got them from trying to break boards with my hands in karate.  

<looks down and says under his breath> 

“I was not successful.”

***In this conversation, he pronounced it as kah-rah-tay. Seriously.***

A needy guy

Matt:  “I need a new one of those air fresheners for my car.”

Lisa:  “Yeah, because you threw your last one away.”

Matt:  “That’s not relevant to this conversation.  I need a new one.”

A conversationalist

Lisa:  “What were we just talking about?”

Matt:  “The thing.”

Lisa:  “What thing?”

Matt:  “I don’t know, but it was definitely important.”

matt and lisa on the boat

small_3622334673 (1)

No dog ingested beer or alcohol in conjunction with this photo or this post.
photo credit: Amarand Agasi via photopin cc

Dear beer,

I know I ‘m the last person you’re expecting to hear from.  Normally, my heart (and my liver) belong to vodka.  He’s always been my one true love and I’ve never hidden that fact from you.

I’ve passed you up a million times before last night.  I’ve walked right by you at bars, at parties, and even at BBQs.

I feel a little guilty about that but you’ve never been what I needed and I’ve never felt a desire to stray from my betrothed…until now.

Maybe it’s your curves, or maybe it’s your intoxicating smell, but something changed.  I’m finding myself drawn to you and I’m not sure why.

Maybe I’m getting tired of vodka.  He’s never been a cruel mistress (or mister), but perhaps I’m bored with him.

The alcohol is always colder on the other side of the bar.”

Isn’t that what they always say?

Maybe it’s true.  I’m not sure, but what I do know is I’m finding myself wondering what it would be like to spend more time with you and I’m wondering why we haven’t been closer before.

Sure, it’s most likely my fault.  You’re more than available.  I never have a hard time finding you at a sporting event, a wedding reception, or even the grocery store.

You’re not elusive like my dear vodka.  You’re everywhere.  I suspect that’s what pushed me away from you before.

But now…now it’s different.

beerI had a temporary moment of weakness last night and I gave into my urges and I just wanted to tell you thank you.  Thank you for last night. I had such an amazing time.

You were incredible.

Especially now that I know what we can be together, I’m sorry I initially resisted the urge to see you, but I’m glad I caved to peer pressure.

I had a long day yesterday and needed to relax. All the other beverages told me not to turn to you, which was mostly the cause for my hesitation.

They said you wouldn’t treat me right.

My stomach even chimed in, saying you were too rough on her sometimes.  She’s finicky so I didn’t take her pleas too seriously.

Dear beerVodka screamed the loudest.  He can be a needy sonofabitch.

Like the ever controlling paramour, he tried to point out that sometimes you make me feel like I hit my head repeatedly against the wall.

I promptly reminded him that feeling doesn’t come until the morning after we hang out, and it’s only if I spend a lot of time with you.  I told him I wouldn’t do that.

Just a taste.  That was all.  We both knew I was lying, but it was a lie I was willing to make.

Don’t get me wrong. Vodka has his faults too.  He can be bitter at times, and he doesn’t always get along with my stomach.

Then again, no one does, especially since my evil gallbladder Stan tried to kill me.

Either way, I knew I didn’t need bitter last night.  I just needed you.

I practically ran to your cold embrace, holding you ever-so-tightly by the neck.  I know that’s how you like to be held.

Don’t deny it.

Our time together was perfect, and although we had to part too soon, I want you to know I will cherish what we shared.

I’m looking forward to our next get-together.

Love Lisa