Skip to main content

TMI: Christmas Edition (subtitled, the 100th post had to be good.)

It's a banner day here at musings of amber murphy. Not only is it Christmas Eve (eggnog: check!) and TMI Thursday (hilarious humiliations: check!) but I am also celebrating my 100th post. I thought about linking my most memorable posts -- my favorites, the ones that got the most comments -- but that just seemed like a ton of work to do on a holiday. Instead, I'll opt to focus on the present, and post a TMI for the ages. I'll give you so much information, in fact, that you might regret ever being mildly amused by my TMI Thursdays. Are you ready for this?

TMI Thursday

I went through this phase. I fondly refer to it as my six-month bar-slut phase. It started smack in the middle of the summer in 2002, and basically ended just before I started dating my future husband in early 2003.

(Three years from now I can say this all happened a decade ago. I sort of look forward to that milestone.)

In July of '02, I ended a two year relationship. Instead of spending weekends curled up with the same boy, watching movies or making googly-eyes at one another, I was free to go out and do as I pleased.

Newly 21, I started frequenting a karaoke bar with my friend, whose privacy I shall protect, since I passionately blame her for what comes next. (Why? She recomeneded the karoake bar.)

I was never that kind of girl, back before the endless rounds of beer and tequila shots started flowing as easily as Mariah Carey's Without You did from my drunken lips. (And Allison Kraus' When You Say Nothing At All. And Jann Arden's Insensitive. And Deana Carter's Strawberry Wine. And Jewel's Foolish Games. And Faith Hill's Cry. Yes, I was also a karaoke whore.)

The first boy was named Sean. He was an IU fan, like me. He drank Coors Lite, like me. He ate meat. After two serious relationships with vegetarians, this fact alone made me certain he was my destiny.

He wasn't.

I'll spare you the gorey weekend-details of the many, many men the few lucky men (insert small-ish, appropriate number here) who came to know Amber Leigh Tidd-not-yet-Murphy over the span of those hazy months.

But, this TMI belongs to a dee-jay. He was really the last of my conquests, the end of the list of first names boys I remember with  fondness. Dee-jay was a passionate Pittsburgh Steelers fan who was allergic to wool and shared my love of slow dancing to Journey songs.

Oh, and he had a girlfriend.

Dee-jay and I weren't doing anything wrong. We just hung out a ton. I don't remember why his old lady was never around. Maybe she worked nights. Went out of town a lot? Just didn't care that he was out all the time? Who knows.

Well, by Christmas Eve, I was just absolutely smitten. After opening gifts with my parents and my sister, I rushed off to meet dee-jay at a bar for karoke and Christmas gift exchanging. (If I remember correctly, I spent a small fortune on a Steeler's blanket that wouldn't make him sneeze, and he bought me a few beers.)

That night we had our first kiss. Yes, Amber the home-wrecker and dee-jay the cheater, shared a fantasic little snog under twinkling white lights on the bar patio. It would have all been very romantic if he hadn't been such an asshole.

Our "relationship" was one of possibilities, which we talked about through Christmas and into the New Year, celebrated together at the karaoke bar where it all began, clinking our plastic glasses of champagne -- but not kissing of course, in a bar full of people who knew he was dating someone else.

Over the phone the next day, he wanted to know a few things. If he left his girlfriend, would I understand that if he and I were together, there would be certain things he would expect? The money, for instance. He would be the one in charge of it. Oh, and in the meantime, I shouldn't be dating anyone else. It was important that I be faithful to him while he weighed the options of ending his real relationship.

In early January, the bathroom in my apartment was gutted for repair. Still toying with the idea of seeing where things went, I headed to dee-jay's house for a shower. He obsessively made sure I didn't leave so much as a strand of hair for his girlfriend to discover. We got all snuggly on his couch, and he asked if I spit or swallowed, because, in a relationship, he expected the latter.

Neither, I told dee-jay. Neither.

Whew! I didn't expect to go there, today. Thought I might keep it tame in the spirit of Christmas. And where, prey tell, does Amber get her redeeming qualities? Is it in the willingness to share her indescrestions? Do you still love her?

Don't forget to check out Lilu's blog for all the tragic Thursday tales. TMI goes great with spiked eggnog, and is the perfect stocking stuffer.

Merry Christmas, bloggy pals.

Comments

Travener said…
Well, *that* was interesting. Oh, Amber, you are so hard to figure out. Happy Christmas.
Hard to figure out? What is that supposed to MEAN, Travener? I didn't stay with that guy after all. THAT is the redeeming factor.

Merry Christmas to you, too.
Hail ET said…
Hey, I'd love for you to check out my blog and let me know what you think

http://noimactuallyfromouterspace.blogspot.com/
Shandal said…
So was that the last time you saw that guy then? Haha!
JMay said…
haha, this is hilarious.

Popular posts from this blog

in which i have a birthday and a giveaway

The blogger as a child. p.s. it's my birthday. And people at Starbucks like me. (I did get this for free, but it was not for the benefit of my blog.)  (Obvi, it was a gift .) There's a cupcake in that box! There's a hazelnut latte in that cup! In other news, I'm having a 100 Followers/ It's my birthday giveaway. You should enter. I'm giving away the following goodies: 1. A $25.00 VISA giftcard. 2. An original poem, which will be hadwritten and autographed on pretty paper. It might be about love, about being a writer, or maybe the winner will be able to choose the topic. We shall see. This giveaway is a bit seatofthepantsspice. 3. A frame from my wedding day. In fact, this very frame: 4. A mystery. The fourth goodie will be a surprise until you open the package! 5. The whopper: I will dedicate a karaoke song to you, personally, and put it on my blog, vlogger style. If you want to enter this smashing contest: leave a comment. 1 entry if you follow and comme...

First Page Blogfester

Preface: TGIF. It has been a day. So. I'm participating in the First Page Blogfest in which writers around the blogosphere post the opening 24 lines of their WIP. (In a "real" book, this is the approximate amount of work that would appear on page 1!) This blogfest is being headed up by Kelly over at Kelly's Compositions . Please check out the other entries and leave them a comment on their work. My own WIP will be featured on Roni's Beta Club next week, and I chose an excerpt from the beginning one chapter one for critque over there, so today I'll give you the true beginning: the opening lines of my prologue. Here goes nothing. My working title is A SAD SONG IN A FLAT KEY Genre: Literary Fictionspice Prologue May 2005      Laurel sits Indian style. She faces the head of her bed and tries to focus on Cafe Terrace at Night, pretending it is priceless artwork instead of a cheap replica. She counts the tables first, and the...

love at first sight blogfest, or, go eat a heart-shaped cookie

Courtney Reese is hosting a love at first sight blogfest, in which writer's write about the icky love stuff. Check it out -- there are already a ton of entries over there. Okay, so my scene isn't really love at first sight for my mc, Laurel (in fact, she doesn't even want it to be) but this is the first time she interacts with her second love interest, David.  Read! Enjoy! Critique!      A sea of southerners filled the lobby of the movie theater. David Winter stood at a neon orange podium in the center of the throng, his head throbbing. He tore off one ticket stub after another, pointed the masses in the appropriate direction. The work was monotonous. Most of the patrons were lost in conversations with one another, and they paid David the same lack of attention that he showed them. He tried not to grimace at the giggling teenage girls, the smug looking guys in gold chains, the overweight middle aged couples: all annoyed him equa...