What is the best graduation present ever.................
Graduation Picture Frame?
No.
New Clothes?
Nope.
Money?
Not exactly.
45 minutes of torture and permanently fixating a fairly ridiculous Hispanic-themed cartoon on your skin?
ABSOLUTELY!!
A few years ago, I gifted myself (for the second time) with a cute little tattoo on my ankle.
Since doing so, Dancing Queen has been talking non-stop about how amazingly cool I am for doing so. Or maybe that's just what I got out of her endless ranting about wanting the SAME tattoo. So.....being the extremely awesome super fantabulous role model that I am, I gifted her the chance to do so as a wee little graduation present. At her graduation fiesta, I presented Dancing Queen with a date at the tattoo parlor with Roger (an incredibly gracious cowboy boot-wearing, tattoo-covered, giant holes in his ears man).
Officer Bob had made a bet that upon hearing the sound of the pain-inducing needles, Dancing Queen would be in tears and out the door before you could say "Ay chihuahua!" However, with a little reassurance and constant encouragement, Dancing Queen took her seat and endured the pain like a champ.
Well.....kind of like a champ. I had NO feeling in my hand after she squeezed the life out of it and off the record, there may have been one or two droplets of liquid streaming from just one eye.
What made it all worth it? Receiving her goody bag of suckers for being such a good girl and sitting so still. I still don't understand the theory behind rewarding stupidity. But nevertheless, I am so proud.
We have successfully survived another sister bonding moment. We will one day be forced to tell embarrassing stories to our children about how we used poor-decision making skills in our youth. However, if I have to be labeled a poor excuse for a role model, I would only want to be yours, Dancing Queen.
The "multiple" pairs of running shoes have been purchased.
The increase in the water bill for laundering extremely sweat-stained clothes has been budgeted.
The anti-chafe cream has been applied.
The nutrition plan that I will most likely not follow has been written.
And the training schedule has been posted on the fridge.
Three words.
I. Am. Scared.
Three more words?
Stupidest.Idea.Ever
(And yes, people, I am completely aware that stupidest is not proper grammar. But I am still delirious after reviewing what I have ahead of me for the next four months)
I am starting out slow.......
June 7 - 3 miles
June 8 - 3 miles
June 9 - 3 miles
June 10 - rest
June 11 - 6 miles
But then I flash to September.......
Sept. 13 - 5 miles
Sept. 14 - 10 miles
Sept. 15 - 5 miles
Sept. 16 - rest
Sept. 17 - 20 miles
WHAT THE F*&% WAS I THINKING?!
I was awake at 1:30pm (still in shock from staring at the months ahead) when Officer Bob returned home from his strenuous job. After the conversation that followed his arrival, I am 98% sure he also fears the weeks leading up to the bucket list dream from you know where. Running sometime makes me tired. Fatigue sometimes causes an increase in crankiness. An increase in crankiness usually leads to Officer Bob questioning his decision to co-habitate with me.
As sorry as you feel for my stupidity, you should feel even worse for what this man will have to endure during the coming months.
Oh....and then I have to sit and read stories like this sent from fellow runners. (I use the word "fellow" like I would totally fit in with "that" crowd without being totally awkward and giggling when talking about bleeding nipples. HA! Gets me every time!) A fellow runner sent me this article on how a bleepin' eight year old finished a half marathon.
I would like to highlight the parts of the article that totally ruined my self-esteem for the remainder of this week.
"I thought it was going to be harder," said Katarina, who averaged a 9:18 mile throughout most of the race before slowing down near the end.
So what was the toughest part of the journey? "Trying to get around the people who were blocking my way," she said.
Thank you, Katarina, for making this dream of mine seem like "just another day in the life of your average eight year old girl!" Ridiculous. Would it be unethical to trip a fellow racer if he/she is under the age of 10? I'm gonna need one helluva censor on race day if parents want to keep the marathon PG for their damn prodegy kids.
NOW......I NEED TO CONSISTENTLY REMIND MYSELF.......
After recent family struggles, there is no better and more meaningful time in my life to run this race for such a GREAT CAUSE. Please consider helping me in this dream. I truly looking forward to taking step after step forward. Step after step towards scratching off the bucket list dream of all dreams. Through all the cursing and ranting, please know that I am doing this for a reason. Not only for myself, but also for something deeper.
Hip Hip......Hooray!
Hip Hip......Hooray!
Hip Hip......Hooray!
Yesterday, Dancing Queen was the last of the siblings to graduate from good 'ol EHS. Number four, the baby, the tail end of the clan.......FINALLY made it! I could not be more proud of her. She is a beautiful, mature adult that I have no doubt will accomplish great things in life!
School was never easy for Dancing Queen. Living with epilepsy made it a little harder, but she is a great advocate for all that can be accomplished. She did NOT let the side effects of the illness and/or medication set her back. Learning in a classroom setting was a difficult task, and she persevered. Epileptic spells and family setbacks did not make senior year easy. I had to witness struggle after struggle, but through it all, I had the opportunity to observe the growth and strength of such an amazing woman. A woman with a contagious personality. A woman who shines in the face of adversity. A woman who's laughter can silence a crowd of a thousand. A woman who dances through life with an unbreakable spirit. And a woman who is not only my sister, but my best friend.
In honor of the "baby" graduating from high school, we each took our turn treating her as such.
Trust me, this girl milks every minute of being the youngest of four. Who wouldn't?
Dancing Queen held true to her name as she exited the ceremony. While all her classmates processed out in a distinguished fashion, Dancing Queen felt it was necessary to make that exit more entertaining. Her poor walking partner was less than amused by her need to jump around in heels.
Despite recent events that challenged this family, we were ALL able to attend this milestone. AND smile for a picture. That in itself, may actually be the proudest moment for us all.
Congratulations again, Dancing Queen! Fortunately for you, you will soon be attending the Alma mater of TWO of your older siblings. We know the best party houses, the shortcuts to class, and the cheapest methods of obtaining a fake ID. BUT I'm sure you won't need any of that information as you will most likely be too focused on your studies.
You are just beginning your journey, Dancing Queen. There will be speed bumps along the way, but know that I am ALWAYS a phone call away. Even at 2:00am. when you are vomiting outside of the Pace because you chose to purchase and consume a late night meal at the hot dog stand after downing several forms of hard alcohol. I love you enough to answer and laugh at such a rookie mistake. Trust me....it will happen.
Even though you were the last to get here, you shine like the first. Love you.
P.S. Another bucket list item checked off! I have been witness to the graduation of all siblings from the same high school halls. I heart my family. Even though they're Mexican.
My older brother Huracan Ramirez and his woman, Mama B, are having a BABY!
Un BEBE!
Huracan - the man who writes songs about dirty sanchezes and is still fairly incapable of sorting and washing his own laundry is reproducing. GOD HELP US! Is it bad that upon hearing this news, my first thought was to call Mama B and apologize for the future ahead of her? However, I have some good news, Mama B. Mexican babies are SUPER adorable. It's a shame that Huracan takes after the "cracka" side of the family, but I'm sure some of those chicano genes will come out somehow.
Baby Beans will be making his/her presence in early December.
This was my first gift to the happy couple.
I'm already the favorite Aunt. Can ya blame the kid?!
Furthermore, this ridiculous, crazy, can't-even-totally-comprehend-the-news announcement opens up the opportunity for a new segment for the Big Boca Bob blog. Along with Gunther Gab, I will be introducing Beans Blab.
I like babies.
When other people have them, of course.
My four-legged adopted children are enough trouble as it is. And I allow them to eat their own poop. I guess that's morally wrong for humans or something. I've still got some things to learn. Good thing I have nieces/nephews to practice with!
P.S. Surprisingly, Officer Bob is equally as excited (about babysitting for the poop eating kids).
That's right. CareBear and Titty Baby will be the loving parents of a bow bearing, tutu twirling, pink powdered little darling. Wait a second.....this is Titty Baby's child we're talking about. Maybe I should say that CareBear and Titty Baby will be the loving parents of a camo wearing, deer hunting, lunchbox chugging little gal. Nevertheless.....it is so sweet to see the rays of excitement bursting from the happy couple.
Here is the exact report I got at dinner tonight.
"The doctor says she is a very healthy girl. Her heart beat was 135. However, she is measuring a little bigger than she should be. Her legs are looking like she is going to be tall. She has a larger than normal head and REALLY big feet."
This got me and Grand Puba to thinkin'...................
The only thing missing?
Their very own Pebbles.
And soon that dream will come true! And I am MORE than excited for this fabulous couple. No one is more deserving of such a special gift than these two.
Congrats Titty Baby and CareBear!
I can already picture the scene in the delivery room.
I hate to report that I've been a little down in the dumps lately. The Big Boca Bob family has been dealt some hard hits in the recent weeks, and it's been a struggle to wake up with a smile on my face - which if you ask any of my former roommates, I am annoyingly good at. We could sure use any of your extra prayers, if you could spare a few.
There are many things in life I don't understand, and several of those questions will forever remain unanswered. This bothers me as I am one who fights for that closure. I try so hard (don't ask me why) to end all aspects of my life with a period (I'm speaking grammar here people, NOT menstruation). And right now I am living one big run-on sentence with LOTS of commas. God must NOT have been an English major. This coming Monday, I will be turning the big 2-5. That is a quarter of a century. And that is also another comma. YIKES.
Year 24 was very good to me. In that year, I graduated with a M.S. degree in a field that I absolutely love (a bucket list item achieved). I found TWO great jobs in an economy that is currently refusing that right to many people. I purchased my very own home in which I live with the man I am hoping to spend the rest of my life with (ring pending). I rescued another hairy, annoying, four-legged, crack-smoking child that completed my little family of four. I have been witness to the growth and maturity of my siblings, and I have been witness to many historically proud moments for the U.S. of A. I am blessed. I know this. I thank God for every day given to me during my 24th year, and I can only hope that year 25 is just as giving.
However, 25 is not starting on the right foot and I am frightened for what lies ahead. I am a channeler of my emotions. I need an outlet. For many years, that outlet was music (which still sometimes works). More recently that outlet has been running (crazy concept, I know). And now that outlet has become list-making. I have made MANY lists over the last couple of days. Grocery lists (specifically for a fabulous Cinco de Mayo fiesta at Casa de Bob), checklists (for daily items that sometimes get left out), training lists (of miles to be ran if I ever want to accomplish an important goal, and lastly (and completely out of character for me) a bucket list. I realize that 25 is still extremely young in the realm of life. I am still a teen when it comes to life's biggest moments. BUT, after watching my family continuously struggle to remain a family, I do realize that turning 25 makes me another year older. Another year checked off another list. Therefore, with commas constantly being thrown into my life, I have decided to start creating my own periods. No.....not periods. More like exclamation points. In the mind of this very young 25 year old, every item checked off that list is a period. An accomplishment. An ending to a dream.
So......here it is. The bucket list. In no particular order.
Cross the Atlantic Ocean to visit another country.
Go skydiving.
Be debt free.
Get married.
Have my father walk me down the aisle.
Become a homeowner.
Become fluent in Spanish.
Get my motorcycle license.
Buy a Harley.
Run a marathon.
Attend a Super Bowl.
Learn how to solve a Rubix Cube.
Perform an original song on stage with all of my siblings.
Become a Mother
Find a hobby that Officer Bob and I can enjoy doing together and actually do it at least once a month for a year.
Go bungee jumping.
Visit Las Vegas.
Be an extra in a movie.
Earn an M.S. degree.
Go on a cruise.
Ride a tandem bike with Officer Bob.
Retire.
Schedule and attend a girls getaway every year.
Help a stranger in need.
Sleep under the stars.
Get up early to watch the sun rise with my best friends.
Walk the stairs to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
Bench press my own weight.
Fall in love.
Attend a Broadway show.
Write a letter to someone famous and have them write one back.
Bike a century (100 miles in one day)
Watch all my siblings graduate from high school.
Lose 30 more pounds to reach my goal weight.
Accept my own body.
Sit in the front row at a music concert.
Learn to drive stick shift.
Help someone else fulfill a bucket list dream.
Get a tattoo.
Eat at an underwater restaurant.
Organize a fundraiser for a charity I am passionate about.
Get a piercing.
See my dad be truly happy for a day.
Attend a destination wedding.
Start my own successful business.
Get matching sibling tattoos with the crew I call family.
I have taken the pleasure of crossing off a few items already accomplished! Now THAT does make me smile. The list will only continue to grow, but just recognizing my own dreams gives me hope for years 25 through ??.
Before you hear conflicting reports, I would like to give you my statement.
This is how it all happened........
I have been training for the dreaded race for three months. THREE MONTHS! I am only 25 years old. I rarely commit to anything for three months.
However, the dreaded race fell on the same weekend as the 2011 production of the dancing sisters.
I was not worried. I thought I could handle it all.
I thought wrong.
One week prior to running this dreaded race, I found out that after performing in the dance production and commuting to the dreaded race, I would arrive in Champaign at approximately 3:30am. Alarm time for morning of dreaded race? 5:00am. I wasn't even sure I could run 13.1 miles in the first place. Let alone attempt the dreaded run on 1.5 hours of sleep. Unfortunately, this meant I would have to withdraw from the dreaded race. Keep in mind.....THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME A QUITTER as mentioned by many friends and family. I am a MexiCAN not a MexiCAN'T. I promise you that marathon training is still in full effect. Race Date: October 9th. Please keep checking for ridiculous running updates as I reconsider this choice every day up until then.
Good news! My bib number still saw the finish line. The husband of my friend stepped in at the last minute. After some 007 work on the bib, Jesse became Mario and I couldn't thank him enough for stepping in at the last minute without training. I owe him many many drinks. The text message from him the night before the dreaded race read:
"YOU SUCK! I hope your Mexican clogging goes terribly!"
Well, Mario.....I hate to tell you, but the Mexican clogging went fabulously!
If the following pictures can provide any sort of preview, the ONLY reason I would give up running the dreaded race would be to completely embarrass myself on stage with Dancing Queen in her final show.
You see......I wasn't just goofing off! Dancing is serious business! Without further ado....I give you the final performance of Dancing Queen and Big Boca Bob. (I am officially retiring! - I'm WAY too old for this crap!)
P.S. Keep in mind that ALMOST all falls were intentional. I purposely choreograph those in so when my inability to breathe takes over, I can collapse without losing my dignity. Start the video at 1:38 to avoid the blabbering of the MC.
I apologize for my absence at the dreaded race, but I am thankful for all opportunities to spend quality time with Dancing Queen doing what she does best. She, of course, stole the show and I leave you with photographic proof that this girl is a shining star.
