Hello, dear readers, old friends. Allow me to begin this post with an apology for my 2-week hiatus, and, of course, by explaining where I’ve been. It was altogether lame of me to just disappear without warning, and my heart has been logged with grief as a result. But I promise that I do in fact have a perfectly logical explanation for my absence.
See, I was kidnapped.
Oh yes, it was intense; it was terrifying. I was stolen from a Fudruckers restaurant by an evil villainous character, bound and gagged and held at gunpoint. But then, just when I thought all hope was lost, I was saved by a masked figure, a superhero, and justice was once again restored to my little world. The word epic hardly begins to describe this event.
Now I know what you’re probably thinking: You were kidnapped? And saved by a superhero? Reaaalllyy? Seems like a rather dramatic excuse for missing a couple blog posts. My goodness. My goodness is right. But it’s true, I tell you! Okay, so maybe the villain was a good friend of mine and the true-to-form masked avenger was in fact my boyfriend. Oh, and did I mention that he had a superhero sidekick, who just happened to be one of my best gal pals?
Let me start from the beginning. Rewind to July 28, 2012. I was in a panic because my boyfriend’s birthday was in exactly two days, and I had no idea what to get him. See, Kev is a phenomenal gift giver. His spidey senses are so keen that I only have to mention a certain something I’d like to have or do, in passing, mind you, with no intention of hinting at him to buy it for me, and he’ll log it and eventually gift it. I quite seriously could say “You know, I’d really like a [insert any stupid old thing here] someday” in June, and it would appear beautifully wrapped under the tree come Christmas. Yeah, he’s one of those rare sorts of super-boyfriend. Now, that all being said, I pride myself on being a good gift giver, as well. I believe, quite ardently, that gifts should be specific and well thought out. So this self-administered pressure coupled with his super-boyfriend tendencies really raises the stakes on birthday gift giving. And it was July 28 and I couldn’t think of a dern thing.
When in doubt, use magic markers. That’s a motto I live by. And so, as the countdown to the big day commenced, I began furiously making those stupid gift coupons that you give people when, a. you’re broke (which I was) or b. you can’t think of anything else to give (see previous paragraph). You know, the ones that are good for a Free Hug or, if you’re a little luckier, a Free Drink at the Bar. I devised a scavenger hunt around our house and, at most stops along the little adventure, he found a gift coupon; including, though not limited to a Seeing a Movie of [His] Choice, a Trip to a Water Park, and the crème-de-la-crème, a coupon good for one Superhero Date. He is a bit of a comic book junkie, so I knew he’d appreciate it. What a Superhero Date entails? I had no idea. I didn’t have to figure that out yet. I had a birthday to save. And I think it’s safe to say that I did. (But, uh, thank goodness that my boyfriend still finds scavenger hunts and colorful pieces of paper appealing.)
Fast forward a few months or so. The week of Thanksgiving, Kev was returning from a 2-week trip to California. In celebration of said return, we decided, like any good old married couple, to have Date Night. But see, this could be no ordinary Date Night. It was intended to be celebratory, so it had to be, well, special. And so, taking the initiative, good old super-boyfriend himself decided to cash in that coupon, that, let’s be honest, I had practically forgotten existed.
Commence complete and total freak out. A SUPERHERO DATE?! Whose whack-a-doodle idea was that? And now I have to come up with the whole thing? I was in a jam. And what do I do when I’m in a jam? I summon the one person who I know will help me get the job done; someone just as weird as me; with a freakish imagination brave enough to save the day. Oh yes, my friends, I called up the one, the only, Smasha. She goes by the pseudonym Smasha, of course, to keep her true identity mysterious, as all true superheroes are, of course, mysterious. (Okay, actually her name’s Jess and we call her Smasha because, when we were living with her, she accidentally backed into Kev’s car in broad daylight, while completely sober…but that’s for another time.)
So, when the time was right, under the cover of darkness, I threw up my Smasha Signal and there she was. Over a period of 24 short hours, through countless phone calls and text messages, the cast was set and the plan was in motion. There would be a kidnapping.
As Kev and I left the house that night for dinner, I put on my best actor face and told him that we couldn’t have the Superhero Date because my imagination had failed me and I simply could not devise an outing worthy of the coupon. And of course he fell for it and consoled me, saying that we could do it some other time, it was no big deal. (Sucker!) Little did he know that I had a ransom note stuffed in my dress and Smasha and her boyfriend (who would be the villain) standing by, waiting for the green light to swoop in. As our dinner came to an end, I told Kev that I was going to visit the ladies’ room and, when he wasn’t looking, made a mad dash for the front door to meet my partners in crime outside. The people at Fudruckers must have thought I was a complete and total loon, especially because, shortly after I exited the building, Smasha entered clad in a sparkly super-sidekick costume from head to toe.
I had handed off the ransom note to her, which read, “if you ever want to see her again, she’ll be at your house. Come armed.” (I know, not the greatest ransom note, but you have no idea how time consuming it is to cut out all those little magazine letters. Those criminals really have it rough!) Completely in character, Smasha hastily explained the horrible circumstances of my kidnapping to her partner in justice and handed him the ransom note. Holy Kidnapping, Kevin! We have to go save her! Now! The restaurant staff thought we were all nuts.
They jumped in his car and sped home. Thankfully someone (cough me cough) had stashed a mask, shield and some serious Nerf heat in the backseat. Ready for battle, Captain Kev-merica and his trusty sidekick Smasha made it back to the house, charged through the front door and found me bound to a chair (with my robe tie, but who’s counting?) and gagged with a kitchen rag (which really was too small for a gag, but again, who’s counting?). A Nerf battle commenced between Evil Boyfriend and Super Boyfriend. Amidst the chaos of shouting and shooting, justice won out and the damsel was saved. (Now, if they had been shooting real bullets, I wouldn’t have made it, as I was hit by somewhere between 10 and 15 Nerf darts, but who’s…oh you know.) We shared a superhero kiss, and my avenger even removed his mask to reveal his true identity. The back of my hand flopped to my forehead, and I put on my best airy, high-pitched voice, you mean, it was you all along? Smasha and I high-fived, and Evil Boyfriend once again became Smasha’s Pretty Cool Keeper Boyfriend.
So, see, I was kidnapped. But, have no fear, all that excitement is merely a memory now. My press badge is once again on hand, and I’m back to meeting my deadlines and documenting my crazy stories for as long as you read them.
Because, dear friends, for the sake of us all, it’s Love, ADD, and the American Way.