The Story of How I Got Engaged to a Rock Star

Once upon a time, I had a massive crush on a rock star. He was in a no-name screamo group from somewhere in the Carolinas. They toured the US (still do), so even though he wasn’t a major rock star, he was a minor one.

Minor rock star = good enough for me!

Here is the band, Emery, as they look today:

And now, for the sake of making this story really come alive for you, here is the one that I loved:

Those of you who know me really well are now like “saw that a mile away” and those of you who know me somewhat are probably thinking about how you thought you had me pegged but now this throws everything off and YOU DON’T KNOW ME AT ALL ANYMORE!! Settle down. It’s okay. There will be other opportunities to predict my past crushes, I’m sure of it.

So, where was I? Oh yes ... I LOOOOOVVVVED him. He was in all of my M.A.S.H. lineups (as in the marriage game) and I talked about him incessantly. So much so that all of my guy friends were aware of this deep affection.

So when Emery headlined a tour my senior year, I knew I had to go. And even more than that, I knew I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to settle the matter of romance once and for all.

After all, there comes a point in every girl’s crush when she has to know whether it’s time to stop pining.

So my friends and I made our way down to Indy so that I could get married.

Now like all good bands, desperate for fans, Emery hung out on stage after the show. I watched from a distance for awhile, waiting for the right sign...the right idea. Then, it hit me.

In a stroke of college maturity, I pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something like this on it:

With one of my guy friends (also someone I had a crush on...it’s funny how stupid you are in college) right behind me, I walked up to Josh and held the paper out to him. He looked at it, his greasy, stringy hair covering his eyes. Then, he asked for a pen. I scrambled and finally handed it to him.

He began to scribble. I thought I’d die. I caught a glimpse of what Josh was writing:

I held my breath. I couldn’t believe it. This was it. The moment that would make or break everything I’d ever planned for in life.

In the midst of this, their lead guitarist, Matt, tried to talk to me.

He asked a string of questions that to this day I can’t remember. I mean it’s hard to keep your head on straight when all you can smell is the sharpie ink emanating from your love proposal. I gave him one-word answers and fleeting glances. I mean COULDN’T HE SEE THAT I’D ALREADY PICKED MY MAN? Finally, he gave up before...HOLY CRAP!

And that was it. I went home an engaged woman. Josh and I didn’t talk after that. In fact the only words he ever said to me were “Do you have a pen?” But I knew what we had was real.

Months later, I would lament not talking to Matt more. But what can you do? You’re dumb in college. You can’t see the forest for the trees, and a piece of paper engagement is more important than a guy who actually wants to engage in conversation.

But still...

Come to think of it, I should probably tell Josh about Tad.

Emo Batman

If I were any good at making those spliced-up vids that make fun of huge blockbuster movies, I'd make one called "Emo Batman." Because as I sit here, Tad is blaring Dark Knight Rises in the adjoining room, and I cannot help but think about how Batman is really just a poster child for the emo lifestyle.

Here we have a rich, good looking guy, who despite some unfortunate events in life, has really turned things around for himself. But is that enough? Is that ever enough? No. Somehow, he always finds a reason to brood. To be sad and introspective.

Batman always finds a reason to go out and get punched in the face. It's as if he wants to get the crap beat out of him. He wants this so that he can feel sad and have a Bella Swan-sized depression montage so he can get an Alfred pep talk (who doesn't want one of those?) so that he can be angry at the fact that yet again, the old man is right, so that he can mope some more, only to rally himself at the last moment to get his act together, come out of his emo slump and do what normal people would have done from the get-go.

In Dark Knight Rises, that "thing that normal people would have done long from the get-go" is to actually train before a fight.

Brilliant, emo Batman. Glad you figured that one out.

Now maybe I'm remembering the movies incorrectly. Maybe he's far less emo in the other movies than he is in the third. I can't really remember them clearly, considering the first one I saw in a Turkish movie theater, and the second, well, I was one of those people who were unjustifiably sad about Heath Ledger's death.

So please, correct me if my memory is failing me and emo-ing things way up when in reality they maybe weren't that emo. At which point I will retract these statements and instead talk about how much I want to put together a video splice that shows Tom Hardy as I originally knew him...as Heathcliff.

Yep. Totally made Tad suffer through this movie.


Also, I think the guy who plays Linton is the main cop from Walking Dead!!

Obsession

I go through these obsession phases with male historical figures.

In late elementary and early middle school, I was obsessed with Alexander the Great (in my defense he did rule all of the known world). To this day, I know the name of his horse, the various theories behind his death, the specs on his arch nemesis, and that his revolutionary war maneuver (the phalanx) looked a lot like a porcupine.

After Alex came Julius Caesar. This lasted through late middle school into early high school. I even took a class on Greek and Roman history and for years could name each of Rome's rulers in order (thankfully, that bit of knowledge has been replaced with a knack for being able to name the entire Cullen family).

After good old Jules came James Dean. This lasted from high school through early college. I can tell you about the car he died in, that his middle name was Byron and that he died before Giant came out. I can also tell you that he was disappointingly short.

After Jimmy, came...well. Perhaps I should explain this next one. I was in college, in the library, when this book (that happened to be shelved library style and therefore not easy to spot) caught my eye. This super attractive (in my opinion) guy was on the cover. And his name? Che. Now before you go judging me for my obsession with Ernesto "Che" Guevara, know this...I had zero clue who he was. I mean it's not like the book was titled "Che the Commie!" or something equally obvious. And I'm young!! I know who Fidel Castro is, but I never knew he had famed accomplices.

This meeting marked the beginning of a time in my life where I was stalked by Che. You may laugh (!) but I swear he was everywhere I went. My most prominent memory of this happened when Che followed me all the way to Turkey. I was there for a summer, and whose face showed up on the t-shirts, totes and pins that littered bazaar stands? His.

Now the only way to get rid of these obsessions was to research the heck out of the person. I'd usually tie it in to schoolwork (so it wasn't a complete waste of time), and would let the papers, presentations and reading material stack up until I felt I knew the person so well that I could move on. (If you like, I can make a compelling case for why Che would have been a much better leader than Castro). 

So recently, I stumbled upon this fellow named Doc Holiday (again, I'd never heard of him before. Sue me). As soon as I started reading about him, I felt the obsession begin to take hold. I needed more. More info. More theories. More urban legends surrounding this clever and cunning man of the wild west. My only problem was that I didn't have any school assignments. No papers or book reports through which to funnel my obsession.

It looked as though I was stuck.

And then Tad heard about suggested we watch Tombstone...

Ladies and gentlemen, nothing is more of an obsession buzzkill than seeing who Val Kilmer used to be.

a conversation with myself

ME: Hmmm … will baby names always be a popular topic among mothers?

MYSELF: Of course. I mean you’re not a mother, and you’re already making a list of names.

ME: True.

MYSELF: Which reminds me, have we come up with any new boy’s names? We’re really lacking in the middle name department, because I’m not sure Tad will go for “Christian Roald Luedeke.”

ME: Well, I was thinking lately how some last names make great middle names.

MYSELF: Like what?

ME: Steinbeck. Fitzgerald.

MYSELF: Those are dead author names.

ME: So?

MYSELF: It’s the same problem we’re facing with Roald.

ME: Well, we could use some of Tad’s people’s names, too.

MYSELF: You really want to have a little Schwarzenegger running around?

ME: I was thinking more of a little Bale.

MYSELF: So now we’ve got Christian Bale Luedeke as our primary name option.

ME: Yeah … I guess I didn’t think that one through …

MYSELF: You’re welcome.

Note: This post should be taken at face value, as I am in no way implying anything or presenting a coded pregnancy message. I simply spend some of my work day researching mothers. Hence, the thoughts on baby names.

Remember, Remember, the 4th of November

This is my friend, Josh:

What a stud!

Now, being a die-hard Libertarian, Josh doesn't take too well to socialism. He also has a tendency to be offended by all things socialist, fascist or communist. It's just how he is. So, naturally, he was a bit nervous at this time last year. What, with all the "spread the wealth" allegations and what not.

So, for his birthday, I told him I was going to give him John McCain for president. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was a step in the right direction and so he was pleased.

I was unable to follow through with this promise.

Sorry, Josh. Don't be mad!

So, this year, I'm going to scale things back a bit (because I really hate it when people promise stuff and don't follow through), and instead, list out for you reasons why Josh is one of my top 10 most favorite persons in the world:

1) He's a fellow home schooler.
2) He doesn't take himself too seriously. (Ahh, my knee!! )
3) He is easily angered. (We often tell him that Thomas Jefferson would have made a good president, or that JFK was a godsend or that Guy Fawkes was awesome!! or that we're glad the government tells people where they can and can't smoke--just to make him mad.)
4) He is of Norwegian ancestry. (Norwegian and Jewish, to be precise. I particularly like the Norwegian part, since I am also of that people).
5) He includes me in conversation. (There can be a huge group of guys talking about guns and video games, yet Josh, if he is close enough, will talk with me about books or his love life or taking over a small country)
6) He has dreams of taking over a small country. (This is a dream we've shared for awhile now...letting our Viking roots get the best of us...it's just a matter of choosing the right country....oh, and getting over the fact that Josh prefers freedom and is therefore morally opposed to conquering and ruling a people group even if in the name of liberty)
7) He is a superb actor. (I had the privilege of acting opposite him in Neil Simon's Barefoot in the Park. Because of what we would later find to be typecasting, we were the old people.)
8) He could be a fighter pilot if he wanted. (Or, at least this is what I imagine of him).
9) He is smart, but not too smart for his own good. (Nuff said)
10) He may one day rule the world. (His most favorite thing in the world is politics (that, and reading while eating potato chips). It's just a matter of time before he gets so riled up over what he's seeing in Washington that he'll run for some seat, somewhere)

Glad to see you like the gift, Josh.

Happy Birthday! Hopefully, this post will make up for the fact that I was not able to come through on last year's present and consequently we're about to have evil, government health care!!


P.s. - What do you think about North Korea? I hear Kim Jung Il will soon be relinquishing his throne to his son...sounds like the perfect time for a coup.

A Few Facts You May Not Have Known About Jackie Robinson . . . As Told by Brandon

"Journal Make Up"
02/04/02
Brandon

Jakie Robinson was a famous base ball player. She hit a lot of home runs. She could hit the ball the best on her team. She could hit a ball out of a ball park. That is some things on Jackie robinson.*


*This delicious example of a homework assignment tumbled out of one of Tad's library books.

A Tennis Player's Bane

Me: I think I want to be Maria Sharapova.
Tad: The tennis player?
Me: Yeah.
Tad: She's like a stick.
Me: A beastly stick.
Tad: Yeah, in one arm.

Ba-da pshhh*

*the sound drums make when someone makes a joke.

For Better or Worse

(Crazy eyes)

When you hire a photographer and demand access to every picture, you end up with quite a few funnies. It's not their fault. It's yours. You wanted them, so you got them. (Photographers who don't give you access to every photo usually pull the bad ones so that you don't even know they exist).

As I sift through my mass of weddings photos (taken by Cole and Lindsay May) and pick out the ones I want to be re-touched, I cannot deny you the pleasure of viewing some of our most outrageous outtakes. Get ready, you're in for a ride.

Uniform pose:

A bit too Armani:

A bit too creepy:

Just plain unflattering:

Where's mom?

Mom? Are you there?

Straightest arm in the world:

You're welcome.

Alec Baldwin, Circa 1992

Watching Prelude to a Kiss right now, and:


Alec Baldwin used to be handsome? What?!

Seventeen years can be oh, so bad.

Jay-Bay

Jay-Bay is my brother. I love him.

Ry-By is my brother too. But he usually looks like this:

So I don't love him as much.

Jay-Bay is different. Maybe it's how we used to have a song that was our song. Or a codename that was our codename. Or maybe it's how he used to guilt me into playing all the way through Turtles in Time when it was 1am and then I'd guilt him into scratching my arms and walking on my back.

Or maybe it's how of all the Heinsch kids, I'm most like Bay and he's most like me.

Happy Birthday, Jared!
P.S. I secretly really like it when you tell/text/facebook message me about what's going on in your personal life.


Shout out to my sister in law, Laura, for the first two pictures. She doesn't know it, but I stole them because they were GREAT.

Spock Talk

One of the unspoken agreements between Tad and I before we got married was that I was still going to appreciate Zachary Quinto....and accompany him to the Star Trek premiere:


It was a wonderful time, only momentarily ruined when the Priceline Negotiator decided to hang around a bit for a chat. Seriously . . . I had to excuse myself and ended up in a most excellent conversation with Leonard Nimoy.

Needless to say, I was exceptionally excited to actually go see Star Trek with Tad last night. And I really enjoyed it. Truly. I'm nowhere near a Trekkie. Quinto was the only reason I even thought about seeing the film, but it was the very opportunity Tad needed to inundate me with old tv episodes and movies. I soon developed a fondness for Spock...not because of Quinto, but because he's hands down the best character on the show.

1) No one likes the way Kirk talks.
2) No one likes how Kirk totally pudges out as the movies progress.
3) No one likes Chekov's horrible attempt at a Soviet accent.
4) No one is excited when Sulu pushes a button and acts as though he saves the day.
5) No one really cares when Scotty opens his mouth except to hear his accent.
6) Some people find Uhura interesting because she's the prettiest, but her bluetooth gets annoying.
6) A few may enjoy Dr. McCoy's (not to be confused with Hank McCoy) jokes and pessimism, but let's face it...

Nothing is as good as Spock's hilarious comebacks, his appreciation for girl talk (Ex: when Bones totally had like an amazon woman girlfriend and at the end Spock and Kirk were like "so...you have anything to tell us?"), and the fact that he towers above eveyone on the ship.

Or perhaps I just like him because of all the characters, his ways most remind me of Tad.

I don't like how Spock has few if any synonyms for "logical".