Filed under why my job is cool sometimes:
#19 -- You can settle bets with friends. MJ and I were debating on whether or not grits were made from the entire cob or just the kernels. She said cob, I said kernels. Found out this morning: kernels only. The cobs are good for nothing other than making them into corncob pipes. I win. Woot!
#24 -- You can really stalk people. Today, in about 5 seconds, I learned Hot Neighbor's last name, his ex-wife's name, the date of their marriage and their former address. I learned that he moved in only 6 months before I did AND he paid about $7k less for his house than I did, although our homes are identical. I also learned how old he is -- 32. If I wanted to take the time to do so, I know how to go downtown and look up their divorce record, wedding announcement and maybe some other stuff. But that is much more effort than I'm willing to invest. Especially since he's probably interested in me for the sole reason that I can babysit for him. (Thanks to my straight hairdresser for being oh-so-certain that's what HN wanted that one time.)
Speaking of HN, let me tell you about Wednesday Skank (WS). She showed up at his house on Saturday evening, wearing a black dress with a hem so short she probably could not bend over in the dress. Seriously, y'all, she looked like a hooker. I mean, I like short skirts on occasion, but this one made me blush on her behalf. Paired with red stilettos, she looked trashy. I'm thinking now that she could be a stripper.
Then again, maybe the fact that I wear jeans all the time is why he's out with her and not me...
But you know what? She's just some stupid bimbo. He's probably using her to rub it in his ex's face or something. Maybe he's having an early mid-life crisis. Who knows. But I can say that if she keeps coming over to his house every day, he's going to get sick of her pretty quick. I don't care how lonely you are, everyone needs space.
Guess I will just sit back and wait for their relationship to implode. Then I can swoop in and make him fall madly in love with me.
Although, do I want to date someone who's into girls like that to begin with? Hmmm. Dunno.
Friday night I hung out with MJ and we made quite the pub crawl -- I think we hit 5 bars, plus late-night pizza before heading home. The good news was, we discovered a cool new bar. Gotta love that. While we were there, I did talk to one guy, and although cute, he wasn't funny or smart. He gave me his number, but I will never call him. Funny is a must-have.
I chopped my hair off on Saturday. Not completely, just shoulder-length. With some long bangs and layers that like to fall in my face. I am loving the new 'do. It's very freeing. It moves a lot. And based on my experiences Saturday night when I went out, it's also a hit with guys. I don't know why, but I had about 3 different guys approach me. Maybe it was the low-cut satin tank top....Not much to write home about, but it's good for the ol' ego. Woot!
Wait, I take that back. One of them was cute, but he had some serious cock-blockage issues. He was out at the bars with a man who was about 60-65. Now, some wing-women can deal with talking to a senior citizen while her girl chats with a guy. But not many. Most girls I know would struggle, feel awkward, escape to the bathroom and give me a hard time about it later. Besides, I don't really want to be that friend who pawns off old men on her friends so she can give a guy her number in a few minutes. I had no choice but to politely blow him off. (Any opinions on this decision? I have never really been in that situation before. I mean, talking to another wingman is one thing, but a grandpa? Just seems creepy and awkward. I felt bad putting my friend in that position. Keep in mind this old guy didn't seem to have much personality. He just kinda stood there.)
Sunday I went to dinner with MJ and got to meet her parents, who are in town this week. I managed to make a total ass out of myself by going off on the Post Office, when everyone started laughing at me. It turns out that Mr. Jane is....a mailman. Yeah. Great first impression. Luckily, he has the same wonderful sense of humor as his daughter, and it was all taken in stride. WHEW.
After dinner, we all got in our respective cars and met up at an ice cream parlor. The best parking spot just happened to be right in front of a picnic table full of hottie firemen. They were all eating ice cream. Their fire truck was parked across the street. [Insert single girl, Backdraft-style fireman/ice cream fantasy here.]
I know you are expecting me to have some kind of cool, exciting story here, but true to form, I completely chickened out. I think I made a half-assed attempt at smiling at them, but basically choked and just crossed the street to the ice cream parlor. What can I say?? I can handle maybe 2 hottie firemen at a table. But 5? Unh-unh. No way. That is ultra-intimidating. I totally freaked and bolted. Mmmm...that's hot.
Ugh, I should be ashamed of myself. Especially since I caught them smiling at me. They definitely wanted me to talk to them. WHY do I chicken out at the MOST opportune times??? Aaaargh. I do this with HN, too. I am a doofus. No wonder I am alone.
Excuse me, I have to go bang my head against the wall now.