Ok, You Got Me!

"Hello?" I asked, answering my cell. It was a number I didn't recognize.

A deadpan voice recited a script to me: "Hello, this is blah-blah-blah, I am a relay operator, I am calling on behalf of Lady, who is deaf. Anything you wish to say, you must address to the caller. I am only the relay operator, so please do not talk directly to me. I will type whatever you say into a terminal, which will be read by the caller. Then, the caller will type their reply and I will read it to you. Are you ready to begin?" (Ok, I don't remember word-for-word what he said, but it was similar to this. And he said it at about 5,873 words per minute.)

"Um....what? I think this is a wrong number. I have no idea what you are talking about." I said.

*HUGE sigh on operator's part*

"Ma'am, you cannot talk directly to me. I am calling on behalf of a deaf person. If you have a question, please direct it to the caller," the operator said, still totally deadpan.

"Ok. Sorry," I replied. A lightbulb had gone on in my head--this is how deaf people make phone calls. They need an interpreter. Ok. Makes sense.

There was just one, teeny-tiny problem: I don't know any deaf people.

I took a deep breath. I figured it was a deaf person, dialing the wrong number. I hadn't even said anything, and I already felt bad that I needed to tell some poor, frustrated deaf person to hang up and try again.

"Um, caller, what did you say your name was?" I asked.

I heard typing. I waited a second for the reply.

The operator read it to me: "This is Lady. Remember, we did this last Saturday? How is your new dog?"

"What the...? I'm sorry, I'm very confused right now. There must be some mistake. I don't know any deaf people," I said, flustered.

*another HUGE sigh from the deadpan operator*

"Ma'am, I need to remind you that you cannot speak directly to me. Please discuss this with the caller."

"Ok," I said, thinking I should probably just hang up. "Lady, what is your last name?"

(I thought it was very ironic that I was getting a wrong number call from a deaf woman named Lady--just like my best friend. I also thought it was weird that this stranger was asking about my new dog. Weird coincidence. So I was in "Detective VB" mode at this point.)

The operator said, "My last name is Sarflish." -- It sounded like her last name, but all garbled up. Hmmm. Then I remembered that she had just eloped to Las Vegas to get married (no joke), and I didn't know her new husband's last name. So this question needed to be thrown out anyway. Back to the investigative drawing board.

I thought of a better question: "Lady, what is the name of your dog?" I asked.

More typing by the operator.

"Petunia and I love her very much," came the reply. That is Lady Starfish's dog's name. This HAD to be her calling me. Then, I thought about it....and usually when thinking happens, my overactive imagination will take over.

OHMYGOD, Lady Starfish must have been in a car accident, and now she was in the hospital, and she has lost her hearing!!!! OHMIGOD!!!!!!

"LADY! Are you ok? Were you in an accident? Why are you calling me like this? If this is a joke, it is NOT FUNNY!" I said, panicking. I heard the operator typing vigorously.

The more I thought about her being in a car accident, the more upset I became. I started to get tears in my eyes.

Then, my call waiting beeped--it was Lady Starfish.

"Hold on," I said to the operator. I clicked over, suddenly realizing I was the victim of a cruel practical joke.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!" Lady Starfish laughed. "Oh, man, that was the best joke ever! I totally got you!"

Grrrrrr......

"Lady, that was NOT funny! I really thought you were deaf! I was worried you had been in a car accident and you were in the hospital!" I shouted.

"You DID? Oh my gawd, that is so funny. No, I'm not in the hospital. If that had happened, I would have had [her husband] call you. Good grief. It's just this website where you can go and pretend you're deaf. They will call any number you want. Wanna do it to Repo?" she asked.

"NO. I don't. That was not funny. I was really worried. I mean, I'm sure I'll laugh about it one day, but you really upset me--I was on the verge of crying," I lectured her.

"Oh, I'm sorry! But it really was so funny. The best part was, after everything you said, when the operator would type it, he would put in parentheses: 'sounds confused'. I was cracking up!" she laughed.

"And I'm not doing it to Repo, because a) he can kiss my ass and b) he would just hang up anyway. He is not the kind of person who would play along like me. You are totally evil, by the way," I said.

She apologized again, and we had a normal conversation. We talked about her elopement again, I told her about Toby and Hot Neighbor, she told me how she had lost her driver's license somehow. She doesn't even know when or where she lost it. She's such a dingbat. After catching up, we decided we need to get together with our doggies one weekend--Petunia is her new, little pug puppy. [Awww...] Now that it's getting warm, I like to take a break from the heat and visit her in the Tennessee mountains where she lives. It's beautiful up there. Besides, I haven't met her new husband yet.

Oh yes, I said new. She runs through men like I run through underwear. Kidding!!! Just a little joke, LS!!!!

I guess we are even now. You see, I was due for a practical joke. She and her ex-husband divorced before I met her. A few years ago, she and her ex-husband were talking and hanging out again, so I started to tease her and say they were going to get re-married. This annoyed her to no end, which only spurred me on.

I went to every wedding-related website I could think of and signed her up for free catalogs, magazines, brochures, email lists and samples. I even made a wedding registry for her at Target, Bed Bath & Beyond and Wal-Mart. She said she got free stuff in the mail and about 10 junk emails EVERY DAY for months. This still makes me giggle.

So now, we're even.

Toby

So far, Toby is wonderful. Well, mostly. Let me just start at the beginning.

I got up early on Saturday and drove with KT and Sammy to Tennessee to fetch (har har) Toby. I will be the first to admit when I have my little naive moments, and this weekend didn't disappoint. Most people (ie, not me) would call the pound ahead of time and get some details about the dog they are about to adopt. I, myself, prefer to drive 3 1/2 hours and then ask the questions when I get there. Because that makes sense. *rolls eyes and smacks forehead*

These were my answers:

"Yeah, his previous owners kept him outside, so he's not housetrained."

"Shots? No. We have no medical history on the dog."

"The only thing his owners said to us was that if he's left alone inside the house, he will destroy everything. That's why they kept him outside."

"He needs to be neutered."

"He pretty much has no training at all. We don't even know if he gets along with other dogs. We think he does, though."

I was about to say, "Um, I don't know if I can do this..." but then, the animal shelter worker got me:

"If you look on the back of his neck, you can see a mark where the chain was around his neck. They kept him chained up in the backyard all of the time."

"Ok! Ok! I'll take him!" I said, tears welling up in my eyes. If there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it's a sad dog story.

I didn't drive up there for nothing. There was no guarantee the next person interested in him would be an animal lover. Just because I take him now doesn't mean I have to keep him forever. He needs some love. I can do this. How hard can it be?

I called MJ, who has more dog training experience than I do. I explained the situation to her. She offered to let me borrow her crate and she seemed to have confidence in me. So I took a deep breath and said, "Ok. I'm doing it."

Looking at Toby closely, I am now thinking that he's not a Boston Terrier. He might be part Boston, but he's definitely got French Bulldog in him. So I have a Frenchie! The key differences include:

* Sammy's ears are different than Toby's close-set, "bat" ears
* Toby's nose is more "scrunchie"
* different fur (Toby's is coarser and more wiry)
* different gait (he lumbers along, Sammy prances)
* Toby is noticeably bigger than Sammy (Frenchies are bigger than Bostons, usually)
* different jowls -- Toby's muzzle is droopier
* different eyes -- Bostons have very round eyes, Toby's eyes are almond-shaped
* Toby is already exhibiting guard dog-type behavior, whereas Sammy is totally oblivious to any sort of threat

I just totally geeked out on that. I'll get back to the story.

Sammy and Toby stared at each other the whole way home. It was pretty funny.

After getting them into the house, I had to go back out to my car to get some stuff. Just as I leaned over in my semi-short skirt, I heard someone call my name. It was Hot Neighbor. And I think I may have given him a show. Hoo boy. But that's a good thing, right? He asked me what was new, and I told him about Toby. I wanted to stay and chat, but I was frazzled and stinky from driving and handling dogs all day. Besides, I had to get back inside so Toby wouldn't bathe everything in pee. So after a quick summary of the Toby situation, I said goodbye and went inside. Ugh, I have the worst timing with this guy! Oh well. It's not like I'll never see him again.

So far, the two dogs get along like peas and carrots. There is a little toy aggression on Toby's part, but other than that, there aren't any problems between the dogs.

Sammy needs to learn that he doesn't get to eat food out of both food bowls. I don't think he's being greedy, just confused. He figures, "Oh. Food." and goes for it. I am trying to teach him that one bowl is not for him.

Toby is working on not marking everything. So far, he's a big fan of lifting his leg on my couch. Ugh. He's also peed on the living room carpet, my bedroom carpet, the wall corners and the TV stand....*sigh* But so far, I have caught him early. This is good because I can reprimand him AND have time to clean it up before it settles into the fabric. Luckily, he responds to my "angry voice" as well as Sammy. I'm already seeing improvement in this area-- he was out this morning while I was getting ready, and he didn't pee on anything!

The marking will calm down after he gets neutered next week. I've also got my fingers crossed that once he's neutered, Sammy will stop humping him so much (so far, it's been Humpapalooza at my house). I'm surprised Sammy hasn't thrown his back out.

For the most part, they play together non-stop when Toby's out of his crate. It's pretty cute how they play keep-away with the toys. I can see how Sammy is sort of showing him the ropes, so to speak. Each day, Toby seems to understand where he's supposed to go, and when he's supposed to go there. At first, he didn't seem to know what he was doing. He even ran into a table a couple of times. Poor little confused thing!

I really get a kick out of having two little waggy nubs greeting me when I come home. Toby likes to jump up in my lap and roll over for belly rubs when I'm watching TV. He will sit at my feet in the morning as I get ready. Sometimes he and Sammy switch off on lap duty. I call Toby my little piggie, because when he sniffs, he sounds just like a pig. He slurps and snores very loudly. He gets water all over the kitchen floor when he's drinking. Sammy looks at me like, "Why does he do that, Mom?" But otherwise, Sammy really seems to enjoy the company.

So........so far, so good. I think I'll end up keeping him. He's definitely growing on me. And I think I have the ability to train and love my little pound puppy.

P.S. I have lost 15 pounds.
P.P.S. I have not had a cigarette in 10 days.

This means I am going to attempt at taking up running again. Wish me luck.

Guess What???!!

No, I don't have Hot Neighbor news. Other than he's hot and I want him. Plus, I saw him half nekkid the other day. Mmmm...I am still savoring that.

Instead, I have DOG news!!! I am getting a 2nd dog. Ok, I have only 15 minutes to type this post, so here goes.

I have been looking for Boston Terrier #2 for several months. Since they are $300 from the breed rescue organization, I figured I'd just save up my money or get a part-Boston Terrier mutt.

Well, lo and behold, I am browsing the web the other day when I see: Purebred Boston Terrier, aged 3, for $73, in a shelter in Tennessee. It's a KILL shelter. So If I didn't act fast, the dog was going to be put down. With tears in my eyes, I called the shelter.

"Don't put him down! I want him!" I pleaded.

They said ok, and gave me directions to the shelter. I said I'd be there on Saturday (tomorrow).

Ten minutes later, they called me back, "We're sorry. We promised the dog to someone else this morning."

"Oh, that's ok," I said, my heart breaking. "I just didn't want him to be put down. Please call me if you ever get another Boston."

They said ok. I was disappointed, but happy the dog was adopted.

This morning, I got an email from the shelter. They misunderstood the person who was getting the dog. The good Samaritan only wanted to PAY for the dog's adoption fee ($73) so that it would not be put down. They didn't actually want to keep the dog.

So now, the dog was still available AND free. Wow. The exact dog I want, for FREE? No brainer decision. So tomorrow, I'll be on the road, driving up to get my new dog!!!!

He's just like Sammy-- same breed, same age, same gender. His name is Tyson, but due to the prize fighter/chicken company connotations of that name, I think I will change it to Toby. I love that for a dog name. And yes, I'm violating my own pet peeve AGAIN. Oh well. The first thing I'm doing is getting him neutered next week. Hopefully he and Sammy will get along until then, despite the fact that everything I've read says that having one intact dog and one fixed dog = problems. As usual, balls are complicating my life. Go figure.

Wish me luck! I have 8 hours of driving (4 hours each way) tomorrow in my POS car. Then I have to hope and pray that the two dogs get along. I think they will. Sammy likes everyone.

Oh, and here's a picture of him. Now I have TWO!!!!

Dummy, Chummy and Yummy, Part 2

I would like to start this post with the following information which is not directly related to this story, but begs to be shared with my readers anyway: I saw Hot Neighbor without his shirt on last night. Yeah. It was awesome. I was walking Sammy before bedtime, and he just pops out of his house with no shirt on. He was on the phone and sat down on his stoop to talk. He waved. I almost passed out. He looked good. Very, very yummy. And so today I have fantastic mental images....it's making my day go so much better than a regular Wednesday....*sigh*

Ok, back to the story of my weekend of almost-hookups with guys.

Saturday was St. Patty's Day, which meant spending the day in Five Points, the cultural (ie, bar) hub of town. This year's annual festival did not disappoint. KT, MJ and I enjoyed live music from Villanova and Loch Ness Johnny. I meant to catch The Movement and Corey Smith, but there were scheduling conflicts (ie, I forgot). I'm kind of mad at myself about this...but oh well.

Although windy, it was sunny and warm enough to be outside. I saw no one I knew which was really amazing, actually. Usually I run into umpteen friends there. I think it was because we got there so late--most of my friends had already gone. We enjoyed the music and beer for a while and then left to grab some dinner. By then it was starting to get pretty cold, so I went home and changed into something warmer. I met back up with MJ and KT at Flying Saucer. They were talking to some coworkers of KT's.

"Oh, hey, VB!" KT said. "This is my friend. You can call him Asshole," she said.

I looked to him, expecting him to protest. He didn't. "Hi. I'm an Asshole. I really am," he said.

I laughed and said, "Ok, you want to be called 'Asshole', I can call you Asshole!"

At 23, he classifies as BB, but he was still a cool guy. (BB stands for "baby balls", remember). He has a great sense of humor. Kinda cute, in a geeky way. He is mega-smart. (Who gets a masters degree in statistics????!) Definitely not an asshole, although as MJ adeptly pointed out, he does leave something to be desired in the manners department. I liked him right away. His friend seemed nice, too.

After about 15 minutes, MJ and KT paid their tabs and we were on our way to Art Bar to see Loch Ness Johnny play again. (Gotta love seeing your favorite local band play twice in one day!) I was kind of hoping the two BBs would come with us, but I didn't say anything.

Five minutes later, they showed up. The warm-up band started to play, but BB and I stayed in the main part of the bar, smoking and talking. We joined them later, but spent most of our time talking to each other.

The only bad thing was that for some reason, our conversations kept turning to awkward topics for me: alcoholism, my dad, my baby brother that died, MRSA, etc. He wasn't doing it on purpose, it's just the way the conversations wound up. He kept bringing up topics or asking questions I don't like to discuss around people I just met. "He's not very good at small talk, is he?" I asked KT later. "Nope." she answered.

I stopped mid-sentence at one point and said, "You're really good at making me feel uncomfortable. You have managed to bring up every awkward topic I don't like to talk about."

He apologized and we got back to more comfortable discussions. Despite the uncomfortable questions, I did enjoy his company. And although he has what I like to call "nibbly lips" (Orlando Bloom has "nibbly lips" in case you are wondering what I'm talking about), he's going to have to remain in the Friend Zone because he's just too young. I can't say that in a Xanax-induced fuzziness I won't grab him and make out with him one day, but for now, he's TFZ'd.

Oh yes, you read that correctly. I discovered Xanax this weekend. Not as good as vicodin, but it's a good time. Hey, when people offer me drugs, I take them. I'm not stupid.

But let's not get off track, now, ok? There's still one more guy I have to tell you about.

The rain check with Jack Steel never happened, by the way. I was relieved, as I had mulled it over in my brain and come to the conclusion that it was a bad idea to begin with. He's just too...stupid. Hooking up with stupid people is not fun at all. I'd rather suck face with BB.

Back to the story. This is the Yummy part.

So the other day, I had just gotten home from work when an ambulance, lights flashing, pulled into my neighborhood. I was concerned, since most of my neighbors are elderly.

The EMTs hopped out and ran up to Miss Margie's house. She is my favorite neighbor (well, besides Hot Neighbor, obv.). Very sweet older lady. She has a very naughty dachshund named Daisy.

I swear to God this is going somewhere, guys. Just hang with me.

So the EMTs put Miss Margie on a gurney and throw her in the back of the ambulance and haul her off to the hospital. Since her kids were there, I figured Daisy would be ok. I was worried about Miss Margie, but didn't want to bother them, so I didn't get to ask what had happened. I figured she couldn't have been too sick, because she was talking and awake when she was on the gurney.

She's home from the hospital now, and last night I was out walking Sammy when I saw her. She and Daisy were out, too. So I got the chance to find out what had happened to her. She had a hernia which pressed on her esophagus and makes it hard for her to breathe and eat. She is probably going to have to have surgery, but she's fine. I told her I was glad she was ok and that if she ever needed me to watch Daisy to let me know.

"Oh, you're so nice. You know, that's what Hot Neighbor was saying the other day," she said.

"Oh.....yeah?" I said.

"Yes, he said you were so sweet and such a nice girl. He wanted to know how old you are, so I told him you're 28," she said, looking over at me sideways. I think I saw a hint of a smile on her face.

"Really. That's interesting," I said.

"Uh huh. He's been working a lot lately," Miss Margie said.

"Yeah, I noticed," I replied.

We said goodnight and parted ways. My brain was spinning. I was so flabbergasted that I didn't even think to grill her for more information! But since she's not doing well, I told her I'd bring her some food later. Maybe I can grill her when I bring it over. I wonder what else she knows...

Dummy, Chummy and Yummy, Part 1

Ha ha, look at me with my clever post title! Before I explain it, let's get the business out of the way first.

Netflix is the new myspace. I think I spent 2 hours on there yesterday. I added a bunch of classics (mostly Alfred Hitchcock and Audrey Hepburn stuff), then I went over and added a bunch of dramas, some Saturday Night Live, some 80s movies I've never seen, some Disney movies I haven't seen since I was a kid (Alice in Wonderland, Robin Hood, Lady and the Tramp, Pollyanna, Fox & the Hound)....and then I discovered the documentaries section.

I completely geeked out: British monarchs, orphan trains, China, history of Chicago, Thomas Jefferson, the Shakers, something called The Human Face, babies in utero, a look at higher education in America, Russia, a 3-volume look at the life of birds......I am out of control, people. I had to stop once I got to all the David Attenborough Nature programs. I am crazy about those.

And I wondered why I ate lunch with my teacher when I was in 8th grade. I am Dorkus Maximus.

I have stalled out on my weight loss at 13 pounds. I have been kinda bad the past few days (hell-o, chocolate-covered buttercream easter eggs, brought in by my boss!!!)....BUT the good news is, since MJ is quitting smoking, I will too. Not only am I wanting to support her, but I really need to quit. For real. Forever. Why not now? It's a bad nasty habit that doesn't mesh well with the following:

A) I am trying to lose weight
B) I like going to the gym and giving the impression that I am health-conscious
C) WLF died of COPD
D) 2 of my grandparents died of lung cancer
E) I like having white teeth and smelling yummy

So no cigarettes = more exercise. No cigarettes for a long time = I can pick up jogging again. (I'd like to say "running", but let's not fool ourselves now, ok? A runner I am not. I run like a girl, which makes it hard to take me seriously as a runner. Let's go with "jog".) Whatever you call it, I like it a lot and it really helps me get in shape. Gives you that long, lean look, you know? Ok, so that is my mid-term goal. After the quitting of the smoking.

Enough boring stuff. Let's get to the real reason we are all here: To discuss my Dating Adventures.

Or, in this case, my incredible ability to chicken out on potential Dating Adventures.

You see, readers, I could have gotten laid this weekend. Not once, but twice. True to form, that didn't happen.

Friday night was spent as usual with the Happy Hour Girls. The cute guy I met a couple weeks ago wasn't there. But a different group of guys was there. They are friends with one of the HH Girls. One of these guys was visiting from out of town. "Hey, who's the meathead?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "Oh, that's so-and-so's friend. He's from New Jersey," my girlfriend replied. "Oh jeeeeeeezus. That's great. He looks smart," I said sarcastically. I was glad he was on the outskirts of the group so I didn't have to talk to him-- I know the Ken-doll type. They think money impresses women, and between that and the gym, they rarely talk about much else.

Ten minutes later, my suspicions were confirmed. The meathead had worked his way through my group of friends, catching up and laughing with them. He hadn't met me yet, so he introduced himself. He seemed nice, he wasn't bad-looking. Fantastic body. But that was about it for the positives. I was hoping he'd go away, but as my luck may have it, he decided I was the evening's target female. Grrrrrreat.

True to form, he proceeded to talk about the gym and his car and his hot tub. He was nice enough, but I've met cardboard boxes with more personality. No sense of humor, nothing interesting to say. Doesn't read, doesn't travel, doesn't seem to have much life experience. "Yeah, when I've got some down time, I like to just hit the gym and jack some steel," he told me.

"Did you just say, 'jack some steel'?" I asked, stifling a giggle.

"Yeah. You know, lifting weights?" he answered.

"Yeah, I figured it out. I'm calling you Jack Steel now," I said.

He wasn't doing too badly as the evening progressed (we both love the HBO show Rome, so I dragged that conversation out to a full 15 minutes), until he made a fatal mistake: He pronounced my job title as, "lie-berry-un". I realize this is nit-picky and possibly even snooty, but it is one of my biggest pet peeves. Now I was certain that this guy not only had no personality, but he was also dumb as a box of rocks.

At this stage, I'm thinking, "Ok, it's official. This guy is only good for a hookup. There is no way in h-e-double hockey sticks I could ever date someone so freaking stupid. He's so lame, actually, I don't even know if I could hook up with him. He would not even be allowed to talk in the bedroom. Did he leave his sense of humor in his super-cool car?"

Of course, this is when he started hitting on me, hard core. As we were standing at the bar, he started to try and dance with me and touch me. "Whoa, easy tiger," I said to him, as I pulled away from his smokin' hot body (Ok, so I'll admit, all the steel jacking was paying off...). I told him I'm not big on PDA.

Just then, his drunk friend across town called and needed a ride. He had to go. Since I was still on the fence, I gave him my number. He wanted to know why I couldn't just go with him. "Um, I need to shave my legs. Badly," I said. I was not making it up-- I really did need to take care of my Sasquatch issues. (Isn't this always the way it works, ladies?)

So I told him to call me when he was done hanging out with his friend. Maybe by then I'd shave my legs and be ready. Which was good, because I needed some time to think about whether or not I really wanted to hook up with him or not. As I drove home, I went through a pro/con list: I I am in a dry spell....and I have needs...but, on the other hand, he's such a chore to talk to, and I'd want to kick him out afterwards...he's got a hot body....but he's so stupid....it's getting late...argh.

By the time I was done shaving my legs, I was still on the fence. It was 3am, and I was tired. I went to bed, figuring if he called and was willing to come over, that would be ok. If not, eh. No biggie. He called at 3:30. I was too tired. I said, "Rain check?" and he said that would be fine. There was always Saturday night.

Fun Friday!!

I haven't run into much lately, so it's taken me a while to have enough for a good Fun Friday post.

1. Is this lady for real???? I thought I was a dork with no life, but she's got me beat. She gave up her Tea Towel Club for Lent, people. I think I gave up sex for Lent....

2. Some recent search terms from my statcounter (ie, terms people entered into Google that led them to my blog):

A lot of them make sense:
"stories of smooching boobs for fun"
"washcloth germs" -- my phobias are shared! I'm not alone!
"long toes"
"reason for a long toe"
"morphed male balls"
"men with 3 balls"--I do talk about balls a lot...
"wide hips/saddlebags"--something I've been known to bitch about on occassion
"how to tell if you're a bad listener" -- something I've wondered about on here
"smokin hot neighbor photo" -- oh wait. I googled that.....
"my hot neighbor" -- i googled that one too, probably...
"big boobs"
"mormons and jello"--others share my curiosity!
"julian mcmahon"
"treadmill playlists"
"virginia belle stripper"
"virginia belle sex machine" --wow. what an ironic reputation....
"what do women think of jockstraps?"-- I also like to wonder about jockstraps...
"one ton man" -- I posted once about a show on TLC called "I Eat 33,000 Calories a Day"
"give yourself diabetes" -- I'm curious to know how that one turned out...
"anna nicole smith" -- from my "I love vicodin" posts...
"snogs" -- I do love my British slang.
"eating the same thing everyday"-- Yup. Do that, too.
"single dads dating"-- Hot Neighbor!
"dating hn"-- stupid skanks are trying to google my Hot Neighbor!!
"cute sex movie"-- three of my favorite words.
"jessica simpson short legs kankles"-- I have mentioned JS on here before. And perhaps kankles.

Some do not make sense...:
"tuna drainer" -- have never discussed tuna or drainers on this blog.
"i like bukkake" --WTF is bukkake?? Note to self: google bukkake
"are anchovies poisonous to dogs?" -- have never discussed anchovies on here....
"what happens when you boil spandex?" --why would you EVER need to know this??

And some beg for clarification or a story:
"lonely married guy, columbia, SC"
"met him at sky tower, doesn't like blondes anyway"
"send my misses [sic] a dirty text"
"pink puncher" -- is this some sick sexual act I'm not familiar with? I've gotten this one like 3 times
"perfect dating bobby knock" -- I'd like to meet this Bobby Knock character...
"weirdest things put in assholes" -- WOW.
"anorexic eat bath sponges"-- now there's an urban legend I've never heard.
"my son's dating a skank"
"do not date a skank"--skanks are apparently causing trouble for others, not just me. Good to know.
"marriage to someone with OCD"
"MRSA and lapdances"
"embarrassing give him acrylic nails"--WTF??

Lately, I've been getting some more perverted ones:
"virgin beavers"
"pictures of man kiss woman virgina [sic]" -- Hmmm...I wonder what a virgina is??

3. My coworker found these videos about information literacy (ie, learning how to use a library, cite sources and find good information). They crack me up! The last one is especially funny -- I love how the game show contestant talks! "hello!" "okay!" etc. I believe they come from Rutgers, and based on these videos, I can say there are some hard-working and smart librarians up there. The videos do a good job at making it easy to understand. In case you were curious, the stuff in these videos is what I teach people all day.

That's all I've got today in the way of Fun Friday. Not the best, I know. I have a good excuse, though. I was sick all day yesterday. [Insert "Awww!" here.] I think I had food poisoning or something, because I had a fever, I was achy and I had....gastro-intestinal issues. Ugh, I felt terrible all day. I'm mostly better now, but I still have zero interest in eating anything (which, I guess is good, right?). I'm kinda dizzy, still slightly icky and weak-feeling. All I want is diet Sprite. I love that when I'm sick.

I need to ask my readers a question. I need some advice, I guess. I am seriously considering getting Sammy a sibling. For those of you with two pets, do you have any tips or warnings for me? How did you go about it? I am thinking that since Sammy is fairly dominant, I should probably get a dog that will stick up for itself. Otherwise, he will just intimidate it to death. I'm also thinking of getting a female dog this time....so if you can advise me on this, I'd love to know. Thanks!

Hot Neighbor has been gone for a week, people. I am having major withdrawls. I don't know where he is, I assume a work-related trip. He wouldn't be on some Caribbean vacation with a Skank, now would he??? Right? Of course not. He's away on business, planning on how he can seduce me.

Oh well. Hopefully tonight I will see the cute guy from last week's Happy Hour. There are plenty of fish in the sea, right? And then tomorrow is the annual St. Patty's Day festival -- SO much fun. I will get to see one of my favorite local bands play twice! Yesssss!!!

Ok, well, my weekend is starting early-- we are so dead in here, my boss just told us we can all go home! Woot! Gotta love Spring Break!!!

I am On Crack Today...

Greetings, Readers. Hope everyone is well. I am getting the urge to post, but nothing is really gelling, so this will probably sound like the rantings of a 12 year-old dealing with Ritalin withdrawl symptoms. My brain is ADD central right now. This post will be kinda goofy and random.

My tummy has been queasy lately. Off and on, not too badly. I think it's all the cake I've been eating lately. Thanks to my diet (13 pounds lost so far! Go me!), I don't eat a lot of sugar anymore. By coincidence, I've had a lot of cake and sugary items in the past week. I'm thinking it's not sitting well with my uber-sensitive tummy.

And I know what you are thinking. No, I have not been having up-against-the-wall, hot, nasty, animal-noise making, sweaty, monkey sex with Hot Neighbor. *pauses to imagine so described sexual encounter*

I am NOT (repeat) NOT pregnant.

No, in fact, I've been very busy not having sexual encounters of any kind. [Insert chorus of "Awwww...." here] Which is getting old, but let's not throw a pity party, ok? Ok.

Hot Neighbor has been out of town and/or working long hours lately. So I have had no opportunities to get my flirt on. HOWEVER, I do have some leftover lemon-almond-sour cream pound cake that must leave my house or else it will just ruin my diet! And who but Hot Neighbor can eat it? Hmmmm..can't think of anyone. Everyone I know is on a diet. Oh well. Guess I'll have to donate it to my hot, lonely, eats-pizza-and-other-non-homemade-food-for-dinner neighbor. Shucks. Hate when that happens. I mean, what guy wants to be seduced by homemade baked items? Maybe I can wear a whip cream bikini....he might need some for the cake. *daydreams again*

And despite all my myspace hunting abilities, I don't think the cute guy I met last Friday has a myspace page. I tell ya, it's hard being a myspace stalker. You have to prepare yourself for disappointment. Fingers crossed he will be there again this week at Happy Hour.

I just realized that my weekend is starting tonight. Not in the "Woo-Hoo, I have a long weekend because I took some days off!" way, but in the "I am a slave to my social life and I still think I'm 21!!" kind of way.

I will be regretting this decision to go out tonight and tomorrow....it will all hit me at approximately 6:15am on Friday morning. But right now, I'm excited. Woooooh! Party!!

Tonight is a friend's birthday, tomorrow is stirring up trouble with MJ & KT, Friday is Happy Hour and Saturday is the annual St. Patty's Day Festival. (Which will be about 12 hours in duration and WAY fun.)

Did I mention that I'm still adjusting to daylight savings time? Yeah..."nap" doesn't even begin to explain what I will need.

My stomach, ass and entire upper body are killing me right now from my 2 hour Suicide Mission at the gym last night. Sometimes I get really into working out, so I figure I'll take advantage of it, and then I try to see if I can give myself a heart attack on the elliptical machine. The good news? I did three push-ups on my toes last night. (Read: This is nearly impossible for me to do normally. Shut up. I am a weakling. 3 is a lot for me.) The bad news? I am sooooooooooore. But the good kind. I don't need painkillers or anything like that.

Mmmmm....painkillers.

Have I ever told you that I like to make up songs? I do. (See? I told you I am ADD Girl today!) I like to sing (badly) and I like rhyming, hence my goofy songs about my family and friends. Usually I forget them, but I have written a song about my dog, so I want to post it before I forget the lyrics.

It all started when I would come home from the gym and get in the shower. Sammy would always watch me because he's weird and perverted (Hmmm...like mother, like dog...), and so I started singing to him. For some reason, he likes to lick the shower door, too. Very strange. In case you are wondering, no, I do not lick shower doors. (Ew.) However, not unlike my dog, I have been known to chase balls on occassion......

But I digress. (Ok, seriously, what did I eat today??? I think I am on crack...)

Keep in mind this is just the first 3 verses. There will be more, I am sure. Oh-- by the way, this is a country song, so imagine a June Carter-type twang. *ahem*

"Sammy is a Good Dog" -- by VB.

Ohhhh....

Sammy is a good boy,
He always wags his nub.
And there never is a big fight
When it's time for rub-a-dub.
He likes to run and bark a lot
When he gets all riled up,
But he's the cutest thing on 4 legs,
He's my favorite little pup!

Chorus:
Sammy is a good dog
He's the best dog ever was,
Although he snores to wake the dead
And hocks up chunks of fuzz.**
He can be real stubborn
and always wants his way,
But if there's one thing that I know,
My love will never stray!

Sammy licks the shower,
I do not understand.
But when he snuggles on me,
It really is quite grand.
His favorite food is ice cream,
And he can eat a lot.
But the coolest thing about him
Is the tiny little spot!*

Chorus again

Sammy used to have some balls,
He lost them long ago.
So now his favorite thing to do
Is chase them to and fro.
He will chase them anywhere
But mostly down the halls
Whatta I think is going on?
He's looking for his balls.

Chorus again

*Sammy has a little diamond-shaped spot on the top of his head.
**He also likes to eat the fuzz off of tennis balls. Sometimes he gets tennis ball fuzz hairballs. Yeah. [In Fat Bastard voice] He's dead sexy.

I haven't posted any pics of Julian McMahon lately, so here is a good one I found:



Huminahuminahumina....Oh what the heck. Here's another...sweet mother of Jesus.....!!!!



I am gradually working my way through season 1 of Nip/Tuck. So I get to see this type of stuff a lot. *sigh* Thank you, Netflix!!!!

Did you know he's got a movie coming out this weekend? Oh yes, children. He and Sandra Bullock star in it together. Luckily, I like her, so she will not need to be assassinated. Did I mention that there is a SHOWER SCENE in this movie? As in, Julian enters shower. Julian has no clothes on. Julian gets wet in the shower. As in, VB passes out in movie theater and will need smelling salts in order to be revived before she gets brain damage. Yeah.

Guess where I'll be on Sunday, after all my partying is done!

After proofing this and re-reading this post, I've come to the conclusion that I am too...
A) weird
B) ADD-ish and
C) too much of a dork

to ever get the chance to date...
A) Hot Neighbor
B) the cute guy from Happy Hour or
C) Julian McMahon

Ugh. They would all think I'm a complete psycho if they ever read this. So please, don't tell Julian about my blog. I'd appreciate it. Because I look at him and think: "Monkey Sex!!!!"

Chicks, Dicks, Flicks and Licks

I will procrastinate at work here for a moment to update y'all on stuff. Lots of friends, guy stuff, movies and eating this weekend! So it was good.

Friday night was the usual happy hour with the Happy Hour Girls. It turns out that Columbia is indeed a teeny-tiny town. So tiny, in fact, that I'm starting to know some of my friends through 2 different people. I was talking to one of the HH Girls (I guess I should assign them names eventually...) and she says, "Oh, have you met my friend L?" and I turn around. It was L, a girl I've known for almost 5 years. I was pleased to see that The Frigid Snoot was not with her. (I am thinking they might not be attached at the hip any more--this is the 2nd time I've run into her without Frigid Snoot operating as an extension of L's body.) We laughed at how small Columbia is, figured out how we both knew the HH Girls, and then caught up. She told me how her husband's doing--he's currently in Iraq. We talked about work stuff and she let me pick her brain. As we were talking, it turns out we were both pulled over on the same street, on the same week, probably by the same cop for the same type of speeding ticket. Weird.

Speaking of which, I am going to court after work today. I think my ticket will be lowered to a 2 pointer, which is good. Ugh, I hate going to court. I start shaking because I'm terrified of judges. They're so.....authoritative. And serious.

Oh, one other thing happened on Friday night. I met a cute guy. Now, before everyone wets their pants, just calm down. Nothing happened. Big surprise, right? Ok, background:

I'm enjoying HH. I keep making accidental eye contact with a guy. (Was it accidental? Coincidental? Intentional? I don't know. But every time I looked up, we seemed to be looking at each other. Mmmm. Cute. Tall. Brown eyes...) As the evening progresses, I realize he knows one of the HH Girls. I'll call her Talker. He's friends with Talker's boyfriend D. I ended up being introduced to him and talking to him for about 2 minutes before I got sidetracked into another conversation. A few minutes later, I look up and see him walking out with D.

D'Oh! Way to mess that one up....

So I got the scoop from Talker later. She said nothing but good things about this guy. He seems really nice and smart. She said she'd put in a good word for me. I'm sure he knows where to find me if he wants to talk to me again. I'm not holding my breath. I didn't have enough contact time to determine anything.

Speaking of hotties, Hot Neighbor was out of town all weekend, so I have NO updates for you on that.

Saturday, I made KT's birthday cheesecake. It took FOREVER. I think about 4 hours. But man, it was good. I'll post the recipe if I ever remember to! It had an oreo crust, a layer of chocolate and caramel melted together, then a layer of crushed up heath bars, then the cheesecake layer, and then more heath bar crunchies. MMMMM. If you eat too much, it will give you a tummy ache. I am speaking from experience, here, people.

After MJ and I sang "Happy Birthday" to KT, we went to eat at Za's Pizza, which is mega-delicious. Then we were off to Flying Saucer to see 88 Rewind play. It is always a good time, catching their covers of 80s songs. Seriously, every town should have an 80s cover band. But I digress. MJ's old roommate, S, joined us, which is great because she's really funny. Then MJ acquired a friend who didn't seem to get the hint that none of us were interested in talking to him. (She's much nicer than I am!) We thought he'd left at one point, but he came back with shots of Patron for everyone. Based on the looks on my friends' faces, Patron is disgusting. After that, I was pooped, so I went home. MJ and KT went on without me to go salsa dancing, but I guess they didn't have any luck.

Saturday night, I had a dream about Repo. I dreamt that it was St. Patty's Day and I had to get up to go party with MJ and KT. I was in a bedroom, which looked a lot like my little sister's room. I was waking up and still in bed when Repo and his girlfriend barged in.

I don't think she said much, but I remember she was really rude in my dream. She started fixing her hair and makeup at the dresser, and I proceeded to quiz Repo.

I asked him all about his relationship with his girlfriend. Did he tell her the truth? Yes. Didn't she get mad? No. She didn't get mad??? Really?? Nope. Was he cheating on her? Yes. Did he cheat on me? Yes. And she seriously wasn't mad??? No. [Gotta love the illogicality of dreams, right???] Then he tells me they are getting married. Keep in mind, he and I are rough-housing during this entire conversation-- I don't know why. But we are sort of wrestling on the bed. He thought we were kidding around, but I was actually pissed off in my dream and consciously trying to hurt him. Apparently, I am a weakling, even in my subconscious, because I couldn't hurt him.

At one point, we stop talking and he tells me I can slap him. I said, "Really? Like, hard?" and he said, "Yup." So I then proceeded to slap the shit out of him three times. I hit him as hard as I could. It didn't seem to hurt him, but it certainly made me feel better.

Then I woke up. DANG! I was hoping I'd get to punch him or stomp on him or something. I guess my subconscious had some violence it had to get out or something. Wanting to get that dumb dream out of my head, I got up, drank some coffee and started watching movies.

I watched Night at the Roxbury, Talladega Nights and The Sweetest Thing. At this point, I was in denial that it was almost 2pm and I was still in my pjs. The first two movies crack me up because I have a tendency to share humor with 12 year old boys. The latter is one of my favorite chick flicks because it's not corny, sad, cheesy or full of kissing. It also accurately represents a lot of my real-life friendships (the teasing, the inside jokes, the crazy road trips, etc.) so I just love it. If you haven't seen this movie, you must, ladies. Make sure you watch the extras on the DVD, because they sing a penis song that is hysterical.

Then I ran some errands, baked another birthday cake for a coworker and went to Outback Steakhouse with Healthy Girl, Nurse P and Brunette. MMMMMM....steak.

Tonight I have to make yet another cake for a pot luck we are having at work tomorrow. (I signed up for cake before I realized how many I'd be making! I feel like Sara Lee or something.)

Fun Friday!!

Yay! It's Friday!!!

I have a special treat for my readers today. A pic of my family. Well, part of my family. Here goes.

This is Fungus on the left and Fat Dog on the right. Back when we were little, we lived in a super-old farmhouse, waaaaaay out in the Virginia countryside. My brothers played T-ball every summer. This is a picture of them after they both played games one day.



I had forgotten that when Fungus was little, we used to call him "Nino". This was because he couldn't say, "I know!" -- it would come out as "Nino!" and was so cute, the nickname kinda stuck. We used to say silly things to him all the time-- "Fungus, the sky is blue." or "Fungus, you're three years old." and Fungus would roll his eyes at us and say, "NiNO!" --And we would all laugh.

They look like dorks in this picture. Then again, I'm their big sister, so they will always look like dorks to me.

This video was funny, mostly because of how accurate it is. I always thought I was the only woman who "adjusted her boobs" and studied her physique while waiting for the water to heat up. And none of the stuff the guy does surprises me one bit. Like most male behavior, some of it is gross and some of it is kinda cute. I like the "woo-woo!" part.



Guys, when you are out and about this weekend, don't be these guys:



Or this guy:



Or this guy:



Thanks to eBaum's World for the videos!

Have a nice weekend, everyone!!

Frustration Central, How May I Help You?

So I've been working on my Big Secret Project. And it's getting pretty frustrating. There is a lot of paperwork, studying and reading of very detailed instructions involved, not to mention errands to run and money to spend--when it's all done and overwith, I'm looking at $300 smackers. I thought I'd be all set to submit everything after a week, but it will be three weeks before I can really get the ball rolling. There's a lot of red tape and stupid protocol.

For example. I have to get this one form filled out. It has to be done by a police officer. So I go to the local police station. "Oh, we don't do that here," the receptionist said, "You'll have to go aaaaaaaaaall the way to the county seat, about 30 minutes from here, to do that."

Keep in mind it takes all of 5 minutes for a cop to help me with this. Grr.

So I drive over there. "Oh yeah. We do that," the Lady Cop said. I smiled. "We do it between 9-11am and 2-4pm." It was noon. "Ok, I guess I'll just have to come back next week," I said through my clenched teeth.

I went back to my car, got in, screamed at the top of my lungs to blow off some steam, and drove home.

More frustration: I needed to make a doctor's appointment (just a check-up, very routine). I called his office SIX times this morning. I had to be transferred to the Appointments extension each time (I'm sure they thought I was bonkers!), only to be put on hold for 20 seconds, listen to "your call is important to us, please stay on the line"--and then the voicemail would come on.

Grrrrrr.

Finally, after leaving 2 messages, they called me back and I got my appointment. 6 weeks from now. More grrrr....

I am waiting for a colleague at work to email me back about something that is relatively important. It's been almost a week, no reply. This is also bugging me--I mean, send a courtesy email or something! I guess I will have to play stalker and call her...

Speaking of stalkers (and by that, I am referring to myself, obviously)...

There is a new skank. She came over to Hot Neighbor's last night. She got there at about 10pm and was still there when I went to sleep at 12:15. Let me sum up to you the evidence collected during my stakeout at my kitchen window last night:

(Ok, I didn't stand at the window the whole time. I would just check every 5 minutes to see if her car was still there.)

(Ok, I am lying. I checked every 2 minutes.)

Ahem. Evidence:

1. This was not the Original Skank, who shall henceforth be referred to as "Skank 1" or "S1" for short.
2. I know this because she is younger and drives a different car. Also, her hair is curly and long, whereas S1's hair is straight and short.
3. I just realized both these women have very dark hair. This does not bode well for me...
4. S2 was not carrying a purse. At what times would you not need your purse, ladies? I cannot think of a time....the gym maybe. But she was not dressed in gym clothes. This puzzles me.
5. She was wearing yucky jeans and this sort of sweatshirt looking top. Her hair was in a slightly messy ponytail. In short, she didn't look like she was expecting anything. I know that if I were going to a guy's house, hoping for something to happen, I'd get "casual cute"--you know, I'd look good without looking like I tried. She just looked...ick. But a nice ick. Not like she smelled or anything.
6. She was talking on her cell phone as she walked to front door. She stood in his yard for a couple of minutes (I think. Not that I was staring at her.) Her body language indicated that she felt comfortable being there. Relaxed pacing, laughing on the phone....that kind of thing.
7. No kids were seen at all yesterday. So I don't think this was a babysitter or anything like that.
8. Here is the part that concerns me: All his blinds were closed. He's NEVER done that before. His blinds are always open. (Duh, of course I'm positive. I am his stalker!)
9. I was hoping that when I went outside to walk Sammy (he really did need to go, I'm not making this up!), that her car might have a sticker or some other identifying mark on it which would tell me more about its owner. It didn't have anything. Nada. (Which, IMHO, can often be a sign of a lack of personality.) Then I remembered my whole license plate theory and looked at her license plate. The letters were: BPI. "Uh-huh. Just as I suspected," I thought. "Big Prostitutes, Inc."
10. Did I mention that she was there AT LEAST until 12:15 in the morning?? If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, I'm gonna have to go ahead with "They Aren't Having Bible Study in There" for $200, Bob!

Readers, I need your theories, interpretations and insights. Please tell me he's just getting all his rebound flings out of the way!!!

I don't understand. I thought I was clear that I liked him. I thought he might be possibly interested in me. Kinda. Maybe. He DID come to my house 3 times this week, looking for me. I know he's not a mind reader, but it's not like he doesn't know how to get a hold of me! He obviously didn't have a problem inviting S2 over last night. I mean, sheesh, if he wanted company, I am like 20 feet away. I am bummed, y'all. I probably should have put myself out there a little bit more. Flirted a little more, implied that I too am alone a lot, that I like to cook, that I make good coffee...something!!! But you see, I thought that if he saw that the cake I left for him was chocolate, then he would do the math and put two and two together. Like this:

Woman willingly sacrificing chocolate + she is single and in my dating age group = SHE WANTS ME.

I'm no math whiz, but this seems pretty obvious to me.

Kind of like this one:

She is very friendly + she lives practically next door + we are both single = I should ask her out.

See, if this was like high school algebra, I would have majored in mathematics in college. Because I'm all over this shit:

She was not put off by kids + or the divorce + she has nice boobs = She has "LTR" written all over her.

She is alone + I am alone + we are separated by one yard = Wait, why aren't we boning?

S1 + S2 = Why am I fooling with them when I can just go ask VB out?

These are all theories I can commit to memory very easily. Not to mention, put them to practice. Well, they seem easy to me, anyway.

Enough foolishness. I'm bummed out about S2 and my Project frustrations. I'm going out with MJ tonight for some Discussion, Analyzation and Prediction (aka a DAP talk, as I like to call them). This, combined with another personal life man-related issue which I won't get into here, requires a DAP, ASAP.

If My Life Were a Mastercard Ad...

Running out of gas on the way to work? An hour of vacation time wasted while waiting for a coworker to rescue me.

Filling up a tank that is 99% empty? $42.26

Arriving at work to find my stalker waiting for me? Taking the long way into the building to avoid him. I've been hiding in my office ever since.

Hot Neighbor coming over last night because he wanted to thank me "in person" for the cake? Priceless.

He wants me. Right? I mean, that's 3 trips to my house to thank me for half of a leftover birthday cake I gave him a week ago. You don't do that, normally. Normally, you'd return the tupperware about 2 weeks later, still encrusted with frosting, and just say "Thanks for the cake!" the next time you see the person in their driveway.

And it may have been my imagination (which, as we all know, likes to do its own thing), but I swear he had this look on his face like he wanted to say something else. See, what happened was, it was 10pm and I was walking Sammy. I returned from the walk to find him knocking on my door. He turned around to see me waving at him. He got this semi-surprised look on his face, and I said, "Hey! What's up?" He told me he wanted to thank me in person, blah blah. I said, "It was good, wasn't it? See why I had to get rid of it?" Then he repeated himself again--"I just wanted to thank you in person..blah blah."

(Keep in mind that I have a difficult time focusing on what actually comes out of his mouth, because I'm usually standing there, thinking, "OMG!!!! He's talking to me!!! Do I look ok? He's talking. Pay attention. Shit, I have a zit. Crap, I knew I should have powdered my nose earlier. I'm probably all greasy. I have no idea if my hair looks good right now. Wait, what did he say? Why oh why did I wear this stupid outfit today? Don't come on too strong, VB. Keep it cool.")

Where was I? Oh yeah. He said thank you twice. I thought, "Um, you just said that. But you're wearing shorts right now, and you have nice legs, so that's ok." I said to him, "Oh, you're welcome." (I remembered to smile. I'm really glad I remembered.) He just kind of stood there. Eeerrm.....now what? All I could think about was how cold he must be for standing around in shorts. Before it got really awkward, I said, "Ok, well, have a good night." And then he said, "You too! Talk to you later," and walked away. At least, I think that's what he said. I was checking out his ass at that specific moment.

Any interpretations? He wants me, right? Because that's how it goes in my head.....

Anyway, back to my out-of-gas car. So when I called Czarina this morning to tell her I was stranded and waiting on a coworker to save me, she of course wanted to know if I was safe. "Yes, I'm on a residential street," I replied. Then she called me a bimbo. I told her that the gas gauge is broken and has been lying to me about how much gas is actually in my tank. "That's why you write down how many miles you've driven since the last time you filled up. You can assume you'll get about 200 miles per tank."

"Mom, the gas gauge started doing this yesterday. I have no idea how many miles I've driven since I filled up last. I had no clue how much gas was in my tank. I don't even remember when I filled up last. I know it was a few days ago."

She laughed and called me her little blonde bimbo. "Oh honey, I've done it, too. We all have our blonde moments." Thanks, Mom. So glad I called for some sympathy. What was I thinking?

(I am going to go leave replies to all y'all's --shut up, that is grammatical in SC-- comments on the last post now.)

So, How Was Your Weekend?

Greetings, Readers. I hope today finds y'all well. Let's see...what to blog about today...

I could discuss how this past weekend was dubbed "Freaks on Parade" by MJ and I. Never in my life have I had to deal with so many drunken losers at so many different bars. Every guy was worse than the last--pushy, ugly, nosy, full of themselves...you name it. Not a cute, polite, funny guy in sight all weekend. It's enough to make me want to avoid the bars for a month.

One of the freaks was RDG, who I've determined is probably an alcoholic. I have yet to hold an entirely sober conversation with him. He was so drunk on Friday night that not only did he not recognize me, but he was practically falling asleep at the bar. Very sad. I'm so glad I did not ever hook up with him!

It was, as my coworker pointed out to me, both a full moon and a lunar eclipse. Perhaps this explains it.

I could discuss how my car has a new problem. Oh yes. It has thought of a new way to torture me. Now, it is playing "guess your gas" with me. Between home and work this morning, my gas tank registered at totally empty, 3/4 full, 100% full and just less than half. How much gas do I actually have? Who knows. I don't remember when I filled up last time. I didn't know there would be a quiz. I guess I'll just fill 'er up after work today and keep track of it that way. I usually fill up once a week.

I could discuss how good Zodiac was. MJ and I saw it on Sunday night. Man, I love me some serial killer flicks. It only had about 2 seconds of gore. And it's kind of long, but it's so good, you don't care. Parts of it get kind of complicated, but the movie never leaves you in the dust. It manages to straddle that fine line between, "Crap, I'm lost." and "Duh. We already figured that part out." Plus, the acting was really good. Since the murders were never solved (don't worry, I'm not spoiling anything for you), I was afraid it would leave the audience hanging at the end, but it managed to tie up the loose ends nicely. Very good.

I could discuss how Hot Neighbor came over to my house TWICE this weekend, and I was in the shower the first time and not at home the 2nd time. Yeah....how pissed was I?? K said he had on a suit the first time. DANGIT. It's so never going to happen for me.

I could discuss how several people have managed to TOTALLY freak me out about dating guys with ex-wives and kids, anyway. Single dads will always answer their cell (always, ladies!). You have to compete with kids/ex-wife for time and money. So you can forget getting jewelry or fancy dinners all the time, let alone "alone" time. The kids will try and call you "Mommy" at best, or they will be spoiled brats who yell, "You're not my mommy!" at worst. You will feel pressure to cook and do laundry for them. Or babysit them. You have to be REALLY good about birth control because (obviously) the guy's plumbing is in working order.

Good grief. Hot Neighbor's lucky he's hot. Because if he wasn't, he'd be S.O.L.

My coworker did tell me one thing that is kind of optimisitic: recently divorced guys are verrrrrrry lonely. (They're so wone-wee...) They are used to having a family, someone to welcome them home, regular romps in the hay, etc.

Argh. Why can't some things be easy? Then again, it's not like he's asked me out or anything. For all I know, I don't have a snowball's chance in hell. At least I still have my window where I can secretly gawk at him. *sigh*

I could discuss how badly I want to get Dog #2. But it has to wait...

Because my bank account is hemorrhaging money right now. Between shopping (oops!), 3 birthdays for friends this week, an upcoming trip to Charleston, a baby shower gift, car repairs and other expenses for my Big Secret Project, I need to watch my nickels and dimes for the time being. This means cooking at home and wearing the shoes I have bought already instead of buying new ones.

Speaking of new shoes...I got this pair this weekend:


Cute, huh? Yeah. They go with everything. And I got them half off because I am Master Shopper. (read: I am a cheapskate.)

I could discuss that somehow, despite my 3 pieces of birthday cake last week and the fact that I ate my entire dinner at Blue Marlin this weekend, I have managed to lose 2 more pounds, making a grand total of 12 pounds lost. Woot! Woot! It was so freakin' good. Worth every penny of the $25. Mmmm...tilapia.

I could discuss how I bought a fake engagement ring to keep (future) nasty drunk bar guys and my stalker away from me. It looks like the one on the left.


Look, people, if I'm going to pretend I'm engaged, I'm going to pretend. It's not quite that big. But it's the same setting. Let's just say that if it were real, I'd be a very happy girl. So far, it's working.

I could discuss how a very good friend of the family got knocked up. She's 24. Yeah. Big oops. It's somewhat of a scandal, considering the boyfriend is a jerk and they probably aren't going to stay together or get married. Her parents are trying to get her to give it up for adoption, because she just graduated college and doesn't make a lot of money (you know how those entry-level jobs are). The boyf certainly isn't going to stick around. So she's on her own. She thinks her friends are going to help her out (like Rachel on Friends), but they have to work, too. And on weekends, they are going to want to party, not babysit. She doesn't want to give the baby up. I don't know if I could, either, if I were her. She's trying to take responsibility for her actions, which I can understand. But I can also understand why her parents want her to give it up. Somewhere out there is a couple who wants a baby more than anything. A couple who has time to be with the baby. A mom who has a good husband who can help her out. I just don't know what the right choice is. It's a tough call.

On that note, can I just say how GRATEFUL I am that I didn't get knocked up by Repo? Holy cow, I will be forever grateful for that. Can you imagine him as a father? *rolls eyes* The baby would starve or have a constant diaper rash because he's too lazy to take care of it. Actually, come to think of it, I'm really glad I haven't gotten knocked up by any of my exes. If I had to choose, I'd pick Big Ex. He's a good guy. We just met at the wrong time. He'd be a fantastic dad, too.

Wow. That's a weird question to ask yourself. I hadn't really thought about that before now. Which ex, if you had to pick, would you want to father your kids?

I could discuss how I have a zillion errands to run, thanks to all my friends' birthdays this week. I have 2 cakes to bake, 3 presents to buy, dry cleaning to drop off, more things for my Big Secret Project to complete, gym trips that MUST be made, somehow I have to get to the bank, pay the bills, find time to clean my room, finish watching DVDs that need to be returned....argh. Don't get me wrong. I love my friends. I love being busy. I am just feeling frazzled. Did I mention I might be going to Charleston this weekend? So add to that: packing and driving Mystery Gas car.

All this thinking is making me sleepy. I'm going home and taking a nap. Then I will tackle my to-do list. Later peeps!

Aggravating & Random

Like many of my posts, this one will start with me bitching about something, and then I will inform you of the latest events in my life.

Ahem.

You know I hate my car. You know how the little key reader hasn't been reading my key, leaving me stranded until the key reader (aka the "tumbler") decides to reset. Sometimes it takes two minutes, sometimes it takes 2 hours.

When I got off work Wednesday, in a hurry to go meet Brunette and Nurse P for the USC basketball game, my car decided to be stubborn. It. Would. Not. Start.

I sat there for a half an hour, begging, pleading, whining, smoking and banging my fist on the dashboard (My little trick-- sometimes it jiggles the tumbler and the car will start). At 5pm, I gave up and caught a coworker who was walking through the parking lot. She offered to drive me home.

Nurse P picked me up from home, and I told her that I'll just let the tumbler re-set while we are at the game.

(Have I mentioned how much I L-O-V-E to attend live sporting events? Because I do. I cheer, I scream, I wear the team colors. I was even winking at some cute guys in the next section over. Not that that's the only reason I go to sporting events. But it doesn't exactly hurt. Where was I? Oh yes.)

So we get back from the game, and it still won't start. This was a record. It's been 5 hours at this point. I'm thinking, "Ok, that's enough. I am willing to cough up the $300 to fix this damn thing. I'm over it!"

So I had it towed to the dealership (at midnight!) , and told them to put a new key reader in when I called them the next morning.

The mechanic said, "Why?"

And I said, "What do you mean, why? My car doesn't start sometimes."

He said, "Well, I've started it twice this morning. Works fine."

Uuuugh. I swear, this car is playing with me! I feel I am being toyed with by an inanimate object. I explained the problem to the mechanic, and said that I am not crazy--the tumbler doesn't read my key sometimes and I really just want it fixed, please.

He said he understood and he would go ahead and fix it. He told me later that he and another mechanic had started it up at least 6 more times that day. No problem. Key turned perfectly every time.

*grumble*

I hate my car.

$300 later, I have my car. Supposedly they are certain they've fixed it. What's annoying is, all the dashboard thumping I did (my "trick" to get it to start) managed to knock some wires loose, and now my dashboard lights don't work. Well, they do. Kinda. I can see my speed up to 70 mph. After that, I can tell the officer I honestly don't know how fast I was going. Some buttons don't work either, but they aren't vital features on my dashboard. Still, it's annoying.

Aaaaaaaaaargh.

So this weekend I was supposed to go to the beach and hit the outlet malls with Brunette, Nurse P and Healthy Girl. But, thanks to my car, this isn't really an option. All my shopping money went to car repairs. So I backed out. It's ok. I would have just spent money I don't have anyway. And 6 hours of driving with the current gas prices doesn't sound all that appealing. (Myrtle Beach is 3 hours each way.) ...and I sorta already had a little mini-spree this month.

So I'm going to stay in town, hang out with Happy Hour Girls tonight, and then hit the gym and take Sammy for a walk tomorrow. MJ got a huge raise, so she's ready to party, too. That will probably be on Saturday night, in addition to tonight, because she's joining us.

KT gave me this huge birthday cake, and while it was delicious, it was ruining my diet. So yesterday morning, I cut it in half and gave one half to a nice, older lady neighbor. The other half I put into a tupperware container and left it on Hot Neighbor's porch with a note. He wasn't home at the time, but he's gotten it by now. We'll see if anything comes of it. I should have waited until he was home, I know. I have left the ball in his court, missed out on a flirting opportunity, etc. But I had to get it out of the house!!

Oh, and for clarification purposes, here is HN in a nutshell: HN is divorced with three adorable little kids. I have now had a crush on him since I met him in November. I don't know how old he is, but I'd guess mid-30s. He's got a young Richard Gere thing going on--a little bit of salt and pepper. He looks really good in plain white t shirts, because he's got really nice arms. He's very friendly and K thinks he likes me. I secretly watch him from my kitchen window, which looks right out on his driveway. He rarely sees me looking good. He's seen me without makeup, which really bothers me. I am ok with the idea of dating a guy with kids, because my dad had 2 kids when he met my mom. This doesn't mean I don't have reservations. I refer to his ex-wife as "The Skank", even though I know nothing about her and I'm sure she's a very nice lady. She gives him the kids every other weekend, and sometimes during the week. He's kind of lonely, I think, based on what he's said to me. And I'm sure he doesn't get to eat yummy food very often. "3 kids? And divorced? Oh, he's in Fish Stick City," one of my coworkers said. This is interesting to me, as I love to cook, yet have no one to cook for....hmmm.

I have daydreams about him that involve several variations of him pushing me against a wall. Sometimes he's wearing a tool belt.....but I digress. (Gee, so much for my Anti-Dating Campaign. How long did it last? Two weeks? *sigh* I can't help it. I've been boy crazy since I was 10.)

Everyone clear now? Ok, good. Next!

More clarification (I think it was Single Guy Blogging who asked me this): When I use the term "hooked up" in reference to a cute guy, I am implying that there is some (if not all) removal of clothing, but not necessarily sex. I don't know what other people's definitions for "hooking up" are, but that's mine. More than making out, but probably less than sex.

Let's see...more randomness. Oh, I've got one. My male readers are going to love this. *rolls eyes* I occasionally have lesbian dreams that involve my friends. Yeah. I've had at least three now. I had one this week. Note: I am not even remotely lesbian, because that would take time away from wieners. I like wieners entirely too much to make time for girls in that way. But I do have these dreams. Does anyone else have dreams like this? Or am I a freak? What do they mean?

I am getting my very first Netflix DVD today. Woot! Season 1 of Nip/Tuck. I am so excited I'm about to wet my pants, people. 3 hours of Julian McMahon..........*drools and gurgles on desk*

I have acquired a stalker. This guy comes into the library and waits for me to come out of my office in the back. Then, as soon as I'm on the front desk, he starts asking me how I'm doing, etc. He's probably 19 and thinks I'm a student work-study or something. I don't think he realizes I'm on par with his professors, authority-wise. The other day, he was waiting outside the building for me so he could talk to me as I was walking to my car. While it is kinda creepy, I don't feel threatened or anything. He seems like a nice guy who is just a little on the clueless side. But it's annoying, so last night, when he came up to the desk and started talking to me, I told him that my boyfriend probably wouldn't like him talking to me, as he has a very nasty temper and jealous tendencies. I think I may have mentioned that he carries a gun, too. So he should probably just move along. He did. Let's hope he got the hint.

Update on the Jamaica trip: I talked to J. She said that she and her fiancee worked out a deal with the resort, so if I book my room between now and the end of April, it's 50% off. So the room would only be $250/night. Since Mack Daddy would go with me and split the cost, this would probably be a lot more affordable.....I'm thinking I might do it. J also said that Mack Daddy can go to the wedding with me and that she really wants me to go. Czarina is against the notion of going--she thinks it will be too much money and that I shouldn't go because J hasn't been the best friend to me lately (see my old post, "The Assholes"). I know we've grown apart somewhat, but we aren't on bad terms by any means. We just have different values as we've gotten older. I still get glimpses of funny, goofy, down-to-earth J now and then. I've known her for so long, how can I not go?